The Greek's Bought Wife

Tina heard the words, and only just refrained from hitting the man who uttered them. ‘Obviously.’

‘Yet you’ve taken no steps to abort the foetus.’

She drew in a sharp breath and pressed a protective hand to her waist. ‘No.’

Nic’s eyes narrowed. ‘Would you have, if my parents had been unaware of the pregnancy?’

Tina didn’t hesitate. ‘No.’

The insistent ring of a cellphone sounded loud in the silence of the room, and Tina watched as he withdrew the unit, checked the caller ID, and registered his irritation as he thrust the cellphone back into his jacket pocket.

‘Have you eaten?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Dinner.’ His voice held an element of impatience.

He was talking of food? ‘I don’t see that’s a relevant question.’

‘It’s relevant if you haven’t eaten.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m suggesting we share a meal.’

‘Again…why?’

She irritated and fascinated him at the same time. She was also the first woman in a long time to refuse his invitation.

‘Go change. I’ll make a reservation.’

Tina closed her eyes, then opened them and shot him a fierce glare. ‘Are you usually this dictatorial?’

He extracted his cellphone, and hit a speed-dial button. ‘I’m known to get what I want.’

‘Really?’ She was singularly unimpressed. And remained so at the ease with which he secured a table.

Nic regarded her steadily. ‘You want to argue with me?’

‘Heaven forbid any female would dare,’ Tina offered facetiously, and caught a glimpse of something that was almost humour in those dark eyes.

‘You being an exception?’

‘Count on it.’ She glared at him, then she crossed to the door. ‘I want you to leave.’

His expression remained unchanged, except there was a sense of innate power, a strength of will, evident beneath the surface.

Her gaze arrowed in on his, and didn’t waver. She could feel her spine stiffen…literally. ‘I don’t want to share a meal with you.’

‘Same destination,’ Nic stated. ‘Separate cars.’

‘That’s a persuasive ploy?’

‘A compromise. It’s almost seven, neither of us have eaten, and we’ve yet to reach a satisfactory resolution.’

‘My decision is made.’

‘One that concerns you. However, there’s a child’s life at stake. Your child.’ He paused slightly. ‘But indisputably also my brother’s child.’

She was hungry. In the past few days she’d developed a heightened sensitivity to the smell of food. The thought of ordering a meal of her choice that she didn’t need to prepare or cook was enticing. Besides, it was clear Nic Leandros wouldn’t let up any time soon.

‘Go wait outside while I change.’

‘And have you lock the door behind me?’ His expression held wry cynicism. ‘Collect what clothes you need and get dressed in the en suite.’

She wanted to kill him…or at best do him physical harm. Yet it was no contest. A venue they drove to in separate cars was preferable to the intimacy of a hotel suite.

At least she’d be free to walk out of a restaurant undeterred. Whereas here it would be a different matter entirely. And, while his presence was unlikely to pose a threat, she had the distinct feeling he’d play any game by his own rules.

‘There’s a problem?’

Tina sent him a scathing glare. ‘I’m deciding what method I should use to render you physical harm.’

His mouth quirked in silent amusement, and she bit back an attempt at childish retaliation as she crossed to the storage unit.

With quick, economical movements she collected black silk evening trousers, an emerald green silk camisole, matching jacket, and headed for the en suite.

A few minutes, minimum make-up, a vigorous brush through her hair, and she was done. When she emerged it took only seconds to step into stiletto heels, then transfer money and keys into an evening purse.

Tina was conscious of his appraisal, and deliberately arched an eyebrow. ‘Shall we leave?’

They rode the lift down to the basement car park, and within minutes Tina followed Nic’s black Lexus to the trendy heart of Double Bay, parked, then accompanied him into a small, intimate restaurant filled with patrons.

The maître d’ greeted Nic with the obsequious fervour reserved for a favoured patron, personally escorted them to a table, saw them seated and summoned the drink steward.

Prestigious, known for its fine cuisine, and expensive, Tina acknowledged as she cast the room a casual glance.

The service was excellent, and she requested mineral water, chose a starter as a main meal, and settled back in her chair.

The steward brought their drinks, served them with deferential good humour, then retreated.

‘You eat here often.’ It was a statement, not a query, and Nic subjected her to a solemn appraisal.

‘Whenever I’m in Sydney.’

Uh-huh. The Leandros corporation had its main base in Melbourne. Vasili’s parents resided there. So did Nic, Vasili had relayed…in between business trips to New York, London, Athens and Rome.

‘I imagine you’ll acquaint your parents with my decision?’