Greek's Baby Of Redemption

Something far too like hope flared in his chest. Milly. It had to be her. She’d changed her mind...and she’d come all the way to Athens to tell him? He was surprised as well as both gratified and curious. ‘Send her in,’ he said gruffly, and then he rose from his chair and stalked to the window, trying to control his wayward emotions.

Since leaving the villa—and Milly—they’d been in a frustrating ferment. He didn’t want to care about her refusal. He didn’t want to feel the rejection, and yet he did. He’d been stewing over it for the better part of two days, telling himself it didn’t matter even though he knew it did.

She was just a housekeeper, after all, and yet he’d wanted her. He’d wanted her to marry him, because rather surprisingly, considering how quick his decision to ask her had been, he realised he wanted her and no other. He desired her with a strength that surprised him; he’d spent the last few nights lying awake imagining his hands on her skin, his mouth... But of course their wedding night, if it happened, would be an exercise in endurance rather than an experience of passion.

With his gaze on the window and his back to his office, he heard the door open and then click softly shut, followed by a quick shudder of breath that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. She sounded as if she were steeling herself, and she probably was. He knew from experience it didn’t get any easier to look at him. Every time he glanced in the mirror it was a shock.

‘Kyrie Santos,’ she said quietly.

‘Alex,’ he reminded her. He didn’t turn from the window; no need to remind her of his scars. She was undoubtedly thinking of them already.

A heavy silence ticked on for several taut moments. ‘I’ve...reconsidered your offer,’ Milly finally said, her voice matter-of-fact and determined. ‘If it’s still open.’

Alex’s gaze rested on the skyscrapers of Syntagma Square, his heart thudding hard even as he kept his voice measured, almost toneless. ‘It is.’

‘Then I’m here to say I will marry you... Alex.’ Her voice held a tremor of emotion, perhaps fear. Was she scared of him? Or just repulsed by his scars? Maybe both, and for good reason. He hadn’t given her any real reason to respond otherwise.

‘Why have you changed your mind?’ he asked. ‘As a matter of interest?’

She took a quick, telling breath. ‘I had more time to think about it.’

‘And what did you conclude?’ He couldn’t keep a sardonic note of cynicism from entering his voice.

‘That five million euros is a very good deal,’ Milly answered after a moment, her voice ragged with honesty. ‘And it will help my sister immeasurably.’

She sounded resigned—resigned to her fate, to him. She was signing her death warrant, and why? For the sake of her sister, of course. There was no other reason. He would be something she had to endure to get what she wanted. Had he ever expected anything else? Of course he hadn’t. That was the deal he’d offered. That was what they were both getting. There was no reason to feel stung by it now. No reason at all.

‘Very well,’ Alex replied coolly. ‘Then I will have the prenuptial contract drawn up immediately. Once you’ve signed it, we can be married immediately.’

‘Immediately...’ She sounded a little dazed by the prospect.

‘There is no time to waste. I told you I wanted an heir. I’ll arrange for you to have a medical examination tomorrow morning.’ He heard her gasp but he didn’t care. So what if he’d been blunt, even crude? It was the truth.

‘But...but there’s still so much to discuss...’

‘Such as?’

He heard her swallow, and in his mind’s eye he could picture the working of her pale, slender throat, see the widening of those pansy-brown eyes, the rise and fall of her chest. ‘Lots of things. How it’s going to work, mainly, and...and what precautions will be in place...?’

‘Precautions?’ The word came out sharp.

‘I’m putting my life in your hands,’ Milly retorted, her voice just as sharp as his. ‘I need guarantees, Alex. Safeguards...’

‘Very well. Then I’ll put those in place.’

‘Can’t you turn and look at me?’ she burst out, sounding both exasperated and emotional. ‘I hate having a conversation with your back.’

He pressed his lips together, biting back the instinctive reply. I didn’t think you wanted to look at me. He wouldn’t lower himself by saying such a thing. Instead he turned around to face her, schooling his face into an expression of bored disdain.

‘Here you are. And here I am.’

‘Yes.’ She gazed at him steadily, and he saw her gulp, her gaze darting to his scars and then back again. Her face was pale, her eyes huge. ‘So now what?’

‘Now we discuss the terms. The safeguards you mentioned.’ He strode from the window and sat in one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat in the other. ‘Shall we?’

‘All right.’ Milly walked over to the chair and sat in it.

Just two days ago they’d been in his study at the villa, talking about terms in theory. And here they were again, talking about them in reality. Everything had changed because she had agreed to become his wife. They would be married. He did not feel as triumphant as he’d thought he would...especially as Milly’s gaze moved over his face, sliding away from the scarred side, and her fingers trembled before she knotted them together in her lap. ‘So...?’ Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you suggest?’

‘I suggest we marry immediately,’ he answered with a shrug, purposely keeping his tone clipped, almost bored. ‘As I said before. I can have the prenuptial contract drawn up by tomorrow, and we can be married the day after. I will have the marriage licence rushed.’

Milly squared her shoulders. ‘And what would the prenuptial agreement state?’

‘That you will receive five million euros, which will be repayable to me should we divorce.’

‘Repayable?’ She blinked. ‘That’s harsh. What if you divorce me?’

‘I won’t. But, to address any worries you might have on that score, I will have it put into the contract that you will be given an additional five million euros should I wish to divorce you.’