Greek Affairs: Tempted by the Tycoons: The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride / The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife / The Greek Tycoon's Secret Heir. Кейт Хьюит
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family she’d never had herself.
She’d wanted Lukas to take custody of Annabel, to love her. She’d convinced herself it was best for everyone.
She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. She hadn’t prepared herself for the surge of protectiveness she’d felt when Lukas had threatened paternity tests, custody suits.
She’d expected to offer Annabel, not to have her taken by force.
Taken as a matter of duty rather than of love.
Duty. The word rested heavily on her. Lukas was a man of responsibility. He would do the right thing by Annabel, but he wouldn’t love her.
Would he?
Not like I do. Not like I could.
She shook her head, dashed her hand against her eyes and the tears that threatened to fall. One fell anyway. This was stupid; she was being ridiculous. She didn’t cry.
She had known this would happen—even if she hadn’t anticipated the exact unfolding of events. She would just have to steel herself against the repercussions in her own heart.
‘I thought you might be hungry.’
Rhiannon looked up in surprise. She’d been so lost in her own unhappy thoughts that she hadn’t heard the glass door slide open, hadn’t seen Lukas step out onto the balcony.
Yet now she felt him—felt the way his presence seemed to suck the air right from her lungs.
He was looking down at her with a quiet thoughtfulness that reminded her of that first moment in the bar.
Then she’d believed he was a kind man.
Now she wasn’t sure.
Responsibility, integrity … They were good things, but they weren’t kindness. They didn’t encompass love. She knew that well. Too well.
He placed a plate of food on the glass-topped table in front of her, then took her chin between his forefinger and thumb.
‘You’ve been crying.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
In response his thumb traced the track of the tear down her cheek, straight to her heart.
‘No?’ he queried gently, and another tear followed silently, dripped onto his thumb.
Rhiannon jerked her chin out of his hand, scrubbed angrily at her eyes. ‘I don’t cry.’
He watched her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Why don’t you eat? The lack of food won’t help things.’
‘Thank you,’ Rhiannon mumbled, and self-consciously drew the plate towards her.
‘A Languedoc speciality,’ Lukas informed her as she dug into the beef stew. ‘Made with black olives and garlic, finished with red wine.’
‘Delicious,’ Rhiannon admitted after one bite. She’d never had such food before.
He sat across from her, watching her with fathomless eyes. ‘How long had it been since you’d seen this Leanne?’ he asked after a long moment, and Rhiannon looked up in surprise.
‘I hadn’t seen her for ten years before she showed up on my doorstep with Annabel, asking me to take her.’ She paused, toying with her fork, lost in memory.
‘It must have been quite an inconvenience,’ Lukas commented, his voice neutral. Yet Rhiannon still heard the judgement. Felt it.
‘All children are inconveniences,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t mean they’re not worth it.’
‘Doesn’t it?’ There was a cynical note to Lukas’s tone that Rhiannon didn’t like.
‘What are you proposing to do?’ she forced herself to ask. ‘If Christos is the father? If Annabel is such an inconvenience to you …?’
‘You think I’d palm her off like you’ve been trying to do?’ Lukas finished, and Rhiannon jerked back at the scorn in his voice. ‘I do my duty, Rhiannon. I’ll do it by Annabel.’
‘I was not palming her off,’ she protested, and Lukas shrugged, unconvinced. Unimpressed.
‘Call it what you like.’
‘I was prepared to give you custody,’ she admitted painfully, driven to the truth. ‘A child should be with her natural-born parent—if that parent wants her.’ She gazed unseeingly before her, the star-spangled sky blurring into a haze of colour. ‘The parameters have changed now, though.’
‘Yes, they have.’ Lukas’s voice was quiet, but held the underlying steel Rhiannon was coming to recognise … and dread. ‘But some things remain the same.’
‘Your nephew might not even be Annabel’s father,’ she pointed out.
‘Perhaps he is not,’ Lukas agreed implacably. ‘But until the matter is resolved you will stay here. With me. When his paternity is proved—’
‘if—’
‘If,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘We will have matters to discuss.’
Rhiannon swallowed. She didn’t want to ask what matters those might be—didn’t have the courage. I will decide what place you have in her life … if any. She had a feeling, a terrible suspicion, that Lukas would cut her out of Annabel’s life as if wielding a pair of scissors.
And she’d started it all by coming here. By looking for Lukas.
Had she anticipated what might happen when she found him?
Yes, she had. She’d pictured Lukas cradling his daughter, his face suffused with tenderness. She’d anticipated shock, followed by gratitude and joy.
She’d anticipated, she acknowledged numbly, a ridiculous happily-ever-after that was never going to happen.
It hadn’t happened before. Why should it happen now?
She’d been a naive, foolish idiot to think for one moment that it could.
Lukas placed his hand on her own. His voice was a condemnation. ‘This is what you wanted.’
‘No, it isn’t.’
‘You came here to give her away,’ Lukas continued flatly, and Rhiannon shrugged helplessly.
‘To someone who would love her. I wanted …’ She stared down at their hands, his large brown one on top of her paler, more delicate fingers. ‘I wanted her to have a family.’
Lukas was silent, his fingers heavy on hers. She felt his warmth, his heat, and it fanned quickly, alarmingly, into a more dangerous flame.
Desire.
Suddenly it was there, thrumming to life, palpable, heady, filled with possibility.
She wanted to jerk her hand away, but Lukas’s hand was still on hers, still heavy, staying her own movements. And somehow Rhiannon knew she wouldn’t move her hand even if it were free.
She watched as he turned her hand over, traced his thumb lightly down her palm. Rhiannon shivered. She was helplessly in thrall to him, to the barest of his touches.
She snuck a look at him from beneath her lowered lashes, saw he was staring at their hands too, watching his own thumb flick along her palm with an almost clinical interest, as if he too were captive to a greater need than either one of them had ever anticipated or experienced.
Then his eyes met hers, and Rhiannon was rocked to her core by the blatant need, the open hunger in them.
He reached out his other hand, slowly, deliberately, and tangled it in her hair. Rhiannon’s mouth opened soundlessly, yet she didn’t resist as he pulled her towards him, nearly out of her chair. He leaned forward, his lips a breath away from hers.