Pregnant by the Commanding Greek

by Natalie Anderson

  She watched Leon drive them back into the heart of London. He seemed to enjoy controlling the powerful machine. He appeared as calm as ever. Certain of his place in the world and the decisions he made. It was as if his handsome face had been carved from marble by a master craftsman. Expressionless. Emotionless, he’d locked back into business focus easily. So he really had only been teasing moments ago, while she’d been almost desperate for his touch. Now she shivered with a horrible fear she was going to feel even more alone living in his apartment.

  ‘Where are we going?’ She sat up and twisted to read the road sign. ‘We just went past Cavendish House.’

  ‘We’re going home.’

  ‘The penthouse there is your home.’

  ‘No, that’s where I was staying for a few weeks while I studied my new investment. This is my home.’

  They’d turned into a quiet side street in the heart of Mayfair. Her heart ceased beating. It wasn’t an apartment in a building, but the whole building. She’d known he was wealthy, but this wasn’t a millionaire’s penthouse; this property was worth multi-multi-millions—a billionaire’s mansion in one of the most expensive streets on the planet.

  ‘How many bedrooms?’ she muttered.

  ‘Only six.’ He walked ahead of her. ‘Four bathrooms.’

  Oh, was that all? She shook her head after him as he led the way. There was a gleaming kitchen—light, airy, equipped with appliances Ettie wouldn’t know how to turn on...

  ‘There’s a catering kitchen and staff quarters downstairs.’

  She blinked. ‘You have a lot of staff?’

  ‘I have a housekeeper; she doesn’t live on site but she comes every other day. She’ll prep food for us if we want. My executive assistant sometimes uses it if we’re working late on a deal.’

  ‘Oh?’ She tried not to imagine his beautiful assistant. ‘I expect she’s very efficient.’

  Leon sent her a sideways, all too knowing look. ‘He is.’

  Ettie stared, overwhelmed by the trio of reception rooms. The home gym and pool and cinema room almost gave her conniptions. It was all beautifully furnished in muted greys and neutrals, with pops of colour—shades of blue in a few rooms, green in another. The curved wrought-iron balustrade of the staircase revealed snippets of the delights of each level. There were both polished wooden floors and plush carpets, and the light fittings sparkled like works of art themselves...speaking of which, striking paintings adorned the walls. The bathrooms were lined with vast marble and gleaming chrome...the entire house was a simply exquisite, designer’s wet dream.

  Yeah, he’d really been slumming it at Cavendish House. She’d thought that was exclusive, but this was a whole new level of luxury.

  ‘Why did you buy it?’ she asked out of complete curiosity. What did he need such a big home for?

  He looked surprised by her question. ‘I liked it.’ He glanced around the recreation room. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  She’d have to be mad not to adore it. She thought of the inviting crystal-clear blue of his indoor pool and the spa alongside it. ‘You use the beauty treatment room often?’

  Grinning, he shook his head. ‘No, nor the bar and home cinema much either. You’re welcome to it all, of course; this is your home now.’

  She didn’t think she’d ever feel at home in such an immaculate, luxurious space. It seemed every item in it was unique and priceless.

  ‘Where are the bedrooms?’

  He led her up the curving staircase. ‘There are a couple of bedrooms on each of these floors. The study up on the top floor opens onto a rooftop terrace; it’s nice on sunny days. But this is my room.’

  His bedroom alone was larger than her entire flat. An enormous bed was the centrepiece, but the room was large enough to hold a sofa and an armchair as well as a beautiful wooden cabinet. A wide doorway offered a glimpse of the gleaming marble and black finish of his bathroom.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Which is my room?’

  He sent her a glinting look. ‘If you don’t want to be in mine, you can choose any of the others. Though I’d prefer it if you were on the same floor as me. For later in the pregnancy.’

  No, she did not want to be in his room, or even on his floor. He wasn’t having everything his own way.

  Ettie snatched up her bag and marched to the bedroom furthest from his, knowing damn well she was spiting herself as much as him in this small act of defiance.

  ‘I’m going to run a couple of errands,’ he said coolly, following her to the room she chose. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so. You take your time and settle in.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  ‘Fancy anything in particular to eat?’

  She shook her head. ‘Whatever you think will be nice.’

  He nodded and left.

  It took only a moment for Ettie to hang her few clothes—they really didn’t suit the designer walk-in wardrobe. With a rueful grimace, she walked around the house again—taking in more details now Leon wasn’t here to distract her. It really was incredible. It even had its own garden, which in this space-at-a-premium part of London was almost unheard-of. The whole place was impeccably maintained—that housekeeper clearly had fun keeping it pristine and photo-spread-worthy, with perfectly folded towels at the ready and vases of fresh flowers to give the place vibrancy. All this for one guy?

  He came from a completely different world to hers.

  But what struck her even more was the lack of anything particularly personal of Leon’s on display. There were no family photos, or holiday snaps. The only vaguely personal images were some arty black and white shots of some buildings—buildings he owned, including this one. It seemed his property empire was everything he cared about.

  She returned to the bedroom she’d chosen and walked into the stunning white and grey marble bathroom. She simply couldn’t resist that deep-set bath. Not when there was that selection of French perfumed soaps and salts to add to it. Not when she needed to relax so badly. A few minutes later she sank into the gloriously scented, warm depths.

  But her raging thoughts wouldn’t quieten. That was impossible when her world had been totally turned upside down. Leon Kariakis was insisting they marry. Offering a contract, not his heart. But she was going to be okay with that because she was not going to make the mistakes of her own past, or of her mother’s. She was going to learn from Leon—be businesslike and efficient.

  She slipped lower, appreciating the silken slide of the water on her bare skin, and her mind wandered to less businesslike imaginings. This bath was definitely built big enough for two.

  * * *

  All thoughts of efficiency fled as sexual frustration suddenly flared. Why hadn’t he touched her again since they were interrupted in that lift? That kiss had been incendiary and she ached for more. The nausea that had plagued her for days had dissipated as arousal replaced it. She wanted him to send her into that place where thoughts couldn’t impinge, where there was only feeling and pleasure and so much touch...

  ‘Ettie?’

  She almost jumped right out of the bath.

  ‘Sorry, I won’t be a minute,’ she gasped. ‘I’m just in the bath.’

  There was a moment’s silence on the other side of the door. ‘You must be hungry.’ He sounded a little huskier.

  Absolutely. But not for what he meant. ‘Sure. I won’t be long.’

  She levered herself out of the bath, wrapped her body in one of the enormous plush towels and quickly dressed.

  He was waiting for her in the kitchen. ‘I got this for you,’ he said without preamble, pushing a small box across the counter to her.

  Ettie’s heart stopped. Reluctantly, but unable to refuse, she opened the box. She blinked a couple of times, almost blinded. ‘Where’d you get it from?’

  ‘Christmas cracker, where do you think?’

  ‘
You bought it?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t steal it.’ He rolled his eyes.

  She didn’t ask if it was synthetic. She didn’t want to give him another chance to look smug.

  ‘You can’t just buy what you want,’ she muttered, her resistance to him building in a wave of heat and fury. Because it was such a beautiful ring and there was that weak, romantic, foolish part of her that would’ve loved to be given this in another time, another circumstance, with other words... ‘You can’t buy me,’ she added ferociously.

  ‘I know that,’ he said softly. ‘If there’s anyone who knows money can’t buy happiness, it’s me.’

  His reply struck her silent. Unexpected and revealing—had he not been happy? When? She waited, willing him to say more. Instead she watched that expressionless veil slide across the flare in his eyes.

  ‘Just put it on, Ettie.’

  It was a flawless square-cut emerald set in a platinum band. A large diamond sat either side of the pale green stone. Simple yet sublime, and so very stunning.

  She stalled for time because she was shaking inside. She’d never touched anything like it in her life. ‘You often go out to get takeaways and come back with precious jewels?’

  ‘Every Wednesday. You can set your watch by me.’

  Smart Alec. ‘I thought this was business.’

  ‘It’s personal business.’ But there was a glint flicking in his eyes again. ‘And it is straightforward.’

  How could it be? He didn’t think this was complicated?

  Was this really just another acquisition for him—a fiancée and a baby? He was so in control and unconcerned and capable. Didn’t he feel fear? Didn’t he feel anything? Was he really as emotionless as he appeared?

  ‘Stop overthinking. It’ll work out.’ He walked around the counter, took the ring out of the box and reached out to hold her cold hand. ‘For the baby, okay? You want your child to have two actively involved parents. Here you go. A united front. A team, Ettie.’

  She sent him a baleful look. She did want that, very much. Because it was what she hadn’t had and he knew it. He was counting on that as he slid the ring down.

  But people co-parented the world over with perfectly amicable arrangements and weren’t married or even engaged. They made it work. There was no reason why she and Leon couldn’t work out something just as successful.

  Except his argument for marriage was compelling. She too wanted her child to have the security Leon was offering. And she’d nailed being practical at work, so why couldn’t she apply the same to her personal life?

  Intuition sent a tinge of unease down her spine. The problem was his magnetism. He only needed to stand this close, to hold her hand like this, and her heart was racing, sending excitement through every vein, to every cell. Ettie could fall far and fast—make the mistake of believing that, rather than being his “for the practicalities” fiancée, she was his match for real. And that wasn’t fair on him. Or on her. Because the same was so not happening for him. He was only about the practicalities.

  So she had to focus on the same. Keep her guard up, warn off her weak, blind heart.

  She hauled together all her emotional strength and pulled her hand from his, tore her gaze from his. She’d accept this for what it was.

  She smiled down at the ring. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’ Then she turned, desperately commenting on the first thing she saw. ‘I didn’t know you already had a dog.’ She was determined to make things easy and casual between them.

  Blinking, he sent her a mystified look.

  ‘The dog bowl on the bench behind you?’

  ‘Oh?’ His eyebrows snapped down, forming a frown. ‘I ordered those when I thought that Toby might stay.’

  Really?

  ‘I’m sorry I said yes to that resident taking him without talking to you first,’ she muttered thoughtfully. The sense she’d wronged him somehow in making that choice had been nagging her for these last couple of days.

  ‘Don’t apologise; it was best for the dog,’ he said crisply.

  So he hadn’t really wanted him? But she’d sent Toby to that other resident the very next day, so Leon had been super-quick off the mark getting in bowls for him. But that was just his hyper-efficiency, wasn’t it? Just as he’d convinced her to agree to marrying him and ensconced her in his home within two hours of learning she was pregnant. It was how he was a billionaire before thirty. Leon Kariakis got stuff done with single-minded, ruthless efficiency and there was nothing emotional about it.

  Yet she couldn’t look away from him—aware once more of that simmering intensity that his stillness masked. He’d loosened his tie and his shirtsleeves were rolled back and a tuft of hair was still ruffled. She suspected it was from when she’d run her fingers through his hair in the lift earlier. Did he know how tormenting he was?

  ‘You’re feeling better.’ He changed the subject.

  Yes. With every step closer she was to him unfortunately. And she was incredibly curious. He wasn’t just a closed book. He was padlocked-and-sealed-in-an-underground-vault private. But they were having a baby together. Getting married. Even in business arrangements, people did due diligence, didn’t they? Maybe if she offered information first—broke the ice—he might feel a gentle obligation to reciprocate?

  ‘My father wasn’t there for me. Ever,’ she said quietly.

  He paused and glanced at her.

  ‘So thank you for wanting to stick around.’

  He tensed. ‘I’m not like him.’

  ‘I know.’ The guy was already a better father than what her own had been and what Ophelia’s had been by the simple fact he was actually interested. ‘My mother got her heart broken a couple of times. It hurt her badly.’ She was quiet a moment before summoning courage. ‘What about your parents?’

  ‘Absent, mostly.’

  Really? She was surprised. ‘Didn’t they turn up to sports day?’

  ‘No. Are you ready to eat? You must be hungry.’

  She frowned, irritated that he’d shut that conversation down so quickly. ‘We can’t just...start living together and being engaged. We need to get to know each other, Leon.’

  He blinked at her again. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anything.’ Everything. She glanced at those empty bowls on the far bench. ‘Did you have a dog when you were a kid?’

  ‘No.’ To her amazement his expression became like blank granite. ‘Come on, dinner is on the table.’

  ‘Which one?’ she asked tartly.

  Leon knew he’d been abrupt, but some things she didn’t need to know. Life was for living in now, not remembering the miseries of the past. He tried to ignore the prickling at the base of his spine. He was satisfied she was in his house finally, yet he was unbearably aware of her in his space. The mansion was large but her presence seemed to permeate every inch...the scent of her, the soft sounds as she moved about.

  He’d had to get out just to clear his head. Sort out the ring as consideration for the contract. Decide on dinner. Check in with his assistant and ensure everything at the office was under control...but he’d listened with only half-concentration and in the end he’d not been able to get back fast enough to check on her.

  Stupid to be so concerned. He knew emotions weakened a man—muddying the mind and making decision-making difficult. Isolation and independence brought clarity. There were mergers and acquisitions, splits and divisions, and this was just another. It should be simple.

  ‘Oh.’

  He suppressed a chuckle as Ettie came to a halt at the entrance to the formal dining room.

  ‘When did you do this?’ She gaped at the table laden with dishes.

  ‘It was delivered while you were in the bath.’

  She gazed from the table to the discreet trolley in the corner. ‘It’s from a restaurant.’

&
nbsp; Yeah, as concierge to an exclusive apartment building, she knew how it worked. He paid, the staff delivered. And it was worth it for the privacy.

  She lifted the silver cover of the nearest dish and her eyebrows lifted. ‘Do you only dine from award-winning restaurants?’

  He took a seat and stared at her with all the lazy arrogance he could muster. ‘I like savouring perfection,’ he drawled.

  She rolled her eyes and he laughed in delight.

  ‘You asked for it,’ he ribbed her. ‘You think I’m pompous? I can eat a wrap on the street from a food van like anyone else, but tonight I want to sit in comfort and privacy and let all my senses feast.’ He sent her a meaningful look. ‘I have a pretty companion to ogle. Besides which, you’re tired and you need a decent meal.’

  And frankly, her enjoyment of decent food increased his own pleasure in it.

  She sighed and sank into the chair opposite his. ‘You’re so used to doing everything your own way, aren’t you?’

  ‘Isn’t everyone?’

  She laughed aloud, a bubble of genuine amusement. ‘The fate of the only child,’ she teased. ‘You’ve never had to learn to compromise.’

  He tried to smile but his mouth had swiftly dried. It wasn’t her fault. She simply didn’t know.

  ‘You’re very serious,’ she continued her judgement. ‘Hard-working.’

  ‘It’s how I became successful.’ He tried not to sound like a stiff-necked ass, but it was true.

  ‘So,’ she angled her head to study him, that teasing light brightening her eyes even more, ‘not a wild playboy...at least not publicly. You were never the spoilt heir to a fortune who fritters it all away on women and wine and destructive vices...’

  ‘No, that’s not me.’

  ‘But why not?’ She seemed quite fascinated. ‘It’s the trap lots of people in your position fall into, isn’t it? Stories like that fill the news... Playboy heirs. Dissolute, depraved, who end up broke—’

  ‘Or dying of an overdose; I get the picture,’ he finished coldly. ‘I guess that’s not the way I was raised.’