Helen Bianchin - Greek's Pride

Almost on cue she heard his first wakening cry, and she reached him within seconds, loving the way his tears ceased the moment she picked him up.

Bathing and feeding took almost an hour, and Alyse was supremely conscious of Aleksi’s presence during the latter thirty minutes.

‘May I?’

With extreme care she placed Georg into the crook of Aleksi’s arm, watching every movement with the eagle eye of a mother-hen.

‘I won’t drop him,’ Aleksi drawled with hateful cynicism, and her eyes darkened to a deep cerulean blue.

‘I never imagined you would,’ she snapped, aware that the babysitter was in the kitchen preparing her own dinner and therefore happily in ignorance of their barbed exchange.

Alyse willed Georg to cry, thus signalling his displeasure at being placed in a stranger’s care, but he failed to comply and merely lay still, his bright eyes wide and dark. One could be forgiven for imagining he was fascinated, and perhaps he was, she decided uncharitably, for there had to be an awareness of change from her own scent and body-softness in comparison with his uncle’s muscularly hard male-contoured frame.

Aleksi’s expression was inscrutably intent, and she watched as he placed a forefinger into Georg’s baby palm, detecting a momentary flaring of triumph as tiny fingers closed around it.

‘He’s a beautiful child,’ she said quietly, and suffered Aleksi’s swift scrutiny.

‘He’s my brother’s son.’ He paused slightly, then added with soft emphasis, ‘ Our son.’

For some reason a chill shiver feathered its way down her spine. His words sounded irrevocable, almost as if he was issuing a silent warning. Yet he could have no inkling of her intention to instigate a divorce and gain custody of Georg—could he?

Stop it, she bade silently. You’re merely being fanciful.

‘He really should go down for the night.’ She purposely shifted her gaze to Georg, who in total contrariness looked as if he had every intention of remaining wide awake.

‘Why don’t you go and change?’ Aleksi suggested. ‘The babysitter can settle him into his cot, and you can check him before we leave.’

A slight frown momentarily furrowed Alyse’s brow.

‘Dinner,’ he elaborated.

The thought of suffering through another meal in his sole company was the last thing she wanted, but the alternative of staying in was even worse. ‘I’m not very hungry, and I still have to pack.’ It was a token protest at best, and he knew it.

‘We won’t be late.’

Dammit, what she’d give to ruffle that implacable composure! A sobering thought occurred that she had , and the result wasn’t something she’d willingly choose to repeat.

‘In that case, I’ll go and get ready.’

‘Unequivocal compliance, Alyse?’

‘Conditional accedence,’ she corrected, and leaning forward she brushed her lips to Georg’s forehead. ‘Goodnight, darling,’ she bade softly. ‘Sleep well.’

The gesture brought her far too close to Aleksi, and she straightened at once, moving away without so much as a backward glance as she left the room.

Selecting something suitable to wear took scant minutes, and she chose to freshen her make-up, merely adding a light dusting of powder and reapplying lipstick before running a brush through her hair.

Slipping into shoes, she collected a clutch-purse, then took one quick glance at her mirrored reflection, uncaring that the tailored black dress and red jacket provided a striking foil for her attractive features and pale shining hair.

As she emerged from her room she almost collided with Aleksi, and she bore his scrutiny with equanimity.

‘Georg is already fast asleep,’ he enlightened her quietly as he walked at her side to the lounge.

‘Aleksi has written down the name and telephone number of the restaurant in case of any emergency,’ the babysitter revealed, her eyes sparkling as they moved from one to the other, and Alyse could have sworn there was a degree of wistful envy in the young girl’s expression. ‘Please enjoy yourselves, and stay as long as you want. I don’t mind.’

One glance at Aleksi Stefanos had been sufficient for the romantic eighteen-year-old to weave an impossible imaginary fantasy that bore no similarity whatsoever to reality!

Alyse could only proffer a sweet smile and utter her thanks, although inwardly she felt like screaming in vexation.

‘Save it until we’re in the car,’ murmured Aleksi as he stood aside for her to precede him from the house, and she turned towards him with the smile still firmly pinned in place.

‘Thus preserving the required image, I suppose?’

His gaze was full of mockery. ‘Of course.’

Her expression registered an entire gamut of emotions, and she struggled to contain them as she slid into the passenger seat. ‘Oh, go to hell!’

‘I would advise putting a curb on your tongue.’ His voice was dangerously soft, and in the dim interior of the car it was impossible to determine his expression. Not that she cared, she assured herself. He could bring down the wrath of a veritable Nemesis on her head, and it wouldn’t matter at all.

The restaurant Aleksi had chosen was intimate, and offered superb cuisine. As a perfect complement, he ordered a bottle of Cristal, and proposed a solemn toast to their future together.

It wasn’t something Alyse coveted, and she merely sipped the excellent champagne and forked morsels of food into her mouth with seemingly mechanical regularity.

Consequently it was a relief when coffee was served, and she breathed a silent sigh as Aleksi summoned the waiter for their bill.

In the car she sat in silence, grateful that he made no attempt at idle conversation, and the moment they arrived home she moved indoors with indecent haste, paid the babysitter and presented her with a parting gift, forcing a smile as the girl gave her an impulsive hug and bestowed her best wishes on them both.

‘I’ll make up your bed,’ Alyse declared minutes after Anna’s departure, ‘then finish packing.’

‘If you retrieve the necessary bed-linen, I’m sure I can manage,’ Aleksi drawled, and she retaliated with deliberate sarcasm,

‘A domesticated husband—how nice! Can you cook too?’

‘Adequately. I also iron.’

‘It almost seems too much!’

‘Me, or my—abilities?’ Aleksi’s emphasis was deliberate, and she directed him an arctic glare.

‘As I haven’t experienced any of your abilities, I’m hardly in a position to comment.’

‘Is that an invitation?’

His sarcasm was the living end. ‘You know damn well it’s not!’ She moved quickly past him into the hallway and flung open the linen closet. ‘You should have stayed at the hotel,’ she declared, and was utterly incensed when she glimpsed his silent humour.

‘Alone?’ Aleksi mocked.

Alyse closed her eyes, then opened them again in a gesture of pure exasperation. ‘Take a clean towel with you if you want to shower. Goodnight,’ she added pointedly. Without a further word she walked towards her bedroom, then went in and closed the door behind her.

If he dared to follow her, she’d do him a mortal injury, she determined vengefully as she set about filling a suitcase with the remainder of her clothes. When the chore was completed she looked in on Georg, then crept back to her room, undressed, and slipped into bed.

She was so tired she should have fallen asleep within minutes, except there were fragmented images torturing her subconscious mind, the most vivid of which was the compelling form of Aleksi Stefanos. He appeared as a dark, threatening force: compelling, and infinitely powerful.

She had married in haste, out of love and loyalty to her sister and baby Georg. Would she repent at leisure, transported several thousand kilometres to the opposite side of the continent, where Aleksi Stefanos was in command?