Greek's Baby Of Redemption. Kate Hewitt
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‘Of course it doesn’t!’
‘Of course?’ he queried, arching an eyebrow, the one she could see.
‘Most men are not in the habit of making such propositions,’ Milly said in that same chilly voice of maidenly affront. She donned that voice like a dress—something that could be taken off as needed, a bit of flimsy armour. It made him wonder what she was protecting underneath.
‘Aren’t they?’ he queried. ‘Most marriages are business deals of some kind, Miss James. A negotiation of sorts, no matter what emotional underpinnings they possess.’
‘And yet our marriage would have no emotional underpinning,’ she returned. ‘I don’t even know you. I’ve never met you before today.’
‘That is not out of the ordinary, for situations such as this.’
‘What makes you think I want to get married?’
‘Nothing. Like I said, this would be a business arrangement. And the financial stability is what I think you will find attractive about this proposition.’ He let out a huff of laughter. ‘Nothing else.’
She stayed silent, and Alex turned slightly, wanting to see her face, able to make it out in the dim room only a little. Her eyes were wide, her lips pressed together.
She looked uneasy, but she also looked...torn. Her hand had slipped from the doorknob, and now her fingers were knotted together. As he gazed at her, she nibbled her lip, her eyes darting this way and that. She looked, he realised, as if part of her was tempted or at least intrigued by his offer, but she didn’t want to admit it.
‘Financial stability,’ she finally said. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I would make marriage worth your while.’ He waited, to see if she asked more, but she shook her head.
‘Now that sounds like selling myself, and to a stranger. I think any marriage should have some kind of emotional foundation, if not love.’
He cocked his head. ‘You almost sound cynical.’
‘Cynical—?’
‘As if you don’t really believe what you’re saying,’ he clarified. ‘You want to, but you don’t.’
‘What I believe or don’t believe is of no concern to you, and of no relevance to this conversation,’ she returned sharply. ‘The answer is still no.’
‘Why?’ Alex asked, letting his voice loosen into a lazy drawl. ‘Out of interest?’
‘Why?’ She looked and sounded incredulous, but also up against a wall. Figuratively as well as literally, her back pressed to the door, her chest heaving so he could see the rise and fall of her small breasts. A few wisps of light brown hair had escaped from her normally neat ponytail, framing her heart-shaped face. She was, he decided with some surprise, quite lovely. When he’d made the decision to marry her, her looks had not been part of the equation. She was convenient, suitable, and her lowly position meant he would be able to manage her. That was all he required.
‘Yes, why?’ he reiterated. ‘Why are you not willing even to consider my offer? Not even a single question as to the nature of our arrangement?’
‘You’ve already made the nature quite clear—’
‘You mean sex?’
‘Well, yes,’ she nearly spluttered.
‘You object to having sex with your husband?’
‘I object to marrying someone I don’t feel anything for, someone I don’t even know—’
‘Yet people have been doing that for centuries. Millennia.’
‘Even so...’
‘You told me you weren’t interested in romance.’
‘Not at this point in my life, no.’
‘Or perhaps ever, I believe your words were. So...?’
‘That doesn’t mean I want to marry you.’ She sounded exasperated now. Alex allowed himself a cold little smile.
‘Would five million euros change your thinking?’
Her mouth opened. Closed. And then again. Her eyes wide and as brown and soft as pansies. ‘That’s a lot of money,’ she finally said, her voice faint.
‘Indeed.’ He cocked his head. ‘Would you like to hear the particulars now?’
She bit her lip. ‘You think I’ll change my mind simply because of money? That’s insulting.’
‘Financial stability,’ he reminded her. ‘It’s a powerful incentive.’
‘I’m not some gold-digger.’ The words burst out of her, like an old wound breaking open. Alex wondered at it.
‘I know you’re not.’
‘I won’t sell myself.’
‘So you keep saying, but to think of it that way is distasteful. We are talking marriage, remember. Not being a mistress.’
‘Yet it’s true nevertheless.’
‘Not necessarily. It’s a deal, Miss James. We both get something out of it.’
She shook her head slowly, her eyes still wide. ‘Considering the nature of our conversation, perhaps you should call me Milly.’
Victory loomed closer, elusive but possible. Probable, even. She hadn’t stormed out of the room. She hadn’t slapped his face. She hadn’t seen it, either. They would get to that all in good time. ‘Very well, Milly. Why don’t you take a seat?’
‘All right.’ Milly walked with careful, deliberate steps to one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk and sank into it, ankles neatly crossed, hands linked at her waist like a respectable matron. ‘Can we turn the light on?’ she asked. ‘I can barely make you out, and I’ve never actually seen you in person, which seems ridiculous considering the nature of our discussion.’
He tensed, and then made himself relax. ‘I’m averse to light.’
‘You’re not a vampire, are you?’ It was obviously a joke, but she still sounded uncertain.
‘No, most certainly not.’ He turned to face her, angling his head in a way he knew would hide the worst. ‘I’ll turn it on in a moment, perhaps, after we’ve discussed some of the details.’
‘Why me?’ Milly asked bluntly. ‘Why not someone far more suitable?’
‘Because you’re here,’ Alex answered just as bluntly. ‘And you’re happy to remain on this island. And in the six months you’ve been in my employ, you’ve seemed trustworthy and hardworking, or so my man here, Yiannis, tells me.’
‘Yiannis has been reporting on me?’
‘Merely relaying his approval of you.’
‘Oh.’ She sounded surprised. ‘He and his wife are very kind. They’ve been welcoming to me.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he returned smoothly. It was all seeming very promising. She clearly liked living here, and she wanted the money. All that remained was whether she could stomach looking at him—and sharing his bed.
‘And those are your only qualifications for a wife?’ Milly asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’ She sounded cynical again. ‘You don’t care about your wife’s likes or dislikes? Her sense of humour, or her sense of honour? What about what kind of mother she’ll be?’
Alex’s mouth compressed. ‘I don’t have the luxury to care about those things.’ Ezio’s latest escapade had provoked a knee-jerk