by Maya Blake
‘You’re glaring at me,’ she stated, while glaring right back.
I ended a call that was going nowhere fast, rose and approached her. With each step I knew the path I was taking was the right one. Swift. Precise.
Permanent?
She would resist my plans, of course. I chose to ignore the kick in my gut signalling that I’d relish tussling with her. This was more than base pleasure. This was laying the foundations to secure my heir’s future.
Her stunning green eyes widened a touch, and I was gratified to see her gaze rush over me before she attempted to look away.
‘Did you enjoy your lunch?’
She shrugged. ‘It was fine, thanks.’
Her gaze grew more wary the closer I got. Did she know how enthralling she looked, with her face tilted up to me like that, the satin-smooth perfection of her neck just begging to be stroked?
For several heartbeats after I stopped, she stared at me. Then she visibly roused herself, picked up her purse and rose.
‘I should be going. If I’m lucky, I might catch an earlier flight.’
‘You’re aware we have a lot more to discuss?’
She paused. ‘Like what?’
‘Like your employment status, for starters. Have you secured another job since the incident at the clinic?’
Her gaze swept away. ‘Not a permanent one. I’m currently temping.’
I forced my jaw not to grit. ‘Are you going to tell me what you meant about your mother?’
Her chin lifted at that. ‘No. It’s still none of your business.’
‘The welfare of this child is paramount. Nothing is going to stop me ensuring it doesn’t come to harm. I wish you to be absolutely clear about that.’
‘And you intend to dig your way through my life to do that?’ she challenged.
‘I intend to take away whatever worries you so that you can concentrate on remaining healthy.’
The answer disarmed her. As it had been intended to. Her lips parted, triggering a shot of heat to my groin.
‘You...can’t do that.’
‘Can’t I? How exactly do you propose to stop me?’
Her eyes sparkled with that telling green that spelled the start of her temper. ‘A restraining order, for starters?’
I curbed the curious smile that threatened. ‘What’s to stop me from returning the favour? Or have you forgotten the small matter of your crime?’
Vexation receded, to be replaced by apprehension. ‘I’m getting tired of your veiled threats, Mr Xenakis.’
‘I said you may call me Neo.’
One elegant eyebrow quirked. ‘Oh, I can use your first name now, can I?’
A touch of regret zinged through me. ‘You’ll have to excuse me for not being at my best that day. I wasn’t aware that a tangible part of my future had been affected until I heard your news. It was hard to deal with. Almost as I hard as it was for you to deliver the news to me, perhaps?’
After a beat, she shook her head. ‘It wasn’t easy, no. I guess it’s fair you’d want to put it behind you.’
Memories of the passionate way that day had ended blazed hot and insistent. ‘Not all aspects of it. And, as it turns out, it will be impossible to do so now.’
Again awareness flashed in her luminous eyes, before she shrugged and took a few steps away from me.
‘It is what it is. Now, I’d really like to make that flight, so if you don’t mind...?’
I let her leave, granting us both a moment’s necessary reprieve. But within seconds of her walking out, I was back at my desk. A quick phone call to my assistant with a handful of immediate action instructions, and I was heading out through the door.
She was already in the lift, her gaze triumphant as the steel doors slid shut between us. I called the next one, further unsettled by the whisper of a smile that I felt curve my lips. I frowned it off.
This was no smiling matter.
When Ax had delivered the news of his unexpected son I experienced a moment’s searing jealousy, even while being overjoyed at his good fortune. But I also witnessed his despair at missing his son’s first few months.
Nothing would come between me and every step of my child’s growth in its mother’s womb. Nor a single moment of its life.
If it’s yours.
Seven months. For the chance at fatherhood I believed had been cruelly snatched away by a computer mistake, I would endure the torturous wait.
She rounded on me the moment I stepped out of the lift, the tail of her long hair a swinging, living flame I wanted to wrap around my fist.
‘Really? You’ve instructed your goons to stop me from leaving?’ she spat out.
‘I have done nothing of the sort. Wendell is aware of my intention to give you a lift to the airport and he merely wished for you to wait for me. Isn’t that so, Wendell?’ I arched a brow at the stoic ex-military man.
‘Precisely, sir.’
Sadie rolled her eyes. ‘You two make a cracking comedy duo. Can I leave now?’
‘Of course.’
She looked surprised when I held the door for her. How had the male she’d indulged in that brief relationship with treated her? Clearly not well enough, if a little chivalry surprised her. What about her mother?
Registering that I knew next to nothing about the woman who was possibly carrying my child rankled. Enough to make me grow absent-minded as I slid my hand around her waist.
She started, her breath hitching as she shifted away from my touch and stepped dangerously close the kerb.
I caught her arm, stemming momentary panic. ‘Easy, pethi mou.’
‘I... You startled me, that’s all.’
‘I merely touched you to guide you to the car.’
Her translucent skin flushed again, the captivating sweep of her long lashes brushing her cheeks as she blinked. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting it.’
The car drew up. I waved the driver away and opened the door for her. With another flick of her green eyes, she slid in. I followed, tightening my gut against the punch of lust that hit me at the display of one smooth, shapely leg.
The fact that she seemed determined to secrete herself as far away from me as possible when I joined her triggered a bolt of disgruntlement. Was I really that fearsome?
Yes. You all but slapped on the handcuffs both times she attempted to contact you.
Perhaps I had been fearsome—whereas Sadie, both times, had been...brave.
Registering the path of my thoughts, the new respect for her actions, I sheared off the notion. It remained to be seen whether her motives were truly altruistic.
And if they weren’t?
The sheer depth of my hollow dread unnerved me. Enough for me to step away from it—leave it alone in a way I’d left nothing alone for as long as I could remember. I wasn’t ready to tackle what ifs. Especially the ever-growing one that demanded credentials as to my suitability as a father. Not yet.
What I could do was lay further bricks for the lockdown I had in mind.
‘Xenakis Aeronautics is expanding into Latin America—specifically Brazil and Argentina. But my marketing team are struggling to find traction for our newest marketing venture.’
Interest flickered in her gaze. ‘What’s the problem?’ she asked after a handful of seconds.
‘We beta-tested our new airline cabin six months ago, to rousing success, but the take-up fell sharply after three months.’
‘What does this new cabin deliver? How is it different from other airline cabins?’
Did she realise she’d leaned forward? That her eyes sparkled with interest and intelligence? Clearly this was a subject she liked. Which begged the question of what had happened to stall her studies.
‘They’re like suites—one step up from first class, but not out of the realms of affordability for the s
uccessful individual.’
‘I’ve seen promotional stuff from other airlines. If your cabins are two-person berths only...’
She paused as I shook my head. ‘They range from two to six.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That’s...amazing. But I bet your team’s marketing plan was to target billionaires and oligarchs who have more money than they know what do with?’
She’d hit the nail right on the head. ‘Something like that.’
Her pert nose wrinkled in a grimace. ‘Which begs the question—why would this oligarch fly in a superclass suite on a premium airline when he could charter his own plane? It’ll most likely be for the bragging rights, which will lose their lustre after a handful of flights. I’m confident that’s why you’re experiencing a drop-off. You need to refine the suites. Since they can accommodate up to six, why not attract an entirely different demographic? Besides the luxury and exclusivity of having a suite to yourself on a commercial airline, the unique design also offers privacy.’
‘What would be your plan if you were in charge?’
She grew even more animated, her eyes sparkling brighter. ‘Oh, that’s simple. I’d push hard to attract young, successful millennial families. Believe me, there’s nothing worse than having an irate child kicking the back of your seat for hours on a long-haul flight. I can’t imagine what it’s like for harried parents having to apologise to disgruntled passengers. This will be a win-win for everyone. So why not market the suites to those who will welcome peace and quiet together with luxury and exclusivity? I’m assuming your suites are on the upper deck, like the others I’ve seen?’
I was a little put out that she knew more about my rivals’ products than mine. ‘Not only that, the Xen Suites come with premium sound insulation.’
She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Just think how much that would appeal to the parents with young families who can afford it. And if you have a loyalty programme in place, where passengers can aspire to use of the suites, then it will boost the uptake even further.’
‘The Xen Loyalty Programme is one of the best in the industry.’
‘But I bet there’s a steep points rise from, say, business class to superior class?’
I shrugged noncommittally.
She gave me a wry look. ‘On the basis that I’m right, I’d offer incentives for the target demographic to try the suites for a limited period. I’m confident you’ll see a sustained growth.’
‘Are you, now?’
About to respond, most likely with a tart rejoinder to my droll tone, she glanced out of the window, then performed a double take.
‘Why are we here?’
‘You wished to return to England, did you not?’ I replied.
‘I assume that’s your private jet?’
‘You assume correctly. We have three hours, give or take, before we land. A little longer after that to deliver you to your home. We can use that time for further discussions.’
Her enthralling green eyes widened. ‘You...you’re giving me a lift on your plane?’
‘I wish to spare you and the baby the discomfort of a return journey in a cramped middle seat next to malodorous passengers.’
Colour tinged her cheeks, drawing my attention to their smoothness, reminding me of other sensational areas of her body. I shifted, willing the blood racing to my groin to slow.
‘But—’
‘My pilot is waiting on the steps. That means we have a fast-closing window for take-off. So perhaps we can continue your objections aboard?’
Her lips firmed. ‘That sort of defeats the object of the exercise, doesn’t it?’
‘Are you really that attached to your budget airline seat?’
‘Fine. You’ve made your point.’
‘Efkharisto.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘It means thank you.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
Despite having won this hand, I was reluctant to leave the car...to end the moments of accord we’d shared. Reinforcing my guard, I stepped out, telling myself it was only decent manners that made me hold out my hand to her.
She took it, stepped out and immediately released it.
The balmy early evening air drifted a breeze through the hangar, sliding her dress against her hips as she preceded me up the stairs. That hot tug of lust flamed in my groin, reminding me that the months before and after Sadie’s eruption into my life had been the longest time I’d gone without a woman.
The notion that if my plan were to succeed I’d have to endure an even longer spell filled me with unwelcome dissatisfaction as I entered the plane after her.
Most people who were lucky enough to be invited onto the Xenakis jet frothed at the mouth at the no-expense-spared opulence of its interior.
One of four in the fleet of Jumbo Jets used for family and business trips, the Airbus was satisfyingly immense. With upper and lower decks, and filled with sleep, entertainment and business facilities, and even a twenty-seater cinema, it catered to every imaginable taste.
Anneka had loved to travel in this lap of luxury, insisting on the use of the jet several times a week during our engagement. Of course, I’d later found out what those trips had entailed...
Sadie’s gaze flitted over hand-stitched cashmere throws, bespoke incorporated furniture and Aubusson carpeting with disarming lack of interest, her feet almost dragging as she contemplated the seats she could occupy, then made a beeline for a detached club chair.
About to follow, I paused when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Catching the attendant’s eye, I nodded to Sadie. ‘Get Miss Preston whatever she wants to eat and drink. Make sure she’s comfortable.’
‘Of course, sir.’
With more than a tinge of regret, I answered my phone. Then spent the next two hours putting the finishing touches on my plan to ensure an unbreakable alignment with Sadie Preston.
By the time we landed at the private airport twenty minutes from her North London residence, I was satisfied with my decisions. Enough to be confident that I could counter any argument she might have.
Once I’d dealt with the handful of obstacles still standing in my way.
The first came in the form of Martha Preston—a woman bearing a striking resemblance to her daughter, whose red hair Sadie had obviously inherited.
‘You must be Mrs Preston,’ I said when she appeared at the door. ‘My name is—’
‘My goodness—you’re Neo Xenakis! Please, come in.’ She threw the door wide open, much to her daughter’s initial astonishment, then immediate annoyance.
‘Mum—’
‘Is something wrong?’ Martha asked, hurrying down the hallway while throwing wide-eyed looks over her shoulder. ‘When you said you’d be gone all day I assumed it was to work, not... Wow... Um... Anyway, welcome to our home, Mr Xenakis.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, unable to suppress my shudder as I looked around.
This squashed, dilapidated structure wasn’t a home fit for anyone, never mind the woman who carried my child. I might not have the right emotional advantages to offer this child, but in this I could offer full benefits. My child would not be spending a second in this place. Nor would its mother.
‘Can I get you anything? A drink? We have tea. Or coffee. Or—’
‘He won’t be staying long, Mum. He has things to do. Don’t you?’ Sadie enquired pointedly.
Martha Preston ignored her daughter, her smile at me widening. Kalos, the mother was going to be a breeze to handle.
I stepped into the even more cluttered living room of this house Sadie wouldn’t be occupying for much longer, suppressing another smile even while calculating how quickly I could move.
Magazines of every description covered every available shabby surface, and a gaily coloured sofa was the only bright spot in the dank space. A look passed between mother an
d daughter before they both faced me.
‘I’ll take a rain check on that coffee, if I may, Mrs Preston. But I do have a request.’
Green eyes similar to her daughter’s widened. ‘Of course. Anything.’
Sadie frowned. Opened her mouth.
I beat her to it. Because, really, what was the point in dragging out the inevitable?
‘I hope you’ll forgive my bluntness, but I would be honoured if you’ll give me your blessing to marry your daughter.’
Shock gripped me for a second before I rounded on this towering force of a man who’d gone from complete disavowal of his child to a systematic, head-spinning takeover in the last few hours.
‘What? Are you out of your mind?’
‘Sadie! Where are your manners? I’d like to think I brought you up better than this. I do beg your pardon, Mr Xenakis. And, please, call me Martha.’
My mother all but simpered at Neo, who inclined his head in gracious forgiveness for my bad manners.
I ground my teeth, partly to hold back my shock and partly with fury at his heartless joke. Because he had to be joking! Or, worse, this was payback for the prank he still believed I was playing on him.
‘Please don’t make excuses for me, Mum. And while you’re at it, forget what Mr Xenakis just said. He didn’t mean it.’ I fired a telling glare at him, communicating my dim view of his actions.
His expression didn’t change from one of intractable determination. For some reason, instead of angering me even more, that sent a sliver of a thrill through me. Until common sense prevailed.
‘It’s Neo, Sadie. You can’t very well keep calling me Mr Xenakis when we’re man and wife, can you?’ he drawled.
‘Since that’s not going to happen, it’s neither here nor there.’
The trace of the civility I was sure he’d cultivated for my mother’s benefit evaporated, allowing me an even clearer glimpse of the flint-hard resolution in his eyes. Cold foreboding gripped my nape, then slithered down my spine.
While I grappled with it, he turned to my mother with suave smoothness. ‘This is a shock, I know. Besides, it’s late. I don’t wish to keep you up, Martha, but I would be pleased if you’d let me pick up our acquaintance again soon?’