Kate Hewitt - Secret Heirs - Baby Scandal

‘Is it right for us to marry just because of the baby? What about the baby’s feelings? Should it grow up thinking it’s the mistake that forced us together?’

The pain and guilt of her own childhood poured from her heart, seeping into every word she said, but still he remained ramrod-straight, looking anywhere but at her. A small part of her wanted to tell him she knew what that was like, but lifelong guilt kept her silent. She couldn’t admit her part in her parents’ unhappy marriage—not out loud.

‘What do you want me to do? Declare my undying love for you?’ His voice was low, vibrating with anger. ‘You accepted my terms. You need this marriage and all it offers as much as I do.’

She balked at his mention of the deal he’d offered—the one she was prepared to take if it meant helping Sally get what she wanted. She still hadn’t told her sister yet. The thought of ringing her and telling her she could continue with IVF treatment was exciting, but explaining how it was going to be achieved was daunting. As was telling Sally of her own pregnancy. It was a conversation to be had face-to-face.

‘We can’t build a marriage on a child and a foundation of lust. What happens when that lust dies?’

She forced her voice to be strong and wished they weren’t surrounded by people of all nationalities, that this discussion was taking place in private—but maybe the restraint of being here was better.

He turned to look at her, his hands taking hold of her arms, forcing her to give him all her attention. Her skin burned where he touched her and a sizzle of undeniable attraction skittered down her spine. How could she find such a ruthless man so attractive?

‘Love dies too, Serena.’

His deep, accented words, said with such earnestness, forced her to search his eyes. They looked so black and solemn that a tingle of fear chased after the sizzle of attraction she’d tried so hard to ignore. The sombre tones of his voice left her in no doubt that he was talking from experience.

‘What happened?’ She wanted to reach for him, to soothe the pain which lingered in his eyes like dark shadows in the night.

He didn’t say anything, and nor did he break eye contact. Even when a particularly noisy party of tourists started posing for photos with Mount Lycabettus as a backdrop, intruding on their private moment, he remained rigidly silent.

He waited, and she hardly dared to breathe, sensing that the impenetrable barrier around him had opened just enough for her to slip through—if she dared.

‘You’ll find it on the internet, I’m sure.’

The spiked and curt words reminded her of the expression of regret she’d seen on his face yesterday, when he’d arrived from the office to find her working on her laptop. She hadn’t been searching for stories of him then, but knew that was what it must have looked like. What was in his past that was so bad? What was he avoiding?

Something akin to fear gripped her heart and she had to hear it from him. ‘I want you to tell me.’ Her voice was a whisper, but a firm and decisive one. He’d said this much and she couldn’t let him shut down on her now.

He let go of her and turned to stand looking out at the view. His profile was set in stern lines, but she moved towards him, her body so close to his they were almost touching. Almost.

‘I’d been here in Athens for two years and had put my every waking hour into Xanthippe Shipping. I’d made the money I wanted and more. Everything finally seemed to be going right—until my mother wrote to me.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said softly, placing her hand on his arm.

He looked at her, his fierce blue eyes a total contrast to the way he’d just spoken. ‘ Don’t you?’

The question hurt. It was prodding, as if to try and revive a dying flame. Memories of a childhood that had made her push men away as a young woman, wary of being hurt, rushed towards her in a stampede.

She shook her head.

‘No, of course you don’t. You had the happy home every child deserves.’ His brow furrowed.

He was too close now to her upsetting childhood, and her heart thumped so hard it blocked out the hum of tourists talking and laughing. There was no way she could tell him the truth. How could she say she’d loved him from the moment they met when he thought she’d only returned for financial gain? Hadn’t she confirmed his suspicions by accepting his offer to fund more IVF for Sally—accepting his marriage deal?

‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she whispered in a half-truth, desperate to look away from the accusation in his eyes but not daring to. ‘And that’s changing the subject. What happened, Nikos?’

She saw his jaw clench, the hard lines highlighting his cheekbones, his eyes hard and suspicious. ‘My mother’s “love” died when she found someone with more wealth, more able to give her all she wanted. She left me with my father. He didn’t care about my pain—just drank himself into oblivion.’

The harsh way he’d all but snarled the word love was not lost on her and she drew in a ragged breath, moving away from him, away from his contempt of the emotion she felt so strongly for him.

* * *

Nikos stood looking at the view of St George’s chapel. The sun was bouncing off its white walls as it sat perched on top of the tree-lined mountain opposite. This was supposed to be a day out. A time for Serena to see a place she’d expressed an interest in—a place that was part of his child’s legacy. Instead it had turned to deep and unwelcome exploration of his past.

He sensed Serena by his side, the heat of her body reminding him of the passion they’d shared last night. That passion would be the foundation for their marriage. Serena had shown her true self in accepting his deal. She would do whatever it took to get what she wanted. Love hadn’t been a part of what they’d shared those few weeks on Santorini, and it certainly wouldn’t be a part of their marriage. Lust was all he could offer—because he couldn’t give more. Not ever.

‘My mother walked away without a backward glance.’ He said the words aloud, not realising he had done so until he felt Serena move at his side. He looked down at her. ‘We are better off marrying for our convenience—and for the baby, Serena. Emotions are messy and complicated things.’

He’d wondered initially at Serena’s motives when she’d returned—had been sure that she’d discovered his true identity, that she was looking for whatever it was his mother had found in the man she’d left his father for. That fear hadn’t dissipated. Still doubts niggled. But one thing was certain. He could not and would not be a victim of love again. He’d care for Serena in every way possible, but never again did he want to expose himself to such rejection, such heartache.

Nothing else in his life compared to the pain he’d carried since the day his mother had left. Her words still haunted him, killing any of the attempts to make amends she’d made over the years.

Serena moved away from him, walking among the scattered stones as they lay in the parched earth and for a moment he couldn’t move. Then she turned and smiled so bright he wondered if he had imagined all they’d just spoken about.

She held out her hand to him. ‘There is more to see?’

He was grateful for the change in subject and, slamming the door of his past shut, he walked over and took her hand.

The wonder on her face as she walked towards the Parthenon a short time later held his vulnerable emotions captive. He watched as she reached out and touched the cream stone that had been there for thousands of years, and despite their earlier conversation he was glad he’d chosen to spend the day with her.