Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife

Following him up a flight of stairs, she frowned. ‘You’ve put him as far away from you as possible.’

‘You think he should sleep in my bedroom, perhaps?’ His silken enquiry brought a flush to her cheeks.

‘No. I don’t think that. I can’t think of a less suitable environment for a baby than your bedroom.’

Millie leaned against the wall for support, unable to dispel the image of his hard, muscular body entwined with the sylphlike actress.

Of course he’d had relationships since they’d broken up. What had she expected? Leandro was an intensely virile man with a dark, restless sex appeal that women found irresistible. Just as she had. And her sister.

Millie gave a low moan, wondering how she’d ever found the arrogance to think their marriage could work. How na?ve had she been, thinking that they shared something special. When they’d first met he’d been so good at making her feel beautiful that for a while she’d actually believed that she was.

Leandro opened a door and stood there, allowing her to go first.

Her arm brushed against the hard muscle of his abdomen and her stomach reacted instantly.

A uniformed nanny rose quickly to her feet. ‘He’s been very unsettled, Mr Demetrios,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Crying, refusing his bottle. He’s asleep now, but I don’t know how long it will last.

Leandro dismissed her with a single imperious movement of his head and the girl scurried out of the room.

Had he always been that scary? Millie wondered. Had he been cold and intimidating when she’d met him?

The answer was yes, probably, but never with her. With her he’d always been gentle and good humoured. That was one of the things that had made her feel special. The power and influence he wielded made others stutter and stumble around him, but when they’d met, she hadn’t known who he was. And that had amused him. And she’d continued to amuse him. With her, the tiger had sheathed his claws and played gently, but she’d never been under any illusions. She hadn’t tamed the tiger and she doubted any woman ever would.

As the door closed behind the girl, Millie wondered how on earth she’d ever had the courage to talk to this man.

‘Your nephew.’ He spoke the words in a low tone and Millie forced aside all other feelings and tiptoed towards the cot. Her palms were clammy and she felt ever so slightly sick because she’d pictured this scene in her head so many times, but now it was twisted in a cruel parody of her dream.

Yes, she and Leandro were leaning over a cot. But her dream had never included a baby who wasn’t hers, fathered by the man she loved with the woman who was closest to her.

Agony ripped through her, stealing her breath and her strength. She thought she gave a moan of denial, but the baby didn’t stir, his perfect features immobile in sleep.

Innocent of the tense atmosphere in the room, he was so still that Millie felt a rush of panic and instinctively reached out a hand to touch him.

Strong fingers closed over hers and drew her away from the cot.

‘He’s fine.’ Leandro’s low, masculine voice brushed against her nerve endings. ‘He always sleeps like that. When he sleeps, which isn’t that often.’

‘He looks—’

‘As though he isn’t breathing. I know.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘I’ve made that mistake several times myself. Once I even woke him up just to check he was alive. Believe me, I don’t advise it. He’s very much alive and if you poke him just to check, he’ll confirm it in the loudest possible way. He has lungs that an opera singer would envy and, once woken up, he doesn’t like going back to sleep. I had to walk him round the house for three hours.’

Leandro worried about the baby so much he’d woken him? And then he’d carried him around the house? It didn’t fit with what she knew of him.

‘What did you do with your BlackBerry?’ She asked the question without thinking and he gave a faint smile.

‘You think I spoke into the baby and tucked my mobile phone into the cot?’ His eyes were mocking and Millie looked away, flustered.

‘I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with the baby.’ In a way her question was a challenge. Would he care for a baby that wasn’t his?

For a moment—just for a moment—something shimmered between them and then she dragged her eyes away from his and focused on the baby. Her heart was thumping, her stomach was tumbling over and over. But he’d always had this effect on her, hadn’t he? He could turn her legs to jelly with just one glance. Everything else became irrelevant.

Except that it wasn’t irrelevant and she had this baby to remind her of that fact.

He lay quietly. Even in sleep Millie could see the dark feathering of his eyelashes against his cheek and the shock of dark hair. And her heart melted. To her intense relief, the baby softened everything inside her. ‘You poor thing,’ she whispered, gently touching his head with her hand. ‘You must be missing your mummy—wondering what you’re doing in this strange place.’ Aware that Leandro was looking at her oddly, she flushed. ‘Sorry. I suppose it’s a bit crazy speaking to a baby who’s asleep.’

Her eyes met his and in that single instant she knew he was thinking about the child they could have made together. The image was too painful and she looked away, determined not to torture herself with what she would never have. If she’d produced a child quickly, perhaps this would never have happened. But that had been another failure on her part. Another failure to add to the list. ‘He’s sweet. He has your hair.’

‘Then the child is a miracle of conception,’ Leandro snapped. ‘But I can assure you that your sister was definitely the mother.’

Millie struggled not to react. ‘Becca was always confident. I think that’s why she was so successful. It just didn’t enter her head that she couldn’t do something or have something.’ Even her sister’s husband. ‘Like you, she never questioned herself or doubted herself. You had that in common.’

‘Alpha woman.’

Millie looked at him. ‘Yes. She was.’ And she’d always felt insecure around her big sister. There had been just no way she could ever measure up. Even as a very young child, she’d been aware that she was walking in her sister’s shadow.

And even in death Becca had left that shadow—a dark cloud that had stolen the light from Millie’s marriage. From her life.

‘Let’s leave the baby to sleep.’ Taking control, Leandro put a hand in the centre of her back and urged her out of the room. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘No.’ Millie wondered how he could be thinking about food. ‘It’s past midnight. I was going to go straight to the bed and breakfast.’

‘You’re not going to any bed and breakfast. We need to talk—and I need coffee, so we’ll have the conversation in the kitchen.’

Too drained to argue, Millie followed him downstairs. The kitchen was another room that had surprised her when she’d first seen the house. It was a clever combination of modern and traditional, a large range cooker giving warmth and comfort, while the maximal use of glass ensured light poured into every available space. As a result the lush garden appeared to be part of the room and the table was positioned in such a way that, whatever the season, it felt as though you were sitting outdoors.

‘Sit down before you fall down.’ Leandro strolled to the espresso machine and ground some beans.

The sound pounded her throbbing head and Millie winced. ‘You still make it all from scratch, then?’ It had been one of the many things that she’d learned about him early on. He wanted the best. Whether it was art, coffee or women—Leandro demanded perfection. Which made it even more surprising that he’d picked her.

He made the coffee—as competent in the kitchen as he was everywhere else. Leandro used staff because his life was so maniacally busy, not because he was deficient in skills. And sometimes, she knew, he just preferred to be on his own.

He’d rolled back his shirtsleeves and the muscles of his forearm flexed as he worked.

Strong, Millie thought as she looked at him. He was strong; physically, emotionally—and that inherent strength was part of his devastating appeal. He was a man who led while others followed. A man women were drawn to.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that the baby had been brought here?’ To distract herself, she asked the question that was on her mind. ‘Why did I have to read about it in the newspapers?’

‘You walked out on me.’ His voice terse, he reached for a cup. ‘I had no reason to think you’d be interested.’

Absorbing that blow, Millie curled her fingers over the back of the chair. ‘Why are you so angry with me? I would have thought you’d be apologetic or at least a little uncomfortable but you’re not. You’re…’

‘I’m what, Millie?’

‘You’re…’ She hesitated. ‘Boiling with rage. And I just don’t get it.’

He didn’t reply, but she knew he’d heard her because his hand stilled for a moment. And then he lifted an empty cup. ‘Do you want one?’

‘No, thank you. You make it so strong it will keep me awake.’ Not that she’d sleep anyway. The adrenaline was pumping round her bloodstream like a drug. She wanted to walk. Pace. Sob?