But not for long.
It shouldn’t have happened. Despite the fact she’d torn his note into a thousand pieces and left it scattered over the marble bench-top of the luxurious penthouse kitchen, his words were indelibly imprinted into her mind.
Well, regardless of his regret, and the fact he hadn’t respected her enough to say that to her face, she’d have to see him again.
There was nothing for it—she had to face this reality, to tell him the truth.
And she would—when she was ready.
* * *
Hannah checked the name against the piece of paper she clutched in her hand, looking around the marina with a frown on her face.
There was some event on, Capri Sailing Week or some such, and the whole marina was bursting with life. Enormous boats—or ‘superyachts’, as she’d been told they were called—lined up like swans, so graceful and imposing in the evening sun.
She knew from the search she’d done on the Internet that Stathakis Corp owned a boat that took part in the event. She also knew that Leonidas and his brother came to the event annually on their own ‘superyacht’. Photos had shown her a suntanned Leonidas relaxing on the deck, casting his eye over the race.
She’d closed out of the images as quickly as she could.
She didn’t need to see him again. Not like that.
This was going to be quick, like ripping off a plaster. She’d tell him she was pregnant—not that she’d really need words. At more than five months along, she was quite visibly carrying a baby.
She’d been so tempted just to call him. To deliver the news over the phone and leave it at that, just as he’d written her a note instead of having the courage to face her the next morning.
But it was cowardly and she wasn’t that. They were having a baby together—she couldn’t ignore the ramifications of their night together and nor could he. At least she knew that, no matter what happened next, he’d regretted that night.
He’d regretted it, he wished that it hadn’t happened, and he’d treated her with complete disdain and disrespect, skulking out in the middle of the night, leaving a note! It wasn’t as if she’d have begged him for more—they’d both agreed to it being one night only. It was the salt in the wound of him vanishing, not even bothering to say goodbye.
That was the man she was having a child with.
She grabbed hold of that thought; she needed to remember that.
The Stathakis yacht was the biggest in the marina, and it was pumping with life and noise. Her eyes skimmed the yacht, running over the partygoers moving around with effortless grace, all scantily clad, from what she could see. Music with a heavy beat sounded loud and somehow seductive, so something began to beat low in her abdomen. There were staff, too, their crisp white shirts discernible even at a distance, the trays they carried overflowing with champagne flutes.
She narrowed her eyes, lifting a hand and wiping it over her forehead. She was warm—the sun was beating down, even now in the early evening, and she’d been travelling since that morning.
She was tired, too, the exhaustion of the first trimester not giving way in the second.
She moved closer to the yacht, mindful on her approach that security guards stood casually at the bridge that led to the deck.
As she approached, one of the men spoke to her in Italian. At her blank expression, he switched to Greek and then, finally, English. ‘Can I help you, miss?’
‘I need to see Leonidas Stathakis. It’s important.’
The security guard flicked his gaze over Hannah, his expression unchanging. ‘It’s a private party.’
She had expected this resistance. ‘If you tell him my name, I’m certain he’ll want to see me.’
The guard’s scepticism was obvious. ‘And that is?’
‘Hannah. Hannah May.’ Her voice was soft, her Australian accent prominent.
The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie, the background noise of the party coming through louder when he clicked the button at its side. She discerned only her own name in the rapid delivery of information. Then, he clicked the walkie-talkie back to his hip.
‘He says you can go up.’
‘Thank you.’
Nerves were jangling inside her, doubts firing in her gut. Maybe she should turn around. Go back to London, or even Australia, far away. Call him with this information. Or not. She had no idea. She just knew suddenly the thought of coming face-to-face with Leonidas filled her with ice.
She was going to be sick.
‘Miss? Are you okay?’
But she’d come all this way. She’d grappled with this for weeks now, she’d faced the reality of being pregnant with Leonidas’s baby, trying to work out the best way to tell him. She had to tell him—there was nothing for it.
‘I will be.’
Yes, she would be. She needed simply to get this over with. The faster the better. ‘This way?’ she prompted, gesturing towards the boat.
‘And to the left.’
Hannah’s smile was tight as she surveyed the crowd, not particularly relishing the idea of weaving her way through so many people. ‘Thank you.’
She stepped onto a platform and then went up a set of polished timber and white stairs. At the top, another guard opened a section of the boat’s balustrade, forming a gate. The noise was deafening up here. She braced herself for a moment, frozen to the spot as she recognised at least a dozen Hollywood celebrities walking around in a state of undress. Men, women, all in their bathers, suntanned, impossibly slender and toned with very white teeth and enormous eyes.
Hannah stared at them self-consciously, this world so foreign to her, so foreign to anything and anyone she knew. These people were his friends?
There was a loud noise, a laugh, and then the splashing of water. She turned, chasing the interruption, to see a handsome man standing above the pool, a grin on his chiselled face. It wasn’t Leonidas, but she recognised him nonetheless from the few photos she’d pulled up while trying to find out how to contact Leonidas.
Thanos Stathakis, the playboy prince of Europe, all golden and carefree, and surrounded by a dozen women who were quite clearly vying for a place in his bed. She pulled a face, straightened her spine and began to cut through the party.
She didn’t belong here. She didn’t want to be here. She just needed to tell him and get out.
‘Miss May?’ A woman wearing a crew uniform approached Hannah, a professional smile on her pretty face. ‘This way, please.’
Hannah nodded stiffly, falling into step beside the woman, almost losing her footing when she saw a Grammy award–winning singer breeze past, laughing, arm in arm with the undisputed queen of talk-show television.
Hannah stared after them, her heart pounding. She felt like a fish way, way out of water. The crew member pushed a door open and Hannah followed, grateful for the privacy and quiet the room afforded.
‘Would you like anything to drink, miss?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
She waited until she was alone and then scanned the room, her eyes taking in the obvious signs of wealth that were littered without care. The yacht was unlike anything she’d ever seen, the last word in luxury and money. Designer furniture filled out this room, a television the size of her bed on one wall, and through the glass partition a huge bedroom with a spa against the windows.
Leonidas’s bedroom?
Her pulse picked up a notch and on autopilot she wandered towards it, her heart hammering against her chest as she pushed the door open.
Yes. She couldn’t say how she knew, only there was something in the air, his masculine, alpine fragrance that instantly jolted her senses.
She backed out quickly, as though the very fires of hell were lining the floor in there.
She had to do this. She would tell him, and then leave, giving him a chance to digest it, and
to consider her wishes. This would be over in minutes.
Minutes.
She waited, and with each moment that passed her nerves stretched tighter, thinner, finer and more tremulous, so, five minutes later, she honestly thought she might pass out.
She was on the brink of leaving the room and going in search of Leonidas herself when the door burst inwards and he strode into the room, wearing only a pair of swimming shorts, and a look that—in the seconds before surprise contorted his expression—showed his impatience with her arrival.
He was partying.
He was probably the centre of attention, being just as fawned over and celebrated as his brother. Jealousy tore through her, but Hannah told herself it was outrage. Outrage that she’d been agonising over the baby they were going to have while he’d slipped out of bed and gone back to his normal life as though it had never happened.
If she’d held even a single shred of hope that he might be glad to see her, it disappeared immediately.
‘Hannah.’ His eyes roamed her face and then dropped lower, until he was staring at her stomach, and she felt the force of his shock, the reverberation of his confusion. It slammed into the room, slammed against her, and if she weren’t so consumed with her own feelings she might almost have felt sympathy for him.
‘Yes.’ She answered the unspoken question, her voice slightly shaky. ‘I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.’
CHAPTER FOUR
HIS EYES SWEPT SHUT, almost as if he could wipe this meeting from reality, as if he would open his gaze and she’d be gone. It wasn’t until that moment Hannah realised that she’d been partly hoping he would react well to this news. While neither of them had planned this, nor wanted it particularly, a baby was still cause for celebration, wasn’t it?
Apparently not.
When he opened his eyes and his gaze pierced her soul, it was with a look of rejection, and panic.
‘No.’ He glared at her. ‘This cannot be happening.’
Hannah curved a hand around her stomach, trying to be generous, to remember he was shocked, that she’d had time to adjust to this news and he was being presented with it all now.
‘Really?’ She arched a brow, her obvious pregnant state contradicting that.
He swore in his native tongue and moved towards a bar in the corner, pulling out two bottles of mineral water. He stalked towards her and held one out and she took it without thinking, her fingers curving over the top.
But, oh, she was so close to him now, and the last five months disappeared, everything disappeared, except this wave of intense recognition and need, that same spark of hunger that had incinerated her on New Year’s Eve.
Her breath escaped her on a hiss; she stood frozen to the spot, her eyes glued to his, her face tilted upwards, her body on alert for his nearness. It was an instant, visceral, physical reaction and it shook her to the core.
But even before her eyes, Leonidas’s surprise was giving way to comprehension. His jaw tightened and he nodded slowly, releasing the water bottle into her grip and stepping away from her, turning to stare at the ocean.
‘How do you feel?’
She was surprised by the question—she hadn’t expected it, this rapid assimilation of information, acceptance and then a hint of civility.
‘I’m mostly okay.’ She nodded, opening the bottle and taking a sip gratefully. ‘I’m quite tired but otherwise fine.’
He didn’t react. ‘Do you know what gender it is?’
Hannah nodded again, but he wasn’t looking. ‘Yes.’ She reached into her handbag, her fingers fumbling a little as she lifted out an ultrasound picture. ‘Here.’
At that word, he turned slowly, his expression grim, his gaze lowering to the flimsy black and white photograph. He made no effort to take it.
‘It’s a girl,’ she said quietly.
He still didn’t reach for the picture, but his eyes swept shut as though he were steeling himself against this, as though it wasn’t what he wanted. Hurt scored her being. But before she could fire that accusation at him, he was shooting another question at her.
‘When did you find out?’
She swallowed in an attempt to bring moisture back to her dry throat. ‘A while ago,’ she admitted.
‘When?’
A hint of guilt flared in her gut but she reminded herself she’d done nothing wrong.
‘I’ve known for a few weeks.’
He stared at her, long and hard, for several moments. ‘You didn’t think I deserved to know when you did?’
She shook her head once, from one side to the other. ‘You didn’t think I deserved more than to wake up to a crummy note?’
He froze, completely still, and the sound of the glamorous party outside the room thumped and crashed. Hannah didn’t move. She glared at him, waiting for his answer.
It came swiftly, his brow furrowing. ‘So this was payback? Retaliation of some kind?’
She shook her head. ‘What? No. It was nothing like that.’ She sucked in a breath, not wanting to be dragged off topic. ‘I just wanted a chance to get used to this before I had to deal with you.’
‘And you are now used to it?’ he demanded, heat in the question.
She let out a small laugh, but it was a sound completely without humour. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever adjust.’
‘I don’t want anything from you, Leonidas,’ she said firmly, not registering the way something like admiration sparked in his eyes. ‘I had no idea who you were that night, nor that you’re worth a squillion dollars. I have no interest in asking you for any kind of support payment or whatever.’ She shuddered in rejection of the very idea.
‘I mean it. This isn’t my way of asking you to support me in any way. I don’t want that.’
He spoke then, his voice low and husky. ‘So what do you want?’
She bit down on her lip then immediately stopped when he took a step closer, his eyes on the gesture, his body seemingly pulled towards hers.
‘I want...to know you’ll be a part of her life,’ she said quietly, her own childhood a black hole in her mind, swallowing her up. She would do whatever she could to make sure her own daughter never had to live with the grief she’d felt.
He was quiet, watching her, and nervousness fired in Hannah’s gut. ‘Don’t misunderstand me,’ she said thickly. ‘I would happily never see you again. But our daughter deserves to know both her parents.’ She lifted a hand, toying with the necklace she wore, running her finger over the chain distractedly. Hannah needed the security of knowing their child would have two people who loved her, two people in case something happened to one of them.
‘I appreciate this news is probably an even bigger inconvenience to you than it was to me,’ she said simply. ‘I understand you didn’t want this. You were very clear about that.’ She cleared her throat, sidestepping him and moving towards the windows that framed a sensational view of the waters off the coast of Capri. ‘But we are having a child together, and I don’t want her to grow up thinking she’s not wanted.’ Hannah’s voice cracked and she closed her eyes, sucking in breath, needing strength.
‘You want me to be a part of our daughter’s life?’
‘Yes.’ The word rushed out of her. She spun around, surprised to find Leonidas had come to stand right behind her, his eyes on hers, his expression impossible to comprehend.
‘And what kind of part?’
She furrowed her brow, not understanding.
‘Tell me, do you expect me to see her once a year? At Christmas, perhaps? Or for her birthdays, as well? Do you envisage I will spend time with my daughter according to a stopwatch?’
Hannah’s eyes rounded in her face. ‘I don’t understand...’
‘No,’ he said succinctly and now she understood what was holding his face so completely still. He was angry!
‘I will not
be a figment of my child’s life—the kind of father who exists like a tiny part of her.’
Hannah didn’t get a chance to reassure him.
‘My child will be raised by me.’ His eyes were like flints of coal as he spoke. ‘She will be raised with my name, and will have everything I can provide her with. She will be mine.’
At the completely possessive tone to his voice Hannah shuddered, because it was exactly how she felt, and they couldn’t both raise their daughter.
‘Don’t make me regret coming here,’ Hannah said quietly.
At this, his features grew taut, his jaw locked and his eyes showed a swirling comprehension that filled her with ice. ‘Are you saying you contemplated not doing so?’
She paled, tilting her chin with a hint of rebellion. ‘I’ve contemplated a great many things since I found out about her.’
‘And was not telling me that I fathered a child one of those things you considered?’
Her cheeks glowed pink, revealing the truth of that statement. ‘Briefly,’ she conceded. ‘Yes, of course. Wouldn’t it be easier that way?’
Fury contorted his features and she rolled her eyes.
‘I contemplated it for about three seconds before realising I could never do that. Obviously you deserve to know you’re going to be a father. She’s your child. I’m not saying you don’t have a claim on her. But she’s an innocent in this, she doesn’t deserve to be pulled between us just because of that night.’
‘I do not intend for her to be pulled between us.’ He seized on this and, for a moment, she felt relief. Perhaps he was going to be reasonable after all, and not make this so difficult.
‘You can be very involved,’ she promised. ‘I’m a reasonable person, Leonidas, and what I want most in this world is for our daughter to grow up secure in the love of her parents. But I want full custody. Full rights.’ He didn’t speak and she took strength from that. ‘It’s better this way, don’t you see that?’
‘Better for you,’ he drawled, and then shook his head angrily. ‘At least, you seem to think it is, but you do not have all the facts, Hannah.’
The Greek's Billion-Dollar Baby Page 4