by Jane Porter
“We both are making sacrifices,” he answered. “Fortunately, you are being compensated for yours.” He nodded at her and turned to leave.
“I would like to shower first.”
“Fine.”
She had to hold back another caustic comment. “And you’ll have someone repair the door while I’m upstairs?”
“I already said that.”
* * *
Leaving Georgia’s room, Nikos summoned Adras, the older man who oversaw the running of the villa, and told him that his guest’s bedroom door needed to be repaired. And then Nikos went up to the shaded, whitewashed terrace to wait for Georgia.
The sun had shifted, deepening the colors of the sky and sea. The terrace was protected from the worst of the wind, with the most protection closest to the house. Nikos stood at the wall, looking out over the sea, and the wind caught at his shirt and hair. His hair was perhaps too long, but it helped hide the scars on his temple and cheekbone.
It was easy to ignore the breeze as he was anticipating Georgia’s appearance. It was strange to have her in the house. He wasn’t used to having visitors. Kamari was his own rock, 323 acres in the northwestern Cyclades in the Aegean Sea. Amorgós was the closest island to Kamari, with a hospital, ferry, shops and monastery, but Nikos hadn’t been to Amorgós in years. There was no point. There was nothing good on Amorgós...not for him.
Instead everything he needed was flown in from the mainland, and if he wanted company, he’d fly to Athens. Not that he ever wanted company. It’d been months and months since he’d left his rock. He had a home in Athens, along with his corporate headquarters. He had another place on Santorini, but that was the old family estate, a former winery that had once been his favorite place in the world and now the source of his nightmares.
Nikos had lived alone so long that he couldn’t imagine being part of the outside world. His son would not need the outside world, either. He would teach his son to live simply, to love nature, to be independent. He’d make sure his son knew what was good and true...not money, not accolades, praise, success. But this island, this sky, this sea.
But perhaps the years of living so isolated had made him rough and impatient. He felt so very impatient now, waiting for her. She wasn’t rushing her shower. She wasn’t hurrying up to meet him. She was taking her time. Making him wait.
Finally the sound of the wooden door scraping the tumbled marble floor made him turn.
Georgia stepped outside, onto the terrace, her expression wary. She was dressed in black tights, a long black-and-white knit jumper, high-heeled ankle boots, and her shimmering blond hair was drawn back in a high ponytail. Even though she was wearing no makeup, she looked far more rested than she had earlier, but her guarded expression bothered him.
He didn’t want to be a monster. He didn’t enjoy scaring women. “You found it,” he said gruffly.
“I did.”
“Something to drink?” he asked, gesturing to the tray with pitchers of water and juice that had been brought up earlier.
“Just water. Please.”
He filled a tall glass and brought it to her. She was standing now where he’d been just seconds ago, looking out over the Aegean Sea. He wasn’t surprised. The view was spectacular from the terrace, and the setting sun had gilded the horizon, turning everything purple and bronze.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said crisply, keeping her distance.
He should apologize. He wasn’t sure where to begin, though. The words stuck in his throat. He wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, and he was certain that the apology would be rebuffed.
“Do you get carsick easily?” he asked, trying to find a topic that would help them move forward.
“Not usually. Everything is different when you’re pregnant, though.”
“My pilots did say it was a turbulent landing. We get very strong winds this time of year.” He hesitated. “I apologize.”
She arched an elegant eyebrow, her expression cool. “You can’t control the wind,” she said, taking a sip of the water before adding, “But you can control yourself. Don’t break down my door again. Please.”
Nikos wasn’t used to apologies, but he also wasn’t accustomed to criticism. His temper flared. He battled it back down. “I’ve assured you that the door will be fixed.”
“That’s not the point. Your use of force was excessive. I’m sure there must be an intercom or house phone you could use next time you wish to check on me.”
“Maybe you don’t lock the door next time.”
Her brows pulled. “I always lock my bedroom door.”
“Even in your own home?”
“I live alone. I lock doors.”
“Is Atlanta so very dangerous?”
“The world is dangerous.” Her voice was cool, almost clinical. “If I don’t lock my door, I can’t sleep.”
“You’re safe here.”
Her chin lifted, her smooth jaw firming as her gaze met his. “I’m not sure what that means.”
He was baffled by her response. “You can relax here. Nothing will hurt you here.”
“Does that include you?”
Nikos stiffened. He took a step away, glancing past her to the water, and yet all he could see was Elsa. Elsa, who had been afraid of everything he was.
“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he ground out, forcing his gaze back to Georgia. “The reason you are here now is that I want to ensure your safety. Your well-being is imperative to my son’s well-being. You will have only the best of care on Kamari.”
She stared back at him, blue eyes bright and clear, as well as thoughtful. She was weighing his words, assessing them for herself. “I don’t need care. I need space and respect.”
“Which you will have, along with proper care.”
She continued to hold his gaze. “I am not sure your idea of proper care and mine are the same thing. In fact, I’m sure it’s not. For me, proper care would have been remaining at home, close to my sister and obstetrician. I would have felt healthier and safer with my doctor and family nearby.”
“I have hired the best obstetrician and pediatrician in Greece. Both will attend the delivery, and the obstetrician will see you once a month until you are close to delivery.”
“I would have been happier at home, though.”
“Once the newness wears off, I think you will find it quite restful here.”
A spark flickered in her eyes. Her lips compressed. “I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying. When I agreed to the surrogacy I never expected spending time here, with you. That wasn’t part of the initial agreement. Indeed, I wouldn’t have agreed to the surrogacy if I’d known that I had to spend the final trimester here. I’m not happy being here. This isn’t good for me.”
“You’ve been compensated for coming to Kamari, generously compensated.”
“But money isn’t everything.” Her chin notched up. “And I am not going to have you throwing money in my face. It’s rude and demeaning.”
“But you chose to be a donor and surrogate for the money.”
“I needed to pay for medical school for my sister and me, but I also wanted to do something good. And I have. I’ve created life. You can’t put a price on that.” Her voice suddenly cracked, and she looked away, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
He studied her beautiful profile, saw a hint of moisture in her eyes and wondered if they were real tears or if this was perhaps part of a game. He didn’t trust tears, and it crossed his mind that she could be trying to manipulate him. It was possible. Elsa had taught him that.
“And you have no qualms about giving this precious life up?” he asked, unable to mask the ruthless edge in his voice. He was not the same man he’d been before Elsa. He doubted he’d ever be that man again.
Georgia made a soft, rough sound, and when she spoke again, her voice was husky. “It’s your son, not mine.”
“Your egg. Your womb.”
&n
bsp; Her lips curved faintly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I am little more than a fertile garden. The soil doesn’t weep when you sow or reap.”
An interesting answer, he thought. She was an interesting woman. “The soil isn’t a young female, either. Nurturing...maternal—”
“I’m not maternal,” she said, cutting him off, her tone almost icy.
“And yet you’re doing this to help provide for your sister.”
“That’s different. She is my family. She is already my responsibility. But I have no desire to ever have children of my own. No desire to add to that family, or assume more responsibilities.”
“You may feel differently later.”
She leaned forward, her expression intent. “Do you want me to feel differently later?”
He was shocked, not just by her words but by the way she moved in toward him. No one invaded his space. No one wanted to be near him. He intimidated women. He made people uncomfortable. And yet she leaned in, she challenged him, and after the shock faded, he understood why.
She wasn’t timid. She wasn’t weak. She was strong, and she was going to give him as good as he gave her.
He admired her boldness and her confidence. He admired strength and courage, but what she didn’t realize was that her challenge just whetted his appetite.
He wasn’t about to move back and give her distance and breathing room. He was going to move in. Get closer. Crowd her.
Not because he wanted to scare her, but her energy and resistance were waking him up, making him feel things he hadn’t felt in forever. And yet what was good for him wouldn’t necessarily be good for her.
He was troubled by his response to her. She fascinated him. And, yes, she looked like Elsa, but her personality was nothing like Elsa’s. While Elsa had needed to be shielded, protected, Georgia charged at him, refusing to shy away from conflict.
He found her stimulating.
Refreshing.
But he should warn her. He ought to tell her that she was stirring the beast, rattling his cage. He should let her know that she wouldn’t like it when he woke...that it was better, safer, smarter to keep him leashed, caged, dormant.
“Of course I don’t want you to feel differently later,” Nikos said now. “He is my son.”
“Good. I am glad we are in complete agreement on that.” She walked away from him then, heading to the sitting area under the thatched roof and taking a seat on the white slipcovered bench against the house.
He watched her cross her legs and sit back, the picture of calm and cool, but her air of calm, that cloak of control, jolted him. A shot of adrenaline. Another shot of hunger. But he needed to smash the desire, not encourage the response. Hungry wasn’t good. Hungry would hurt her.
He walked slowly toward her, studying her expression. From across the terrace she exuded serenity, and yet as he neared he saw a flicker in her eyes. She wasn’t sleepy or lazy. She was alert and very much on guard.
He dropped into a chair across from her, his long legs extending, taking some of her space. “In the car you asked me where I was going to raise my son.” Nikos paused a moment, his gaze skimming her stunning features, dropping from her full pink lips down the elegant throat to the pulse he could see beating at the base of her neck. She was not as calm as she pretended to be. Not by a long shot. “Why did you ask?” he added.
Her shoulders twisted. “Curious.”
“Curious about the life he’ll live, or curious about me?”
She shrugged again, even more carelessly than before. “I was just making conversation. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t at all uncomfortable. I love Kamari, so it was easy to answer. I will raise my son here. We will live here, and I will teach him about his family, his lineage, and make sure he is prepared to inherit the Panos business and fortune. He is my legacy. He is the future.”
For a moment after he’d finished speaking there was just silence. It wasn’t an easy silence. She was very much processing every word he was saying. Georgia Nielsen was no intellectual lightweight.
He gestured to her already nearly empty glass. “More water, Georgia?”
“I’m fine.”
Yes, she was. She was actually more than fine, and it would be a problem if he didn’t check his interest immediately. What they needed were boring topics. Safe subjects. And distance. “We Greeks like our water. We serve water with coffee, water with dessert. It’s often the beverage of choice—” His voice was drowned out by the roar of an engine.
He fell silent as the white Falcon that had brought Georgia to the island flew directly overhead. Georgia’s head tipped, and she watched the plane take off, soaring up into the sky.
“Your plane doesn’t stay here?”
“No. The hangar’s in Athens.”
She was still watching the jet. He watched her, appreciating the elegant lines and delicate angles of her face. The gold of her hair. The cool blue-gray of her eyes. Her complexion wasn’t pink but palest cream with just a hint of gold.
Elsa’s complexion hadn’t been honey, but pink and cream. Roses and porcelain. The blue of her eyes had been more violet. Her lips were smaller, her eyes set a little wider. Doll-like.
Georgia was nothing like a doll.
She turned her attention from the sky back to him. “Why Athens?”
“It’s where I keep all of my planes.”
“You have more?”
“Yes. Helicopters, too.”
“Any boats?”
“Of course. I live on a remote island.”
She pushed a blond tendril back from her brow. “Is it too late to tour the island now?”
“The sun will be setting in the next hour. It’s better to wait for the morning. I’ll show you the gardens, the walking paths and the pool. I imagine you’ll want to get your exercise in.” He rose and went to get the water pitcher and refill her glass. “Mr. Laurent said you exercise regularly. Is that still the case?”
“I walk, swim and cycle and lift weights—”
“No more weights.”
She laughed, amused, the sound soft and husky. “We’re not talking Olympic moves here.”
“No weights,” he repeated. “I don’t think it’s necessary to stress you, or the baby, that much.”
She opened her mouth to protest but closed it, shrugged.
“The pool is heated,” he added. “I think you’ll find it quite pleasant.”
She leaned all the way back against the cushion and extended her long legs. “Will it be this way for the next three and a half months?”
“What does that mean?”
“Will you be supervising my nutrition along with my exercise?”
He heard the mockery in her voice, and it didn’t anger him as much as stir his senses. She had no idea how appealing he found her. He should warn her. If not for her sake then his. “Yes,” he answered smoothly. “It will be this way.” There was no point denying it. She was here so he could monitor the pregnancy and make sure the third trimester went well.
Her lips curved faintly. Amusement lurked in her eyes. “Then we have a problem.”
“Not if you’re compliant.”
She gave him another long look, one perfect brow lifting. “And is that how Mr. Laurent described me? Docile...sweet...compliant?”
The air was suddenly charged, crackling with tension and resistance.
No, he couldn’t imagine her ever being described as any of those, and he hadn’t been throwing down a challenge, either, just setting forth his expectations. But she was turning his expectations into something more.
Heat rushed through him, hot and heavy in his veins. His body ached. His blood hummed. He was waking up. It felt far too good.
“I don’t believe that was ever Mr. Laurent’s description,” Nikos replied gently, aware of the dance they were being drawn into. “I think my attorney used words like intelligent, gifted, successful, ambitious.”
Her blue gaze held his.
She was looking so deeply, so directly, that he wondered what she was thinking...seeing. She didn’t appear threatened. Didn’t seem the least bit uneasy. If anything she radiated confidence. Control.
For being just twenty-four, Georgia Nielsen struck him as a powerful woman in her element.
Not the surrogate he’d expected. Not the surrogate he wanted.
But just possibly a woman he wanted.
Careful, he told himself. Do not be stupid...do not complicate things...
“I’m not accustomed to being told what to do,” she said, her voice pitched low and firm. “And I might be your guest here for the next few months, but I am my own person.”
And he wasn’t accustomed to negotiating with anyone, certainly not a woman. But he found it exciting. She was exciting. “Can you not think of it as care and concern for the well-being of my son?”
A light flickered in her eyes. “I have taken excellent care of him so far.”
“I appreciate that. But as his father, I expect you to respect my wishes.”
She stared back at him, unrepentant.
There was definitely a power struggle taking place. He hadn’t anticipated that, either. She was carrying his son. She was hired to carry his son. All she had to do was heed his wishes. But it appeared that Georgia either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, and her resistance was like gasoline to a flame.
He wasn’t angry. Not in the least. But his heart was thudding, and blood was drumming in his veins.
Nikos placed her glass on the corner table and sat back down across from her. “I think we have a misunderstanding.” His tone was pleasant. There was no need to snarl. He knew just how dangerous he was...just how dangerous he could be. “Maybe it’s a language barrier. Maybe it’s cultural—you are American, I am Greek—but business is business. You entered into an arrangement with me, and I have met my end of the agreement. I have paid you, handsomely, for your service—”
“We are discussing my body. I am not a shipping container or a maritime vessel. I am not your employee, either. I am a woman who is giving you a gift—”
“Providing a service,” he interrupted. “We have to call it what it is.”
