Constantine frowned. ‘Where, then? London?’
‘London’s not easy for me to get to.’
‘I can send a car for you.’
How easily practical problems could be solved when you had money, thought Laura. But a Greek billionaire’s limousine was just as striking as its owner. ‘No, honestly—there’s no need for that. I’ll meet you in Colinwood—it’s our nearest big town.’
Constantine waved away the secretary who had appeared at the door of his vast office, carrying a bundle of papers. ‘And is there a good restaurant there?’
She thought about what Colinwood had to offer. ‘There’s a hotel called the Grapevine, which is supposed to have a good restaurant, but I won’t be eating because I like to have tea with my…my son,’ she said. And besides, if the evening turned out to be really uncomfortable then she’d be trapped, wouldn’t she? Forced to sit enduring food she didn’t really want to eat and growing silent every time the waiter appeared. ‘I’ll meet you in the bar at nine.’
‘Very well,’ he said softly, and put the phone down—feeling slightly perplexed that she had not instantly fallen in with his wishes as he had expected her to do. As women always did.
Laura sat in silence for a moment after the connection was broken, and then ran back down to the empty shop, blurting out her news before her sister had a chance to berate her for being late.
‘I’m meeting him for a drink tomorrow night. He’s changed his mind about the DNA test.’
Sarah paused in the middle of brushing some icing sugar off the counter. ‘Why?’
Laura shook her head, and a terrible combination of fear and excitement shivered over her skin. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I just don’t know.’
CHAPTER FIVE
DURING the build-up to her meeting with Constantine, Laura tried to carry on as usual—but inside she was still a seething cauldron of nerves, fear, and a terrible sense of excitement, too. And how she hated that heart-pounding awareness that she was going to see him again…that she wanted to see him again.
Even her choice of clothes for the outing proved a headache—she wasn’t used to going out on dates and so had no idea what to wear. And this wasn’t a date, she reminded herself—in fact, it was anything but. She knew it was wrong to go looking all dressed-up—it might look as if she was expecting something, mightn’t it? But he had only ever seen her dressed as a waitress—or naked—and she had her pride. She didn’t want him to look at her and wonder what the hell he had ever seen in her.
So, the following evening, she tucked Alex into bed and went to shower and change. It was a hot, sticky evening, and a light, flowery dress was about the only thing she had which was suitable—but it worked with bare legs and strappy wedge sandals. She added some seed pearls which had belonged to her mother, and went into the sitting room to face her sister’s assessment.
‘No make-up?’ questioned Sarah critically as she looked her up and down.
‘I am wearing a bit.’
‘Hardly going to knock his socks off looking like that, are you?’
‘That was never my intention,’ said Laura as she picked up her handbag. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you later.’ She wobbled her sister a smile as nerves came back to assail her. ‘And thanks for babysitting.’
‘Any time. Ring me if you want rescuing.’
‘And how are you going to rescue me?’ asked Laura, her mouth curving into a wry smile. ‘By sending in the cavalry?’
She caught the bus to Colinwood—a pretty journey, which took in part of the dramatic coastline before tunnelling into lanes lush and thick with summer greenery. Normally she might have enjoyed just sitting back and taking in the scenery, but her heart was full of fear and the sky was heavy with the yellow-grey clouds which preceded a storm. As Laura alighted in the market square in the still and heavy air, she could already feel the oppressive beads of sweat which were prickling at her forehead.
The Grapevine was already quite full—mainly with young professionals, as well as couples out together for the evening. Laura found herself watching them the most—their close body contact proclaiming to the world that they were in love.
She knew that envy was an unappealing trait, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. She wondered what it must be like to do things the ‘right’ way round. To fall in love and get engaged and then married. To have a man sit and hold your hand and look as if he had found heaven on earth. She tried to imagine the shared joy of a first baby—the breathless wonder of news being broken to friends and relatives. Not like her—with her unplanned pregnancy and her young son who had never laid eyes on his father…
She saw Constantine immediately—somehow he had bagged the best table in a quiet corner which commanded an enviable view of the stunning gardens outside. A waitress was buzzing around him, smiling for an extra beat as she placed a small dish of olives in front of him, smoothing her manicured hand down over a slender hip as if she wanted to draw his attention to it.
Please give me the strength to stand up to him, Laura said to herself silently as she picked her way through the room towards him, trying to fix her face into a neutral expression. But what kind of expression did she wear in circumstances like these?
Constantine watched her, observing her with a clinical detachment made easier by the fact that she was not wearing a uniform tonight. Tonight her long, fine hair was fizzing down over her shoulders—he could see its brightness as she approached. And she wore a thin little summer dress which made the most of her firm, young body and slender frame. The shoes she wore were high and drew attention to her legs. Amazing legs, he thought suddenly, as if remembering why she had captivated him all those years ago—and then instantly regretted it as she walked up to his table.
‘H-hello, Constantine.’
He should have risen to greet her, but his trousers were stretched so tightly across his groin that he did not dare move. It wasn’t textbook behaviour—but then he reminded himself that this wasn’t exactly a textbook situation. They weren’t out on some kind of cute, getting-to-know-you evening; they were here to discuss a small child. And once again the shimmering of some unknown emotion whispered at his heart.
‘Sit down,’ he drawled.
‘Thanks.’ She perched on the edge of the plush leather banquette, her skin clammy and her heart thumping loudly with nerves. It was so hot in here! When he handed her a glass of wine, she automatically took it with boneless fingers, even though she’d decided on the way over that alcohol was a bad idea. She took a sip. ‘Have…have you been waiting long?’
There was silence for a moment, and Constantine leaned back, taking his time as he studied her, noting the way her knees were pushed tightly together and the stiff set of her slender shoulders. Her body language screamed out her tension—and he knew then that this was not going to be a walk-over. ‘No, I’ve only just arrived,’ he said, and in the fading light his eyes glittered. ‘So…that’s the niceties out of the way. Have you told the boy anything yet?’
Laura shook her head. She wished he would stop looking at her like that. As if he was stripping her completely bare with his black eyes. ‘No.’
Fractionally, he leaned towards her. ‘Do you realize,’ he said softly, ‘that I don’t even know his name?’
It sounded like an accusation, and maybe it was—though it was actually the first time he’d asked. She sucked in a breath, disorientated by his proximity. What if he hates the name I’ve chosen? she thought—in that inexplicable way that people often did take against names because they reminded them of someone or something from their past.
‘It’s Alex,’ she said quietly. ‘Short for Alexander.’
There was a moment of silence before Constantine let out a long, low breath. It was a name which meant warrior. A proud name which carried with it all the weight and honour of his heritage. ‘A Greek name,’ he observed.
‘Yes. It seemed somehow appropriate.’
He felt a wave of something app
roaching helplessness wash over him. ‘In a situation which was entirely inappropriate?’ he countered—because didn’t giving the child a name make him seem real in a way that a photo never could? A person was beginning to emerge from the scraps of information he was being fed. A person about whom he knew absolutely nothing. ‘What else did you decide was appropriate?’ he snapped.
Laura recoiled from the anger which was emanating in heated waves from his powerful frame, and she put her wine glass down on the table before it slid from her fingers. ‘We can’t keep apportioning blame!’ she said in a low voice. ‘What happened happened. We can’t change it—we just have to deal with the situation as it is.’
‘And the situation is what?’ he retorted. ‘A woman who is clearly living from hand to mouth having sole charge of my son and heir? Don’t you think it’s time I had a little input into his life as well, Laura?’
‘Of…of course I do. That’s why I’m here.’ She stared at him, twisting her fingers nervously in her lap. ‘We could arrange a first meeting, if you like.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Slot me into the diary like an appointment at the dentist, you mean? You want me turning up on a Saturday afternoon to take a reluctant child for a hamburger while he counts away the minutes he has to spend with this stranger?’
Laura bit her lip. ‘I didn’t mean like that.’
‘No? Then just what did you mean?’ His black eyes blazed into her. ‘What kind of future had you anticipated when you made contact with me again?’
His dominance was formidable, and Laura felt herself swamped by its dark power. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted desperately.
Constantine’s mouth hardened. ‘Well, I do. I have given it a lot of thought and weighed up all the possibilities.’ He had spoken to his lawyers, too—but maybe now was not the best time to tell her that. He lowered his voice, the way he did in the world of business when he was about to close a deal. ‘And there is a future which makes perfect sense for all parties. Which is why I want you to accompany me to my island home in Greece, Laura, occupying the only position which is appropriate.’ He paused, and his eyes gleamed like cold, black stones as he looked at her. ‘As my wife.’
CHAPTER SIX
LAURA stared at Constantine, her heart beating wildly, scarcely able to believe her ears. ‘Your wife?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘Why on earth would I want to marry you?’
‘Want has nothing to do with it,’ he iced back, outraged at her shocked and unflattering response. ‘Need is a far more fitting word. For a start, you need money.’
‘I never said—’
‘You’re a waitress who also works in a damned shop!’ he shot out.
The beating of her heart increased. ‘How did you know that?’
His lips twisted. How naïve she was! ‘It wasn’t difficult. I got someone to find out for me.’
Laura swallowed. ‘You mean you’ve been spying on me?’
Dismissively, he batted the question away, with an arrogant flick of his hand. If only it were as easy to bat away the memory of the photos his private detective had dropped in front of him: Laura taking the boy to school in clothes which were clearly too small for him. Not to mention the pictorial evidence of his son growing up in some scruffy apartment over a seedy little shop.
But it was more than that. There had been the dawning realisation that perhaps this trembling little waitress might actually make ideal marriage material. Poor and desperate—wouldn’t she be so swept away by his power and his riches that she would be completely malleable, so that he could mould her to the image of his perfect wife? And of course added to all this was the inexplicable fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that stolen kiss in the dark basement of the hotel…Why, even now the memory of it made him want to do it all over again. It was crazy. It was inexplicable. And it was as potent as hell…
He scowled, forcing his mind back to her ridiculous claim that she’d been spying on him. ‘Don’t be hysterical, Laura,’ he snapped. ‘When a woman comes to a man in my position, making claims of enormous significance, it is inevitable her background will be investigated. For all I knew you might have had some male partner at home, his eyes fixed greedily on the main chance—seeing your ex-lover as a meal ticket.’
‘You…you…cynic…’ she breathed.
‘Or simply a realist?’ he countered. ‘Oh, come on—you can lose the outrage, agape mou. You see, I know the corrupting power of money. And I’ve seen what people will do in its pursuit.’
Laura stared at him. His wife? Had he really just asked her to be his wife? ‘But I thought you were marrying that other woman—’
‘What other woman?’
She saw his eyes narrow dangerously and wished she hadn’t started this. ‘The Swedish supermodel,’ she said reluctantly.
‘Who told you that?’
‘I heard it on the radio,’ she admitted, and from the look of slowly dawning comprehension which crossed his face she wished she’d kept quiet. Because now she sounded like some kind of stalker.
‘You shouldn’t believe a word the media tells you,’ he snapped. ‘But at least that explains why you suddenly appeared out of nowhere the other night.’ His eyes fixed her with icy challenge. ‘Actually, the press have been trying to marry me off for years—but I will chose whom and when to marry, not the media!’
She stared up at him, full of bewilderment. ‘I still don’t understand…after everything you’ve said—why you want to marry me.’
‘Don’t you? Think about it. Marriage has always been on a list as something that perhaps I ought to do when I get around to it—but there’s been no real sense of urgency. Until now.’ His black eyes glittered. ‘You see, I possess a vast fortune, Laura,’ he elaborated softly, ‘and my father is old and frail. His greatest wish is to see me provide him with an heir. This could be a surprisingly easy way of accomplishing both objectives.’
Laura shook her head. ‘But that’s so…cold-blooded!’
‘Is it?’ He gave a cynical laugh. ‘Unlike you, I have not grown up on a diet of believing in romance and happy-ever-after.’ In fact, he knew better than anyone that reality never matched up to dreams, and that emotion robbed men of sense and of reason. He lowered his voice. ‘Why not look at it practically rather than emotionally? Marriage will serve a purpose—it will legitimise my son and it will give you all the financial security you could ever need.’
But deep down Laura’s suspicions were alerted. It would also give Constantine power, she recognised. And once he had that power wouldn’t he be tempted to use it against her? Pushing her to the sidelines until he dominated Alex’s life as she suspected that he could all too easily? Everything that she’d fought and worked for could be threatened by this man’s undeniable wealth and charisma.
‘No! No and no and no!’ she flared back, as the emotion and the humid atmosphere of the bar began to tighten her throat. Suddenly she needed to get away from Constantine’s heady proximity and the danger he represented.
Grabbing her handbag, she stood up—and without another word walked straight out of the bar, uncaring of the sudden lull in conversation from the couples around them, or the curious eyes watching her as she tried not to stumble in her high wedges.
Outside in the fast-fading light the atmosphere was just as sticky, and the heady scent of roses was almost overpowering. Laura dimly wondered if she should take off her shoes and run to the bus stop in an effort to escape from him, when she felt a hand gripping her arm. Constantine spun her round to face him, his black eyes blazing.
He stared at her, a nerve working furiously in his cheek. Because no woman had ever said no to him before. And no woman ever turned her back on him, either.
‘Don’t you ever walk out on me like that again!’ he bit out.
‘I’m a free agent and I can do exactly as I please!’
‘You think so?’ His mouth hardened with lust. ‘Well, in that case, so can I!’
Without warning he pul
led her right up against him—so close that she could feel every hard sinew. And she wanted to resist him—just as she was resisting his demand that she marry him. But it seemed that her body had other ideas. To her horror she found herself wanting to sink against him. Into him.
Did he sense that? Was that why he gathered her closer still—with a small moan of what sounded like his own surrender?
In the pale light, he tilted her face up. ‘Now, this is a time when the word want is appropriate. And you want me, Laura—just as I want you. Don’t ask me why, but I do,’ he ground out, and he drove his mouth down onto hers.
She had meant to gasp out her protest, but instead her lips opened beneath his like a sea-anemone, and suddenly her feelings ran away with her. Was it anger or frustration which fuelled her desire, causing her fingers to clutch at his shoulders—finding the butter-soft silk of his shirt and the hard sheath of the muscular flesh beneath? Or was it something infinitely more dangerous—the fierce clamour of her heart for a man who would never grant her access to his?
‘Oh,’ she breathed, as she felt his free hand move down to splay with intimate freedom over the globe of one buttock, and a shudder rocked through her as her body melted into his.
‘Theos mou!’ he ground back in response. Through waves of hunger, which came with a strength he had not been anticipating, Constantine pulled her into a darkened recess at the side of the building and continued to plunder her mouth with kiss upon kiss. The fingers which had been on her bottom now slipped underneath the little sundress, and he slid his hand round until it lay over the cotton-covered warmth of her mound. He felt her gasp out a little cry. Her passion had not abated over the years, he thought grimly. Nor had her eagerness dulled or softened around the edges. He felt himself grow so hard that he thought he would explode.
Should he do it to her here? Unzip his trousers and thrust himself in her sweet, wild wetness? He moved his hand over what felt like a pair of functional cotton panties.
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