The Greek's Billion-Dollar Baby

by Clare Connelly

  But he’d been careless, letting her go without taking an interest in how she was spending her time. He hadn’t seen the danger and they’d paid the ultimate price.

  No. Hannah would be by his side, ’til death do them part. And if they were separated and he couldn’t protect her, then he’d make sure she had an army at her disposal.

  ‘A detail wouldn’t have been enough. It’s my job to keep them safe.’

  ‘I see.’ It was clear Thanos didn’t agree, though. ‘And is this what she wants?’

  Leonidas stood, moving to the window, and his legs felt a little like jelly when he thought about what Hannah might want. Perhaps she caught a hint of his movement in her peripheral vision, or perhaps she felt the tug of him in that strange way she had, but she lifted her gaze to the window of his study, lifting her sunglasses from her head so she could pierce him, through the glass, with the intensity of her emerald eyes.

  His pulse slammed inside him.

  ‘She agrees it’s for the best.’

  Thanos was quiet for a moment. ‘It all sounds very sensible and safe, then.’

  Leonidas nodded, but his insides were clenching in a way that wasn’t even remotely sensible.

  ‘Maybe you could take over negotiations with Kosta Carinedes now that you’re about to be married with a kid. That’s the kind of respectability he’s looking for.’

  Leonidas stiffened—the reality of that still difficult to contemplate. And though Thanos had obviously been joking, he was quick to retort, ‘There is no way on earth I’m telling anyone who doesn’t need to know about Hannah and our daughter. I plan on keeping this secret as long as I can.’

  There was safety in secrecy.

  Hannah smiled up at him, and lifted her hand, motioning for him to come to her, then pointing to the water.

  He shook his head on autopilot, the last vestiges of restraint reminding him that there needed to be some boundaries, some restrictions.

  She shrugged, standing up slowly, unfurling her petite frame and turning her back on him. She reached behind her as he watched, pulling on the string of her bikini top and lifting it over her head. Her hair, shimmering like a flame in the afternoon sunshine, ignited down her back.

  He held his breath as she turned once more and blew him a kiss, her smile contagious, spreading over his lips, exploding out of her like diamond dust. And then she eased herself into the pool, her beautiful, pale breasts only half covered by the water.

  He disconnected the call to Thanos, threw his phone on his desk and was already stripping his clothes as he made his way to the deck.

  It was just a swim on a very hot day, nothing more.

  * * *

  Leonidas told himself he was simply doing what Hannah deserved. That it was easy for him to deliver on her dreams and that someone should do that for her, after everything she’d lost.

  She was marrying one of the richest men in the world—she could have anything she wanted in life and Leonidas was going to make sure she knew that.

  He couldn’t give her his heart, he couldn’t give her the version of happily ever after she wanted, but he could spoil her with every material possession so that she never noticed there was a gaping void inside her chest.

  He told himself a thousand and one things but as he observed Hannah with undisguised interest, watched the way her face glowed with happiness and wonderment, he knew there was something more base in his reasons for bringing her here, to Paris.

  The idea had come to him while they were swimming, earlier that day. They were marrying for somewhat pragmatic reasons, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make some of her dreams come true. And she had always wanted to see Paris, had grown up staring at a tourist souvenir of the Eiffel Tower, and he could give her the real thing. He’d wanted her to have it.

  Why?

  Because it had mattered to him.

  Because he could.

  Because someone should spoil Hannah May.

  ‘Leonidas.’ She turned to face him, tears in her eyes. ‘It’s so much more beautiful than I’d imagined.’

  Their penthouse hotel room looked over the glowing construction of the city’s heart, the Eiffel Tower. He handed her a glass of non-alcoholic champagne, moving closer to her, still unable to tear his gaze from her face.

  ‘Many locals would beg to differ.’

  But even his cynicism couldn’t dampen her mood. ‘Then they’re crazy.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ His voice was thick and guilt rolled through him. He banked it down. This wasn’t about him and Amy and Brax and the mess that was his life. This was about Hannah—she deserved to be happy, she deserved to feel joy, she deserved this. And he wasn’t going to ruin it by brooding and regretting.

  She lifted her eyes to his and heat seared him, as it had the first night they met, as it always did.

  ‘I guess you come here all the time. You’re probably used to it.’

  He skipped his gaze to the Eiffel Tower thoughtfully. ‘Often enough.’

  ‘I can’t imagine seeing it as just another landmark. It’s extraordinary.’

  As she looked at it the hour struck and the tower went from glowing gold to glistening with silver and starlight. Hannah drew in a sharp breath and moved closer, through the billowing curtains and onto the small Juliet balcony with an unrivalled view of the tourist favourite.

  ‘Tomorrow I want to go right to the top,’ she said with a broad grin, turning back to face him.

  ‘Why wait until tomorrow?’ he prompted, holding a hand out to her.

  ‘Because it’s eight o’clock. Surely it’s not open to visitors?’

  ‘It’s open until midnight,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she asked breathlessly, yet he didn’t move. He stared at her, drinking in the sight of her like this, and something shifted in his gut—hope, lightness, release.

  He ignored it, taking her hand and squeezing it tight in his own. ‘Not a thing. Let’s go, agape mou.’

  * * *

  Hannah slept with a smile on her face and woke with it still drifting over her lips. Her sleeping mind had been full of all the dreams that Leonidas had made a reality. The surprise trip to Paris—touching down in his private jet at Charles de Gaulle and being whisked through the ancient city in his sleek black limousine.

  She hadn’t been able to speak, she’d been too thrilled, too fascinated, intent on catching every detail she possibly could. She’d craned forward in her seat, staring at the city as it passed and her heart had begun to throb and twist and race for how much the city lived up to her every dream.

  And for how close she felt to her mother here. It had been Eleanor’s favourite city—she’d spent a lot of time in Paris for the UN and had come home speaking about it, bringing the city to life in a young Hannah’s imagination.

  The Stathakis Hotel was in the heart of this thriving metropolis, poised on the edge of the Seine, showcasing views in one direction of the Eiffel Tower and in the other of the Arc de Triomphe, and in between all the winding streets and tiny little houses that made this city so singularly unique.

  The penthouse was exquisite, just like the one on Chrysá Vráchia, only it was different—there was more of a flavour of France in its styling. The artwork was done by the hand of famous Impressionists, the furniture a little more elaborate and baroque; everything about it was sumptuous and romantic.

  And it had been waiting for them when they arrived.

  It had all been so perfect and Hannah had almost been able to ignore the presence of the security officers who’d accompanied them on the flight and through the streets of Paris. Constantly walking a discreet distance behind but always there, always watching and waiting.

  And despite the joy of this city, a frisson of alarm travelled down her spine
, a hint of worry at what had befallen Amy and Brax and the threats Leonidas seemed to imagine were still out there.

  She turned over in bed, lifting a finger to his shoulder and tracing an invisible circle distractedly across his tanned flesh.

  His eyes lifted and he turned to face her, a look on his face she couldn’t interpret before he smiled.

  Her heart turned over in her chest.

  ‘Bonjour.’

  His smile widened. ‘Bonjour, mademoiselle.’

  ‘I like it here,’ she said simply, dropping her head to his chest but keeping her gaze trained squarely on the picture-perfect Eiffel Tower beyond the window. It was a perfect day—a bright blue sky called to her and Hannah was already excited to explore this ancient city.

  ‘I thought you might.’

  And so he’d arranged this. Something pulled inside her chest—pleasure—and she smiled softly. ‘Is it possible, Leonidas, that you are a romantic at heart?’

  His chest slowed, his body completely still. ‘No.’ The word was like thunder in the midst of a sunny day. She pushed up to look at him, not cowed by the stern expression on his face. A week ago, she would have bitten her tongue, but something had shifted between them; she was different now. He’d made her different.

  Hannah liked to think she wasn’t the same girl who’d agreed to marry Angus, who’d taken her aunt’s decrees as gospel. She bit down on her lower lip, watching him, thinking, and then said, ‘How did you meet her?’

  His eyes dropped to hers, his expression unreadable. She wondered if he was going to plead ‘off limits’, as he had at the start, but he didn’t.

  Though it clearly gave him no pleasure and considerable pain, he spoke slowly, quietly, the words dredged from deep within him. ‘Through my brother.’

  Silence. She didn’t fill it.

  ‘Thanos has a broad social circle.’ Scepticism filled the words. ‘Amy had just started modelling. She got pulled along to a party by some friends. I happened to be there.’

  ‘She was a model?’

  Leonidas nodded. ‘She was beautiful and I was smitten.’ His smile was dismissive but jealousy surged inside Hannah. She knew how petty that was. The poor woman had died and it was not for Hannah to envy her anything.

  ‘Did you date for long before marrying?’

  ‘No,’ he laughed softly. ‘I am not a patient man. When I see something I want I go after it.’ His frown was another storm cloud on the horizon. ‘We married quickly, privately, and before we really knew much about one another.’

  Hannah tilted her head to the side, watching him. ‘You say that as though it’s a bad thing.’

  ‘It can be,’ he said thoughtfully.

  Curiosity got the better of Hannah. ‘Was she different from what you imagined?’

  Leonidas flicked his gaze to Hannah’s, his eyes showing torment. ‘I loved her.’ The words were defensive. ‘But we weren’t capable of making each other happy.’

  Sympathy scored deep into Hannah’s heart.

  ‘I thought a baby might be the answer to that. I convinced her to fall pregnant, and by then she was so afraid of losing me I think she would have borne me a football team if I’d asked it of her.’ He shook his head from side to side, anger in the tight lines of his lips.

  ‘Why weren’t you happy?’ she asked curiously.

  He expelled a soft sigh. ‘Neither of us was happy.’ He moved his gaze to the window, looking through it without seeing. ‘Amy loved a certain lifestyle.’

  ‘Money?’

  He grimaced. ‘Money was not the issue. Partying was. She loved to go out, to be seen, to be adored. She fell into my brother’s crowd for a reason.’

  Sympathy shifted inside Hannah’s chest. ‘And you’re not like that?’

  ‘I never have been. Thanos is the “playboy prince of Europe” and that suits him. He lives his life in the fast lane—life can never be loud enough, fast enough, drunk enough.’ His smile showed affection. ‘He’s a tornado. And he attracts tornados.’

  ‘Like Amy.’

  ‘Yes. Like Amy. She was much more at home with his friends. I couldn’t make her happy.’

  ‘But you loved her.’

  A heavy beat of silence throbbed between them. ‘Yes.’ He turned to face her. ‘And I refused to let our marriage fail.’

  Hannah expelled a soft sigh. ‘You can’t beat yourself up for things not having been perfect. I sometimes think life is a knot full of different threads. Some of them happy, some of them profoundly sad, but they all form a part of you.’ She pressed a finger to his chest.

  Leonidas lay back and gave his fiancée the full force of his attention. ‘And you think you would have been happy with him?’

  Hannah considered that for a moment. ‘I think I would have been free with Angus. Free of my aunt and uncle and their low expectations, free of Michelle’s jealousy. At least, I thought I would have been—clearly those jealousies were going to chase me into my marriage.’

  ‘Do you still love him?’

  ‘Angus?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘The more time that passes, the more I think I didn’t ever really love him. Not as anything more than a friend. But he was the first person in a long time to tell me he loved me.’ Her lips twisted painfully. ‘He was the first person who made me feel wanted—needed. And I loved that feeling.’

  * * *

  ‘I have something for you.’

  Hannah stifled a yawn, the whirlwind, one-night trip to Paris having been both spectacular and exhausting. She placed her book down on her lap, lifting her gaze to Leonidas’s face and feeling that now familiar rolling in her stomach as her nerves exploded. Desire lurched inside her, but it was more than just a physical need.

  She longed for him in every way.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘Yes.’ He crossed the floor of the private jet, propping his hip against the broad armchair opposite her. ‘Here.’ He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a small black velvet pouch.

  ‘What is it?’ She took it without looking away from his face.

  ‘Open it.’

  She did just that, sliding the tip of her finger into the pouch’s opening and reaching for the contents. It was tiny and sharp. She tipped it into her palm and smiled. Because there in her hand was the most delicate and beautiful replica of the Eiffel Tower she’d ever seen. A closer inspection showed it was made of diamonds and it was attached to a delicate chain.

  ‘It’s truly beautiful,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

  ‘I thought you should always have something that brings you so much happiness right by your heart.’

  Her heart! Oh, how it flipped and flopped at his thoughtful, kind words.

  She felt as though she were soaring high into the heavens, right alongside the clouds outside the porthole windows of this designer jet.

  She looked up at him, a smile on her face, holding the necklace out. ‘Would you mind?’

  He took it from her, arranging it around her neck and clipping it into place. It was a mid-length chain so the stunning charm dangled perfectly between her breasts.

  ‘I love it,’ she said sincerely, looking up at him. ‘Thank you.’

  His smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her pulse fired inside her, but then, his smile flattened and his face assumed a serious, distracted expression. ‘You were right on the beach.’

  She frowned, searching her memory.

  ‘You said we could make something of this marriage and you were right.’

  Her stomach clenched and her heart trembled.

  ‘When Amy and Brax died, my heart died with them, and it’s gone—for good. I cannot offer you what I think you deserve, but I can give you enough, I think, for you to want this. For you to be happy.’ He crouched down at her feet, clutching her hands, staring into her
eyes. ‘Look at the life you can lead by my side. Look at how we can raise our child.’ He lifted one of his hands to cup her cheek. ‘There is enough here to build on, just like you said. We just have to be brave enough to try.’

  She felt the once foreign but now familiar sting of tears in the back of her throat. He was speaking softly, as though he were offering a great gift, but all his words did was open up a hole in her heart and make her feel as though she were falling into it completely.

  There was something so final and so limiting about what he was saying, and the timing of it filled her with despair. Their trip to Paris had been so full of magic and she’d felt so wanted and cosseted, but it had all been a sales pitch, him showing her what he could give her to make this marriage appealing. Because he wanted her to be safe, he didn’t want the guilt of any harm befalling her, and because he wanted their child close. She’d seen the way he talked about Brax, the genuine love that had filled him—he’d be a great father to their daughter.

  This trip hadn’t really been about her—he hadn’t brought her to Paris because he’d wanted her to see it, he’d done it because he’d wanted her to know what she could expect, being married to him. He’d thought showing her the enormous silver lining of being Mrs Leonidas Stathakis would compensate for the fact his heart ‘had died’ with his first wife and son.

  She bit down on her lip, turning her face away from him without responding, not able to find any words that would express the enormous doubts that were harpooning her soul.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HANNAH HAD BUTTERFLIES in her tummy and they wouldn’t quit. She looked at the dress the couturier had brought earlier that day—it was the perfect wedding dress for this perfectly fake wedding.

  ‘Keep it simple,’ she had instructed, feeling as if the wedding was enough of a farce without a frou-frou white cupcake dress. And simple it was. A silk slip with spaghetti straps and cut on the bias so it emphasised the curves of her breasts, hips and the roundedness of her stomach. It was not a dress one would wear to a public wedding, in front of hundreds of people.