Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy / Redemption Of The Untamed Italian

She left the kitchen after sliding a comforting hand down my back. Absurdly, the gesture made my eyes prickle.

I blinked the tears away, forced myself to revisit the subject that filled me with equal parts anger and dread: relaying the news to Neo.

His last tersely worded warning before tossing me out of his penthouse still lingered, two months on. And I believed he’d meant what he’d said.

Then, of course.

But in light of this life-changing news…

I wouldn’t know until I tried. Again.

My initial attempts to contact Neo had met a brick wall, with a few snooty receptionists even threatening to block my number if I kept trying to reach their illustrious boss. Apparently Neo had issued word that I was persona non grata.

Initially aggrieved by the realisation, I’d stopped trying to reach him for all of three days, before accepting that this reality wasn’t going to go away.

Neo needed to learn of his child’s existence sooner rather than later. And answer a few pointed questions in the process…

Since returning to his building and risking arrest or worse was out of the question, I ventured onto social media—only to discover that the Xenakis family were embroiled in the kind of publicity that drove the tabloids wild.

Apparently, in the last few weeks, Neo’s older brother Axios had returned from a brief trip abroad with his young wife in tow. A wife whose previous absence had been highly conspicuous, fuelling all kinds of scandalous speculation.

Now, not only had the young Mrs Xenakis returned from her mysterious absence without explanation, she’d apparently given birth while she was away. The reunited family had asked for privacy, but already several shots of a baby boy, Andreos Xenakis, had been leaked to the media. He was a gorgeous baby, who bore all the strong characteristics of possessing the Xenakis DNA.

How was Neo taking the news? And, the more important question, how would he take my news?

It was only eight o’clock. My temp job didn’t start until ten. That gave me a little time to attempt to reach Neo again.

Distaste at the thought of stalking him online lingered as I powered up my laptop. The first headline I found made my stomach drop.

Xenakis Aeronautics Soars to New Heights in the Far East.

Exhaling shakily, I read the article, calming down when I saw it focused mostly on Axios Xenakis and his spearheading of the airline conglomerate’s global expansion. Neo would be taking over the European arm of the company, starting with relocating to Athens with immediate effect.

The article was two weeks old. Which meant Neo might now be even further out of reach.

Suppressing the strong bite of despondency, I scribbled down the numbers of the Athens office, shut down the laptop and rushed to the bathroom just in time to heave.

A quick shower and a judiciously nibbled slice of dry toast later, I picked up my bag and headed for the door—only to pause when my mother called out.

‘Oh, Sadie, when you can, do you think you can buy me some data for my phone? I seem to have run out.’

Desolation deadened my feet. The urge to tell her that I was barely holding it together emotionally and financially, never mind providing a conduit for her addiction, tripped on the edge of my tongue. But I was woefully ill-equipped for a replay of the inevitable tears and depression that had dogged Martha Preston’s life since her husband’s cruel desertion. As much as I wanted to dish out tough love, I could barely hold myself together, and nor could I afford to lose another job because I was late.

Vowing to tackle the subject again that evening, I shut the door behind me.

The morning trundled by in the tedium of filing and answering phones.

After using the first minutes of my late lunch break to calm my nerves, I dialled the number I’d saved.

One minute later I hung up, my ears ringing after a crisp, accented voice informed me that while Mr Xenakis was indeed at his office in Athens, he did not accept unsolicited calls.

No amount of pleading had shifted the receptionist’s stance.

In the middle of the busy London park, I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to scream. Or dissolve into helpless tears. Instead, on a desperate urge, I called up the web page of a budget airline, my heart racing when I saw a same-day return flight to Athens.

It would put further strain on my tight bank balance, and would require even more ruthless financial rationing, but the temp agency had no placement for me tomorrow and I had nothing planned for the weekend besides tormenting myself with the many ways my failed childhood might affect my baby…

Without stopping to debate the wisdom of it, I booked the ticket.

Regardless of his reasons for stating a blatant untruth, I owed Neo the news that he was going to be a father. Just as he’d deserved to know of my mistake at the Phoenix Clinic.

Would he think it was another unforgivable mistake?

Would he walk away even sooner than my father had?

It didn’t matter.

No. It matters. It’s why you won’t stop shaking.

I smothered the voice, shrugging mentally. For good or ill, I was going to beard the formidable lion that was Neo Xenakis in his den one more time.

But this time, I was suitably armed with what to expect.

The seat of the Xenakis airline empire was housed in a sprawling ten-storey building that took up a whole city block in the centre of Athens. Security was twice as tight as in London, but this time I didn’t linger outside. The brief, succinct note I’d hastily written in the taxi ride and shoved into an envelope trembled in my hand as I approached the ultramodern reception desk.

Before the efficient-looking receptionist could voice the disdain lurking in her eyes, I held out the envelope. ‘It’s essential that Mr Xenakis sees this immediately.’

Whatever expression she read on my face halted her answer. Rising, she took the note and walked away.

I retreated to the nearest set of expensive club chairs, arranged to maximise the appreciation of the stunning marble-floored, three-storey atrium that formed the welcoming entry into the world of Xenakis Aeronautics, the words of the note echoing in my head:

Mr Xenakis,

I’m downstairs in your lobby.

It’s in your interest to give me ten minutes of your time.

I’m certain you’ll regret it if you don’t.

Sadie

Bold words, which would either grant me an audience or fritter away the mercy he’d shown me by not asking Wendell to break out the handcuffs that day in London.

I looked up to see Wendell heading my way, as if summoned by my thought. My heart dropped, but I refused to look away.

‘If you’re here to throw me out, you should know that I’ll simply turn around and come straight back. Maybe you should tell your boss that?’

His expression didn’t change. ‘Mr Xenakis will see you now.’