Wed in Greece: The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride / Bound to the Greek

There was a look of fierce longing in his eyes, something deep and primal, before he noted tonelessly, ‘She likes you.’

‘We’re starting to bond,’ Rhiannon admitted cautiously. ‘It’s only been two weeks.’

‘Two weeks? When did Leanne die?’

‘Tuesday.’

Lukas stared at her in surprise, a frown marring the perfection of his features, putting a crease in his forehead. ‘Four days ago?’

Rhiannon’s hands stroked Annabel’s back, her arms curling protectively around her warm little body. ‘Yes. She only showed up on my doorstep a little over two weeks ago, and she died ten days later. Annabel has been in my sole care since then.’

‘So there’s been no time to formally adopt her?’ Lukas surmised.

Rhiannon’s arms tightened so that Annabel let out a squeal of protest.

‘No, but Leanne did make me Annabel’s legal guardian. I have the papers to prove it. It satisfied the immigration authorities, so it should be enough for you.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Annabel is mine.’

‘If you wanted her to be,’ Lukas said quietly. ‘Somehow I don’t think you do.’

Hurt and fury rippled through her at his brutal assessment. ‘You’re making assumptions,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘Annabel needs her bottle. So you’ll have to excuse me.’

She turned away, escaped to the bathroom, where she’d rinsed out Annabel’s army of bottles. She set the baby in her car seat and with shaking fingers measured out the powdered formula.

‘Quite a set-up you’ve got here,’ Lukas remarked, one shoulder propped against the doorway.

Rhiannon nearly dropped the bottle.

‘Could I please have some privacy?’

‘No. Annabel’s now as much of my concern as she is yours. I don’t plan on letting either of you out of my sight.’

Rhiannon’s mouth twisted. ‘Do you think I’ll make a run for it?’

‘I don’t know what you’re capable of,’ Lukas admitted coolly. ‘Or what you want. I wonder what you’re after from this deal, Rhiannon Davies. Is Annabel your bargaining chip?’

She whirled around, the bottle flying out of her hand and landing on the tiled floor with a clatter. Annabel began to wail.

‘I don’t know what type of people you consort with,’ she hissed furiously, ‘but they must be different from the kind I’m used to. Because I would never, never stoop so low. I’m not in this for myself, Mr Petrakides. I’m here for Annabel, and all I care about is her well-being. If that means being without me, then I’ll let her go. If it means being with me, then I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep her. But I’m not going to obey your every barked-out command, or cater to your controlling whims. If I do anything—anything—it will be in consideration of Annabel only. Not you. Understood?’

She stood, chest heaving, fists clenched, and Lukas stared at her long and hard, his mouth tightening into a thin line of resolve before he gave a slight, self-mocking bow of acknowledgement.

‘Understood.’

‘Good.’ She still didn’t know if he believed her, but she didn’t care. She was shaking, trembling from head to foot, as she scooped up Annabel, pressed her downy cheek against her pounding heart. Annabel, sensing her fear and anger, kept crying.

‘You’re in no state to hold her right now,’ Lukas admonished, and he eased the baby from her reluctant grasp.

Rhiannon watched as he cradled her carefully, awkwardly. He wasn’t used to babies, she thought.

The smile he gave Annabel was tender, his eyes widening in surprise at his own reaction to her toothless grin.

Rhiannon scooped the bottle from the floor and dumped it in the sink. As Annabel began to grizzle again, from hunger, she set to making another one.

She didn’t know what was going to happen now, and she wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

All she knew was the next few days might determine the rest of Annabel’s life…and hers.

* * *

SEVERAL HOURS LATER Annabel was finally asleep. Stars glittered in an inky sky, reflected back in diamond pinpoints on the water, and Rhiannon prowled restlessly around the suite Lukas had insisted she move into a few hours ago. She’d never seen such luxury, and if the circumstances had been different she might have enjoyed it.

She ran a hand over the silky duvet on the king-sized bed, glanced in mocking derision at the whirlpool bath for two. All the trappings for romance, and totally unnecessary.

There was a separate sitting area, as well as a kitchenette filled with gleaming appliances and crockery—admittedly handy for dealing with Annabel’s bottles and food.

A wide balcony stretched the entire length of the suite, and after one last check to make sure Annabel was settled Rhiannon slipped out into the warm cover of darkness.

She sank into a chair, brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top. It was a pose from childhood—a pose of protection.

She closed her eyes.

She could hear the sounds of a party from the resort’s gardens—was Lukas there? She hadn’t seen him since he’d had her moved up here. Out of sight.

For the last few hours she’d entertained Annabel, fed and bathed her, keeping the doubts, the fears at bay.

Now they hurtled back with startling force.

Lukas had the power to take custody of Annabel, she realised dejectedly. She knew she was Annabel’s legal guardian but the courts could easily decide in Lukas’s favour—he had the support of extended family, including the baby’s biological father. He was wealthy, powerful, connected to all the right people…

Anyway, this was what she’d wanted, she told herself. She’d come to France for Annabel to meet her father, to have a family.

The 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.