Rebecca Winters - Greek Bachelors - Bound By His Heir - Carrying the Greek's Heir / An Heir to Bind Them / The Greek's Tiny Miracle

‘How do you think?’ questioned Bridget, followed by a quick demonstration of her explosive laugh. ‘I got a call from the man himself late last night. He woke me out of a deep sleep, but he’s so full of the Greek blarney that I told him I didn’t mind a bit! He said he needs you at his side and he’s offering to compensate me so that you can leave early. Why, I can get ten shop assistants for the money he’s giving me—and still have plenty left over for the extension for the tea room! He’s a very generous man, Ellie—and you’re a very lucky woman.’

Ellie felt sick. Lucky? She felt about as lucky as someone who’d just tossed their winning lottery ticket onto a roaring fire. But she wasn’t stupid. Bridget didn’t care about her giving a full four weeks’ notice, because Alek’s offer had wiped out all other considerations. What price is friendship or loyalty in the face of all that hard cash? Was that what made him so cynical? she wondered—knowing everything had a price tag and if he paid enough, he could get exactly what he wanted?

‘I’ve got a girl coming in from the village tomorrow,’ continued Bridget chattily. ‘It’s all sorted.’

Ellie wondered how her boss would react if she told her the truth. We’ve only had sex the once and we weren’t supposed to see each other again. He’s only marrying me because there’s a baby on the way.

But what good would that do? Why disillusion someone for the sake of it? Surely it would be best to repay Bridget’s kindness by letting her think this was what she really wanted. Oughtn’t she at least act out the fairy tale—even if she didn’t believe in it herself?

‘It’s very sweet of you to be so understanding, Bridget,’ she said.

‘Nonsense. It’s an absolute pleasure to see you so settled and happy. Come round to the cottage tonight and we’ll have a slap-up meal, to celebrate.’

After work, Ellie went upstairs to her little flat and, sure enough, there was a text message waiting on her phone.

I’ve sorted things out with your boss. Car arriving for you at eleven tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re ready to leave. Alek.

If she’d thought it would make any difference, she might have been tempted to ping back a stinging reply, but Ellie was too tired to try. Why waste energy fighting the inevitable?

She packed up her meagre wardrobe, then went round to Bridget’s hobbit-sized cottage for a vegetarian goulash. Afterwards, as she walked home in the warm summer evening, she looked up at the star-spangled sky with a feeling of wistfulness. She was going to miss the beauty of the forest—with all those cute ponies which wandered around and then stood in the middle of the road, regularly bringing all the traffic to a standstill as they swished their feathery tails. She’d always dreamed she might one day live in a big city, but never in circumstances like this. Her future lay ahead like a big uncharted map, and she felt scared.

Yet the sleep she fell into was deep and she was startled awake by the sound of a car horn beeping from beneath her open window. She staggered out of bed and hastily pulled on a robe. She had overslept and the driver was obviously here.

Except that it wasn’t the driver. Ellie waited until the sickness had passed before poking her head out of the window, her breath catching in her throat when she saw Alek himself. He was leaning against a dark green sports car and it was just like the first time she’d seen him—when he’d been off duty in the spa hotel and she’d been trying very hard not to stare.

Dark shades covered his eyes and faded jeans clung to the muscular contours of his long legs. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to display powerful forearms and his hair glinted blue-black in the bright sunshine. Liquid desire began to unfold in the base of her belly—warm and unwanted and much too potent.

‘Oh,’ she said coolly, because she didn’t want to feel this way when she looked at him. She wanted to feel nothing . ‘It’s you.’

Lifting up his shades, he narrowed his eyes against the bright light. ‘I’ve had better greetings,’ he said drily. ‘Why don’t you open the door and I’ll come up and collect your stuff?’

‘There’s a key on the top ledge,’ she said, withdrawing her head and grabbing some clothes as she headed for the bathroom. By the time she emerged, washed and dressed—he was standing in the middle of her sitting room, not looking in the least bit repentant.

She slammed her soap bag onto the table and turned on him, her growing temper fuelled by the arrogant look on his face. ‘How dare you ring up my boss and offer her money to release me from my contract, when I told you I wanted to work out my notice?’ she demanded. ‘Does it give you a kick to be so controlling ?’

‘If you can give me a single valid objection,’ he drawled, ‘other than the mild wounding to your ego—then I’ll listen. But you can’t, can you, Ellie? You’ve been sick every morning and you look like hell, but you still want to carry on. Not the greatest advertisement for a cake shop, is it—unless you’re trying to drive away the customers?’ He glanced down at the two battered suitcases which were standing in the middle of the floor. ‘This all you’ve got?’

‘No, there are several Louis Vuitton trunks next door,’ she said sarcastically.

He picked them up as easily as if they were full of feathers, rather than the entire contents of her world. ‘Come on. The car’s waiting.’

She took the keys downstairs to the shop, where Bridget was showing the new assistant all the different cupcakes. The Strawberry Shortcake and the Lemon Lovely. The Chocolate Nemesis and the bestselling Cherry Whirl. It was farewell to a simple life and a great leap into a sophisticated unknown, and Ellie’s chest felt tight with emotion as the Irishwoman hugged her, before waving her off in the shiny car.

The car roof was down and the noise of the traffic made conversation difficult but that was a relief because Ellie had no desire to talk and, besides, what would she say? How did you start a conversation with a man you barely knew in circumstances such as these? Staring out of the window, she watched as trees and fields gave way to tall buildings which shimmered in the summer sunshine like distant citadels.

Their journey took them through South Kensington, a place she’d once visited on a school trip. Thirty-five boisterous children had spent the morning in the Natural History Museum and afterwards had been allowed to descend on the museum shop. Ellie had used all her pocket money to buy her mother an expensive little bar of soap in the shape of a dinosaur. But the gift had failed to please. Apparently, it had reminded her—yet again—of all the things which were missing in her life. Ellie remembered her mother staring at the tiny bar as if it had been contaminated. Her voice had been bitter, her face contorted with a rage which was never far from the surface. If your father had married me, you could have afforded to buy me something which was bigger than a walnut!

And wasn’t that memory reason enough to be grateful that Alek wasn’t washing his hands of his responsibilities? Despite his authoritarian attitude, he was stepping up to the mark and shouldering his share of the life they had inadvertently created. He wasn’t planning to never pay a penny towards his baby’s upkeep, or never bother keeping in touch, was he? She stole a glance at his rugged profile. He wasn’t all bad. And following on from that wave of appreciation came another, which was rather more unwelcome, especially when his thigh tensed over the accelerator. He was so unbelievably hot and she hadn’t really stopped to think about what the reality of that might be, when she was closeted together with him in his apartment. Could desire be switched off, like a tap? Or would close contact only increase her awareness of just how gorgeous the father of her unborn child was?