The Sarantos Baby Bargain. Оливия Гейтс
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I never hated anyone in my life. I never hated you even after all you put me through. But when you proved you were worse than a stranger, worse than an enemy...I finally hated you that day.”
His lashes lowered again, giving the momentary impression of him being moved, disturbed.
Then he raised his eyes, and they were their usual unfathomable chips of steel. “I didn’t realize you’d appreciate seeing or hearing from me at the time.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you pretending you didn’t come or call, in deference to my feelings? Play another one.”
“I’m stating what I believed. But that wasn’t why I didn’t come or call.”
She waited for him to tell her the reason. A heartbeat later she realized she’d fallen into the trap of expectation all over again. He wouldn’t be giving her anything to quench her curiosity or indignation, would never justify his actions or seek understanding or even tolerance for them.
At least she could always count on him for that. No excuses. Everyone invariably lied, or pulled their punches to observe decorum or butter others up, or at least spare their feelings. Not Andreas.
And it would continue to sink in. The magnitude of what she’d risked when she’d thrown herself, body and soul, into his void. Even now he realized she’d been in need of support from any familiar face at the time—he still didn’t bother to say he was sorry.
It seemed disappointment and disillusion had no end with Andreas.
Suddenly, she was tired. So very tired. She’d been struggling to act strong, to appear intact, for so long now. First for her mother, then for Nadine, then for Dora and Hannah. But she could no longer pretend she was on Andreas’s level, when no one was, and when she was at her most brittle. He was a disturbance she couldn’t afford, a battle she couldn’t fight. She needed whatever strength she had left for Dora.
All fight gone out of her, she walked to him, no longer minding if he saw how fragile she was, how she was no match for him. “Whatever your reasons for not coming to the funeral, it was for the best, Andreas. Your presence would have only made me feel worse. It’s the worst thing you could have done, coming back now. Whatever brought you here, it doesn’t matter. Just go. Please.”
In response, his hand reached for hers, cradled it in its warmth. Then, with an effortless tug, he had her spilling into his lap, sinking in his power and heat.
Before another neuron fired, a buzz went through her. Seconds stretched out before she realized what it was. His phone.
That galvanized her to push out of his arms. He only tightened them and groaned, “Don’t, omorfiá mou.”
She shivered at the way his magnificent voice vibrated as he called her “my beauty,” just as she always had when a Greek endearment flowed from those spectacular lips.
Keeping her wrapped in one arm, he got his phone out, evidently to silence it, then groaned again when he saw the caller’s name.
He dragged in a harsh breath. “I have to take this.” He clasped her closer as she squirmed again, immobilizing her with his mesmerizing gaze. “I’m picking up right where I left off afterward.”
She somehow managed to rise from his embrace, making it to the couch opposite before collapsing on it. “No, you won’t.”
His eyes smoldered, running over her with his intention to do just as he’d promised. Then he answered the call, and the name he said...Stephanides. Could it be...?
Next moment he said Christos. So it was him. The man who’d once threatened to smash her kneecaps...and worse.
It was how everything had started between her and Andreas, six years ago. She’d been in Crete with Malcolm to set up a branch of their company. They’d been about to close a deal when one day, thugs had accosted them, delivering a threat from Christos Stephanides, the local real estate development tycoon. The message had been succinct. Either they took their business elsewhere or they wouldn’t leave Crete in one piece.
But before the thugs could give them a taste of what awaited them if they didn’t comply, Andreas had materialized out of nowhere and spoken one word: “Leave.” The ruffians had almost vanished into thin air in their rush to do just that.
In his usual concise way, Andreas had said he’d deal with the thugs’ boss, and had advised them to leave Crete until he told them it was safe to come back. They’d done so, unquestioningly.
Once home, though still shaken, Naomi had been more disappointed. That the one man she’d ever been interested in remained the only man who hadn’t tried to approach her.
Nadine had thought his appearance at the moment they’d needed him had to mean something. She’d insisted that next time they met, if he didn’t make a move, Naomi should take matters into her own hands.
Having no faith in her sister’s romantic notions, Naomi had been surprised and delighted when she’d found Andreas in Malcolm’s office days later. He’d seared her in his focus again, but had made no move. And she’d ended up taking Nadine’s advice, inviting him to dinner. It was then that Andreas had issued his famous warning, turning her down.
Mortified at his rejection, she’d told Nadine that her advice had backfired. Her sister had still insisted that maybe he’d truly believed it wasn’t good for her to know him. Maybe he was being kind, letting her down easy. What had Naomi known about Andreas anyway?
But she’d known what should have been enough. Everybody said he was an iceberg, a man with no feelings, relationships or friendships, who lived only to accumulate more success and money. The presence of females in his life had consisted of abundant one-nights stands.
Not that any of that had discouraged her in the least. She’d still wanted nothing more than to be with him, to appease the unstoppable hunger she’d felt for him, come what may. So she’d approached him again.
This time, Andreas had agreed to her invitation. But as if to test her limits, he’d insisted she come to his hotel suite. Certain that he’d posed no danger beyond the emotional—and she’d had no intention of getting emotionally involved—she’d gone to him.
Bluntly, he’d told her he’d never wanted anything the way he wanted her. But he’d left her alone, knowing she wouldn’t be able to withstand him. His ominous words had been blatant with the implication of his insatiability, as well as what she’d realized only later. His total disregard and insensitivity.
But she couldn’t blame him for any of that. He’d made his terms brutally clear. If she stayed, he would devour her. But he was nothing she might want in a man. Beyond passion and pleasure, he had nothing to offer her.
Drunk with desire and recklessness, she’d told him that was exactly what she wanted, too. Since her mother had died, she’d taken care of her four-years-younger sister, becoming an adult prematurely. Naomi hadn’t made one step since before taking every possible ramification into consideration. Even her professional life was steeped in feasibility studies and risk calculations. But she’d wanted Andreas as she’d never wanted anything else. She couldn’t approach that desire with caution.
And starting that night, she’d let him sweep her like a tornado into a tempestuously passionate affair that had been beyond anything she’d dreamed of. Sex between them had been, even according to him, unparalleled, the pleasure escalating and the lust unquenchable.
But soon she’d found her emotions becoming involved—or they had been all along, and she’d lied to herself so that she’d accept his noninvolvement terms. Apart from his inability to feel, Andreas had been everything she could have admired and loved in a man. Brilliant, driven, disciplined, enterprising and a hundred other things that appealed to everything in her. Being a phenomenal lover had ended any hope that her emotions would remain unscathed for long. As he’d made love to her, it had been impossible not to delude herself that his ferocious passion, his meticulous catering to her needs, hadn’t been signs of caring. That was, until he’d stepped out of