The Greek Tycoon's Love Child

by Jacqueline Baird

  'Exactly what I have told her.' Tess beamed, and Willow exploded.

  'Now just a minute.' They were talking about her as if she didn't exist. She expected this kind of behaviour from Theo, but not from Tess. 'I am not going anywhere with Theo, and, Tess, you have got it all wrong.'

  'As wrong as the buttons on your dress, I suppose.' Tess grinned. 'I don't think so.' And she burst out laughing.

  Willow glanced down at herself, and her face turned a fiery red with embarrassment. 'Oh, my God!' she ex­claimed. The top two buttonholes of her dress were empty, and the first button was slipped into the third hole, revealing much more of one breast than was ever intended. 'You could have told me,' she yelled at a grinning Theo, and she wanted to reach out and slap the smile off his face. Instead she began hastily refastening the front of her dress cor­rectly. 'I made lunch and everything,' she groaned with embarrassment.

  'Oh, will you just look at the time? It's twenty past three already,' Tess cried. 'Got to go, love, and you will have to go and collect Stephen soon. Drop the cottage keys in later when you leave and have a great holiday.' She shot out of the back door before Willow could stop her. It was the last straw for Willow.

  Elbowing Theo hard in the ribs, she spun out of his hold. 'What the hell do you think you are playing at?' she de­manded, glaring up at his strong, autocratic face. 'How dare you come into my house and lie and embarrass me in front of my friend? Who the hell do you think you are?' She screamed at him, her eyes flashing fire. 'I am going abso­lutely nowhere with you.'

  'There isn't time for a temper tantrum,' Theo said, coolly glancing down at the slim platinum watch on his wrist, and then back to her flushed, furious face. 'Unless you intend to leave our son standing alone at the school gates,' he drawled sardonically. 'But then again that would give my lawyers more ammunition if it came to a custody case.'

  'You, you. . .' she spluttered. She realised that he might be right, damn him. She stared back at him, her brilliant blue eyes glittering with fury and frustration. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides to prevent them developing a will of their own and slugging the damn man. That would go down well in a court of law—a mother given to fits of violence. Unable to hold Theo's steel-hard gaze, Willow looked down at the floor, teeth catching at her lower lip. She could not afford to give this man any more ammunition to beat her with.

  'I'll go and collect Stephen, and you can wait here,' she said with what composure she could muster, and, turning, walked out of the kitchen and headed down the hall.

  A large hand closed around her elbow. 'No. I will come with you, and you can fill me in on what exactly you have told Stephen about me before I meet him.'

  With a defeated shrug of her slender shoulders, Willow sighed, and, pushing open the front door, walked outside. She glanced up the road past the ominous black car parked outside her house. Stephen would be out of school in minutes and she had run out of time.

  Theo stopped and turned her towards him, his night- black eyes zeroing in on her. 'I'm waiting, Willow, and I want the truth.'

  'I told Stephen the truth,' she said bluntly. 'I met his father when I was very young, and we became close. I left to go and stay with my mother in India, and when I dis­covered I was pregnant and returned to London the man had vanished.' She shot him a vitriolic look. 'I went to your house but something called British Land Ltd was convert­ing it. As for the rest of the story, I told Stephen you had married someone else before he was born. Again the truth because I saw the pictures of your wedding in a flashy magazine. End of story.' Her own expression steely, she looked straight into his black eyes, daring him to deny it.

  Theo felt as if he had been hit by a ten-ton truck. 'You came looking for me?'

  'Only because my mum said it was the right thing to do. I already knew I was wasting my time,' she drawled deri­sively, and set off once more along the lane to the school.

  His strong face grim with the gravity of thoughts that he could no longer deny, Theo followed along behind her. Willow was telling the truth, she had looked for him, or how else could she have known the name 'British Land Ltd', which was a subsidiary of one of his own companies. And he remembered all too well his wedding to Dianne in New York six months later, and the extravagant magazine spread of the event that Dianne had insisted on.

  He looked at Willow marching along in front of him now, and he was reminded of the very first time he'd seen her. Her marvellous black hair falling in silken waves down her back. She had been quite scantily clad then, and he had been recklessly determined to have her. No thought had been in his head other than a casual affair. He had only just escaped the tightening clutches of a very determined Dianne. So he had taken Willow to his bed, and then been furiously angry when he'd discovered the following morn­ing that she had left him. He had been almost apoplectic when he had caught her later at the airport.

  He squared his broad shoulders. Maybe some of the fault was his, he recognised, and he meant to tell her so. He increased his stride to move alongside her, and then he saw his son.

  'Hey, Mum,' a boyish voice cried and Theo was struck dumb as Willow dashed forward.

  'Stephen, you know you are not supposed to leave the school yard alone,' she remonstrated, a smile twitching the corners of her lush lips as she looked down at him.

  'Ah, Mum, I could see you coming so Miss Lamb said it was okay.'

  'Okay then this time. But just remember next term, when you go to the middle school in town, you must wait for me.'

  'Yes, I know.' His young face creased in a frown. 'But why is that man following you, Mum?' he demanded, scowling warily up at Theo, who had stopped at her side.

  Having completely forgotten Theo for the moment, Willow was suddenly brought back to reality with a ven­geance. She glanced fearfully up at him, terrified at what he might say. But his entire concentration was focussed on the small boy staring warily up at him. She could see that his shock over the discovery that he was a father had been replaced by a burning desire to know his child, the emotion in his dark, intense eyes unmistakable.

  She saw his hands clench at his sides, as if it would stop him reaching out for the boy, and she sensed his bitter frustration. It was there in the taut lines of his powerful body, the proud tilt of his dark head. For the first time since meeting Theo again, her heart went out to him, and she actually felt compassion for him. She had always had Stephen, and his unconditional love in her life. But Theo. . . .

  'Who are you?' Stephen demanded bravely, and his hand reached out to seek hers. Looking back down at her son, Willow felt her heart flood with pride and love. At only eight he was already her protector.

  'Why are you following my mum?'

  'It's all right, Stephen.' Willow looked from one to the other, and Theo caught her upward gaze, his eyes blazing for a second with killing enmity into hers. He was never going to forgive her for denying him the boy, and any com­passion she had for him quickly vanished.

  'What your mother is trying to say,' Theo stated drop­ping to his haunches so his face was near Stephen's level, 'is that I am Theo Kadros, a very old friend of hers. I met your mother yesterday in London, and we had a drink to­gether. Then I saw a photograph of you and your mother in the newspaper this morning and I thought it would be nice to visit you both. Your name is Stephen, isn't it? I may call you Stephen?' he queried with a tentative smile. 'And you can call me Theo.' Extending a strong hand, he added, 'Shake on it.'

  With all the fickleness of youth, Stephen smiled back, his eyes, so like his father's, dancing with excitement as he took the hand offered. 'Sure, Theo, but did you really see my photo in the newspaper?'

  'Yes, of course, and it was excellent.'

  'Great.' Stephen spun back towards Willow. 'See, Mum, I told you the reporter said I would be in the paper.' Smiling back at Theo, he asked, 'Have you still got the paper? Can I see it?'

  'Please,' Willow prompted, falling back on her good manners, when all else failed, as usual. She supposed she should be
relieved that at least Theo had not said you could call me Dad. But her relief was short-lived. . .

  'Of course you can, it is in my car.' Theo smiled and rose to his feet. 'It is parked just outside your door. I will show you it if you like.'

  'Yes, please.' Stephen swung around. 'Come on, Mum, let's go.'

  Willow had no choice but to walk back home with Stephen skipping along between her and Theo. She glanced at Theo over the top of the boy's head and she went white at the outraged fury in the dark, expressive eyes that clashed for a moment with her own. He might be charming to Stephen but his charm certainly did not extend to her. The black cloud that had hung over her since meeting him yesterday suddenly seemed to envelop her in an all- encompassing dread for the future.

  When Willow was faced with a problem she did what she always did: resorted to cool politeness and mundane chores. Procrastination could have been her middle name, as Tess was often fond of telling her, and she was right. So she left Stephen and Theo eulogising over the massive Mercedes and went into the house to make the tea.

  Safe in the kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil. Staring at the table, she wondered how long their cosy routine would continue, and she knew she had to do something.

  And this time she knew procrastination was not an option. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears falling and cursed all over again for stupidly exposing her little family to the press. She must have been mad. . .

  Theo Kadros was not the type of man to be content with an occasional visit to his son. She had caught the longing, the possessive gleam in his eyes when he had first seen Stephen. He had hid his anger well from the boy, but she was under no illusion. He wanted him, and, as he had said earlier, he did not have to take her. But a court case, a battle for custody over Stephen. . .could she face it?

  Yes, damn it! She could, and she brushed the moisture from her eyes. Whatever else she was, she was not a cow­ard, and she was not going to let a man whom she had only met once turn her into one.

  For her writing she did a lot of research; it was essential to have one's facts straight. It was way past time she got back into professional mode, instead of being led around by her emotions. And with that in mind she went straight to the telephone on the kitchen wall. She quickly dialled the number of her lawyer, Mr Swinburn.

  Five minutes later she put the phone down feeling much more confident. She had explained her problem, and been reassured.

  A man she had only met once; a man she had gone looking for to tell him he was to be a father, only to dis­cover the man in question had married someone else. A man who had never met the boy until he was eight and had never paid a penny to support the boy. He didn't really have a leg to stand on in Mr Swinburn's view. As for the expense, he assured Willow with the money coming in from her writing she could afford it, and he foresaw no problem at all.

  Then it hit her. What on earth was she thinking of leav­ing Stephen alone with Theo? He could whisk him away in an instant, and with a gasp of panic Willow shot back out of the house. Just in time, as she saw Stephen about to step into Theo's car.

  'Stephen, come here this minute, your tea is ready,' she shouted.

  'Oh, Mum. Theo was just going to take me for a drive. Can't it wait?'

  'No,' she declared and, trying not to look as panicked as she felt, she walked down the path and grabbed Stephen's hand. 'Later, maybe.'

  'Your mother is right, Stephen.' Much to her amazement Theo backed her up with a grin for Stephen. But he flicked her a cold glance of cutting perception, before turning his attention back to Stephen. 'First tea, and then how about we all go for a drive to Exeter, where my aircraft is wait­ing?'

  'Wow, you have an aeroplane,' Stephen exclaimed, his eyes wide like saucers. 'How cool! Can I see it?'

  'Yes, of course, in fact you can fly in it. I know you and your mum had planned to go on holiday tomorrow. But how about if we all go tonight instead? You can stay with me at my villa in Greece.' Lifting his dark head, his black eyes gleaming with triumph and something else Willow could not name, he went on. 'Instead of—where was it you were going again, Willow?'

  She had never mentioned going on holidays to Theo, and then she remembered Tess and her big mouth, and groaned inwardly. He hadn't been joking when he'd asked Tess to look after the house. Things could not get much worse. But they did. . .

  'We usually go to Falmouth. And then to France,' Stephen answered for her. 'Mum was going to look for my dad. But that can wait a bit longer, I'd much rather fly to Greece.'

  'Come in for your tea,' Willow snapped, suddenly ter­rified what Theo would say next. But her worst fear was realised.

  'This is your lucky day, Stephen.' Theo placed a hand on his small shoulder and looked straight into his excited eyes. 'Because your mother has already found your father. I am your dad, and we are all going to Greece to meet your grandmother and aunty and cousins.'

  Willow wanted the ground to open and swallow her up. She went as white as a sheet, and her legs turned to jelly. She looked at Theo with wide, wounded blue eyes, inca­pable of saying a word. How could he blurt the information out so brutally? A strong arm curved around her waist, and he smiled down into her eyes.

  'Isn't that right, Willow?'

  'Yes,' she whispered. Stephen flung his arms around her thighs, and looked up at her with such adoration, she had to blink.

  'Thanks, Mum, I always knew you would find him one day. I just knew it,' he declared in delight. His absolute faith in her made Willow feel about two inches tall, and Theo's sardonic smile simply compounded her guilt.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cursing silently beneath her breath, Willow paced up and down the huge bedroom illuminated by a single bedside lamp. She was seething with resentment and much too fu­rious to sleep, the rumpled bed testament to the fact. It was all the fault of one man: Theo mighty Kadros.

  He had swept back into her life like a cyclone. Stephen was sleeping in the next room along the hall, and she still could not get her head around the fact that her son had taken one look at Theo and had accepted him. No, not just accepted him, he actually hero-worshipped his father within hours of meeting him.

  She was hurt and, yes, jealous, she freely admitted, and absolutely flaming mad. None of these emotions conducive to sleep. Willow slumped down on the edge of the huge bed, and wanted to cry her eyes out.

  After Theo's declaration this afternoon that he was Stephen's father, and her son's unbridled joy at the news, events had overtaken her completely. Knowing only too well she was unwilling to upset her son, Theo had used emotional blackmail of the worst kind to get his own way. He had given her no chance to refuse and before she'd known it they had been in a car heading towards Exeter airport, and later boarding Theo's luxurious jet.

  Unable to relax on the flight to Greece, she had struggled to make sense of the emotional roller-coaster ride of the past thirty-six hours. From the elation she had felt at win­ning the award and securing the film contract, to her shock at seeing Theo again, to another kind of elation—the way she had felt in Theo's arms. But then there had been the utter horror of a dangerously angry Theo turning up on her doorstep and demanding to see her son.

  Finally watching Theo patiently explaining every intri­cate bit of the aircraft to Stephen, noting the easy interac­tion between father and son, she had been forced to accept that Theo Kadros was now a permanent part of their life.

  The arrival at the villa, set high up in the hills outside Athens, two hours earlier had been fraught with tension. A butler by the name of Takis had welcomed them and shown them into a very elegant lounge. But Willow's most vivid image had been of Theo's mother, small and dark and very elegant, introducing herself and showering lots of hugs and kisses on Stephen. She had politely asked Willow if she would like a drink, and something to eat, but Willow had given a rather stilted refusal using the excuse that it was very late, and all the while Theo had stood by saying noth­ing.

  But then he hadn't needed
to say anything, she thought on another sizzling burst of rage. He had her and Stephen right where he wanted them.

  Finally Mrs Kadros had swept a sleepy Stephen into her arms and insisted on carrying him up to his room. After watching Willow put Stephen to bed, she had shown Willow to her room next door, and wished her goodnight, saying they could all talk in the morning.

  Talk. . . That was a laugh, she thought bitterly, rising to her feet, too restless to sit still. Who was going to listen to what she wanted for Stephen? Certainly not Theo, and like any mother Mrs Kadros was bound to support her own son.

  Walking to the huge windows that opened onto a bal­cony, Willow stared out at the night sky and wondered fearfully what the future had in store. She was in a house full of people but had never felt so totally alone in her whole life.

  'I thought you might still be awake.'

  She had not heard the door open but she heard the husky- voiced drawl and spun around to stare in disbelief. 'Get out of my room,' she snapped as she watched Theo close the door softly behind him and turn the key. Something she should have done herself, she realised only too late. 'Haven't you done enough damage for one day, Theo?' she said bitterly.

  'Be quiet.' He moved towards her, and it was then that it dawned on her that he was wearing only a short towelling robe that exposed his broad chest and long legs. She was pretty sure that he was naked beneath it, as was she in her skimpy cotton nightshirt. . .

  Her heart lurched and she was furious at herself, at him and at the whole damn world. She saw the lazy sensuality in his dark eyes as he stopped an arm's reach away, and the sheer gall of the man staggered her. He had already charmed her son, and she was obviously next on his agenda.

  She sucked in a furious breath. 'Don't you dare tell me to be quiet, you no-good, manipulative swine,' she threw at him, her eyes flashing blue fire. 'What kind of lowlife are you that you would use a small boy to blackmail me into coming here? What kind of so-called father would do a thing like that?' she challenged him, her anger laced with scorn.