What the Greek Can't Resist

by Maya Blake

  She nodded.

  Wordlessly he let go of the doctor’s wrist. Lines of torment bracketed his mouth as he left the bed.

  She was pregnant. With Ari’s child. The two thoughts tumbled over one another in her brain, one seeking dominance over the other and neither coming out the victor. Because both thoughts were equally mind-boggling.

  Vaguely, she heard him dismiss the doctor and leave the suite.

  But all too soon he was back. Tall, imposing, bristling with emotions she was too cowardly to try and name.

  For several minutes, he paced the room. Then he finally stopped at the foot of the bed. ‘Did you know you were pregnant?’ His voice was gritty with emotion.

  ‘No, I didn’t. I didn’t even guess.’

  ‘Not even when you were late? How late are you?’

  The date flared like a beacon in her mind. ‘Almost two weeks.’

  He muttered a word she didn’t need translation for. ‘Theos!’ Running a hand through his hair, he resumed pacing. ‘And it didn’t raise any alarms?’

  ‘No. My period has always been irregular.’

  She thought back to that night and felt shame crawl over her skin when she remembered she’d been so into it, too far gone with delirium that she hadn’t stopped to think about safe sex that second time.

  And now she was pregnant.

  Tiny waves of joy slowly spread through her stunned senses.

  A child of her own. To cherish and love. And, if she was lucky, a child who would love her back.

  She jerked upright, her hand rushing to cover her stomach. ‘Oh, God, I took some painkillers this afternoon!’

  His gaze sharpened on her. ‘What did you take?’

  She told him. ‘W...would it have harmed the baby?’

  He shook his head. ‘The doctor told me which medicines are okay to take during pregnancy.’

  Relief poured through her. ‘You asked him?’

  Ari stilled. ‘Of course. This baby is mine too,’ he grated out.

  But it didn’t take a genius to see that he wasn’t thrilled about it. Pain and hurt scythed through her joy. A second later a rush of protectiveness enveloped her.

  ‘I realise this is unexpected. I don’t want you to think that you need to be involved in any way...’

  ‘Excuse me?’ His voice was a rasp, his eyes dark with thunder as he stared at her.

  Perla licked her lips, contemplated taking a sip of water and discarded the idea. She was too shaken not to pour it all over herself.

  ‘I mean this wasn’t planned or anything, so don’t feel as if you have to participate in any decision-making. I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘You’ll take care of it?’

  The skin-flaying fury in his voice made her realise that once again she’d chosen the wrong words.

  ‘No! I meant I’ll take care of him or her after the birth.’

  Dark implacable eyes bored into hers. ‘So, just so we’re clear, you intend to keep the baby?’

  ‘Of course! I’d never, ever dream of...’ She raised her chin. ‘Yes, I intend to have this baby. What I meant was that I’ll take sole responsibility so you don’t have to worry.’ Her eyes dropped to her stomach. This child was hers and she intended to protect him or her with her last breath.

  ‘What gives you the right to assume sole responsibility for the child? Sexual responsibility is a two-way street.’

  ‘I know, but I participated too without giving a thought to protection. Arion, all I’m trying to say is there’s no need to get all macho and blame yourself for something that involved both of us.’

  ‘Perla, look at me.’ The order was soft, deadly.

  She dragged her eyes from where she’d been staring at her stomach in silent wonder. The resolution and implacable determination in his eyes made her shiver.

  ‘Do I look like the sort of man who would leave his child to be brought up by another man? And I assume you don’t intend to remain single for the rest of your life? That you will seek another relationship at some point in the future?’

  That thought was so unlikely she wanted to laugh. Except the look on his face told her he wouldn’t find it funny. So she shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  ‘Let’s try something else much simpler.’ He drew closer to the bed. His hands hung loose at his sides and his open-legged stance was unthreatening. But she didn’t fool herself for one second that Ari wasn’t seething beneath that calm exterior. ‘Do I look like I’m going anywhere?’

  ‘Ari—’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘No. You don’t.’ And she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or frightened by that admission.

  If Ari wanted this child and, from his stance, she concluded he did...for now...it would mean she would have him in her life for the foreseeable future.

  Her childhood in foster care had opened her eyes to the fact that not all children were wanted. No matter what the circumstances of conception, there came a point in time where some parents simply abandoned their children and walked away.

  She had no intention of ever doing that to her child. But she couldn’t speak for Ari. His childhood had created deep scars that rippled through his every decision. He’d been let down by the people who should’ve been there for him. In a way it was worse than never having felt the love of two devoted parents. She hadn’t experienced that particular devastation because she hadn’t had the fantasy in the first place. To know that he’d had parents who’d let him down, who’d let him shoulder the responsibility of caring for his brothers on his own was too distressing to bear.

  A wave of despair swept over her. Would Ari let go of his pain long enough to let himself love a child?

  ‘Good, I’m glad we’ve established that fact.’ He stepped back from the bed and turned towards the door. Without speaking another word, he left.

  He returned less than ten minutes later with a tray of food which he set on her lap. The simple ham and cucumber sandwich made her stomach rumble and she remembered she’d barely eaten a few mouthfuls of dinner before her attack.

  ‘I prepared it myself. Until I find you a personal chef who will be apprised of all your dietary requirements, I’ll prepare all your meals myself.’

  Her mouth dropped open for several seconds before she managed to snap it shut. ‘Wait... What?’

  He poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to her. ‘Which part needs explanation?’

  ‘The part...all of it. You don’t have to do this, Ari.’

  ‘Yes, I do. You’re carrying my child. I absolutely have to do this.’

  Again, the depth of emotion behind the words made her eyes widen. But when she looked at him, his eyes were veiled and his face inscrutable.

  ‘Eat,’ he instructed.

  In silence she ate because as much as she wanted to argue with him, probe behind his words, she was starving. And she needed to do everything in her power to keep her baby healthy and safe.

  She forced herself to eat slowly this time. She accepted a second glass of orange juice. Once she’d drained it, Ari set the tray aside.

  ‘How do you feel?’ Again there was that concern in his voice. But, coupled with that, there was a thin vein of anxiety that made her heart skitter.

  ‘I’m fine. Right now I’m more interested in how you feel.’

  He rose with the tray. ‘My feelings are irrelevant. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.’

  She wanted to ask what exactly they would be talking about, but he was already leaving, his shoulders and back set in tense lines that made her nervousness rise higher.

  Her hand slid down to rest on her abdomen.

  Whatever it was, she could handle it. As long as it didn’t interfere with the welfare of her baby.

  * * *
/>   He was having a child.

  Ari barely managed to set the tray down before it slid out of his useless grip.

  Shaking from head to toe, he gripped the edge of the granite counter in the suite’s kitchen and tried to breathe.

  He was having a child!

  The self-indulgent need to rail at fate was so strong the growl bubbled up through his chest before he managed to swallow it down. He stalked to the living room and contented himself with a fiery shot of single malt Scotch. Except he was no better equipped to handle the bone-crushing fear gripping him. It writhed like a poisonous snake inside him before sinking its merciless fangs into his heart.

  Was he doomed to fail at this task too, the way he’d failed Sofia? He’d single-handedly taken care of his brothers and his mother, had ensured they were protected as much as possible from the fallout of his father’s misdeeds.

  And yet he hadn’t been able to save his wife.

  Or his unborn child.

  Was fate taunting him again? Willing him to fail again?

  No!

  His fist tightened around the glass and he set it aside before it shattered. This time things would be different. Because anything else was unthinkable.

  He moved restlessly across the room, willing his pulse to slow, his insides to stop churning viciously with the acrid mix of guilt and fear.

  He was going to be a father. His steps slowed and he stopped in front of the view. Funny, he’d stood here just two days ago thinking he was in control of his world. It had been in the moments before Perla burst in and accused him of controlling her life.

  Now he barely felt in control of his.

  Whirling round, he walked out of the living room and entered his study. It might be the middle of the night in Washington, but it was still a working day in London and the rest of Europe.

  His first call was to the Pantelides headquarters in London, where he gathered all the pertinent information he needed. Next he placed a call to his lawyers in Greece. His dealings with them so far had been purely business so he wasn’t surprised at their thinly veiled shock as he outlined his wishes.

  By the time he finished his calls, the horizon was lightening with the coming dawn.

  Ari rubbed a hand across his jaw and rested his head against his seat.

  He had no idea how Perla would take the conversation he intended to have with her come morning. There could potentially be many obstacles to getting his way but he intended to smash them all aside.

  Because one thing had become clear in his mind from the second he’d found out Perla was carrying his child.

  The welfare of his child was the most important thing in his life.

  * * *

  She was already up when he knocked on her door just after seven o’clock. Up, showered and dressed.

  In black. Only the flame of her hair provided vivid colour in the harsh landscape. And she was in the process of coiling it into a tight bun when she followed him out to the dining room, where he’d set her breakfast tray.

  Ari resisted the urge to pull her hands away from her task. He also resisted the urge to command her to change her clothes.

  She finished securing her hair and turned to him. Her gaze met his for a moment before travelling over his body.

  Noting his attire, she looked back up. ‘Have you slept at all?’

  ‘No,’ he replied, vaguely disturbed by his anger at her choice of clothes.

  A look of concern crossed her eyes. He allowed it to touch him for a second, two seconds, before he looked away.

  ‘Sit down. Drink your tea and have some of those dry crackers. They’ll calm any nausea that triggers morning sickness.’

  She looked at the tray and wrinkled her nose. ‘Too late. I’ve already thrown up twice.’

  He forced away the anxiety that tightened his nape. ‘Drink it anyway.’

  She sat and he poured her tea and passed it to her, noting the anxious glances she sent his way. Part of him wanted to reassure her. He curbed the feeling because he knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy.

  ‘Aren’t you having anything?’

  ‘No. Until we find out which smells trigger your nausea, I’ll eat my meals separately.’

  ‘How come you know so much about morning sickness and nausea triggers?’

  Ice formed in his belly, stealing his breath. But it was nothing compared to the pain that ripped through his heart as the guilt and fear returned twice as forcefully.

  He looked up and saw the anxiety stamped on her face.

  ‘Ari?’

  ‘I know because my wife was four months pregnant with our first child when she died.’

  Her cup clattered onto the saucer and her features paled. ‘Oh, my God. I’m... I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for—’

  He slashed a hand through the air, unwilling to dwell on the past, unwilling to let her see the devastation that still had the power to shred his insides.

  They had more important things to discuss than the subject of his hubris.

  ‘Drink your tea, Perla. We have a lot to discuss.’

  The shock of his revelation still clear in her eyes, she slowly picked up her cup and took another tiny sip. He waited until she’d eaten a cracker before he spoke.

  ‘Do you have any health issues that I should know about?’

  She placed her cup down. ‘I’m allergic to shellfish but, aside from that, I’ve always been healthy and Morgan’s health insurance provided me with annual check-ups. They always came back clean.’

  The mention of her husband’s name made his fists clench but he forced the feeling away. He needed to get over the fact that she’d been another man’s wife only a short time ago.

  ‘Good. Then we’ll postpone a thorough health check until we return to London.’

  Her eyes connected with his. ‘We’re returning to London?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because London is where we will be married.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘NO.’

  ‘You’ve already said that. Twice.’

  ‘I believe in making things crystal-clear so there’s no misunderstanding. I won’t marry you.’

  Perla watched his nostrils pinch in that way that told her he was hanging onto his control by a thread. But the emotions coursing through her eroded any concern for his control or lack thereof.

  Who would’ve believed that a proposal of marriage could bring so much pain? But devastating pain was exactly what ravaged her as they faced each other across his wide living room like two boxers about to engage in a fight.

  ‘You’ve yet to give me a reason why not.’

  ‘And you’ve yet to give me a valid reason why I should. Presumably it’s because I’m pregnant. Regardless, the answer is still no.’

  ‘Perla—’

  ‘No is no, Ari.’ Her hands shook as she thought back to what she’d been through the last three years. ‘I got married under false pretences three years ago. I won’t do it again, no matter the reason.’

  His eyes sparked with curiosity. ‘Explain.’

  She paused. Could she reveal the final humiliation? ‘I’ve already told you my marriage was...difficult. I also know how you feel about me and the circumstances under which we met. No matter how much you try to deny it, I know you despise what happened between us. Trust me, losing my virginity to a man who’s mourning his dead wife on the anniversary of her death is bad enough. I refuse to become trapped in another sham of a marriage where I’m second best.’

  She ground to a halt at his white-faced shock.

  ‘Your virginity?’ he rasped in a tone that could’ve flayed stone.

  Perla flinched. Of course. Of all the things she’d said, that was the one
he’d have picked up on. Turning around, she squeezed her eyes shut as the familiar shame dredged through her stomach.

  ‘Perla.’ He was right behind her, standing so close his breath washed over her exposed nape, making a shiver course through her. ‘Did you just say you were a virgin when we slept together?’ he asked, his voice spiked with emotions she couldn’t name.

  Clenching her hands into tight fists, she struggled to breathe. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Turn around.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You really need to stop defying me so much. There are some things I will let slide. This isn’t one of them. Turn around,’ he demanded, more forcefully this time.

  Heart in her throat, she opened her eyes and turned. The gold flecks in his eyes stood out with the intensity of his stare. ‘You were married for three years. How were you still a virgin on your husband’s death?’

  She affected a shrug that felt far from casual. ‘We never got round to it, I guess.’

  He gripped her shoulders in an implacable hold. ‘This is not the time to be facetious. Tell me how Lowell could have a woman such as you in his bed and walk away. Why a woman who could drive any red-blooded man to his knees with just one look could remain a virgin for so long within the bounds of marriage.’

  ‘Because I did nothing for him!’

  He frowned. ‘You refused to sleep with him?’

  She laughed, or rather she attempted to laugh. The sound scraped her throat and emerged a ragged croak. ‘On the contrary, I threw myself at him. Hell, I even tried to seduce him before and after we were married. He suggested we wait. Stupid me, I thought it was the height of romantic; that he was being noble! But it turned out he didn’t want me. You want to know why? Because my husband told me on our wedding night that he was gay!’

  Hazel eyes widened. ‘Lowell was gay?’

  ‘I’m surprised you don’t know, considering where he was when your investigators found him in Thailand.’

  ‘We knew he’d taken residence in a disreputable part of Bangkok when he was found but I assumed...’

  ‘He was whoring it up with women? No, Ari, the man I married was probably shacked up with a boyfriend when your men caught up with him. I didn’t need to be a genius to read between the lines. And I don’t need a crystal ball to know he changed the terms of his contract and plotted to crash the Pantelides tanker because he needed money to fund his secret life and the drug habit that killed him.’ Raw humiliation threatened to consume her whole, especially when he let out a crude curse.