by Jennie Lucas
Holly’s hands tightened on the stroller handle. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let herself feel anything for him, ever again. Even if he’d thought he was dying, it was no excuse for how he’d treated her—seducing her, abandoning her!
But if he’d really thought he had only months to live...
Her heart twisted. What must that have been like for an arrogant tycoon to be helpless, facing death? What was it like for a powerful man to feel so powerless?
He’d kept his illness secret. She was the first person he’d told. He’d obviously thought it would make her forgive him.
But even if her traitorous heart might be tempted to feel some sympathy, how could she?
Because in spite of Stavros acting all shocked and upset that she’d never told him she was pregnant, he obviously didn’t want to be a father. If he’d really wanted to be part of their son’s life, he never would have let himself be scared off so easily today. He would have insisted on sticking around, whatever she said. But he hadn’t. As soon as she’d given him an escape route, and told him they wouldn’t try to claim any part of his fortune, he’d been off like a shot.
She and Freddie were better off without him. They were. Stavros was selfish and coldhearted. She’d never give him the chance to hurt their son like he’d hurt her. She’d done the right thing, sending Stavros away. She should be relieved, knowing he’d never bother her or the baby again.
So why, when Freddie suddenly whimpered in his stroller, did Holly feel like doing the same?
“Here’s your hot chocolate.” Coming toward her with an eager smile, Hans Müller handed her a steaming paper cup. The young Swiss man was sandy-haired and solidly built, with pale blue eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to him with a smile. “You’re too kind.”
“I would do anything for you, Holly.” He looked at her. “You know that.”
Sipping her cocoa, she shifted uneasily. She’d met Hans six months before, in a local café. He’d wanted to improve his English skills, and she her German. Back then, she’d been heavily pregnant, and their friendship had been easy. But something had changed lately. She feared he wanted more from her than she could give. It made her feel guilty. It wasn’t Hans’s fault Stavros had crushed all her romantic illusions forever.
“Hans,” she said awkwardly, lifting the pacifier from Freddie’s blanket to put it back in the fussing baby’s mouth. “You know you’re very dear to me...”
“And you’re dear to me. So is Freddie.” He looked at the baby, now sucking contentedly in the stroller. He paused. “He needs a father.” He looked at her. “You need a husband.”
“I—I...” She took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Hans, who’d been nothing but kind to her. I don’t think of you that way, she prepared to say.
Then she stopped.
The only men she’d ever imagined as romantic partners had both been disasters—the three-year time-waster of imagining herself in love with Oliver, followed by the massive, life-changing fiasco last Christmas Eve with Stavros.
Maybe she should give Hans a chance. Maybe the fact that she was totally unattracted to him was actually a sign in his favor.
Because the only man who’d ever truly made her experience desire, who’d awakened her body and made her soul sing, had been a handsome, black-hearted liar who’d betrayed her before the sun rose on Christmas morning.
But as she looked at Hans’s shining face, she knew she couldn’t be that cruel. She couldn’t destroy his illusions and ruin his life by letting him love her. Not when she knew she’d never love him—or any man—ever again.
Holly took a deep breath. It was hard, because she feared she’d lose his friendship. “I’m sorry, but you have to know—”
“Holly.” The voice behind her was low and sensual. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?”
She turned with an intake of breath.
Stavros stood in the middle of the Christmas market, taller than anyone in the crowd, darkly handsome and powerful in his well-cut suit and cashmere coat. Her mouth went dry.
“What are you doing here?” she choked out. “I thought you were on your way back to New York—”
“Why would I leave?” Stavros’s gaze fell longingly to the baby in the stroller. “When my son is here?”
“Freddie is your son?” Hans stammered.
He turned with a sharp-toothed smile. “Freddie?” He lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Yes. I’m his father.” He extended his black-gloved hand. “You are?”
“Hans... Hans Müller.” Shaking Stavros’s hand, he nervously glanced at Holly. “I didn’t know Freddie had a father. No, of course, I know everyone has a father. That is to say...”
He looked around helplessly.
“Indeed,” Stavros said, his expression amused. Then he looked at Holly. “We need to talk.”
“I have nothing else to say to you,” she said stonily. “I’m here with Hans. I’m not going to be rude and—”
But the young man was already backing away from the powerful, broad-shouldered tycoon. “It’s all right—you both have things to talk about. He’s your baby’s father.” He looked at Holly reproachfully beneath his warm hat. “You should have told me.”
“I’m sorry...” Her mouth went dry. “I never meant to...”
Hans lightly touched the top of the baby’s dark head, then said softly, “Auf wiedersehen.”
And sadly, Hans disappeared into the crowd.
Stavros said behind her, “That’s the man you replaced me with?”
Holly whirled on him. “He’s a friend! Nothing more!”
“He wanted more.” Stavros looked down at the baby bundled up in a blanket, sucking drowsily on his pacifier. Kneeling beside the stroller, he tenderly stroked the baby’s plump cheek. “My son,” he whispered. “I am here. I’m your father, Freddie.”
Against her will, she felt a violent twist in her heart. She took a deep breath. “Why did you come back? I told you! We don’t want you here!”
Rising to his feet, Stavros glanced to the right and left. From the sweet-smelling bakery stall next door, Holly saw Gertrud watching them with a frown.
Taking her arm with one hand and the stroller handle with the other, Stavros escorted her to a quiet spot on the other side of the massive, brightly decorated Christmas tree. His black eyes were cold. “Fine. You hate me. You don’t care that I was dying. You don’t want my money or anything to do with me.”
“Exactly,” she replied, pushing aside her feelings at the thought of him dying.
“Hating me doesn’t give you the right to keep my son from me.” Stavros looked down at the bundled-up baby, drowsing in the stroller as he sucked on his pacifier. “And whatever you say, I won’t abandon him.”
A chill went through her. “It’s not your choice.”
He smiled. “Ah, but it is,” he said softly. “I’m his father. That means I have the right to be in his life. And I’m going to be. From now on.”
She had no idea why he was pretending to care about Freddie. Out of a misguided sense of pride? Or just to hurt her?
But either way, he was correct. He did have rights, if he chose to fight for them. Fear gripped her heart as she faced him. “What do you intend to do?”
Stavros’s expression was like ice. “I’m going to marry you, Holly.”
* * *
Stavros hadn’t intended to propose marriage like this. But it was logical. It was the best way to secure his son, and give the baby the future he deserved—with two parents in the same home.
When he’d returned to Holly’s cabin an hour before, he’d intended to calmly insist on his parental rights, or perhaps threaten to sue for partial custody.
He’d arrived just in time to see Holly and the baby—dark-haired, tiny—climb into another man’s car. And
all his calm plans had gone up in smoke. He’d grimly had his driver follow them at a distance.
Meeting Hans in person at the Christmas market, Stavros was reassured that the man was no threat. Holly herself made that clear. There was no way the two of them had even kissed, for all the man’s obvious interest in her.
But Holly was too bright, too beautiful, to be alone for long. As Stavros had watched her push the stroller through the Christmas market, her fiery red hair flying behind her, she’d looked effortlessly pretty in her black leggings and black puffy jacket. She smiled at everyone. And everyone smiled at her. She shone brighter than the star at the top of the Christmas tree.
He’d been mesmerized.
But he couldn’t let her know that. He couldn’t reveal his weakness. The one time he’d been weak enough to give in to foolish longings last Christmas, it had changed not just his life, but hers—permanent changes from a momentary whim.
He had a son. From the moment he’d seen his tiny, innocent baby, he’d known he would die to protect him. Just touching his cheek had made Stavros’s heart expand in a way it never had before. He looked again at the sweetly drowsy baby in the stroller. He ached to take his son in his arms, but he’d never even held a baby before. He didn’t know how. But there was one thing he could do: give Freddie the home he deserved, by marrying his mother.
Stavros tightened his hands at his sides.
“Well?” he said to Holly coldly. “What is your answer?”
He waited, wondering what her reply would be. Any other woman would have immediately said yes, but then, Holly wasn’t like any other woman. She clearly despised him and didn’t want him in her life. On the other hand, she’d agreed to marry him last Christmas. There was an even better reason for her to agree to it now. They had a child.
She stared at him, her emerald eyes wide. Then she did the one thing he’d never expected.
She burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” he said grumpily.
“You.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Thank you for that.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“You’re wrong.” She shook her head. “Do you really think I’d agree to marry a man I don’t trust?”
Stavros ground his teeth. He’d been reasonable. He’d explained about his illness. He’d told her he wanted to take responsibility. He’d even asked her to marry him. What more could he do to convince her? He said shortly, “I have never lied to you.”
“You lied about your illness last year.”
“Damn it, Holly, what should I have done? Let you wreck your life holding my hand, watching me die?”
Her jaw tightened. “You should have given me the choice.”
“Like you’re giving me now, trying to cut me out of Freddie’s life? I’m his father!” He narrowed his eyes. “I want to give him a name.”
“He has one. Frederick Marlowe.”
“No.”
“It’s a good name. My father’s name!”
“His last name will be Minos.”
“Why are you pretending to care?”
“I’m not pretending.” Coming closer, he tried not to notice how her eyes sparkled beneath the Christmas lights in the festive outdoor market in the town square, with the snowy Alps soaring above. “I’m going to give my son the life he deserves. Marry me, or face the consequences.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I will be part of my son’s life, one way or another.”
Glaring at him, she lifted her chin. “I won’t be bullied into marriage. I don’t care how rich or powerful you are. Family is what matters. Not money.”
And as Stavros looked down at her in the cold mountain air, everything became crystal clear.
He had little experience managing tricky relationships. In the past, if a mistress ever got too demanding, he’d simply ended the relationship.
So think of it as a business deal. He coolly reassessed the situation. A hostile takeover. He looked down at the tiny dark-haired baby. He wanted to be a steady, permanent part of his child’s life. Clearly, the best way to do that was to marry Holly. But she didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want his money. She didn’t want his name.
So how best to negotiate? How to win?
He could brutally fight her for custody. With his deep pockets, his lawyers would crush her. But inexperienced as Stavros was with long-term relationships, he didn’t think this would ultimately lead to a happy home for their child.
How else could he get leverage?
Then he realized. She’d just revealed her weakness. Family is what matters, she’d said. And she’d shown that belief in every aspect of her life. She’d given up college and her own dreams, given up years of her life for that worthless sister of hers. She’d quit her job and fled to Europe when she’d thought she needed to protect her baby.
How could he use her own heart against her?
A sudden idea occurred to him. It made him feel sick inside. He tried to think of something else.
But Holly already looked as if she were ready to turn on her heel and stalk away, taking their child with her. He needed some way to spend time with her. To make her calm down and see reason. And he could think of only one way.
Since she was none too pleased with her sister at that moment, dragging her to New York wasn’t an option.
But Freddie had a grandfather.
If Stavros tried to convince Holly that Aristides Minos deserved to meet the baby, he doubted her tender heart would resist. At least until she met the loathsome man. There was a reason Stavros despised his father to the core.
But a trip to Greece would give Stavros the time he needed to convince Holly to marry him. With any luck, he argued with himself, the old man wouldn’t even be home.
Deliberately relaxing his shoulders, Stavros gave Holly his most charming smile. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Fine.” Suspicion creased her forehead. “But I still won’t marry you.”
“Of course you won’t,” he said easily, still smiling. “You don’t trust me. Because I treated you so badly.”
Her lips parted. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s not going to work. My answer’s still no.”
She was too intuitive by half. “All right. So let’s talk about Freddie. And what’s best for him.”
Holly snorted. “A father, you’re going to say. But he doesn’t need a father like you, who’s selfish and—”
“My own father is honest to a fault,” he interrupted. “Doesn’t he have the right to meet his grandson?”
That stopped her angry words. She closed her mouth, then said uncertainly, “You have a father?”
Stavros gave her a crooked smile. “As your friend Hans said, everyone has a father.”
“But you’ve never mentioned him. I assumed he was dead.”
“You assumed wrong.” Stavros had just wished his father was dead. Many, many times, after he’d divorced his mother and cut them off without a penny. After he’d ignored all of Stavros’s frantic pleas for help when he was seventeen, and she’d gotten that fatal diagnosis. Pushing the awful memories away, Stavros said blandly, “I’m his only son.” It was a guess. For all he knew, the man had ten other children he was ignoring or neglecting around the world. “Would you keep him from his only grandchild?”
Emotions crossed Holly’s face. It was almost too easy to read her. First, she wanted to angrily refuse. Then he saw sympathy, and regret.
“Is he like you?” she said finally. “Your father?”
“He’s nothing like me.”
“No?”
“Like I said. He’s honest to a fault.” Aristides definitely was authentic, that was true. He never tried to be anything but who he was. Social niceties like courtesy and kindness were utterly unknown to
him.
“Really?” Holly said doubtfully, looking at him.
Stavros gave a humorless smile. “Really.”
He tilted his head, waiting for her answer. On the other side of the towering Christmas tree, he could hear jaunty, festive music played by a brass band. How strange it would feel to see his father after all these years.
If he did, he would feel nothing. It had all happened so long ago. Stavros was no longer the boy who’d desperately craved a father’s love, and been ruthlessly rejected. He was strong now, untouchable, with a heart of stone.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled a cloud of smoke in the cold air. The tension eased in his shoulders. Feeling nothing was what Stavros did best.
Holly glared at him, gritting her teeth. “Fine,” she sighed. “He can meet the baby.” She paused. “Where? When?”
“He lives in Greece, I’m afraid.”
“Greece!”
He gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “The Minos villa on Minos Island.”
“You grew up on your own island?”
“Until I was eight.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed his pilot’s number before she could change her mind. “We’ll leave at once. My jet is waiting.”
“I can’t just leave,” she protested weakly. “I’m the caretaker of my old boss’s chalet.”
Covering the phone’s mouthpiece as the pilot answered the other end of the line, Stavros told her, “I’ll handle it.”
And he did. When she said their baby couldn’t travel in the Rolls-Royce SUV without a baby seat, one miraculously materialized five minutes later. Before they’d returned to the chalet, where she packed an overnight bag for herself and the baby, Stavros had personally contacted the chalet’s owner in London. The man sounded frankly astonished to get a direct call from the famous tech billionaire. “No one needs to stay there, really,” he told Stavros. “It was empty for a year.” And just like that, it was done.
“Does everyone do what you say?” Holly said resentfully as the SUV drove back over the winding road toward the private airport in St. Moritz. He lifted an eyebrow.
