Pregnant by the Commanding Greek

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘Still no Ettie?’ he asked Joel bluntly.

  ‘No, sir,’ the concierge answered awkwardly. ‘But she’s never had a day off before in the entire time I’ve been here.’

  Leon spied the battered book open on the desk and recognised Ettie’s handwriting. He reached across and spun it round to flick through the pages.

  ‘They’re Ettie’s lists,’ Joel hurriedly explained. ‘She designed the systems for us. This is our bible.’

  Leon knew exactly what it was. She was insanely over-competent. But basic details were all he needed. A phone number, an address. And, as he’d suspected, Ettie had the staff roster in the back of her book. And, with the roster, full contact details. Feeling like some gumshoe detective—or stalker—he employed his photographic memory and left.

  The drive took longer than he’d guessed it would. She had to spend a while on the trains in the mornings and evenings, which meant that on those nights she worked her other job she got home horribly late. He climbed the stairs of the rundown housing block, trying not to judge the grime and smell. He knew he was from a privileged background. He was luckier than almost every other damn person in the world. Quelling his concerns for her personal security, he knocked on the door. A few moments later, he heard the locks being pulled back.

  ‘Mr Kariakis?’

  Leon tensed. He hadn’t been Mr Kariakis when she’d been screaming her pleasure beneath him. But he shoved the resentment aside, because she looked horribly unwell.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She peered past him as if expecting to see someone else. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He pushed the words out.

  It was a searing pleasure to see her, but he was also hit with a sharp pain at how fragile she looked... Her eyes were huge in her pale face and she was swamped in an ancient woollen jumper, black leggings beneath, warm wool socks on her feet.

  ‘Do you need me back at work?’ She looked so guilty and anxious, he felt bad.

  ‘Of course not,’ he said curtly, keen to dismiss her guilt. ‘Not when you’re clearly ill.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Did you think I wasn’t?’

  He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Ettie,’ he growled. ‘Invite me in.’

  She didn’t want to—that truth was written all over her beautifully expressive face. But she stepped to the side. The atmosphere intensified as she closed the door behind him. Something was bundled up inside him too tightly and he had to turn away from her.

  She lived in a small, dingy apartment. There was no television, just books, and an old laptop on the dining table. He noticed an instrument case on the bookshelf together with a pile of sheet music. The sofa looked old and lumpy. But she’d tried to brighten the place up with a throw and cushions and three little pot plants on the narrow windowsill. It was immaculately clean and tidy. That made sense.

  He’d seen the organisation and management systems she’d put in place for the concierge desk. Everything was written up neatly—processes and information. Perfection. No wonder every resident had been asking where she was these past few days.

  ‘You noticed my absence?’ she asked huskily.

  He’d noticed her absence when he’d woken that morning and found her gone. He’d been noticing it ever since. ‘I was concerned you might have been embarrassed about what happened between us. I didn’t want that affecting your ability or desire to remain at Cavendish House.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘I’m not ashamed. And I’m not pining after you, if that’s what you were thinking.’

  ‘No.’ He almost smiled because hadn’t that been one little wish? ‘So you’re not planning on leaving Cavendish?’

  Her brow furrowed. ‘Did you think I was off having interviews or something?’ She shook her head. ‘Of course not. I love my residents.’

  He stilled. He should have remembered that about her—loyalty, passion. That tension soared. It took everything he had not to take two steps and haul her into his arms.

  ‘How did you find out where I live?’ she asked, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-conscious gesture.

  ‘I might’ve looked at your personnel roster.’ He glanced at her.

  She still looked shell-shocked and paler than he could’ve imagined. He had the urge to scoop her off her feet and abduct her. He’d take her back to his apartment, he’d...what?

  Leon gritted his teeth. Not appropriate. Not allowed.

  Ettie swallowed hard, still unable to believe Leon Kariakis was standing in the middle of her tiny flat. It was mortifying. Worse than that, it was...exciting in an appalling, illicit way. She’d wondered if she was hallucinating when she’d first answered the door. Now adrenaline surged and she fought not to be driven towards his innate sensuality, fought to settle the sizzle stirring in her blood. Yet her heart beat with more vigour than it had in weeks.

  It’s not why he’s here.

  ‘It was nice of you to be concerned, but it’s just a stomach bug,’ she said unevenly. ‘I think the worst is over now, but you don’t want to catch it.’

  Please leave. Please leave.

  Before she did something stupid like throw herself at him.

  ‘You’re sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?’ He frowned at her.

  ‘No, truly. I just need a little more sleep.’

  That customary stillness settled over him as he stared at her. ‘Ettie.’ His voice was little more than a whisper.

  She froze, mentally replaying that soft call to her. Had she heard what she so desperately wanted to hear in his voice? Had there been something more than concern? Had there been longing?

  Because of the size of her flat, he was delightfully—dangerously—close. She dragged in a sharp breath, straining to resist. It would be so easy to reach up and kiss him.

  You can’t.

  If she did, she’d be lost. She wasn’t cut out to cope with an affair with a man like him. What he’d made her feel that night? She’d be an addict in no time—desperate to have her fix even at the expense of her own well-being. She couldn’t afford to be a stupid romantic like her mother—always falling for the wrong guy. The guy who’d never love her back. Leon Kariakis didn’t do relationships, he did challenges. Regret swamped her.

  If only...

  She’d written down the pros and cons and lit a match to send the paper up in smoke. Even so, that lopsided list was burned on her brain. She knew the reality and her responsibility.

  ‘I need my job...’ She was reminding herself more than telling him. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you. You didn’t need to come all the way out here.’ Her words were at odds with her secret want. She wanted him to have come here because he’d needed—her.

  ‘No trouble,’ he said stiffly, distance evident in his stance again. ‘And you don’t need to worry. I’m not about to ask for anything...inappropriate.’

  He wasn’t? Great. Now she was even more mortified by her slight assumption that there’d been any personal element to this visit. He valued her more as a concierge than as a concubine. He had no ‘best lover ever’ award for her—though he’d certainly won hers.

  Now he strode to the door, his long pace leashed. He almost looked angry. ‘I’ll be implementing some changes at Cavendish House. We can discuss them when you get back.’

  She nodded, unable to speak because a stupidly large lump had sprung up in her throat.

  ‘But you’re not to return until you’re fully fit,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Everything can wait until then.’

  But it couldn’t wait.

  Because she’d missed her shift at the stationery shop, her boss had released her from all duties there—dismissing her with immediate effect. As she wasn’t on contract, just a relief worker, she had little recourse but to suck it up. The tummy bug had eased—she’d stopped vomiting, though she still felt horrible and horrendously ti
red. That was too bad. She had to get back to work. Three days off had been an indulgence too far.

  She needed the money. And she needed the distraction.

  * * *

  ‘What’s been happening?’ she quickly asked Joel as she stepped behind the Cavendish House concierge desk first thing the next morning.

  Joel didn’t have the chance to reply because Leon Kariakis was bearing down on them both, his expression shockingly thunderous. Oddly his jaw was shadowed, as if he’d not shaved for a day.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ His cold, furious gaze sliced right through her.

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Ettie summoned the biggest fake smile she could muster. She was keeping things professional. Maintaining distance. Doing her job.

  ‘You’re not working today,’ Leon snapped. ‘Turn around and go home. I’ll hail a taxi.’

  Ettie gaped, then glared at him. Had he no thought for privacy? And as if she could ever afford to go all the way home in a cab!

  ‘Excuse me a moment, please, Joel.’ She stalked into the small office, not bothering to see if Leon followed her. Because of course he did.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she threw at him the second he’d closed the door.

  ‘Ettie.’ It was a soft growl.

  It was the almost irritated look of concern in his eyes that devastated her. She had to turn away from it. But he grabbed her shoulders and turned her back, tilting her chin up. Not so he could steal a kiss, but to subject her to his disapproving inspection. His frown deepened. ‘You’ve lost weight. You shouldn’t be here at all today. Not for the rest of the week.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she argued, burning at his touch, at the tension tearing her apart every time she so much as thought about him. Which was insanely often. And to see him? To be this close to him? She was going to have to find a new job after all.

  ‘You’re pale. Have you had breakfast?’ He interrogated her grimly.

  ‘I need to be here. I need to work.’

  ‘You still look awful.’

  ‘And thank you for that,’ she muttered. ‘I’m fine. It’s my decision, Leon. Not your concern.’

  An indefinable emotion whipped across his face and then he froze. ‘Not my concern?’ he echoed with lethal softness.

  ‘You value your independence as much as I do and don’t try to argue otherwise,’ she said. ‘If you needed to work, you would. And I need to work.’

  ‘Not today—’

  ‘I have no sick leave left,’ she snapped. ‘The stationery shop has given me the boot because I missed shifts this week, and I need the money because Ophelia has unforeseen expenses. I am working today and you are not stopping me. Nor are you offering to help me,’ she burst out, rejecting his offer before he could make it. Because she just knew he would make it now she’d told him all that. ‘I don’t want any help from you.’

  His mouth opened and shut again as he visibly sought for control. But then he lost it. ‘Damn your pride, Ettie,’ he ground out in a low voice.

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his customary coolness evaporating in a swirl of motion. ‘There’s independent. And then there’s stubborn and pig-headed. You’re the latter.’

  The guy had no concept of talking quietly. He was all orders and commands and shouting. Joel could probably hear him on the other side of the door, and it would be around the staff that she and Leon Kariakis and were alone in the office, arguing like...like...lovers.

  ‘Shush,’ she whispered furiously.

  ‘Did you just shush me?’ His gaze glittered.

  ‘I have to get on with my job. Please, Leon,’ she suddenly broke and begged, her voice catching. ‘Leave me alone.’

  Leon was silenced. And furious. She couldn’t be any clearer. She didn’t want him around. But he knew she did. He could see the desperation in her eyes now—she was positively drinking him in.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice wavered as he stalked nearer.

  Behaving badly. Doing what they both wanted. What they both needed. He hadn’t slept a wink since seeing her yesterday, his temper was ragged and he’d been under extreme restraint for too long. Her chin was stuck in the air and her ‘leave me alone’ vibes couldn’t hum louder. He wasn’t going to linger where he wasn’t wanted.

  Except he knew he was wanted. Very much. He could see it in her luminous, emotion-laden green eyes, and those vibes had a strong bass thrum of desire. But she had irritatingly strong willpower. She didn’t want to want him any more. Well, that made two of them. Because he’d never wanted to be held hostage to desire like this. Never wanted to feel this need to know she was okay. To be so shockingly concerned about her appearance.

  She was so beautiful. But right now she looked unbearably fragile. Pale and interesting didn’t suit Ettie—she was meant to be full of vitality and radiance.

  ‘Leon.’ Her whisper wasn’t one of rejection. It was a plea.

  He was desperate to get her out of his head, the want for her out of his blood. Never before had he wasted time thinking about anything other than work. He’d never let himself want something so much it became a complete distraction. He controlled all his emotions—even desire.

  So now he didn’t kiss her. He couldn’t. Not when she’d asked him not to. But he’d allow himself just the smallest, gentlest of touches. As he spanned her waist, he heard not just a hitch in her breathing, but also a stifled moan. He felt the ripple of yearning arch through her body and he pulled her closer into his embrace. A hug, right?

  But desire burgeoned between them. He gazed into her eyes, watching the searing craving build. Neither could hide it. Nor deny it.

  ‘You don’t want any help from me?’ he growled at her. ‘But you still want me.’

  Her soft mouth parted, her lips full and reddened. But her eyes pleaded with him—tormenting him with two vastly different requests. ‘That’s different.’

  It was. And it complicated everything.

  She didn’t want to want him. Well, ditto. With every ounce of willpower he could summon, he released her and stalked out of the room.

  Ettie’s heart plummeted as the door slammed behind him. She’d craved more contact with him. That need had been constant since that first night. No matter how hard she’d fought against it the want simply grew. And now?

  She’d banished him for good.

  She breathed in and out, trying to steady her pulse and ignore the sharp pain high in her chest. Eventually the adrenaline burst vanished, leaving her overwhelmingly exhausted.

  It was so stupid to still feel so tired. She’d not lied to Leon, she’d slept like a log last night, but she just couldn’t seem to get enough rest despite turning in as early as she could. She had no idea how she was going to rearrange Autumn Welby’s massive walk-in wardrobe right now. Autumn liked her to do it every month and usually it was fine—enjoyable even—to see the dazzling dresses. But this morning the thought of sorting out all those evening gowns made her arms ache and the prospect of Autumn’s perfume collection made her gag even more.

  ‘You okay, Ettie?’ Joel frowned as she walked from the concierge office to the lift. ‘Need a coffee?’ He held out a mug.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m fine,’ she lied.

  In truth she was hot, cold and queasy and the strong smell of coffee almost made her retch. The lift dinged and the doors slid open but Ettie didn’t step in. She’d never felt so awful in her life.

  ‘Ettie?’ Joel called to her again.

  She turned her head to answer him, but then she heard someone else.

  ‘Ettie? Ettie!’ Leon was shouting.

  Blindly she reeled as her body pulsed with regret and longing. She opened her mouth to reply but it was too late; nothing came out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘ETTIE...’

  It was the merest whisper, but it was th
at same voice she’d heard in the moment before everything went black.

  Leon.

  Blinking rapidly, she tried to sit up, but he firmly pushed her back down onto the plush sofa. She shivered at the contact, goose bumps lifting all over her skin. It was appalling how much she wanted that touch.

  ‘Stay still,’ he ordered tightly.

  He was leaning so close, he was all she could see. Bossy as ever. He’d taken off his jacket, and in his crisp white shirt and dark tie he looked stunning. But it was his eyes that made her all but limp—the potency and depth of the brown and the heat in the amber lights. How had she ever thought his gaze was cool?

  It wasn’t a ripple of forbidden desire that slithered down her spine now, it was a tsunami. Her body was a disgrace to her—a confused mess. Unwell one moment, racked with feverish lust the next.

  ‘Leon...’ She murmured the all too obvious like some brainless devotee. She’d ached to see him again. Then she remembered. She’d fainted at his feet. What an idiot.

  He looked more serious than ever, which ought to have been impossible. ‘I told you, you’re still unwell.’

  ‘I’ve just...’ She trailed off.

  ‘It’s gone on too long, Ettie,’ Leon said decisively.

  She struggled against the sneaking desire to lean against him. Instead she made herself look past him. Where was she? Not the concierge office because there was no sofa in there.

  ‘I’m in your penthouse.’ Her pulse spiked as she realised.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you fainted in the lobby.’

  ‘No, I meant... I could have gone into the office.’ She moistened her dry lips with her tongue. He hadn’t needed to bring her up here. How had she got up here? Her heart sank and soared at the same time. He’d carried her. She just knew it.

  ‘Too bad for you.’ His tone was cool.

  It was too bad, because she still wanted him even when it was impossible. And so damn embarrassing. She shut her eyes to block out the intensity of his impact on her, but somehow it just made it worse. She could feel his heat and strength. ‘I don’t mean to be ungrateful.’