Carrying the Greek's Heir

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Carrying the Greek's Heir Page 10

by Sharon Kendrick


  With a fascination which seemed beyond his control, he had found himself watching her when she wasn’t looking. When she was curled up in an armchair reading a book and making his life seem almost...normal. He’d never had normal before. And hadn’t he been filled with an unbearable sense of longing for the family life which had been nothing but a dark void during his own childhood? Hadn’t he started wondering again whether he could give this child what he’d never had himself? And one thing was for sure: he could not break the heart of his child’s mother...

  The car stopped outside the restaurant and as she draped the scarlet shawl around her shoulders he found he couldn’t look away. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss all that shiny lipstick away from her beautiful lips, but why start the evening on a false promise?

  ‘You look...great,’ he said neutrally as the driver opened the limousine door for her.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Ellie’s fingers tightened around the gilt chain of her handbag. First he’d shot her down in flames and then he’d told her she looked great? Was that the best he could do? Why, she’d had more praise from her science teacher at school—and she was hopeless at science. Cautiously, she stepped onto the pavement, balancing carefully on her high heels, thinking how unlike the Ellie of old she must look with enough diamonds glittering on her finger to have bought her an apartment outright.

  She was grateful for the armour of her expensive new clothes in a room where every other woman looked amazing—but it wasn’t that which made her feel suddenly wistful. All the wives and girlfriends looked so happy. Did she? Did she look how a new bride was supposed to look—all dewy-eyed and serene? She wondered if anyone guessed that inside she felt as if she were clinging onto this strange new reality by the tips of her fingers.

  But sometimes you built things up in your head and they weren’t nearly as bad as you’d feared. The woman who’d designed Alek’s apartment—Alannah—turned out to be a lot less scary than Ellie had imagined. Maybe because she was married to Niccolò da Conti, a stunningly handsome man who seemed to command almost as much attention as Alek and who clearly adored his wife.

  Some of the guests were more memorable than others. Ellie stood for ages talking to Luis and Carly and discovered they were all friends going back years. When the sultan arrived—last—Ellie was overcome with nerves because she’d never met a royal before and might not have bought such high heels if she’d thought about having to curtsey in them. But Murat was charming and quickly put her at her ease, and his Welsh wife was lovely.

  Ellie watched the exalted group of men joshing and laughing with one another and as she listened to their wives eagerly discussing their social calendars she tried not to feel like the outsider in their midst.

  ‘Let me see your ring, Ellie,’ said Alannah, catching hold of Ellie’s hand and peering down at the glittering band. ‘Gosh, it’s beautiful. Those diamonds look almost blue—they’re so bright.’ She raised her eyes and smiled. ‘So tell us about Alek’s proposal—was it romantic?’

  Ellie wished she’d anticipated this perfectly understandable question so that she could have prepped an answer. She didn’t know how honest to be. She didn’t know how much he’d already told them. She knew that apart from the faint swell of her breasts, there was no outward sign of her pregnancy. Maybe some of the women had already guessed the reason why the world’s most reluctant groom had put a ring on her finger, but for some reason she didn’t want to tell them. Not right now. Couldn’t tonight be her fantasy? Couldn’t she play the part of the shiny-eyed new bride and pretend, just this once?

  So she curved a smile—and found it was stupidly easy to let her voice tremble with excitement as she allowed herself to be caught up in the memory. ‘He kissed me in Bond Street and almost stopped the traffic.’

  ‘Really?’ Alannah smiled. ‘Not another “get a room” moment from the famously private Alek Sarantos? Didn’t I read something about him kissing you while you were working as a waitress?’

  A sudden lump in her throat was making words difficult and Ellie just nodded. She wondered if Alek ever thought about that moment of passion beneath the starry sky. That split second of thoughtlessness, setting off the domino effect which had brought them to this moment. Did he regret it?

  Yet as she glanced over to see him deep in conversation with Murat, she found that she couldn’t regret what had happened, because sometimes your feelings defied logic. Something incredible had happened when she’d lain with him and she couldn’t seem to scrub that memory away. He could be arrogant and cold, but there was something about him which drew her to him like a magnet, no matter how hard she tried to resist. It might be senseless to care about him, but did that mean it was wrong? Could you stop yourself from falling in love with someone, even if you knew it was a mistake?

  She saw him smile at something Murat said and he responded by gesturing expansively with his hands in a way an Englishman would never do. She’d never been to Greece, but in that moment he seemed to sum up everything about that sun-washed land with its ancient history and its passions.

  Yet that side of his life remained a mystery to her. He’d clammed up when she’d mentioned his birthplace on the way here. He had snapped and changed the subject and done that not very subtle thing of letting her know who had all the power in this relationship. How much did she really know about the father of her baby? She stared down at the slice of lime which was bobbing around in her tonic water. Probably as much as she knew about her own father.

  But she pushed the troublesome thoughts away and tried to enter into the spirit of the evening. She nibbled on a few canapés and stood beside Alek as he made a short speech about love and marriage, with just the right touch of lightness and solemnity.

  And that was the bit she found hardest. The moment when she wanted to shake off the hand which was resting lightly on her shoulders, because it was kick-starting all kinds of reactions. It was making her want to feel that extraordinary connection with him again. To lie with him and feel him deep inside her. To wonder why the hell she’d insisted on separate rooms—not realising that denial would only feed the hunger she felt for him.

  She spoke to all the guests with just the right amount of interest and pretended she was Ellie the trainee hotel manager again—chatting away with smiling attention. People were never terrifying if you got them on a one-to-one basis, no matter how initially intimidating they were. She met a judge, a Hollywood actress and a Spaniard named Vicente de Castilla, whose buccaneering appearance was attracting plenty of covert glances. But gorgeous as Vicente was, there was only one man who commanded Ellie’s attention and she knew exactly where he was at any given point in the evening. He seemed to command all her attention and it was difficult not to stare. Beneath the fractured rainbow light of the chandeliers, his hair gleamed like jet. At one point he slowly turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes blazing as they held her in their spotlight. And she turned away, feeling curiously exposed...stiffening slightly when he came to stand beside her, sliding his arm around her waist with easy possession. As if he touched her like that all the time, when they both knew he didn’t touch her at all.

  She knew it was done to add authenticity to their marriage. She knew his touch meant nothing, but unfortunately her body didn’t. It was sending frantic messages to her brain. It was making her want more. It was making her wish it were all real. That he’d married her because he loved her and not because there was a baby on the way.

  Quickly excusing herself, she made her way to the restroom where Alannah was standing in front of the mirror, brushing her long black hair.

  ‘Enjoying your wedding party?’ she questioned.

  Ellie pulled out a convincing smile as she met the other woman’s denim-blue eyes. ‘It’s wonderful. Such a gorgeous place. And all Alek’s friends seem lovely and very welcoming,’ she added.

  Alannah laughed
. ‘You don’t have to say that—but thanks very much all the same. We’re just all very happy for him, that’s all. Nobody thought he would ever settle down. I expect you know that he’s never really committed to anyone before? Mind you, Niccolò was exactly the same. They just need to find the right woman,’ she said, pulling open the door and wiggling her fingers in a little wave of farewell.

  Ellie watched the door swing closed again.

  The right woman.

  If only they knew. Would they all be choking into their champagne if they realised that the newlyweds were about as far apart as two people could be?

  But she had been the one who insisted on having separate rooms, hadn’t she? She’d been the one who had thought that keeping distance between them would help protect her against emotional pain. And it didn’t. Because she found herself wanting Alek no matter how hard she tried not to want him.

  She gazed at her reflection, thinking that her appearance betrayed nothing of her turmoil. The silvery silk dress gleamed and her professionally blow-dried hair fell in a soft cascade over her shoulders. She didn’t look like herself, and she didn’t feel like herself either. All she could feel was a longing so powerful that it felt like a physical pain. It might be crazy but she wasn’t going to lie...and the truth was that she wanted Alek.

  She closed her eyes.

  She wanted more than that single encounter which had resulted in this pregnancy. She wanted something slow and precious because everything else had happened so fast. She’d become pregnant after that one time. She had demanded marriage and moved in with him. She’d attended doctor’s appointments, taken care of herself and tried to keep busy. But she wasn’t a cardboard cut-out. She still had feelings—feelings she’d tried to put on ice, only somewhere along the way they had started to melt.

  So what was she going to do about it? Was she brave enough to go after what she really wanted and to hell with the consequences? Did she dare risk pain for another moment of passion?

  Picking up her handbag, she walked out into the corridor where Alek’s shadow fell over her and instantly she froze.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, attempting a smile. ‘You startled me.’

  Alek felt a pulse hammering away at his temple as he stared at her. She was close enough to touch and it was distracting. Theos, but it was distracting. Her hair was tumbling down over her shoulders and she had that slightly untouchable beauty of all brides. But all he could think about was the creaminess of her skin and the scent of something which smelt like roses, or cinnamon. Maybe both. He felt his throat thicken. ‘I was looking for you.’

  ‘Well...here I am,’ she said, and as she met his eyes her lips parted. ‘What exactly do you want?’

  Alek went very still. He saw the darkening of her eyes and heard the dip of her voice, but it was more than that which told him what was on her mind. He’d been around enough women to realise when they were sending out messages of sexual availability—it was just that he hadn’t been expecting it with Ellie. Not tonight. He knew that she considered the wedding a farce. That they hadn’t been honest with anyone, least of all themselves. Nobody knew the real reason for this wedding, but he’d justified not telling his friends about the baby by remembering what the doctor had said—that there was a slightly higher risk of miscarriage until after the twelve-week mark. And something about those cautionary words had made him realise how much he wanted this baby—for reasons he didn’t care to fathom. He realised that the life she carried inside her mattered. Should he tell her that? Should he?

  But suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the baby and neither, it seemed, was she. He could almost see the invitation glinting from her eyes and although he wanted her more badly than he’d ever wanted anyone—one last stab of conscience told him to hang fire. That the most sensible option would be if they ended the night as they’d begun it. Separately.

  But sometimes the right decision was the wrong decision when it went against everything your body was crying out for. The ache in his groin was unbearable as he reached for her hand, which was trembling, just like his.

  He studied the sheen of her fingernails before lifting his head in a clashing of eyes. ‘I want you,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Do you have any idea how much?’

  ‘I think I’m getting the general idea.’

  ‘But I’m not going to do this if it’s not what you want.’ He stared at her intently. ‘Do you understand?’

  ‘Alek.’ One of the silvery straps of her dress slipped off one shoulder and she pushed it back again with fingers which were trembling and her grey eyes looked wary. As if she was suddenly out of her depth. As if the words she was about to say were difficult. ‘You...you’re an experienced man. You must know how much I want you.’

  He shook his head. ‘I know that your body wants me and that physically we’re very compatible. But if you’re going to wake up in the morning with tears all over my pillow because you’re regretting what happened, then I’ll back off right now and we’ll act like this conversation never happened.’

  There was silence. A silence which seemed to go on for countless minutes.

  ‘I don’t want you to back off,’ she whispered at last.

  His heart pounded and his body grew hard. He raised her hand to his lips and although the now faint voice of his conscience made one last, weak appeal, ruthlessly he brushed it aside. ‘Then let’s get home,’ he said roughly. ‘So I can take you to bed.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALEK FELT AS IF he wanted to explode but he knew he had to take it slowly.

  He and Ellie had left the party almost immediately—smiling through the rose petals and rice showering down on their heads. But the journey home had been tense and silent, in direct contrast to their teasing banter at the wedding reception. He hadn’t trusted himself to touch her and maybe Ellie had felt the same because she’d sat apart from him, her shoulders stiff. The tension in the car had grown and grown until it had felt as if he was having difficulty breathing. And wasn’t he terrified that she’d changed her mind?

  Her face had been paler than usual as they’d ridden up in the elevator. The space had seemed to close in on them until the ping announcing their arrival at the penthouse had broken into the silence like the chime of a mighty bell. He’d convinced himself that she had changed her mind as he’d unlocked the door to his apartment. But it seemed she hadn’t. Oh. She...had...not—and the minute the door had closed behind them they had been all over each other.

  Their first kiss had been hungry—almost clumsy. They’d reached blindly for each other in the hall as some ornament had gone crashing to the ground, and he’d ended up pushing her up against the wall with his hand halfway up her dress until he’d realised that he hadn’t wanted to do it to her like that. Not on her wedding night. Not after last time. He wanted to show her he knew the meaning of the word consideration. He wanted to make love to her slowly—very slowly. And so she had allowed him to lead her to his bedroom where now she stood, looking around her with a slightly nervous expression on her face.

  ‘I suppose this must be the scene of a thousand seductions?’

  ‘A rather inflated estimate,’ he responded drily. ‘You don’t want me to lie to you? To say you’re the first woman I’ve brought here?’

  She gave a funny little smile. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘I haven’t asked you about any of your former lovers, have I?’

  ‘No, that’s right. You haven’t.’

  He wondered what he was trying to do—whether he was trying to sabotage things before they’d even got started. Why the hell hadn’t he just told her that in her silvery gown she eclipsed every other woman he’d ever known? That she was beautiful and soft and completely desirable? With a small growl of anger directed mainly at himself, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again and he heard the gasping little sound she made as she caught
hold of his shoulders. He kissed her for a long time, until she started to relax—until she began to press herself against his body and the barrier of their clothes suddenly seemed like something he couldn’t endure for a second longer. He led her over to the bed and sat her down on the edge, before getting down on his knees in front of her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she joked weakly as he began to unstrap one of her shoes. ‘You’ve already made the proposal.’

  He lifted his gaze; his expression mocking. ‘I thought it was you who did the proposing?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She tipped her head back and expelled a breath as he started rubbing the pad of his thumb over her instep. ‘So I did.’

  He removed both shoes and peeled off her silvery wedding dress before laying her back on the bed and kicking off his shoes and socks. He lay down next to her, pushing the hair from her face and brushing his lips over hers, taking his time. ‘You are very beautiful,’ he said.

  ‘I’m—’

  He silenced her with the press of his forefinger over her mouth. ‘The correct response is, thank you, Alek.’

  She swallowed. ‘Thank you, Alek.’

  ‘But I’m afraid of hurting you.’

  She reached her hand up to brush a strand of hair off his forehead and suddenly her face looked very tender. He felt his heart clench.

  ‘Because of the baby?’ she asked softly.

  He nodded, still wary around that shining tenderness which instinctively put him on his guard. ‘Because of the baby,’ he repeated.

  ‘The doctor said it was okay.’ She leant forward and kissed him. ‘But that maybe we should avoid swinging from the chandeliers.’

  ‘I don’t have any...chandeliers,’ he said indistinctly, but suddenly the flirting word games of foreplay became swamped by a far more primitive need to possess. Refocusing his attention, he began to explore her properly—touching the coolness of her flesh above her stocking tops as she began to make soft little sounds of pleasure. Did she feel his uncharacteristic hesitation as his fingers tiptoed upwards? Could she hear the loud pounding of his heart? Did she know that suddenly—ridiculously—this felt completely new?

 

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