Bound by My Scandalous Pregnancy

by Maya Blake

  I couldn’t look away from the unrestrained stamp of possession on Neo’s face and that flash of uncertainty and apprehension as he stared at the monitor. I might have serious doubts as to his motives in other things, but in this I couldn’t dismiss the strength of his feelings. But were they positive? Or calculated?

  As the doctor took measurements and studiously recorded details, Neo’s gaze drifted feverishly over my face, then down my body to latch onto my belly.

  ‘Dikos mou,’ he murmured, with even more fervour than he had two days ago.

  Mine.

  That proclamation moved something in me, and I was glad for the echo of my baby’s heartbeat otherwise I was sure he’d have heard my own thundering heart.

  Would it be the end of the world to give in to this unrelenting craving?

  The thought wasn’t easy to dispel, especially now, when he leaned closer, his body bracing mine on the king-sized bed.

  Like a flower reaching for the sun, my every cell strained for him, defiantly ignoring my inner protests.

  It was almost a relief when the doctor finished the scan and printed off two copies, which Neo immediately took possession of, sliding one into his wallet and handing me the other.

  When I reached for it he held on to it for a moment, his eyes pinning mine as his fingers brushed my skin. Something heavy and intense fired up in his eyes—something that should have sent apprehension dancing down my spine but instead left molten heat in my belly, my heartbeat fast enough to match my baby’s.

  The moment passed.

  After Neo’s rapid-fire questions provided reassurance that the baby was healthy, the doctor and his technician were dismissed and Neo turned to me.

  ‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

  ‘Well enough to start work.’

  His mouth compressed and I geared myself for another disagreement.

  ‘The morning sickness has passed?’

  I nodded. ‘It stopped about a week ago.’

  His gaze returned to my belly, stayed for fevered seconds. ‘Very well. We’ll leave in half an hour.’ With brisk strides, he left the room.

  I rose, spinning slowly in place, still awed by my surroundings. By the size of the bedroom that would easily fit my previous home twice over. Not to mention the dressing room.

  I approached the large, cavernous room decked from floor to ceiling in wood, and tastefully arranged into sections for shoes, handbags, day and evening wear.

  Last night, when the helicopter landed in the exclusive neighbourhood of Voula, minutes from the centre of Athens, I’d been too overwhelmed by the hour spent in close proximity to Neo to appreciate the opulence of his tiered mansion.

  Unsurprisingly, every square inch dripped with luxury. Cream with grey-veined marble and hues of dark blue and grey was the theme running through each room. Set into its own vast exclusive hillside, it overlooked a miles-long vista, with the Acropolis the jaw-dropping centre of attraction.

  The staff of six spoke impeccable English, and after I’d dressed, the housekeeper directed me to Neo’s study.

  My knock was answered in deep, crisp tones. When I entered his gaze was hooded, loaded with the sort of heavy speculation and calculation that sent another wave of sensation over my skin.

  I’d walked away on Saturday night believing that I’d ended that dangerous episode before it had blown up. But with each look, I got the uncanny sensation that we weren’t done. That Neo’s machinations were merely gathering pace.

  Which made walking beside him on the way to his underground garage a monumental task in composure keeping for me. But once we were seated in the black Maserati, the powerful engine speeding us through early-morning traffic, he was all business.

  He indicated the stylish briefcase in the footwell next to my feet. ‘The briefcase is yours—so is the tablet inside it. I’ve loaded three marketing reports on it. I want your thoughts on them by midday.’

  I grabbed the case, hung on to it as if it would dilute his effect on me.

  It didn’t even come close.

  Our previous interactions had given me a taster of Neo’s power, but my introduction to his corporate life provided a mind-bending main course of the sheer formidable force he wielded. For example, the middle-aged woman I’d encountered in his office months ago was one of six assistants poised to answer his every demand.

  And his first demand was to have her summon his top marketing executives into his office, where I was introduced as his wife and personal intern—a statement that garnered speculation and brought a warm flush to my face.

  But it was his second demand—that I be set up in one corner of his vast office—that drew a protest from me. ‘Aren’t you worried about whispers of nepotism?’

  One eyebrow lifted. ‘Not even a little bit,’ he tossed away. At my frown he added, ‘I don’t intend to make this an easy ride for you, Sadie. But by all means, if you’re worried about it, then prove them wrong.’

  In the three dizzying weeks that followed it was impossible not to meet that challenge, to smash it to pieces. Because, while Neo was maddeningly rabid in ensuring I was provided with mouth-watering meals at precise intervals during the day, that my prenatal vitamins were taken like clockwork and my every comfort was catered for, business-wise he was a slave-driver—often lounging back in his thronelike seat while firing questions at me from across the room. He tossed every menial marketing task at me, barely letting me catch my breath before the next project landed on my desk.

  And when he wasn’t doing that, his gaze rested on me with molten, unapologetic interest.

  It was on one such occasion, when I was feeling mellowed from a client’s high praise of a marketing analysis I’d put together, that I caught his gaze on me as I rose from my desk.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ I asked, before I could curb my curiosity.

  The question seemed to startle him. Then his long lashes swept over me. ‘White.’

  ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘White suits you. You should wear only that from now on.’

  An anticipatory shiver fired through me, because he’d just tossed one of his imperious observations at me. And, oh, how I’d relish batting it away.

  ‘Is this where you say “Jump” and hope I’ll say, “Yes, sir...how high do you wish, sir?”’

  For some absurd reason his lips twitched with amusement. ‘I’d say yes, but we both know you’d never do anything that accommodating. Not without something in return, at least.’

  A pang of hurt caught me unawares.

  His gaze sharpened on my face, then he grew irritated. ‘That was meant to be a compliment, Sadie, not a prelude to a fight. You look beautiful in white.’

  ‘Is that why my wardrobe is suddenly full of white stuff?’ The predominantly white outfits had appeared suddenly, with no explanation offered.

  He shrugged. ‘I was told you didn’t seem interested in the whole clothes-shopping process back in London. I made the choice for you. If I was wildly inaccurate, then feel free to amend it.’

  Mutiny rose and died almost as soon as my fingers drifted over the soft white cotton dress I’d picked for the office today. The boat-necked A-line design draped over my body without clinging, cleverly disguising the small swell of my belly. And, like this dress, every item in my new wardrobe was a perfect fit.

  ‘It’s okay, I suppose.’

  He inclined his head in an imperious nod, but not before I caught a look of...relief?

  Before I could be sure, he was rising, messing with my breathing as he sauntered around to perch on the edge of his desk.

  ‘Come here, Sadie,’ he commanded, his voice gravel rough.

  ‘Why?’

  His eyes shadowed. ‘Because it’s time to go over the final details before our meeting,’ he said easily.

  I wasn’t fooled. The fierce gleam in h
is eye announced other intentions.

  But, unable to resist that hypnotic voice, I stumbled over to him. He caught my hips between his hands, positioning me between his spread legs, and as he stared down into my face I struggled to catch my breath. And then the most wondrous thing happened.

  I felt the sweetest, most delicate tingling in my belly.

  ‘Oh!’

  His gaze sharpened. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I just felt...’

  Raw, thick emotion arrested his face. ‘The baby?’

  The hushed gravity of his voice, the depth of yearning in his voice, disarmed me.

  ‘According to all indications you should be experiencing the first movements of my child inside you,’ he rasped.

  ‘I thought I felt something...a flutter yesterday...but it hasn’t happened again—’ The fluttering came again, making me gasp. ‘Oh!’

  His gaze dropped to my belly, and his hand slowly lowered to hover over the small bump. ‘I would very much like to touch you, Sadie,’ he said, his voice gravel rough.

  Shakily fighting back hormonal tears, I nodded. He exhaled raggedly, his warm hand remaining on me for long moments, during which the fluttering was repeated twice more, each time drawing from him an awed gasp.

  Stormy eyes rose to mine. ‘I said you looked beautiful. That wasn’t quite accurate. You look radiant.’ One hand rose to caress my cheek. ‘Your skin glows with exquisite vitality. I’ve never quite seen anything like it.’

  ‘It’s...it’s the pregnancy. Not me.’

  ‘Most women would wholeheartedly bask in such a compliment, but not you,’ he murmured, his gaze curiously flummoxed. ‘Are you so determined to topple my opinion of you?’ he rasped, a touch disgruntled.

  ‘Neo—’

  ‘Hush, pethi mou. Let us enjoy this moment,’ he suggested, his voice hypnotic.

  We stood trapped in that intensely soul-stirring bubble until the ringing phone made us both jump. I hastily stepped back from the exposing moment.

  Back to a reality where this pregnancy was the sole reason I had a ring on my finger and a place in Neo’s office.

  Back to a place where the softening emotions that had been expanding over the past few weeks needed to be shoved back into a box marked delusional.

  When he reached over to answer his phone I escaped, reciting every reason why resisting temptation and Neo was essential to my equilibrium.

  When I returned, half an hour later, Neo’s laser-beam eyes focused on the frosted treat in my hand. ‘What’s that?’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a cupcake, Neo.’

  ‘I can see that. I meant that.’ He pointed his arrogant nose at the thin candle perched in the middle of the frosting.

  ‘It’s a candle. Which I’m going to light when I get to my desk and then blow out. Because it’s my birthday.’

  He went pillar still. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said it’s my birthday today.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘If this is a ploy of some sort—’

  ‘You think I’d bother to lie about something you can find out in less than ten seconds?’

  The fire and brimstone left his eyes immediately, leaving him looking curiously nonplussed.

  ‘Wow. So much for me thinking felicitations might be forthcoming,’ I said.

  My waspish tone further unnerved him. Then his lips firmed.

  ‘You scurried away before we were done talking. You do realise you’re not doing yourself any favours by annoying me, don’t you?’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m here now, and I don’t see a fire, so...’

  His eyes widened a fraction, then I caught a hint of amusement. Again I had the feeling that the mighty Neo Xenakis liked being challenged.

  Striding over, he took the cupcake from me, set it on my desk and took my hand.

  ‘What are you doing? And, more importantly, why are you separating me from my cupcake?’

  He frowned, or least gave an impression of it. But it fell far short of his overriding expression—bewilderment. Perhaps even a little shame.

  ‘You asked where the fire was. Our meeting has been rescheduled to now.’

  ‘What? But—’

  ‘You helped the team land the deal that has brought the Portuguese trade minister here. I don’t think you’ll want to keep him waiting while you devour a dubious-looking confection from a vending machine.’

  ‘It wasn’t from a vending machine. It was from your executive restaurant, which is manned by a chef I hear is on the brink of winning his first Michelin star.’

  He simply shrugged and kept moving while he extracted his phone from his pocket. Rapid-fire Greek greeted whoever answered the call, after which he held open the door to the conference room with one eyebrow hiked up.

  ‘You know there’s a rule against keeping a pregnant woman from what she craves, don’t you?’

  My words had been meant harshly. Instead they emerged in a sultry undertone, wrapped in a yearning that was only partly for the cupcake he’d forced me to abandon.

  And if I had any doubt that my words had triggered the same thought in him, the darkening of his eyes and the slight parting of his sensual mouth told me we’d skated away from the subject of cupcakes to something more potent.

  ‘I will bear the consequences of it this once,’ he rasped, his voice an octave lower. Deeper.

  Sexier.

  My gaze dropped to the sensual line of his lips and I sucked in a breath.

  ‘The minister is waiting, Sadie. As much as I want to answer that look in your eyes, it won’t do for me to start making love to my wife in full view of a potential business associate.’

  My wife.

  It was the first time he’d referred to me as that since the wedding...

  The two-hour meeting passed in a rush of effectively troubleshooting every last one of the minister’s objections. While the team acted in perfect cohesion, Neo seemed intent on lobbing further questions for me to answer, giving a satisfied nod when I did.

  Perhaps he wanted to give me a chance to prove my worth, to publicly expunge any hint of nepotism once and for all. Whatever the reason, it left me with a warm, buoyant glow that shrivelled the hard knot of unworthiness that had clung to me and drew a wide smile once the minister left, satisfied.

  Perhaps my smile was too wide. Too proud. It certainly triggered something in Neo, and his stride was purposeful as he marched me from the conference room.

  ‘I hate to repeat myself, but where’s the fire?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m giving you the rest of the day off,’ he declared.

  ‘I can’t take time off and finish the work you’ve asked me to do.’

  He merely shrugged as he stepped with me into the lift and pressed the button for the parking garage, where a valet stood next to his car, keys ready.

  ‘Change of plan,’ Neo said, once I was seated and he’d slid behind the wheel. ‘There’s an event I need you to attend with me tonight.’

  ‘Oh? Do you want to tell me about it so I can prepare?’

  While the thought of working on my birthday hadn’t disheartened me, because working with Neo was a secret thrill I wouldn’t pass up, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be thrown into the deep end of an unknown situation.

  ‘Preparation won’t be necessary,’ he said cryptically. ‘But dress formally.’

  For the rest of the journey back to the villa he fell into silence, his profile not inviting conversation.

  Inside, he excused himself, shutting his study door behind him with a definitive click.

  I retreated to my dressing room to face the daunting task of picking what to wear. Eventually, I chose a white gown made of the softest tulle layered over satin. The gathered material swept down from one shoulder and cupped my bust before falling away in a long, elegant sweep to my ankles.
I complemented it with light, champagne-coloured strappy heels and a matching clutch, and left my earlobes and throat free—simply because the jewellery I owned was too understated for the gown, and because I still had no clear idea of where Neo was taking me.

  As if I’d conjured him up, his firm knock arrived.

  I opened the door and suppressed a gasp.

  His business suit had been swapped for a dinner suit, a dark silk shirt, a darker-hued tie and bespoke shoes polished to within an inch of their life. With his freshly showered hair slicked back, and his face and that cleft in his chin thrown into relief, it was all I could do to not stare open-mouthed at the overwhelmingly dashing figure he cut.

  His return scrutiny was electric, his eyes turning a skin-tingling stormy grey as they sizzled over my body. ‘You look exquisite,’ he pronounced, managing to sound arrogant and awed at the same time.

  The combination melted me from the inside out, and my heart was pounding even before he held out his arm in silent invitation.

  I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow, concentrated in putting one foot in front of the other as he led me not to the garage but out through the wide living room doors and down another terrace towards the helipad.

  He helped me into the sleek aircraft, then strapped himself in.

  ‘Are you going to tell me where we’re going?’ I asked.

  He slanted me a lazy, shiver-inducing glance. ‘You’ll see for yourself in a few minutes.’

  The aircraft lifted off, flew straight towards the horizon for a full minute, then started to descend again. When it banked slightly to the right to land, I saw it.

  The Acropolis.

  Lit to magnificent perfection, it was a breathtaking sight to behold. ‘We’re meeting the client here?’

  Neo simply gave an enigmatic smile, deftly alighted when the aircraft set down, and held out his hand to me. I’d been in Athens long enough to know that tours took place both day and night. But there was no one around—just a handful of dark-suited men, one of whom looked suspiciously like...Wendell.

  A sharp glance at Neo showed that enigmatic expression still in place.

  My heart thundered harder.