Bought Greek's Bride

She swallowed and nodded. He left the limousine first, then Sandor, who turned to help her out. He pulled her into his side with an arm around her waist as they walked up to the front door and she was grateful for the contact. Despite the warmth of Southern California’s weather, she felt chilled. She cuddled against him in a public display of affection that she would not have shown a month ago.

Something inside her had definitely shifted.

Her father rang the bell. Less than a minute passed before it swung inward. A woman stood there, her wavy blond chin-length hair, cut in a bob and petite frame with trim figure proclaimed her Helen Taylor. She looked exactly like the photos taken of her recently as well as those Hawk had procured from years past. There was an almost fey quality about her that enhanced Ellie’s already signaled protective instincts.

Helen’s hazel eyes widened and darkened with distress as she seemed to recognize George Wentworth. Her gaze skimmed to Ellie, jolted up to Sandor’s impassive features and back to Ellie again. “You look just like her. You look just like my baby.”

Her mouth moved, but no other words came out as her eyes filled with tears and her knees gave. Ellie’s father grabbed her before she could fall to the floor. Swinging her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a child, he carried her inside. Sandor ushered Ellie in after them and closed the door behind them with his foot.

His arm was still locked securely around her waist and she leaned even more heavily into him.

Helen’s quiet sobs were the only sound any of them made as Ellie’s dad led them unerringly into the living room. He carried Helen to the couch and gently lowered her onto it. Helen stared at him through rain drenched eyes as if she could not believe what she was seeing.

He dropped to his haunches beside the sofa and took her hand. “It is going to be okay.”

But the blond woman shook her head, unending rivulets of tears rolling down her cheeks. “It can’t be. I knew this day would come, but I kept hoping it wouldn’t. That wasn’t fair of me. I know. I’ve been so selfish.”

“Tell me why you took my daughter.” He said it so gently that Ellie wanted to hug him.

She hadn’t known he had this kind of patience and gentleness in him. Not even with his behavioral changes since his collapse.

Helen made an obvious bid for composure. “I…”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

Ellie felt everything inside her freeze. She spun out of Sandor’s grasp to face the newcomer whose voice was so like her own. She’d already been fighting tears and now her eyes burned with them as she furiously blinked, trying to keep some semblance of control. “Amber…”

Amber was staring at her as if she was seeing a ghost. “Who are you?”

“I’m…”

“She’s your sister,” Helen said, her voice wobbling only a little.

“My sister?” Amber shook her head, frowning at all of them. “No. That’s not possible.” Her gaze shifted to her mom. “You didn’t give birth to twins. I checked. I always felt like something was missing, you know? So, I checked and there wasn’t another birth record. I was the only baby born to Helen and Leonard Taylor.”

Ellie knew her sister was shaking inside, even though her chatter and uncracked composure gave nothing away. She was a master at hiding her emotions herself.

Sandor seemed to sense the hurricane of emotion under the surface because he took a step toward Amber, his hand out as if to help her. “Miss Taylor, perhaps you should sit down.”

“Who are you?” Amber demanded, taking a step back.

“I am your sister’s fiancé, Sandor Christofides.”

“The shipping tycoon?”

“You read the financial pages?”

“Sometimes. When I’m bored on a shoot. And you’re George Wentworth,” she said to Ellie’s dad, still sounding very much in command of herself.

But Ellie saw another story in the eyes that could have been her mirror. Her sister’s worry for Helen Taylor was there, as well as confusion and anger that these strangers had brought obvious upset into her home.

Gently placing Helen’s hand down, their father stood. “I’m…” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m George Wentworth.”

Helen sat up, wiped at her tears and then dried her hands on her jeans and put her arms out. “Come here, baby. I have to tell you something.”

Amber walked slowly toward her mother, her eyes fixed on George Wentworth as if he was a snake prepared to strike. He stepped back, moving to sit in a chair close to the sofa. It was so like how he always sat with Ellie that she felt a twinge in her heart. They were a family even if they didn’t all know it yet.