His Love-Child: The Greek Tycoon's Love-Child / The Spaniard's Love-Child / The Millionaire's Love-Child

‘Of course you can, it is in my car.’ Theo smiled and rose to his feet. ‘It is parked just outside your door. I will show you it if you like.’

‘Yes, please.’ Stephen swung around. ‘Come on, Mum, let’s go.’

Willow had no choice but to walk back home with Stephen skipping along between her and Theo. She glanced at Theo over the top of the boy’s head and she went white at the outraged fury in the dark, expressive eyes that clashed for a moment with her own. He might be charming to Stephen but his charm certainly did not extend to her. The black cloud that had hung over her since meeting him yesterday suddenly seemed to envelop her in an all-encompassing dread for the future.

When Willow was faced with a problem she did what she always did: resorted to cool politeness and mundane chores. Procrastination could have been her middle name, as Tess was often fond of telling her, and she was right. So she left Stephen and Theo eulogising over the massive Mercedes and went into the house to make the tea.

Safe in the kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil. Staring at the table, she wondered how long their cosy routine would continue, and she knew she had to do something. And this time she knew procrastination was not an option. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears falling and cursed all over again for stupidly exposing her little family to the press. She must have been mad…

Theo Kadros was not the type of man to be content with an occasional visit to his son. She had caught the longing, the possessive gleam in his eyes when he had first seen Stephen. He had hid his anger well from the boy, but she was under no illusion. He wanted him, and, as he had said earlier, he did not have to take her. But a court case, a battle for custody over Stephen… could she face it?

Yes, damn it! She could, and she brushed the moisture from her eyes. Whatever else she was, she was not a coward, and she was not going to let a man whom she had only met once turn her into one.

For her writing she did a lot of research; it was essential to have one’s facts straight. It was way past time she got back into professional mode, instead of being led around by her emotions. And with that in mind she went straight to the telephone on the kitchen wall. She quickly dialled the number of her lawyer, Mr Swinburn.

Five minutes later she put the phone down feeling much more confident. She had explained her problem, and been reassured.

A man she had only met once; a man she had gone looking for to tell him he was to be a father, only to discover the man in question had married someone else. A man who had never met the boy until he was eight and had never paid a penny to support the boy. He didn’t really have a leg to stand on in Mr Swinburn’s view. As for the expense, he assured Willow with the money coming in from her writing she could afford it, and he foresaw no problem at all.

Then it hit her. What on earth was she thinking of leaving Stephen alone with Theo? He could whisk him away in an instant, and with a gasp of panic Willow shot back out of the house. Just in time, as she saw Stephen about to step into Theo’s car.

‘Stephen, come here this minute, your tea is ready,’ she shouted.

‘Oh, Mum. Theo was just going to take me for a drive. Can’t it wait?’

‘No,’ she declared and, trying not to look as panicked as she felt, she walked down the path and grabbed Stephen’s hand. ‘Later, maybe.’

‘Your mother is right, Stephen.’ Much to her amazement Theo backed her up with a grin for Stephen. But he flicked her a cold glance of cutting perception, before turning his attention back to Stephen. ‘First tea, and then how about we all go for a drive to Exeter, where my aircraft is waiting?’

‘Wow, you have an aeroplane,’ Stephen exclaimed, his eyes wide like saucers. ‘How cool! Can I see it?’

‘Yes, of course, in fact you can fly in it. I know you and your mum had planned to go on holiday tomorrow. But how about if we all go tonight instead? You can stay with me at my villa in Greece.’ Lifting his dark head, his black eyes gleaming with triumph and something else Willow could not name, he went on. ‘Instead of—where was it you were going again, Willow?’

She had never mentioned going on holidays to Theo, and then she remembered Tess and her big mouth, and groaned inwardly. He hadn’t been joking when he’d asked Tess to look after the house. Things could not get much worse. But they did…

‘We usually go to Falmouth. And then to France,’ Stephen answered for her. ‘Mum was going to look for my dad. But that can wait a bit longer, I’d much rather fly to Greece.’

‘Come in for your tea,’ Willow snapped, suddenly terrified what Theo would say next. But her worst fear was realised.

‘This is your lucky day, Stephen.’ Theo placed a hand on his small shoulder and looked straight into his excited eyes. ‘Because your mother has already found your father. I am your dad, and we are all going to Greece to meet your grandmother and aunty and cousins.’

Willow wanted the ground to open and swallow her up. She went as white as a sheet, and her legs turned to jelly. She looked at Theo with wide, wounded blue eyes, incapable of saying a word. How could he blurt the information out so brutally? A strong arm curved around her waist, and he smiled down into her eyes.

‘Isn’t that right, Willow?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. Stephen flung his arms around her thighs, and looked up at her with such adoration, she had to blink.

‘Thanks, Mum, I always knew you would find him one day. I just knew it,’ he declared in delight. His absolute faith in her made Willow feel about two inches tall, and Theo’s sardonic smile simply compounded her guilt.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CURSING silently beneath her breath, Willow paced up and down the huge bedroom illuminated by a single bedside lamp. She was seething with resentment and much too furious to sleep, the rumpled bed testament to the fact. It was all the fault of one man: Theo mighty Kadros.

He had swept back into her life like a cyclone. Stephen was sleeping in the next room along the hall, and she still could not get her head around the fact that her son had taken one look at Theo and had accepted him. No, not just accepted him, he actually hero-worshipped his father within hours of meeting him.

She was hurt and, yes, jealous, she freely admitted, and absolutely flaming mad. None of these emotions conducive to sleep. Willow slumped down on the edge of the huge bed, and wanted to cry her eyes out.

After Theo’s declaration this afternoon that he was Stephen’s father, and her son’s unbridled joy at the news, events had overtaken her completely. Knowing only too well she was unwilling to upset her son, Theo had used emotional blackmail of the worst kind to get his own way. He had given her no chance to refuse and before she’d known it they had been in a car heading towards Exeter airport, and later boarding Theo’s luxurious jet.

Unable to relax on the flight to Greece, she had struggled to make sense of the emotional roller-coaster ride of the past thirty-six hours. From the elation she had felt at winning the award and securing the film contract, to her shock at seeing Theo again, to another kind of elation—the way she had felt in Theo’s arms. But then there had been the utter horror of a dangerously angry Theo turning up on her doorstep and demanding to see her son.

Finally watching Theo patiently explaining every intricate bit of the aircraft to Stephen, noting the easy interaction between father and son, she had been forced to accept that Theo Kadros was now a permanent part of their life.

The arrival at the villa, set high up in the hills outside Athens, two hours earlier had been fraught with tension. A butler by the name of Takis had welcomed them and shown them into a very elegant lounge. But Willow’s most vivid image had been of Theo’s mother, small and dark and very elegant, introducing herself and showering lots of hugs and kisses on Stephen. She had politely asked Willow if she would like a drink, and something to eat, but Willow had given a rather stilted refusal using the excuse that it was very late, and all the while Theo had stood by saying nothing.

But then he hadn’t needed to say anything, she thought on another sizzling burst of rage. He had her and Stephen right where he wanted them.

Finally Mrs Kadros had swept a sleepy Stephen into her arms and insisted on carrying him up to his room. After watching Willow put Stephen to bed, she had shown Willow to her room next door, and wished her goodnight, saying they could all talk in the morning.

Talk… That was a laugh, she thought bitterly, rising to her feet, too restless to sit still. Who was going to listen to what she wanted for Stephen? Certainly not Theo, and like any mother Mrs Kadros was bound to support her own son.

Walking to the huge windows that opened onto a balcony, Willow stared out at the night sky and wondered fearfully what the future had in store. She was in a house full of people but had never felt so totally alone in her whole life.

‘I thought you might still be awake.’

She had not heard the door open but she heard the husky-voiced drawl and spun around to stare in disbelief. ‘Get out of my room,’ she snapped as she watched Theo close the door softly behind him and turn the key. Something she should have done herself, she realised only too late. ‘Haven’t you done enough damage for one day, Theo?’ she said bitterly.

‘Be quiet.’ He moved towards her, and it was then that it dawned on her that he was wearing only a short towelling robe that exposed his broad chest and long legs. She was pretty sure that he was naked beneath it, as was she in her skimpy cotton nightshirt…

Her heart lurched and she was furious at herself, at him and at the whole damn world. She saw the lazy sensuality in his dark eyes as he stopped an arm’s reach away, and the sheer gall of the man staggered her. He had already charmed her son, and she was obviously next on his agenda.

She sucked in a furious breath. ‘Don’t you dare tell me to be quiet, you no-good, manipulative swine,’ she threw at him, her eyes flashing blue fire. ‘What kind of lowlife are you that you would use a small boy to blackmail me into coming here? What kind of so-called father would do a thing like that?’ she challenged him, her anger laced with scorn.

Theo had kept an iron control on his emotions for the last twenty-four hours. He had told his mother an abridged version of what had happened and then spent the last hour simply watching his son sleep. Filled with an overwhelming love for the boy, he had realised he would give his life to protect him. On that thought it had struck him that Willow must also feel the same, and how afraid she must be feeling with his threat of court action hanging over her head.

Leaving his son’s room, he had walked past Willow’s and seen the glimmer of light under the door. It had occurred to him to reassure her that he had no intention of taking her to court over the boy and he was sure that they could come to a suitable arrangement that would be beneficial to all three of them.

But looking at her now standing with her back to the window, the slip of cotton she was wearing barely reaching her thighs, her glorious hair tumbling around her shoulders in wanton disarray, the expression on her beautiful face one of angry contempt—he changed his mind. She was looking at him as if he were something she needed to scrape off her shoe. Any finer feelings that had been induced by visiting his son’s bedside were quickly forgotten.

Cold fury glittered in his dark eyes. All arrogant Greek male, he allowed no one to disrespect him, man or woman, and certainly not this woman. She had so cruelly deprived him of his child, and yet she dared to question his ability as a father. What chance had she given him? None.

He wanted to tear her limb from limb. Her full lips that he had tasted not nearly enough were twisted in a contemptuous smile. Angrily he studied her, his eyes raking over her body. The thin white slip she was wearing was almost transparent, moulding her firm high breasts and narrow waist. The fine rounded curves of her hips and the dark shadow of feminine body hair almost visible through the flimsy fabric. Damn it! She was enough to tempt a saint, and he was no saint, as an instant stirring in his groin forcibly reminded him.

It was then that a scenario worthy of his Greek heritage crossed his mind. His dark eyes narrowed with implacable resolve. In that moment he made his decision for the future of his son and this beautiful scornful creature standing before him.

‘What, no response?’ Willow jeered into the lengthening silence. The air between them sizzled with tension and she dragged an angry, if slightly unsteady, breath into her suddenly oxygen-starved lungs. Theo stepped closer, his dark features rigid as he gave her a look of such cynical sexual appraisal she reeled in shock for a breathless, heart-stopping moment. Every self-protective instinct she possessed was urging her to step back, but she refused to be cowed by his intimidating presence.

‘You ask what kind of father?’ he prompted scathingly, his eyes like black ice biting accusingly into hers. ‘The kind that has been deprived of his son for years,’ he hissed with sibilant softness, his hand snaking around her, trapping one arm against him and drawing her closer. ‘The kind whose child is eight years old and does not speak one word of his father’s language.’