The Greek's Billion-Dollar Baby

by Clare Connelly

‘No.’ She frowned; it wasn’t that at all.

  ‘Yes,’ he insisted. ‘How else could you have become engaged to a man who was cheating on you? You trust and you forgive.’

  ‘Is that a bad thing?’

  He was quiet, staring at her for several beats. ‘I hope not.’

  Hannah expelled a soft breath. ‘Maybe I do give people more than their fair chance. But I also see the truth—I know what people are capable of, Leonidas. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.’

  She looked away from him then, her eyes gravitating to the yacht as it bobbed on the surface of the Mediterranean. Everything was clear and pristine, and so very beautiful, like stepping into a postcard.

  Leonidas’s fingers curled around her chin, gently pulling her back to face him.

  ‘He hurt you?’

  Hannah’s eyes widened, and it took her a moment to think who he was referring to.

  ‘He was my fiancé, and he had an affair... Of course that hurt. But it wasn’t him alone; it was her, too. It was the fact that two of the people who were supposed to love me most in the world had been happy to betray me with one another.’ She shuddered, the shock of that moment one she wasn’t sure she’d ever get over. ‘It wasn’t losing Angus. It was the whole situation.’

  His eyes devoured Hannah’s face, tasting her expression, digesting its meaning. ‘Have you spoken to her?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. I can’t. I don’t know what I’d say. Growing up, our relationship wasn’t always...easy.’

  ‘Why not?’ he pushed, and she had a glimpse of his formidable analytical skills. She felt his determination to comprehend her words, to seek out what was at the root of them.

  ‘She was competitive, and frankly insecure. Her mother—Aunt Cathy—spurred her on, making comments about how we looked, or about grades.’ Hannah sighed. ‘I never bought into it. I mean, we’re all our own person, right? Run your own race. That’s what my mum used to say.’ Her smile was nostalgic, and then, it slipped from her lips like the sun being consumed by a storm cloud. ‘But my aunt...’

  He waited, patiently, for her to continue. Hannah searched for the words.

  ‘She measured us against each other non-stop.’

  ‘And your cousin didn’t measure up?’

  Hannah’s eyes shot to Leonidas’s. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘No, you are being deliberately tactful on that score.’

  There was enough praise in that observation to bring heat to Hannah’s cheeks, but she denied it.

  ‘I’m not being coy. I just don’t think like that. Michelle struggled at school; I didn’t. I suspect she has some kind of undiagnosed dyslexia—no matter how much time we spent going over things, she found the comprehension impossible. I think she wasn’t able to read clearly, and covered it by acting uninterested.’

  ‘You mentioned this to your aunt?’

  Hannah nodded. ‘Once. She was furious.’ Hannah’s expression was unconsciously pained, her features pinched tight as her gaze travelled back towards the ocean.

  ‘And you, in comparison, excelled at your studies?’

  Hannah nodded slowly. ‘Some people respond well to the school system, others don’t. I’m lucky in that I’m one of the former.’

  ‘And a lifetime of feeling compared to has made you downplay your natural abilities even now, here, to me.’

  She startled at that insight. ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘It is also the truth to say you are intelligent, and I would bet my fortune on the fact you worked hard at school, too.’ He softened his tone a little, but didn’t quit his line of questioning. ‘Isn’t it possible that your aunt resented how well you did, compared to Michelle? That she couldn’t get help for her daughter because it would be admitting she was, in some way, inferior?’

  ‘If I’m right and Michelle had a learning difficulty of sorts then she could have been helped, and achieved far better results than she did.’

  He dipped his head in a silent concession. ‘But your aunt didn’t want to pursue that. And so, instead, she took away your dreams, condemning you to a life of mediocrity so her own daughter would look better in comparison?’

  Hannah sucked in a sharp breath, his words like acid rain against her flesh. ‘I don’t think you could call my life mediocre...’

  ‘You should have been studying law, poised to move into the career you really wanted. And your aunt should have been supporting you. This is what you meant, when you said you have felt what people are capable of?’

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but he was too insightful. Too right. She shrugged instead, lifting her shoulders and turning away from him.

  ‘Where was your uncle in all of this?’

  ‘Gary?’

  ‘You speak of your aunt and your cousin, but I have not heard you say his name once.’

  ‘He worked a lot. We weren’t close.’

  ‘And yet he must have known how his wife was behaving. He did nothing?’

  ‘It’s not like that. Aunt Cathy isn’t a monster. It’s complicated.’

  ‘How?’

  Hannah shook her head thoughtfully. ‘It was so long ago, and I don’t really know anything for certain. It’s more just things I’ve picked up from throwaway comments. I think she was very close to my dad—her brother. And when Mum entered the scene, Aunt Cathy was jealous. Hurt. My mum was...’ Hannah’s smile was melancholy and she closed her eyes, seeing Eleanor May as she’d been in life—so vital, so beautiful. ‘She was a pretty amazing woman. A diplomat for the United Nations, well travelled, passionate, funny, and so stunning.’

  ‘So this is where you get it from,’ he murmured, the compliment wrapping around her, filling her with gold dust.

  Hannah smiled slowly, memories of her past pulling at her. ‘I used to love watching her get ready for parties. She had this long, dark brown hair, like chocolate, that fell to her waist. She would coil it up into a bun, high on the top of her head, so that whatever dangly earrings she chose to wear would take your breath away.’ Hannah felt him come closer, his body heat and proximity firing something in her blood.

  ‘And she and Dad were so happy together. They used to laugh, all the time. I was just a kid when they died, but I’ll never forget them, I’ll never forget how lucky I was to have them as my example in life.’

  He was quiet, but it didn’t matter. Some part of Leonidas had slipped into Hannah, forming a part of her, so she understood—she understood his silence equated to disapproval of Aunt Cathy, and her inability to let Hannah properly grieve.

  And long-held needs to defend Aunt Cathy were difficult to ignore. ‘Cathy and Gary weren’t like my parents. They married young, because she was pregnant. She lost the baby but they stayed together and it always felt a bit like they resented each other.’

  She turned to face him then, her chest heavy with the myriad sadnesses of the past. ‘I don’t want our marriage to be like that, Leonidas.’

  Her eyes raked his face and she chewed her lower lip thoughtfully as he stared at her, his eyes unshifting from hers, his expression impossible to interpret.

  ‘I was wrong about you.’ Leonidas’s words came out hoarse, thickened by regret.

  ‘When?’

  ‘I presumed you did not know enough of grief to counsel me, to offer me any thoughts on my own experiences. That was incredibly arrogant.’ He lifted a hand, running it over her hair, his attention shifting higher, as if mesmerised by the auburn shades there, flecked with gold. ‘I downplayed what you have been through because I couldn’t believe anyone could feel loss like mine.’

  ‘It’s not like yours,’ she said softly, gently, her heart breaking. ‘No grief is the same. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your partner, nor your child.’ She shook her head sadly from side to side. ‘I’m five months pregnant and the idea of anything ever ha
ppening to our daughter fills me with a kind of rage I can’t put into words.’ Her lips twisted in a humourless smile. ‘You must be a mix of anger and fury and pain and disbelief all the time.’ She swallowed, rallying her thoughts. ‘You don’t need to apologise to me. I understood what you meant.’

  ‘But I didn’t understand you,’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t realise that beyond the somewhat sanitised phrase of “orphan” are all the memories of parents you loved, parents who made you happy and secure, parents who were replaced by an inferior substitute—an insecure and competitive woman who spent her life trying to diminish you.’

  Hannah’s lips pulled downwards, as she tried to reconcile his vision of Aunt Cathy.

  ‘You should have studied law,’ he said, simply. ‘And anyone who loved you would have pushed you to do that, supporting you, encouraging you, making it easier—not harder—to pursue your dreams.’

  Hannah’s heart turned over in her chest, because he was right. Even Angus hadn’t said as much to her.

  ‘Your parents left you money. That could have been used to fund your studies.’

  ‘I couldn’t access it yet, not for another two years.’

  ‘But a bank would have loaned against that expectation, if your aunt and uncle couldn’t cover your expenses in the interim. There were ways for you to live your dreams but she held you back because she didn’t want you to succeed.’

  Something sparked in Hannah’s chest because he was right, and she’d made excuses for Cathy and Gary all her life and she didn’t want to do it any more.

  ‘I miss my mum and dad every day,’ she said, simply, focussing on the only kernel of good she could grasp at. ‘Especially now.’ She ran a hand over her stomach, thinking of the daughter growing inside her, and love burst in her soul.

  The air between them resonated with understanding, with compassion, and then Hannah blinked away, moving her focus to the vista before them.

  Their conversation was serious, and yet she felt a shifting lightness in her heart, a sense of newness. Perhaps it was simply the beauty of the day, or looking down over the horizon and seeing so much that fascinated her, so much to explore, but she found herself smiling.

  ‘What’s down there?’ She nodded towards the village she could see in the distance. ‘I thought this was a private island.’

  ‘It is. That’s the staff quarters.’

  ‘Staff quarters?’

  His smile was teasing. ‘Where did you think all the people in the house went to at night?’

  ‘I didn’t think about it,’ she said, and he smiled then, a smile that was natural and easy and that made her pulse feel as if it had hitched a ride on a roller coaster and were zipping and whooshing through her body.

  ‘There are about fifteen gardeners, Mrs Chrisohoidis, her husband Andreo, who oversees the island, the domestic staff, chefs, and I have two personal assistants based out of the island for when I need to work.’

  Hannah’s eyes flew wide. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘And their families,’ he said, still smiling, the words lightly mocking.

  She shook her head from side to side, wondering at how anyone could have this kind of money.

  ‘It takes a team to manage all this.’ He gestured with his palm to the island.

  She nodded. ‘And then the yacht crew, too?’

  He nodded. ‘They stay on board, though there are dorms for when the boat is here over winter.’

  ‘You must spend a fortune in salaries.’

  ‘I suppose I do.’ He wasn’t smiling now, but he was looking at her with a heat that simmered her blood. He lifted a hand to her hair once more, tucking it behind her ear slowly, watchfully.

  ‘There’s the security team, as well,’ he said, and she felt his past pulling him deep into a raging ocean.

  ‘Greg Hassan lives here?’

  ‘Greg lives in Athens. He oversees Stathakis Corp, including my brother Thanos’s security arrangements, and our company procedures. He has a manager on the island, and there are thirteen guards permanently placed here.’

  ‘Thirteen?’ She exhaled. ‘Security guards?’

  ‘It used to be only four,’ he said nonchalantly.

  ‘But because of me it’s thirteen?’

  ‘Because of you, and because of her.’ He dropped a hand to Hannah’s stomach, and right at that moment one of the little popping sensations Hannah had become used to reared to life, and Leonidas’s eyes widened in wonder.

  ‘Did she just kick me?’

  Hannah laughed, but there was a sting of happy tears against her eyelids. ‘She’s telling you we don’t need anything like that kind of security.’

  ‘I think she’s giving me a high five of agreement.’

  Hannah laughed and Leonidas did, too. She had no way of knowing how long it had been since he’d felt genuine amusement, or the occurrence might have taken her breath away even more than the sound did on its own.

  * * *

  Hannah lay with her head on Leonidas’s chest, in the small hours of the next day, listening to his heart. It beat slow and steady in sleep. She lay there, her naked body close to his, their limbs tangled with the crisp white sheets, their bodies spent, her body round with the baby they’d made, and she smiled.

  Because there was such randomness in this, and yet such perfection, too.

  How could she have known that one night of unplanned sensual heat would lead to this? She lay with her head on his chest, listening to the solid beating of his heart, and admitted to herself there was nowhere on earth she’d rather be.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?’

  Thanos’s voice came to Leonidas from a long way away.

  ‘Where are you?’ Leonidas stretched his long legs out in front of himself, crossing them at the ankles.

  ‘Somewhere over the Atlantic.’

  ‘You’re going to New York?’

  ‘It’s model week.’ Leonidas could hear his brother’s grin, and experience told him that in approximately twenty-four hours there’d be tabloid headlines about Thanos’s latest stunning conquest. ‘Did you say you’re getting married?’

  Leonidas’s eyes drifted to the window of his study, and beyond it, to where Hannah was lying beside the pool. The bathing costume was really just a couple of scraps of Lycra, and his fingers itched to remove it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re getting married?’

  Leonidas grimaced. ‘On Friday.’

  ‘As in three days away Friday?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Christós. I didn’t realise you were seeing anyone.’

  ‘I’m not. I wasn’t.’ He swept his eyes shut, his stomach clenching painfully. ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘So what is it like?’

  Leonidas’s chest felt as if it were being scooped out, replaced with acid. ‘She’s pregnant.’

  Silence.

  It stretched for so long that Leonidas thought they might have lost reception. The phones on their state-of-the-art jets were good, but not one hundred per cent reliable.

  ‘Thanos?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m just surprised. I thought you’d sworn off women for life.’

  ‘So did I.’

  ‘And yet?’

  ‘And yet,’ Leonidas agreed, his eyes roaming her body with a hunger that was not a part of him. He’d given up on fighting this, on fighting Hannah. She was breathing herself into his soul, and taking over small parts of him, forming his building blocks back into shape. Except for his heart, which would always be locked away, reserved for Amy and Brax.

  The rest of him, he could share. Especially if it made her smile the way she had been.

  ‘When? I mean to say, when will you have this baby?’

  ‘She’s due in four months.’

  T
hanos let out a low whistle. ‘So you’re marrying her for custody?’

  The description turned Leonidas’s stomach. ‘I’m marrying her for security.’

  A moment of silence and then, gently, ‘Leonidas, the man who killed them is locked up for life. He’ll never get out. There’s no reason to think he wasn’t acting alone.’

  ‘It’s organised crime. Do you really think he’d have operated without instruction?’

  ‘Yes,’ Thanos spoke swiftly. ‘I think he was a lunatic, angry that our father had turned on his brother and so he took that out on you—an eye for an eye. There is no risk now.’

  ‘Would you bet someone’s life on that, Thanos? Would you bet the life of an innocent woman you were too weak to resist and that of her unborn child?’

  More silence, and eventually, ‘No.’

  Leonidas didn’t realise until that moment how badly he’d needed to hear that. ‘Here with me, on the island, she is safe. Our child will be safe.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘She’s...’ Leonidas tried to put into words a hint of Hannah, but it proved hard for some reason. ‘She’s nice. You’ll like her.’

  Thanos’s disapproval came across in his silence. ‘Nice?’

  ‘Yes, nice. What’s wrong with “nice”?’

  Thanos was quiet. ‘Does she know about Amy?’

  Leonidas stiffened. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Leo.’ Thanos rarely used the diminutive version of Leonidas’s name. It slipped out, the boyhood moniker coming naturally to him now. ‘You don’t think it’s a bit of an extreme way to keep someone safe? You couldn’t just give her a security detail?’

  Leonidas was surprised to realise he hadn’t even considered that. Not for a moment. But he understood his reasoning. Having lost Amy and Brax, he couldn’t risk anything else happening to the mother of his child, and the only way to be sure of that was to have her within eyesight. He and Amy had fought—often. They’d begun spending more and more time apart. He’d missed Brax like anything but he’d relished his space from Amy, even when he’d known he loved her—or that he had loved her once and needed to honour that love, for the sake of their child.