‘Christian, please, be realistic. Marriage is...’
‘Something neither of us wants,’ he finished for her, meeting her gaze with steady eyes.
How clearly she remembered discussing marriage on their night out together, the night their baby had been conceived. Fools had been just one of the many words they’d used to describe people who willingly entered matrimony. They’d even toasted this rare meeting of minds.
‘Exactly. Something neither of us wants.’
He finished his drink with a grimace. ‘Seeing as neither of us has any intention of marrying in the conventional sense, marriage each other for the sake of our child isn’t going to destroy either of our dreams. We won’t be making a lifelong commitment to each other, just to our child.’
‘But marriage...?’
‘Marriage will legitimise the pregnancy and avert any scandal. The press will still swarm over the story, that’s a given, but their angle will be softer towards you.’
‘Accepting paternity will have the same effect. At this moment, that’s all I need. Your acceptance. Everything else can be arranged between us later. There’s plenty of time.’
‘And what about what I need?’ he challenged. ‘You tell me I’m going to be a father and that you want my support but when I offer you the biggest support I can—marriage—you dismiss it out of hand.’
‘What do you need?’ she asked, now thoroughly confused. ‘What will you get out of us marrying?’
‘The chance to be a father,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘I’ve built up a multi-billion-dollar business and have no one to pass it to.’
She didn’t bother to hide her scorn. ‘Money.’ The only thing he enjoyed more than bedding women.
His blue eyes flashed sharply. ‘No. A legacy. But even if I didn’t have the wealth I would still want us to marry. I know what it’s like growing up without a father and I will not have my child go through that. I want my child to have my name and know he—or she—is mine.’
How did he do it? No wonder he was reputed to be one of the greatest financial minds in the world. Money was what Christian dealt with every day, a world-renowned financial genius advising all the major corporations in all the different sectors.
She’d spent days agonising over all the possible details. He’d grasped the situation and dissected all the permutations in an instant. Having only known him as her brother’s friend, she’d never appreciated this side of him before.
She appreciated it even less now.
‘You can still be a father to our child without marriage.’
‘And you can still be a single mother without any support other than financially,’ he said, a warning note coming into his voice.
‘I’ve already told you, I don’t need or want your money.’
He inhaled a long breath. ‘I’m trying to do what’s right here. I don’t want to force your hand but I have to think of our child. He or she deserves stability—marriage gives that. Or is your freedom more important?’
Christian watched Alessandra suck her cheeks in at his remark. He didn’t blame her. Right then he was prepared to say whatever it took to get her to agree.
Theos, an hour ago the thought of marriage would have made him run all the way to Hong Kong but now here he was, virtually coercing her into marrying him.
‘That’s not fair,’ she said hoarsely.
‘Life isn’t fair.’ He knew that all too well; it was the whole reason he was demanding this from her. ‘Marriage needn’t be a prison for either of us. You can carry on with your career.’
‘How generous of you. You’re welcome to carry on with your career too.’
He ignored her sarcasm, understanding the place of fear it came from. If he felt his world had just turned on its axis he could only imagine how it must be for her. She had to carry their baby into the world.
It was their baby he was thinking of. Christian had grown up knowing somewhere out there was the man who had fathered him but who wanted nothing to do with him, his own son. He had never understood why. He still didn’t.
It had taken many years for him to accept his father’s abandonment as a simple fact of life but as a child it had been a painful knowledge. He would never put his own child through that. His child would grow up feeling loved and secure with two parents who both wanted nothing more than to love and protect him or her.
Looking at Alessandra rest a protective hand against her still-flat stomach, he could see how deeply she already felt for their child.
Their child. His responsibility. Their responsibility, to be shouldered together.
‘When we marry the world will see a united couple...’ he started.
‘Don’t talk as if it’s a done deal. Marriage changes everything. It’s not just two people signing a piece of paper and exchanging a bit of jewellery. There are legal implications.’
‘And it’s those legal implications I want. I want our child to know their parents loved them enough to create a stable family for them.’
‘This is too much.’ She got to her feet. He experienced a sharp pang to see her tremble, to witness her keeping it all together, just as she’d done at her grandfather’s funeral.
She carried herself so tall it was easy to overlook that she was a slip of a woman. Her glossy hair was sprawled over her shoulders, her golden skin pale.
The last thing he wanted was to hurt her but within him lay a deep-rooted certainty that this was the right path for them. It was the only path.
‘I need to sleep on this,’ she said, her honey eyes brimming with emotion, her usually accent-less English inflected with her Italian heritage. ‘I can’t agree to marriage just because you’ve clicked your fingers. You might change your mind. I’ve sprung this on you. Everything will look different in the morning.’
There were a dozen threats he could make to ensure her agreement. He bit them all back. He felt bad enough as it was without adding more ill deeds to the slate against him. There was one more thing he could add, though...
‘I won’t change my mind but you can go ahead and sleep on it,’ he said. ‘While you’re lying in your bed thinking, consider the ramifications if you decide not to take me up on my proposal. If you marry me, scandal averted. If you don’t, the press will crucify you and drag your brother and the entire House of Mondelli through the mud with you. Do you really want to go through all that again? Do you want Rocco to go through all that again?’
She stilled, stormy eyes locked on his.
‘Do you want all the speculation over who the father is? The old scandal being raked up as the world wonders if you’ve been playing around with another married man?’
‘But I never...’
He hated to see the hurt and bewilderment that flashed across her features but he had no choice. For their child’s sake he would deploy every weapon in his arsenal to get her agreement. ‘You know that and I know that. The rest of the world will believe what it wants to believe and, as it’s doing so, the world’s eyes will be on you.’
‘You know how to play dirty,’ she said hoarsely, her chest heaving.
‘I could never have left Greece without learning how. If you refuse, you will have to deal with the press and the world’s attention on your own. I will make no acknowledgement until our baby is born.’
Her throat moved as she swallowed, her eyes blazing their loathing at him. ‘Do not think you can blackmail me, Markos.’
‘I don’t want to blackmail you,’ he said, wondering why the sound of his surname being spat from her delicious, plump lips landed like a barb in his chest. ‘But you leave me no choice.’
She backed to the door and gripped the handle. ‘I’m going to my room now. I’ll give you my answer in the morning.’
‘There is only one answer.’
‘You can still wait
on it.’
CHAPTER THREE
HIS HEAD THUMPING, Christian entered the magnificent dining room where breakfast was being served. Alessandra was already there. So too were Stefan, Zayed and a handful of other guests who’d stayed the night rather than retire to their yachts or have their helicopters collect them.
It was little comfort that every person in the room looked exactly how he felt. Skata. Like crap.
He might not have been able to get himself as drunk as he’d wanted but his body was punishing him regardless for the quantity of alcohol he’d consumed.
Alessandra’s gaze darted to him. Anyone looking at her could be forgiven for thinking she had a hangover too. Only he knew the dark rings under her bloodshot eyes were caused by a different reason.
He doubted she’d had any more sleep than the snatches he’d managed.
Even so, she still had that certain charisma that she carried like a second skin; her hair, left loose to tumble halfway down her back, as glossy as ever.
He took the seat next to Zayed, who was clutching a black coffee as if his life depended on it, and poured himself a cup of his own. He shook his head as a member of staff asked what he’d like to eat.
All he wanted at that moment was hot, sweet caffeine. And a dozen painkillers.
No sooner had he taken his first sip than Alessandra rose, murmuring something to Stefan, who gave a pained laugh and immediately rubbed at his temples.
He waited long enough not to rouse any suspicion, making innocuous hangover talk with his buddies, before saying he was going for a lie down.
Alessandra’s room was in a different wing from where he and his uni friends always slept when they stayed at the villa. He hadn’t realised he knew exactly which room was hers until he knocked on the door. After a minute of no response, he nudged it open. It was empty.
Moving stealthily so as not to attract attention, he slipped out of the villa and into the gardens.
After much searching, he tracked her down. She was sitting on the stone steps that led into Lake Como. Only one yacht remained from the handful that had been moored overnight.
She didn’t acknowledge his presence.
Today she was dressed in ankle-length tight white jeans and a pale-pink cashmere top, the V plunging down to display a hint of swollen cleavage, the only outward physical sign of the changes taking place within her.
What other changes were taking place within that gorgeous form...?
A stark image came into his mind of the perfection of her breasts, the way they seemed to have been made to fit his hands... If he closed his eyes he could still taste them, taste her...
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked abruptly, forcing thoughts of her naked body from his mind as he sat on the cold stone beside her.
‘About as well as can be expected,’ she replied after a long pause.
‘I never asked last night how you’re coping with the pregnancy—physically, I mean.’
Another pause. ‘So far I’ve been lucky. No morning sickness or anything.’
‘I’ve made a few calls and rearranged my schedule so I can stay in Milan for a few days. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re going to see your doctor.’
‘I’ve got a shoot to do.’ She cast sharp eyes at him. ‘And, before you accuse me of being selfish again, I’d like to point out that for me to cancel the shoot would mean a good dozen people’s schedules being thrown. We can see the doctor in the afternoon.’
At least she was willing to see a doctor with him. That was a start.
‘Does this mean you are in agreement to us marrying?’
She fell silent for a few moments, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. ‘If we marry, we both automatically become our child’s legal guardian.’
‘I am aware of that.’ It was one of the things he wanted—his paternity to be recognised by law. Marriage might be destructive and capable of ruining people but it was the only way he could ensure his child had his protection. For that reason alone he was prepared to do it. For their child’s sake, it was no sacrifice.
She stared at him. ‘If anything happens to me, you have sole responsibility.’
He felt his blood chill at the sudden solemnity in her tone. ‘Why are you talking like this?’
‘Do you know how my mother died?’ she asked in that same thoughtful tone.
‘Rocco never liked to talk about her other than to say she’d died when he was seven.’ Alessandra would have been a baby, he realised, doing the maths for the first time.
Her gaze didn’t falter. ‘She died having me.’
Theos...
‘Rocco never said.’ He shook his head, trying to digest her words.
‘Rocco suffered the most out of all of us.’ A faraway look formed in her eyes before she blinked it away and cleared her throat.
‘What happened to her?’ he asked, rubbing his chin, trying to imagine the Mondelli siblings as they’d been then: Rocco a child of seven, and Alessandra, so fresh and new-born she’d barely taken her first breath before her mother had been taken away from her forever.
He racked his pounding brain, trying to remember the age Rocco had been when he’d gone to live with Giovanni Mondelli, their grandfather. Eight, if he was recollecting correctly, which meant Alessandra had been a year at the most.
She’d never known the love of either a mother or a father.
At least his own mother had been there. For all her faults, she’d never abandoned him or reneged on her responsibility as a mother.
‘She suffered from severe pre-eclampsia,’ Alessandra said, her husky voice soft.
Red-hot anger flooded through him, pushing away the ache that had formed in his chest at learning of the tragic circumstances of her birth. ‘Why the hell haven’t you seen a doctor yet?’
‘It doesn’t affect women until the later stages of pregnancy. For the time being, I’m fine. My mother didn’t know what she was dealing with—she’d already given birth to a healthy child without any complications. Medicine has advanced a lot since then and we can prepare for it. The odds of anything happening to me are remote. But—and this is why I’m saying this now, before I agree to anything—if the worst happens then I need to know that you will rise to your legal and moral duty and raise our child.’
‘I would never abandon our child,’ he said harshly. ‘I’ve lived without a father; I know what it’s like to wonder where you’re from. I will never let our child wonder who I am.’
‘My father said that to my mother. He promised he would love and care for us but he broke it—he broke the promise he made to a dying woman. He abandoned me. He abandoned Rocco.’
‘I am not your father. What he did was despicable. After the way my own father abandoned me, I would never give up my own flesh and blood.’
‘I have to trust that you won’t be like either of our fathers but I find trusting people, especially men, very hard. If I stay single, then I can nominate the guardian of my choosing.’
If fire could have shot from eyes then what burned from Christian’s would have had her in flames.
‘I will never allow that,’ he ground out. ‘I would fight for our child through every court in every land.’
The tension that had been cramping Alessandra’s belly throughout the conversation loosened a touch.
She believed him.
Their child would have a father. A proper father.
She just had to hope her trust in this respect wasn’t misplaced. For her child’s sake, she had to try.
‘I’m sorry for being melodramatic. I just need to be sure. We both need to be sure. If we marry then that’s it—we’re married. For better or worse. And, if I agree, I want you to promise that you will be discreet in your affairs.’
His head twisted at her abrupt chan
ge of direction. ‘My affairs?’
‘I’m not stupid,’ she said with what she hoped sounded like nonchalance. If she was going to marry him, she would do it with her eyes open.
Christian was an attractive man—oh, to hell with such an insipid description, he was utterly gorgeous. He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen in a man, a real crystal-blue that made her think of calm, sunlit oceans. When he fixed them on her, though, her internal reaction was turbulent; a crescendo of emotions she struggled to understand.
The way he’d made her feel that night...
He was used to women throwing themselves at him. She wasn’t so naïve as to believe marriage would tame him. Theirs was not a love match. ‘Our loyalty will be primarily to our child but I do not want the humiliation of your liaisons being paraded on the front pages of the tabloids. All I ask is that from now on you choose your lovers wisely.’
He inhaled sharply before expelling the air slowly. If his jaw became any more rigid she feared it would snap. ‘Anything else?’ he asked icily.
She refused to drop her gaze. ‘Only that if we marry I won’t be taking your name.’
Now she knew how it must have felt like to be glared at by Medusa. Forget mere fire; she could feel her blood turn to stone under his deadly stare.
‘Why. Not?’ he asked through gritted teeth.
‘Because I like my name and I don’t want to have to start all over again. I’ve spent the past seven years building my career but it’s only been in the last few that my name has become famous for my work rather than my heritage and past exploits.’ Alessandra wasn’t prepared to fool herself. She might be famous at the moment for her photography but she didn’t have the longevity that would still make her name roll off fashion editors’ lips if she took months off. Her work as a photographer could quickly be forgotten, others taking her place.
More importantly, although this was something she chose not to share with Christian, figuring she’d pushed him far enough as it was, she didn’t trust that their marriage would survive. If she was a betting girl, she would give them until their baby’s first birthday. By then, Christian would be clamouring for his freedom.
The Greek's Pregnant Bride Page 3