by Lynne Graham
For the first time in her life, Betsy travelled as a passenger in a luxurious limousine. But she could not relax enough to get anything out of the experience. Her nerves were as active as jumping beans. Where was she being taken? Some hotel? She could hardly announce that she was pregnant over lunch in a public restaurant. When Cristos arrived she would have to explain that she needed to speak to him in private.
Her every expectation was confounded when she was taken to an exclusive block of accommodation and ushered up to the penthouse. Assuming that the palatial apartment was where Cristos lived when he was over in London, Betsy paced the carpet in the magnificent drawing room. It was, however, a curiously impersonal room. It had neither photos nor books; indeed there was nothing on display that would have cast the smallest light on the nature, family connections or interests of the owner. At the other end of the apartment, the distant clatter of dishes and voices indicated that lunch was being prepared.
'Betsy… '
She whirled round.
Dark eyes flaming gold, Cristos stared across the room at her. 'So how do we celebrate this historic moment?' he drawled.
His business suit was a dark grey pinstripe tailored to an exquisite fit on his broad shoulders and long, powerful thighs. His slow, devastating smile slashed his darkly handsome features. For a shameful instant, her heart leapt inside her chest with excitement. A split second later, she remembered Petrina Rhodias and the pain of that humiliating recollection stiffened her backbone.
'What historic moment?' Betsy echoed, struggling to regain her concentration and say what had to be said. 'Celebrate?'
'This apartment is yours. I bought it for you soon after we regained our freedom,' Cristos imparted, strolling forward. 'But if you don't like it, we'll find you somewhere more to your taste.'
It was only then that Betsy realized that Cristos had got completely the wrong idea about why she had come to see him. 'If you bought this apartment for me, you've made a really expensive mistake. I don't understand why you won't listen to what I say to you-'
'How can I?' Cristos demanded. 'I want you back.
Why are you doing this to us? You look miserable-'
'Yes…' Betsy conceded tightly. 'You've got that right. But you've got everything else wrong. In fact we're talking at cross purposes. I wanted to see you today for one reason only-'
'Let's discuss it at our leisure over lunch,' Cristos cut in, smooth as s~.
'I don't feel sociable…look-' Betsy hesitated and then stabbed on '-I'm pregnant.'
Cristos went so still he might have been a statue.
His expression did not alter but his superb bone structure tightened beneath his bronzed skin. The silence went on and on, nagging at her ragged nerves.
'Are you sure?' Cristos asked with pronounced clarity.
His dark eyes no longer flamed gold. His gaze had grown somber. The care with which he spoke and the sudden definable edge of his Greek accent betrayed the level of the shock she had dealt him.
'Yes. I saw a doctor yesterday.' In the tense silence, Betsy dragged in a quivering breath. 'He confirmed what I already knew.'
His hard jaw line squared. 'And you chose my office as the ideal place to make such an announcement?'
A rueful little laugh fell from her lips. 'I don't know where you live when you're in London. Have you forgotten that? It really seems to say it all, doesn't it? Here I am, pregnant by a man whose address I don't even know!'
'I don't see the significance of my address.'
'I didn't think you would. You have the sensitivity of a concrete block.'
'Would you like a drink?' Cristos spoke as though she had not, his rich, dark drawl laced with excessive politeness.
Feeling cut off, Betsy reddened. 'Anything… '
'But not, of course, something alcoholic,' Cristos affixed with innate arrogance.
Rage shot through Betsy's slight frame like an adrenalin jag. Within ten seconds of learning that she was pregnant, Cristos was laying down the law with a galling air of superior authority. 'Know a lot… do you… about how to treat women in my condition?'
'Only what is common knowledge,' Cristos murmured with unimpeachable modesty.
'Well, let's hope you know more about the health issues of being pregnant than you knew about the risks of getting pregnant!' Betsy shot at him accusingly. 'So blame is to be apportioned.' Cristos raised an infuriating winged dark brow. 'Is that what you call constructive?'
It was like a red rag to a bull. 'No, it's not constructive but it expresses how I feel and that is horribly bitter and angry!' Betsy admitted. 'When we were on Mos, I trusted you. You made loads of really impressive promises. You swore you would stand by me if anything went wrong-'
'Perhaps your unfortunate experiences with other men have misled you,' Cristos murmured flatly, pressing the bell on the wall.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'You're not used to men you can rely on-' 'Don't you dare tell me that I can rely on you!'
Betsy warned him, her incredulity at his sheer nerve unconcealed. 'Don't you dare!'
'Don't judge me without giving me a chance-' 'Don't throw Rory and one date with a kidnapper in my face!' Betsy traded fiercely. 'You do it one more time to me and I'll scream!'
'This is degenerating into a very unproductive confrontation. '
'After all, if you want to discuss my lack of judgment when it comes to men, please include yourself in that study,' Betsy slung back at him, refusing to back down. 'If you're honest, you will then see that you have caused me the most grief and the most damage. Being pregnant at this stage of my life will destroy all my future plans.'
Cristos said nothing. Her announcement had had a similar effect on him to watching a huge tidal wave wreak havoc while he stood powerless on the sidelines. Within seconds and with an immediacy that would have shaken her, for she had little faith in him, he had known what he must do and what would be the results. And the results even from a business and family point of view would be disastrous. The merger with the Rhodias clan would crash and burn at spectacular speed. The inevitable battle that would follow would be very bloody and very dirty. Share prices would fall, stockholders would get nervous, takeover bids would be launched. Job losses and restructuring would be inevitable. For the foreseeable future he would be working eighteen-hour days…
Tears stinging her eyes, Betsy spun away to stare blindly out the window. She was getting really emotional and she had tried so hard to stay calm. But her doctor had warned· her about the often unsettling emotional effects of early pregnancy. Certainly she had never cried or shouted so much as she had in recent days. All she was doing, though, was making a.bad situation worse. What was the point of hurling recriminations at Cristos? Where was the advantage in, encouraging him to think she was a shrew? She was a grown woman and she had taken the same risk with him and should accept equal responsibility for the new life forming within her womb.
A light knock broke the silence and she spun back.
An older man, who seemed to be an employee, was inclining his head to receive instructions from Cristos. Dully she watched the man open the drinks cabinet and proceed to pour brandy for Cristos and a soft drink that was presumably for her. She blinked, belatedly understanding the significance of the bell that Cristos had pressed. She mumbled thanks for the glass presented to her on a tray.
'Cristos… ' she whispered shakily as the manservant withdrew. 'You just rang a bell and summoned another person to pour two drinks from a cabinet only ten feet away from you.'
His winged ebony brows pleated. 'What of it?' 'Oh… nothing,' she muttered.
His sublime lack of comprehension had penetrated.
She went pink. He was accustomed to servants. Of course he was. He was not used to performing menial tasks on his own account. No wonder he had never seemed comfortable in the kitchen and had refused to eat there. No wonder he had gone into the dishwasher when she'd asked him to fetch her something out of the fridge. Dome
stically speaking, he was Stone Age man. When he had watched her ironing his shirt with apparent fascination and had commented about how much work it was, that had not been a back-handed way of thanking her but a sincere opinion of a task new to his experience.
Sipping at her drink, she watched him from below her lashes. Lean, strong face set, he looked as bleak as she felt. She could not bear to be responsible for that. For a moment she honestly thought her heart were breaking in two inside her. Certainly anything that had remained of her pride was swept away for ever in that instant.l6he still loved him and it seemed the final humiliation to know that right now he had to be deeply regretting ever laying eyes on her… wishing he hadn't noticed her that day in the airport car park.
His vibrantly handsome features grave, Cristos surveyed her. 'You're angry that you're pregnant and you're angry with me. I understand that. But I would like to know how you feel about this baby.'
Her vulnerable gaze widened and then veiled •. It was like being asked to define the need for world peace in five seconds. How did she feel about the baby? She had not yet had time to consider the child she carried as a tiny person in its own right. But she did know that she felt guilty that she was not in a position to offer her baby more stable prospects and a father. She had a secret fear that she might turn out to be really hopeless in the parenting stakes. She also knew that she was genuinely afraid of the huge burden of.responsibility that would fall on her shoulders. However, she was ashamed about all those feelings and could not bring herself to admit them to him.
'I am aware that this is a difficult time for you-'-' Cristos appeared to be picking his words with unusual care and she glanced up '-but decisions must be made and we need to be honest with each other.'
Betsy tensed. 'I don't want an abortion.'
'Is that what you thought I was asking?' His beautiful mouth quirked but his gaze was level. 'This is my child too. I was brought up to respect the ties of family beyond all others. This child will be my son or my daughter and the next generation in the Stephanides family. If you had wanted a termination, I would be trying to change your mind-'
'I don't think I can believe you when you say that,' Betsy muttered unhappily. 'What choice have you got?'
'There is always a choice. If I wanted nothing to do with this child, if I was prepared to walk away, I could make generous financial provision for you both. But I could not live with the option of never knowing my own flesh and blood,' Cristos confessed. 'My grandfather set me an example when my parents died.'
'How?' she whispered.
'When they died, Petros was about to embark on a fun-filled retirement and a second marriage with a much younger woman. 1 was eleven years old. For my benefit, Patras made sacrifices. He stayed at the helm of the Stephanides empire to conserve my inheritance. Even though he loved the woman, he gave her up because he knew that she wasn't stepmother material.'
Hurt tears prickled at the back of her nose. 'I really don't want to be your sacrifice, Cristos.'
'I'm not thinking about you… I'm thinking about our child,' Cristos pointed out drily. 'We're adults. We can sort ourselves out. This baby will only have us to depend on. I feel bound by my honor to offer our child a stable environment in which to live.'
'I don't drink or do drugs, so 1 don't believe that you need to speak as if I'm a totally unsuitable person to have the care of a child,' Betsy protested stiffly.
Cristos expelled his breath in an impatient hiss. 'You are determined to take offence. Can't you rise above your hostility and focus on the bigger picture? 1 didn't suggest that you would be an inadequate parent. But even you cannot deny that our child would benefit most from having two parents, who are married to each other.'
Her brow pleated in confusion. Her back was aching from the stress of standing rigid for so long. Surrendering to her discomfort, she sank down heavily on the sofa behind her. 'Run that by me again… married to each other?'
Brilliant dark eyes flashed gold over her. Cristos flung his arms wide in a volatile gesture of expressive frustration. 'Obviously we're going to have to get married!'
'Oh, no, we're not… go lay your sacrificial head on someone else's block!' Betsy advised, fighting to keep the lid on her absolute astonishment that he should even consider offering matrimony. 'I want to do the best I can for our baby as well, but wild horses wouldn't get me to the altar with a guy like you!'
'What do you mean… a guy like me?' Cristos demanded.
'You're engaged to another woman yet you've slept with me and you've asked me to be your mistress. With that evidence, I don't need to be bright to deduce that you would be the equivalent of the husband from hell!'
Outrage flamed through Cristos at that blunt response. 'I will be an excellent husband and father.' Betsy tilted up her chin. 'But you won't be my husband.'
In the silence that spread like an oil slick waiting on a torch to ignite, the manservant crept in to announce that lunch was being served.
'I'm not hungry,' Betsy said thinly.
Cristos seared her with one glance. 'But possibly the baby is, so you can make an effort.'
In a room across the hall, a polished mahogany table had been had with beautiful china. In any other mood, Betsy would have been impressed to death. However, she was still in too much shock from the revelation that Cristos was prepared to call off his engagement to do what had once been called, 'the decent thing' and give their child his name. Just as he had promised on the island, he was willing to support her through
. her pregnancy. _
'You must not judge me on the basis of my relationship with Petrina,' Cristos drawled with supreme cool. 'Naturally you don't understand the bond that I have with her and it is not necessary that you should.
Some matters are private and not on the table for discussion-'
'Which is a very long-winded and patronizing way of saying that you're the unfaithful type and not prepared to change,' Betsy filled in, her luscious pink mouth taking on a scornful curl.
Arrogant head high, lean, strong face hard, Cristos dealt her a steady appraisal that made her shift uneasily in her seat. 'I have asked you to marry me. Whatever else I may deserve, I don't. believe that is an excuse for you to insult me.'
Mortified color burned Betsy's skin. She felt like a child being rebuked for rudeness.
'I don't make idle promises. To the best of my ability, I would try to make our marriage work-'
'For the baby's sake,' she slotted in half under her breath, her throat aching.
'For all our sakes,' Cristos contradicted.
Mulling that over, striving to at least respect his good intentions even if she did not wish to be the charitable target of them, Betsy ate her fresh-fruit starter. 'Do you like children?'
'Very much… I may not have surviving siblings but I do have many cousins. Most of them have offspring.'
She had not been prepared for that wholehearted response. He liked kids. Then he would have expected to have children with Petrina Rhodias. Did he love Petrina? Love and fidelity did not always go hand in hand. Not everyone placed the same importance on physical fidelity. But Betsy placed huge importance on it. How could Petrina bear to know that Cristos slept with other women? Didn't she mind? Or didn’t she know? Did Petrina love Cristos so much that she was willing to share him? Her thoughts revolving in a mad, frantic whirl, Betsy drew in a slow steadying breath.
'Talk about what you're thinking… raise your concerns.' Cristos leant back in his armchair, his glass of wine cradled in one lean brown hand. His black hair gleaming in the light from the window, bold bronzed features intent, he looked incredibly handsome. He also looked every inch what he was, she conceded heavily. A Greek tycoon from a privileged world, an intelligent, cultured and sophisticated male. Yet in her opinion he was letting an old-fashioned sense of honor come between him and common sense.
'It wouldn't work,' she told him tightly. 'You and
I. We're chalk and cheese-' 'That's stimulating-'
'We fight all the time!'
His dark eyes glittered, his wide, sensual mouth curving to reveal a glimmer of even white teeth. 'And then we forget our differences in bed. We have passion. Respect it, pethi mou.'
'It would never be enough for either of us,' Betsy told him flatly, pain infiltrating her.
Would he ever recognize how lucky he was that she was turning him down? He drove her crazy but she loved him. It would be so easy to be selfish. And she was convinced that it would be selfish to let him marry her. If he cared for anyone, she was convinced it would be Petrina with whom he had so much more in common. Betsy was sure that he would be willing to help her financially. Just a little practical help would enable her to remain pretty much independent and he would be free to go on with his life and marry his beautiful heiress.
After all, Petrina was the innocent party, Betsy conceded guiltily. When she remembered the unhappiness that Rory's infidelity with Gemma had caused her personally, she knew that she could not do the same thing to another woman. Yes, maybe it would cost Cristos to have to live with the awareness that he had a child he did not see. But no compromise was perfect.
'You're not being honest with me.' Glittering dark eyes raked her pale, taut, guilty face with condemnation. 'You're in love with your sister's boyfriend and their relationship is on the rocks. I think you're hoping to get him back-'
'That's absolute nonsense!' Betsy was seriously affronted that he could deem her capable of such calculating and low behavior.
'I doubt very much that he will want you with my child inside you and with me very much on the scene,' Cristos forecast with burning derision.
Thrusting back her chair in a temper, Betsy threw herself upright. Without warning she was assailed by a powerful wave of giddiness and nausea. Swaying, she had time only to utter a faint moan of protest before she folded down into the claustrophobic darkness of a faint.
'Lie still… ' Cristo! urged when she began to regain consciousness.
For once she did not argue. She still felt sick. It was bad enough having fainted but there were even more embarrassing scenarios. She concentrated on controlling the nausea and kept her eyes closed. Cristos was talking to someone in low, urgent tones. She heard hitn replace a phone and she breathed in slowly to try and ward off the lingering sensation of being light headed.
