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Satisfied that the child she carried was his, he was not going to let her go easily. He was prepared to do anything to create a family for his child. The kind of family he’d craved as a boy and thought he’d never have. It didn’t matter what excuses or what reasons she gave him, he was going to give his child what he’d never had.
‘You can put me down now.’
She pushed her hands against his chest and he heard the strength in her voice returning. As did the spark in her eyes, making them resemble the bright green leaves of spring.
‘It was the lift that made me dizzy. It’s been a long day.’
‘I will order in something to eat, then you can rest.’
He let her slide from him, feeling every delectable curve of her against his body, arousing all the passion he’d been suppressing since he’d got the message from her this morning. He couldn’t allow lust to complicate things—certainly not his inability to control it. Lust-filled desire had already caused enough problems.
She nodded and walked towards the balcony doors. Glad of her acceptance of the situation, he slid open the large glass doors, letting the buzz from the city streets flow in.
‘Enjoy the view.’
She turned, her gaze meeting his, and another pang of guilt rushed over him. She looked so tired—but there was still a hint of the feisty woman who’d met him just a few hours ago. Their differences were far from settled. But this wasn’t something which could be settled overnight. This was much more, and the full implications of what Serena’s presence in Greece meant finally hit him.
What he did now would affect not only his life but his child’s—and Serena’s. Despite that, he didn’t regret the deal he’d put to her. It had presented itself so innocuously that at first he hadn’t seen it as important, but he knew that without it Serena would have walked away from him for ever, taking his child too.
It was far too close to the pain of his own childhood, and thoughts of his father’s blatant denial of his existence rushed forward like the tide with gale force winds behind it. He’d watched him withdraw until he could no longer look at his only son. There was no way he was going to deny his child existed, ignoring it like an inconvenience.
For the first time ever he knew he wanted to be different. Better. He wanted to be a father in every way—to be there each day and each night for his son. But to do that he needed Serena to stay with him...something his mother had been unable to do.
Those thoughts jarred inside him as he made a call to organise an evening meal to be brought in, trying not to think beyond that moment. He joined her on the balcony, where the warm evening air was finally cooling as he stood next to her.
It had been the same kind of warm weather the night he and Serena had walked along the beach for the last time. That night should have been for them to say goodbye, but one kiss had turned it into so much more.
His pulse began to pound like a drum and the hum of desire warmed his blood as he remembered the night that had changed his life for good.
He’d taken Serena in his arms, knowing it was time to say goodbye, to push her away, to deny himself the love which shone in her eyes each time they met. She deserved more than a cold-hearted man such as him: a man who could not and would not allow love into his life—and never into his heart.
She’d whispered his name as she’d kissed him, and he’d held her so tight, deepening the kiss, his hands caressing her body, committing to memory each and every curve. As passion had swept them away the champagne supper he’d organised as a farewell meal had lain abandoned beside them on the blanket. With the moon and the stars shining above them he’d made her his one last time, without thought of anything else.
‘Nikos, I love you,’ she’d whispered as his pulse rate had returned to normal.
Every drop of blood within him had frozen, crystallising in his veins, choking him. It wasn’t possible. He was unlovable. Hadn’t his mother said as much? Then, as the ice had splintered around them, he’d realised what had happened. He hadn’t used any form of contraception. He had broken the one rule he’d always followed and in doing so had exposed himself to the possibility of fathering a child.
Before he’d known how he’d been standing on the sand, looking down at her, with the blanket rumpled beneath her and the glasses of champagne spilt. Fury had boiled inside him at how easily he had been distracted. What if this moment of mad lust resulted in a child? He didn’t want to be a father. He couldn’t be a father.
