Satisfaction: The Greek Tycoon's Baby Bargain

Rebecca nodded, knowing she’d sound both stubborn and ignorant if she disagreed—because he was right. ‘And?’

‘And I want you to move somewhere bigger.’

She sighed. She wasn’t stupid. It had taken her about three seconds of being home with the babies to realise that the place simply wouldn’t do—no matter how much she had tried to justify it in her head beforehand. But even if she touched the money which Xandros had been paying into her account—generous as it was—it still wouldn’t go anywhere near a decent deposit on a bigger home. ‘It isn’t as easy as that, Xandros. Property in London is astronomically expensive.’

‘I can afford it.’

‘Yes, I know you can.’ She swallowed. ‘And what if I said that I didn’t want to accept your—’

‘Charity?’ he intercepted sarcastically, his black eyes glittering with growing impatience. ‘But this isn’t about charity—or your misplaced feelings of pride. In fact, this has nothing to do with you, Rebecca—but my desire to ensure that my children don’t grow up with less space than your average battery hen has to contend with!’

She stared at him. ‘How dare you say something as hurtful as that?’

He shrugged, uncaring of her rage, or her hurt. ‘Because it’s the truth. You know it is.’ His mouth hardened with determination. ‘Whereas I am offering you the opportunity to move somewhere more suitable. You can live anywhere you like in this city. Anywhere at all.’

Pride or no pride, Rebecca wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t felt a shiver of real longing at what he was proposing. He was blazing into her life and offering to rescue them all—and how many people ever got this kind of Cinderella chance to move from scullery to palace in one leap? But at what price?

She lifted her head to meet his gaze full on. ‘And what if I say no?’

His expression was hard and uncompromising. Would she really dare to try to oppose his wishes? Did she know what kind of an adversary she would be taking on? ‘I wouldn’t advise saying no,’ he warned softly.

His stony black gaze bored into her and, for possibly the first time, Rebecca realised what she was up against. Yes, he was enormously rich and that kind of wealth could buy you untold power, but with Xandros it was something much more than wealth.

She saw the steely determination to get exactly what he wanted—fired by some primitive urge to fight for the very best for his children. And could she really condemn him for having their best interests at heart? Could she? Would two increasingly mobile and lively little boys thank her for turning down the offer of a lifetime, simply because their father didn’t love her? Pride was a terrible reason for denying her sons what was rightfully theirs.

‘If … if I did agree—you mean I can choose where to live?’ she questioned uncertainly.

Xandros turned away to look out of the window—as if checking to see whether the rain had stopped, but in reality to hide his small smile of triumph, knowing that he had won.

‘Of course you can choose,’ he murmured.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_252a526e-80cf-5cae-8209-0321f42b8ed7)

‘JUST what kind of house do you like, Rebecca?’ Xandros demanded impatiently one morning as he stood in her sitting room, which felt like a sauna and looked like a laundry—there were so many Babygros steaming dry on the radiator. Who would have thought that at this time in his life he would find himself sleeping on a woman’s sofa in such a confined space? Moodily, he stared at all the specifications she had been shown and which she had rejected. ‘Anything specific?’

Rebecca forced herself to concentrate on house details, and not on the moody expression on his dark, rugged face. Choosing a place to live when there were no financial limitations actually made a decision harder, she had discovered. How much easier it would have been to have ruled out most of the market because it was non-affordable. Too much choice, she had come to realise, actually provided its own kind of headache. But anything would be better than having Xandros camped and cramped on her sofa—making her feel the kind of things she definitely knew she shouldn’t be feeling.

‘Well, I don’t want to live in one of those bleak-looking penthouses which resemble some kind of laboratory, that’s for sure.’

Xandros gave a short laugh, wondering what his award-winning colleague who’d designed it would think of her dismissive attitude. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me what you consider important?’ He forced himself to treat her as if she were one of his clients. ‘If you were given an ideal home—what one thing would it have to make it special?’

That was easy. Well, if you discounted the fairy tale … what had she missed most since moving to the capital? ‘A garden,’ she said instantly. ‘That’s all.’

‘That’s all?’ Xandros gave a wry smile. Ironically, what she wanted was more elusive than any award-winning development. Was she being disingenuous or just genuinely innocent of the market? ‘Garden space in London is like gold-dust.’ He nodded. ‘But I know some people I can get onto it. Let me see to that.’

Rebecca pushed her fingers back through her untidy hair, resenting the way he could just snap his fingers and have a whole assortment of people to do all the running for him—but a feeling which was bigger than resentment was gnawing away at her.

Didn’t he realise that all this wasn’t easy? Going through all the motions of choosing a brand-new home, but without all the normal stuff that most new mothers might expect. Like the shared excitement of a couple in love. All she had was Xandros talking about putting his people onto it, in that cold and uncaring manner. Pretty much the same way that he’d dealt with everything else. ‘Fantastic,’ she said, with faint sarcasm.

His eyes narrowed—her attitude like a slap in the face to his macho Greek pride—and he felt the slow burn of anger, and something else too. Something which had been building inside him no matter how much he had tried to tell himself that it was no longer appropriate. ‘Such a truculent approach, agape,’ he murmured. ‘I thought you might at least be a little grateful.’

‘Did you?’ How many more expectations of her would he have? She had let him name the babies and sleep on her sofa and now she was letting him change the very fabric of her life. Where the hell was this all going to end? Rebecca glanced over at him, steeling herself against the sight of him leaning against the window sill—black denim encasing the muscular thrust of his thighs and a dark cashmere sweater clinging lovingly to the hard lines of his torso.

His black hair was ruffled, the ebony eyes were glittering with life and vitality and there was the dark hint of shadow around the strong jaw. This was Xandros at his most casual and sexy—and, heaven help her, but she wanted him. Was it normal for a woman to feel the slow, heavy ache of desire when she’d only recently given birth? Or was that just because he was Xandros? Because she had loved him and tasted the pleasures of his body so many times that maybe he’d spoilt her for any other man.

Gazing at the soft, olive gleam of his skin and remembering what it felt like to have it wrapped around her naked body, it was easy to forget all their turbulent history—even easier to forget that he was only here because he had to be. He’s only here because of the babies, she reminded herself painfully. She told herself that it shouldn’t hurt, but it did, of course it did—and she found herself wanting to hurt him back. To show him that she wasn’t going to act like a starving puppy who was just grateful for any old scrap he happened to throw in her direction.

‘And does my lack of gratitude rile you, Xandros? Would you like me to throw myself slavishly at your feet? Is that what you’d like?’