The Sarantos Baby Bargain

by Olivia Gates

  He headed to the high-backed red armchair beside the gleefully floral L-shaped couch, which he must have occupied as he’d waited for her. The tea tray on the coffee table and the briefcase on the floor affirmed her deduction.

  After he’d resumed sitting, he swept back the hair that had fallen over his forehead during their tussle, drawing her aching gaze again to its luxuriousness. If anything, the longer tresses made him appear even more masculine, made every slash and hollow of his face more rugged. Each change in him did. His every line and feature had been honed to a fiercer virility. And she’d thought he’d already been the epitome of manhood.

  Damn him.

  But that was only a facade. He was as monstrous on the inside as he was divine on the outside.

  He cocked his head at her when she remained standing several feet away. “Your reaction to seeing me wasn’t spur-of-the-moment. Seems your animosity has been brewing for a long time.”

  Those statements made her scoff incredulously. “If I didn’t know you have a family somewhere, I’d have thought you were grown in a lab, an experiment in producing a frighteningly efficient humanoid devoid of feelings or scruples.”

  His expression showed no offense, no amusement, no challenge. Nothing at all, as usual. “If this is how you see me, it’s your prerogative. But don’t you think the impervious entity you describe wouldn’t have tried to keep you from leaving him?”

  “I think you would do nothing else, to assert your dominance. You were being a dog in the manger when you refused to finalize the divorce. You never really married me, just signed a bunch of papers to stop me from ending our ill-advised affair, only to continue it under the false label of marriage, on the same barren grounds.”

  “And I tried to stop you from leaving me, twice, just to ‘assert my dominance’? Don’t you think it was too much trouble for just that?”

  “Not at all. I believe you’d go to any lengths to maintain your record.”

  That eyebrow arched again. “What record is that?”

  “Your perfect one of having everyone at your disposal and everything done according to your rules and at your command.”

  “Interesting.” He scratched the stubble she still felt burning her cheeks, looking as if he was considering a new perspective, before leveling his gaze on her. “That is me to a tee, but none of that was among my motives at the time. I was only trying to wait out your tantrum until you came back to me.”

  “Tantrum? Is this how you saw it? And if so, what made you decide to let go of the tug-of-war? Did you wake up one day and say to yourself, ‘To hell with it, who needs a brat?’ It wasn’t as if you could have gotten fed up, after all. You weren’t even involved in plaguing and pestering me. You just sicced your lawyer on me and went about your business, not once appearing in the picture.”

  “You must have a theory why I finally let go.”

  “Probably because even such hassle-free vindictiveness eventually got old.”

  He made no corroboration of her explanation, nor did he provide his own of why after six months he’d suddenly decided to sign the divorce papers.

  Not that she would have accepted any reason he gave. Her analysis made the most sense. He’d gotten bored. Or he’d found a satisfactory replacement. Or many.

  “You were right.” That made her blink. He was admitting it? But he went on, “I’m not here to recycle past conflicts. But though you claim to have no desire to do that, it seems you’re pretty hung up on them.”

  “My disgust with you has nothing to do with our past.”

  “What then?”

  “You really have no clue, huh?”

  “None. Enlighten me.”

  “Petros called you on his deathbed.” The words seethed through gritted teeth. “You didn’t bother coming back. You let him die without making the effort to see him one last time. You didn’t even attend his funeral.”

  All the response she got was a slow blink. Then those lasers he had for eyes resumed regarding her with the same steady appraisal, waiting for her to continue.

  The emotional bile backed up in her system poured out, swerving from outrage on Petros’s behalf to hers. “Everyone came. Even business rivals, even enemies. Everyone knew Nadine was my world. And that Petros had become the brother I never had. Everyone put everything aside and came or at least called to console me. You didn’t.”

  Another slow blink allowed her bitterness to gain momentum, as she finally understood why his absence had hurt so much. “Somehow your disregard made everything that happened between us even worse. I was always ashamed I threw myself at you, blamed myself for everything that happened afterward, but that day I despised myself for it, for pursuing, then staying with someone so...warped. When you didn’t answer your only friend’s dying plea, and didn’t grant me even a few empty words of sympathy, I finally realized the magnitude of the crime I’d committed against myself. I never hated anyone in my life. I never hated you even after all you put me through. But when you proved you were worse than a stranger, worse than an enemy...I finally hated you that day.”

  His lashes lowered again, giving the momentary impression of him being moved, disturbed.

  Then he raised his eyes, and they were their usual unfathomable chips of steel. “I didn’t realize you’d appreciate seeing or hearing from me at the time.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you pretending you didn’t come or call, in deference to my feelings? Play another one.”

  “I’m stating what I believed. But that wasn’t why I didn’t come or call.”

  She waited for him to tell her the reason. A heartbeat later she realized she’d fallen into the trap of expectation all over again. He wouldn’t be giving her anything to quench her curiosity or indignation, would never justify his actions or seek understanding or even tolerance for them.

  At least she could always count on him for that. No excuses. Everyone invariably lied, or pulled their punches to observe decorum or butter others up, or at least spare their feelings. Not Andreas.

  And it would continue to sink in. The magnitude of what she’d risked when she’d thrown herself, body and soul, into his void. Even now he realized she’d been in need of support from any familiar face at the time—he still didn’t bother to say he was sorry.

  It seemed disappointment and disillusion had no end with Andreas.

  Suddenly, she was tired. So very tired. She’d been struggling to act strong, to appear intact, for so long now. First for her mother, then for Nadine, then for Dora and Hannah. But she could no longer pretend she was on Andreas’s level, when no one was, and when she was at her most brittle. He was a disturbance she couldn’t afford, a battle she couldn’t fight. She needed whatever strength she had left for Dora.

  All fight gone out of her, she walked to him, no longer minding if he saw how fragile she was, how she was no match for him. “Whatever your reasons for not coming to the funeral, it was for the best, Andreas. Your presence would have only made me feel worse. It’s the worst thing you could have done, coming back now. Whatever brought you here, it doesn’t matter. Just go. Please.”

  In response, his hand reached for hers, cradled it in its warmth. Then, with an effortless tug, he had her spilling into his lap, sinking in his power and heat.

  Before another neuron fired, a buzz went through her. Seconds stretched out before she realized what it was. His phone.

  That galvanized her to push out of his arms. He only tightened them and groaned, “Don’t, omorfiá mou.”

  She shivered at the way his magnificent voice vibrated as he called her “my beauty,” just as she always had when a Greek endearment flowed from those spectacular lips.

  Keeping her wrapped in one arm, he got his phone out, evidently to silence it, then groaned again when he saw the caller’s name.

  He dragged in a harsh breat
h. “I have to take this.” He clasped her closer as she squirmed again, immobilizing her with his mesmerizing gaze. “I’m picking up right where I left off afterward.”

  She somehow managed to rise from his embrace, making it to the couch opposite before collapsing on it. “No, you won’t.”

  His eyes smoldered, running over her with his intention to do just as he’d promised. Then he answered the call, and the name he said...Stephanides. Could it be...?

  Next moment he said Christos. So it was him. The man who’d once threatened to smash her kneecaps...and worse.

  It was how everything had started between her and Andreas, six years ago. She’d been in Crete with Malcolm to set up a branch of their company. They’d been about to close a deal when one day, thugs had accosted them, delivering a threat from Christos Stephanides, the local real estate development tycoon. The message had been succinct. Either they took their business elsewhere or they wouldn’t leave Crete in one piece.

  But before the thugs could give them a taste of what awaited them if they didn’t comply, Andreas had materialized out of nowhere and spoken one word: “Leave.” The ruffians had almost vanished into thin air in their rush to do just that.

  In his usual concise way, Andreas had said he’d deal with the thugs’ boss, and had advised them to leave Crete until he told them it was safe to come back. They’d done so, unquestioningly.

  Once home, though still shaken, Naomi had been more disappointed. That the one man she’d ever been interested in remained the only man who hadn’t tried to approach her.

  Nadine had thought his appearance at the moment they’d needed him had to mean something. She’d insisted that next time they met, if he didn’t make a move, Naomi should take matters into her own hands.

  Having no faith in her sister’s romantic notions, Naomi had been surprised and delighted when she’d found Andreas in Malcolm’s office days later. He’d seared her in his focus again, but had made no move. And she’d ended up taking Nadine’s advice, inviting him to dinner. It was then that Andreas had issued his famous warning, turning her down.

  Mortified at his rejection, she’d told Nadine that her advice had backfired. Her sister had still insisted that maybe he’d truly believed it wasn’t good for her to know him. Maybe he was being kind, letting her down easy. What had Naomi known about Andreas anyway?

  But she’d known what should have been enough. Everybody said he was an iceberg, a man with no feelings, relationships or friendships, who lived only to accumulate more success and money. The presence of females in his life had consisted of abundant one-nights stands.

  Not that any of that had discouraged her in the least. She’d still wanted nothing more than to be with him, to appease the unstoppable hunger she’d felt for him, come what may. So she’d approached him again.

  This time, Andreas had agreed to her invitation. But as if to test her limits, he’d insisted she come to his hotel suite. Certain that he’d posed no danger beyond the emotional—and she’d had no intention of getting emotionally involved—she’d gone to him.

  Bluntly, he’d told her he’d never wanted anything the way he wanted her. But he’d left her alone, knowing she wouldn’t be able to withstand him. His ominous words had been blatant with the implication of his insatiability, as well as what she’d realized only later. His total disregard and insensitivity.

  But she couldn’t blame him for any of that. He’d made his terms brutally clear. If she stayed, he would devour her. But he was nothing she might want in a man. Beyond passion and pleasure, he had nothing to offer her.

  Drunk with desire and recklessness, she’d told him that was exactly what she wanted, too. Since her mother had died, she’d taken care of her four-years-younger sister, becoming an adult prematurely. Naomi hadn’t made one step since before taking every possible ramification into consideration. Even her professional life was steeped in feasibility studies and risk calculations. But she’d wanted Andreas as she’d never wanted anything else. She couldn’t approach that desire with caution.

  And starting that night, she’d let him sweep her like a tornado into a tempestuously passionate affair that had been beyond anything she’d dreamed of. Sex between them had been, even according to him, unparalleled, the pleasure escalating and the lust unquenchable.

  But soon she’d found her emotions becoming involved—or they had been all along, and she’d lied to herself so that she’d accept his noninvolvement terms. Apart from his inability to feel, Andreas had been everything she could have admired and loved in a man. Brilliant, driven, disciplined, enterprising and a hundred other things that appealed to everything in her. Being a phenomenal lover had ended any hope that her emotions would remain unscathed for long. As he’d made love to her, it had been impossible not to delude herself that his ferocious passion, his meticulous catering to her needs, hadn’t been signs of caring. That was, until he’d stepped out of bed and reverted to iceberg mode.

  It had taken only four months for the lack of an emotional dimension to make her confess she’d been wrong to think she could handle the terms of their involvement. She couldn’t wait for things to deteriorate between them, and it was best to part when they had only the fantastic memories.

  In answer, he’d only brooded as she’d walked away, not trying to stop her....

  “Christos sends his regards.”

  Her heart fired as his calm voice yanked her from the past, landing her in the present with a thud.

  Her glower was equally for him and for the hoodlum who paraded as a businessman and dared pretend they were on a cordial footing. Though it surprised her Andreas had told him he was with her. He’d never acknowledged her before.

  “Tell him I’m sending them back as undeliverable. And when he gets them, he knows where to put them.”

  Andreas’s eyebrows rose slightly, his closest expression to amusement. “He will be shocked a lady like you could be so...harsh. Especially since he’s taken such a shine to you.”

  Yeah, and he had tried to “acquire” her “golden beauty” as if she were part of their business deal. “The feeling is certainly not mutual.”

  “That would only make you even more enticing in his eyes. Mere men expect the goddess that you are wouldn’t reciprocate their interest, expect you to be haughty and out of reach.”

  Was he speaking as a fellow god who knew how he affected mere women? Not that she could accuse him of exaggerating when he called her a goddess. He’d always lavished praise on her that had surpassed poetry. It had been what had kept her with him for two years through the alienation on all other fronts. That and the sheer perfection of their chemistry.

  He put his phone away. “I now understand the source of your current antipathy toward me. But why is Christos still in the bull’s-eye of your wrath? Your conflict has long been resolved.”

  Strange that he wasn’t taking credit for that, when it had been he who’d gotten Stephanides to relent and then to even do business with her company. They’d done a couple of very lucrative projects together before things had fallen through again, if amicably this time. Not that she was about to thank Andreas for that right now, or for anything else.

  Gathering what felt like her last spark of energy, she sat forward. “Listen, I’m sure you didn’t come here to chat about your money-and image-laundering business buddies, or to exercise your irresistible sexual prowess on me—”

  “I didn’t intend to touch you...not during this meeting. But it seems nothing has changed. It remains impossible for us to be around each other and not ignite.”

  His quiet response shuddered through her. That he claimed she affected him as he did her tipped her beyond endurance.

  “Enough, Andreas,” she groaned. “Whatever you came here for, just spit it out.”

  He gazed at her in silence until she felt her every cell begin to crackle.

>   Then, in absolute tranquility, he inclined his head. “As you wish. I’m here to claim Dorothea.”

  Three

  Naomi found herself on her feet, looking down at Andreas. He only tipped his head back as he met her flabbergasted stare, his gaze steady and earnest.

  And she exploded. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

  He rose with the utmost economy and composure, was towering over her before she could take a breath or a step back.

  “It isn’t a joke. When Petros called me—”

  “You didn’t come back.”

  “I didn’t need to. He was calling me to—”

  “I don’t give a damn why he called you, or about anything you’re going to say. Dora is mine.”

  “Dorothea is Petros’s.”

  Naomi’s heart pounded until it felt like a wrecking ball inside her chest. “And my sister’s.”

  But she’d lost Nadine so recently, the loss so overwhelming and fresh, she hadn’t yet started Dora’s adoption process. But she’d been sure there was no rush, that her claim to Dora was uncontestable.

  She said so. “With Petros being an only child, and with his parents dead, Dora has no other family but me. That makes her mine.”

  “Petros wanted her to be mine.”

  Naomi shook her head, trying to stop the world that was suddenly spinning, feeling as if he’d punched her square in the face. “God...every time I think I know what depths you can sink to, I discover there’s no limit to your callousness. But this...this is a new depth, even for you. This is...evil.”

  He moved past her, giving her a sideways glance that froze her blood and started it boiling all at once. “As I said, what you think of me is your prerogative. That doesn’t change the fact that Petros, Dora’s father, wished me to have her.”

  Afraid she’d keel over if she moved too fast, Naomi turned to face him, found him across the coffee table, both hands back in his pockets, staring at her broodingly.