Greek's Baby Of Redemption. Kate Hewitt
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or grief. His proposition had struck a painful chord inside her. He was almost certain of it. ‘And why an heir?’ she asked at last. ‘Isn’t that rather an outdated concept?’
‘It’s a biological one.’
‘Still.’
‘I want to pass my business on to my child.’
‘A son?’
‘Or a daughter. It doesn’t matter.’
She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make him out. ‘Why?’
‘Because if I don’t,’ Alex answered tersely, ‘it passes to my stepbrother, who is likely to run it into the ground in a matter of months.’
‘It’s not like an aristocratic title, is it? Why should it pass to him?’
He drew a quick breath, forcing himself to relax as the memories bombarded him. Christos, looking so pale and weak, one claw-like hand extended towards him. Begging him. And Ezio, drunk in some nightclub, not even bothering to show up, to say goodbye to his flesh-and-blood father. ‘Because my stepfather stipulated it in his will. The business was originally his, and he bequeathed it to me when he died. But he made a provision that if I should die without issue, it passes to my stepbrother.’
‘That all sounds rather archaic.’
Alex inclined his head. ‘Family ties are strong in this country.’
‘Yet it’s your stepfather,’ Milly pointed out. ‘This isn’t about flesh and blood.’
‘He was a father to me more than any other man was,’ Alex answered gruffly. Emotion clutched at his throat, made it hard to speak. ‘And the will is watertight. This is my only option.’
‘What about adoption? Surrogacy?’
‘As I said, time is of the essence. I’m thirty-six, and I want my child to be an adult when I pass the business on. Also, I believe a child should have a mother as well as a father. Family is important to me.’ The words ignited a blaze of pain inside him, and he snuffed it out quickly. Coldly. The only way he knew how, to keep on living.
‘What if I can’t get pregnant?’ Milly asked baldly. ‘There are no guarantees.’
‘You’d need to have a full medical check before we wed.’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘The rest is up to God.’
‘Would you want other children?’
He almost laughed at that. He knew she certainly wouldn’t, not once she saw him. ‘No, one will suffice. After that I will leave you alone.’
‘Would I have to live on this island for the rest of my life?’
‘You wouldn’t be a prisoner, if that’s what you are implying.’
‘Would we have any kind of...relationship?’ She spoke the word hesitantly, as if probing a sore tooth.
‘We would treat each other with courteous respect, I should hope.’
‘But beyond that?’
He couldn’t keep from recoiling just a little, just as he knew she would once she saw him. ‘Is that something you want?’
‘I... I don’t know.’ She shook her head, her teeth worrying away at her lower lip. ‘This is all so unexpected. I can’t even think straight.’
‘Yet you are considering it?’
‘I shouldn’t.’ She shook her head, expelling her breath in a gusty sigh. ‘I don’t even know why I am, if just a little. The tiniest bit.’ It came out like a warning.
‘The five million, perhaps.’ He kept his voice light, inviting her to see the humour. To share it with him.
She shot him a look of wry amusement, and something small and warm bloomed inside him, something unexpected. When had he last shared a look with another person, even in the dark? ‘Yes, that might have something to do with it.’
‘I don’t hold it against you.’
‘And so you shouldn’t, since you’re the one who offered it. But perhaps I hold it against myself.’ Her words came out sharply; the moment was broken, that small bit of warmth snuffed out.
Alex watched as Milly rose from the chair, pacing the room, rubbing her hands together as if she were cold. ‘No, this can’t work,’ she muttered, mostly to herself. ‘I can’t let myself, not like—’ She broke off, shaking her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t. I won’t.’ She turned to him resolutely, her look one of both apology and determination. ‘The answer is no, Kyrie Santos,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sorry. I hope this won’t affect our working relationship.’
Alex stared at her, refusing to betray his irritation and, yes, his disappointment, with so much as a flicker. And he did feel disappointed—more even than he’d expected. He could find someone else. He knew that. Yet her rejection stung, because that was what it was. It felt personal, even though he knew it shouldn’t. And the laughable part was, he hadn’t even turned the light on.
MILLY COULDN’T SLEEP. She lay tangled in her sheets, staring at the ceiling as moonlight slanted through the shutters of her window and silvered the tile floor of her bedroom. Since the abrupt ending of her conversation with Alexandro Santos this afternoon, when he’d more or less dismissed her from his study after she’d turned down his proposal, her mind had been reeling as she went over every surreal second of the bizarre interview.
I want you to marry me.
How could he have suggested such a thing? And how could she have been so treacherously tempted, even for a moment?
Milly turned over, thumping her pillow in a futile effort to find peace, or at least comfort. Her mind had not stopped zooming off in a dozen different directions since she’d left Alex; she’d kept herself busy, finishing the moussaka she’d been prepping for supper, sweeping the pool area, and paying a few bills, all the while wondering why he’d asked, what would happen now.
Would everything be awkward? Would he find a reason to fire her? She didn’t want to lose this job. She was making three times as much money as she had been translating business documents back in Paris, and she liked the spacious villa with its beautiful flower-filled garden, the infinity pool, Yiannis and his wife, Marina, stopping by on occasion, the friendly village of Halki a short distance away.
She liked shopping among the quaint market stalls, a wicker basket looped over her arm as she examined lumps of feta cheese floating in brine, plump, red tomatoes, juicy olives.
She liked the little café with its rickety tables overlooking a dusty square where she sometimes sat and had a coffee after doing her shopping. She liked the quiet, starry evenings, the only sound the distant lapping of the waves. She liked the solitude, and feeling safe. She didn’t want to leave here.
So why had she said no to Alex Santos’ marriage proposal?
With a groan of frustration Milly rose from her bed. She wouldn’t sleep now. She slipped on her thin dressing gown and padded softly downstairs to the living area, opening the French windows as quietly as she could. Alex’s bedroom was in the other wing of the house, one she only visited to clean, but she definitely did not want to disturb him now.
Outside the air was pleasantly cool, scented with bougainvillea and orange blossom. Moonlight glinted off the placid surface of the pool, giving it a ghostly feel. Milly wandered over to a wooden chaise and curled up on it, drawing her knees to her chest as she gazed out at the moonlit gardens. She let out a gusty sigh, tension that had been knotting her shoulders since Alex had said stay easing just a little.
She loved the peaceful solitude