by Sarah Morgan
Curiously detached, Leandro looked at her. She wasn’t classically beautiful, he mused, but there was something about her face that was captivating. ‘So you have forgiven your sister.’
‘I’m working on it.’ She caught her lip between her teeth. ‘I understand the effect you have on a woman. Even that Hollywood actress was willing to humiliate herself to spend a night with you. Tell me one thing—why, when you have a reputation for not committing to a woman, did you marry me?’
‘Frankly?’ Leandro lifted his eyes from his scrutiny of her soft lips. ‘At this moment I have absolutely no idea.’
‘You really know how to hurt. You treated our marriage lightly.’
‘On the contrary, you’re the one who walked out at the first obstacle.’
Her shoulders sagged, as if she was bearing an enormous weight. ‘If you’ve said everything you wanted to say, I’d like to take the baby.’
‘As usual you are being quite breathtakingly naïve. For a start there is a pack of journalists on my doorstep. How do you think they’re going to react if you leave here clutching the baby?’
‘I think it would reflect very badly on you. But you don’t care about that, do you? You never care what people think about you. If you did, you wouldn’t behave so badly.’
Leandro pressed the tips of his long fingers to his forehead, his control at breaking point. ‘We’ll talk about this in a minute,’ he snapped. ‘For goodness’ sake, go and use the bathroom. You’re soaking wet. And next time use the front door, like my wife, instead of creeping through the garden like a burglar.’
‘Whatever you say, you wouldn’t have wanted those headlines any more than I did.’
Leandro sent her a brooding glance, marvelling that the male libido could be such a self-destructive force. ‘The headlines will stop when they realise there is no story.’
She didn’t appear to register his words. Certainly she didn’t question his meaning. ‘As soon as I’m dry, I’ll take him away. We’ll both be out of your life.’
Leandro watched in silence, allowing her to delude herself for a short time.
His wife was back.
And he had no intention of letting her walk out again.
CHAPTER TWO
NUMB with misery, Millie stood in front of the mirror in the huge, luxurious bathroom. She didn’t reach for a towel. She did nothing to improve her appearance. She simply stared at herself.
No wonder, she thought numbly. No wonder he’d strayed.
Leandro Demetrios was six feet two inches of devastatingly handsome, vibrant masculinity and she was—she was, what?
Ordinary.
She was just so ordinary.
Staring at her wild, curling hair, she reflected on how long it had taken her each day to straighten it into the tame, sleek sheet that everyone expected. And even with the weight she’d lost during the misery of the last year, her breasts were still large, and her hips curvy.
No wonder he’d chosen her sister.
Trying not to think about that, Millie ran the tap and splashed cold water on her face. One thing about already having lost your husband to another woman, she thought, was that you no longer had to pretend to be someone different. She could just be herself. What did she have to lose?
Nothing.
She’d already lost it all.
But life kept throwing boulders at her, and she had a whole new challenge ahead of her. She had to put aside all her dreams of having her own baby, and instead love and nurture the baby that had been the result of her husband’s affair with her sister.
Caught in a sudden rush of panic, Millie covered her mouth with her hand. It was all very well to say she was going to do this, but what if she looked at the baby and hated it? That would make her an awful person, wouldn’t it?
She wanted to do the right thing, she really did, but what if doing the right thing proved too hard?
Her encounter with Leandro had been a million times harder than she’d anticipated and she’d always known it was going to be awful.
Even though their marriage was over, nothing had prepared her for the agonising pain of seeing Leandro with another woman. And worse still was the realisation that she hadn’t healed at all. She wasn’t over him and she never would be.
She’d learned to survive, that was all. But life without him was flat and colourless.
‘Millie?’ Leandro’s harsh tones penetrated the closed door and she stilled, fastened to the spot like a rabbit caught in headlights. Then her eyes slid to the bolt on the door. Even Leandro in a black temper couldn’t break his way through a solid bolt, could he?
She didn’t understand his anger. Surely he should have been grateful to her for solving a problem for him. The last thing he needed in his life was a baby.
An image of the actress slid into her brain and paralysed her. For a moment she couldn’t move or think.
What had she expected? That he was sitting in alone at night, thinking of her?
‘Wait a minute!’ Hands shaking, she looked at herself in the mirror, hoping that she’d turn out to be the person she hoped she was. She didn’t want to be a pathetic, jealous wimp, did she? She wanted to have the strength to walk away from this marriage with her head held high and her dignity intact. She wanted to be mature enough to care for the baby and give him the love he deserved, regardless of how much his parents had hurt her.
That was the person she wanted to be.
Gritting her teeth, Millie turned away from the mirror, walked across the bathroom and opened the door.
Leandro was leaning against the doorframe, dark lights in his eyes warning her of just how short his fuse was. ‘What have you been doing for the last half an hour? You look exactly the same as you did when you went in. I assumed you were going to shower and change. Or at least use a towel.’
Up until that point she hadn’t realised that she’d forgotten to dry herself. ‘I…didn’t have anything to change into.’
Leandro reached out a hand and touched her damp hair with a frown of exasperation. ‘You didn’t bring any clothes.’
‘I left my suitcase on the train,’ she muttered. ‘I was…upset. And I’m only staying in London for one night. It will be fine.’ She wished she could feel angry again. The anger had given her energy to cope with the difficult situation. Without it, she felt nothing but exhaustion.
His hand dropped to his side. ‘You still have clothes here. Wear them.’
‘You kept my clothes?’ Shocked, Millie stared up at him and his cold, unemotional appraisal chilled her.
‘I hate waste and I find them useful for overnight guests.’
The barb sank deep, the pain resting alongside the earlier wounds he’d inflicted, and she wondered why it was that emotional agony could be so much more traumatic than physical wounds.
He’d dismissed her from his life so easily.
Millie thought about all the bleak, lonely hours she’d spent agonising over whether or not she was right to have walked out—about the tears she’d shed. The times she’d wondered whether he was thinking about her. Whether he cared about their break-up.
Well, she had her answer now.
He was just fine. He’d moved on—apparently with effortless ease. Which just proved that he’d never loved her. He’d married her on impulse. He’d seen her as a novelty. Unfortunately it hadn’t taken long for her novelty value to wear off. When they’d been living in their own little world everything had been fine. It had been when they’d returned to his world that the problems had started.
Did you really think you’d be able to hold him? Her sister’s sympathetic question was embedded in her brain, like a soundtrack that refused to stop playing.
‘The baby.’ Knowing that the only way she was going to be able to hold it together was if she didn’t dwell on how she felt, Millie forced herself to ask the question. ‘Who has been looking after him?’
‘Two nannies. Change your clothes,’ Leandro said roughly. ‘The last thing I need
is you with pneumonia.’
‘I’m not cold.’
‘Then why are you shivering?’
Did he honestly not know? She wanted to hit him for not understanding her feelings. He possessed confidence by the barrel-load and that natural self-assurance seemed to prevent him understanding those to whom life didn’t come quite so easily. What did a man like Leandro Demetrios know about insecurity? He didn’t have a clue.
Neither had he shown any remorse for the way their relationship had ended. In fact, he’d made it obvious that he thought she’d been in the wrong.
Maybe other women would have turned a blind eye, but she wasn’t like that.
‘I’m shivering because I’m finding this situation…’ She struggled to find a suitably neutral word. ‘Difficult.’
‘Difficult?’ His sensual mouth formed a grim, taut line in his handsome face. ‘You haven’t begun to experience difficult yet, agape mou. But you will.’
What did he mean by that?
What could possibly be worse than being forced into the company of the man she adored and hadn’t been able to satisfy, and forced to care for the child he’d had with another woman? At the moment that challenge felt like the very essence of difficulty.
Feeling as though she was balancing precariously on the edge of a deep, dark pit, Millie took a deep breath. ‘I’d like to see my nephew.’ She drew the edges of her damp cardigan around her. She was shivering so hard she might have been in the Arctic, rather than his warm bedroom. ‘Where’s the baby?’
‘Sleeping. What else did you expect at this hour?’ His mouth grim, he strode across the bedroom and into the dressing room, emerging moments later with some clothes in his hands. ‘Put these on. At least they’re dry.’
‘They’re my old jeans.’ She frowned down at them. ‘The ones I wore when I first met you.’
‘This isn’t a trip down memory lane,’ he gritted. ‘It’s an attempt to get you out of wet clothes. Get back in that bathroom. And this time when you come out, make sure you’re dry.’
With a sigh, Millie turned back into the bathroom. The lights came on automatically and she stopped, remembering how that had amused her when he’d first brought her to this house. She’d walked in and out of all the rooms, feeling as though she’d walked into a vision of the future. Lights that came on when someone walked into a room, heating sensors, a house that vacuumed itself—Leandro exploited cuttingedge technology in every aspect of his life, and for her it had been like walking into a fantasy.
Trying not to think how the fantasy had ended, Millie stripped off her wet clothes, rubbed her cold skin with a warm towel and pulled on the jeans and silky green jumper he’d handed her.
She glanced in the enormous mirror and decided that the lighting had been designed specifically to highlight her imperfections. She looked nothing like a billionaire’s wife.
Emerging from the bathroom, her eyes clashed with his. ‘Now can I see the baby? I just…’ She swallowed. ‘I just want to look at him, that’s all.’ To get it over with. Part of her was so afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it.
This was a test, and she wasn’t sure whether she was going to pass or fail.
Leandro yanked a towel from the rail and starting rubbing her hair. ‘You’ve been in that bathroom twice and your hair is still soaking.’
‘You need to invest in a device that automatically dries someone’s hair if it’s wet.’
Something flickered in his eyes and she knew he was thinking of the time when he’d first brought her here and she’d played with the technology like a child with a new toy. ‘What were you doing all that time?’
Thinking about him. About her life.
Trying to find the strength to do this.
‘I was playing hide and seek with the lights. They’re a bit bright for me.’ Millie winced as his methodical rubbing became a little too brisk and tried not to think about the fact that he was turning her hair into a tangled mess.
What did it matter? What did smooth, perfect hair matter at this point in their relationship? They were way past the point where her appearance was an issue.
Leandro slung the towel over the heated rail. ‘That will do.’
‘Yes, there’s no point in working on something that’s never going to come up to scratch,’ Millie muttered, and he frowned sharply.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’ Trying to forget her appearance, Millie lifted her chin. ‘I want to see the baby.’ At least the baby wouldn’t care whether her hair was blow-dried or not.
She felt inadequate and out of place in this man’s life, but she was here because the baby needed her. It was abandoned. Unloved. Like her…
For a whole year she’d locked herself away—protected herself from the outside world. And if it hadn’t been for the baby she would have stayed in her hiding place. Not that she’d needed to hide. Leandro hadn’t come to look for her, had he? She’d left, but he hadn’t followed.
Leandro gave her a long, hard look, as if asking himself a question.
Knowing with absolute certainty what that question was, Millie walked towards the bedroom door.
‘You can see the baby,’ he drawled as they walked out of the room. ‘But don’t wake him up.’
The comment surprised her. Why would he care whether she woke the baby or not? She’d thought he would have been only too anxious for her to remove the child and get out of his life.
Millie glanced at the paintings, reflecting that most normal people had to go to art galleries to see pieces like this. Leandro could admire them on his way to the bathroom.
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 naïve 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.