memories of his mother—and many of the women in between—made him wary. He knew all about lies and subterfuge because they’d been woven into the fabric of his life. He knew what people would do for money. He had learnt caution at an early age because he’d needed to. It had protected him from some of the darker things which life had thrown at him and Pavlos, so why shouldn’t he seek its protection now?
‘You’re right, of course. Contraception is the responsibility of the man and the woman,’ he said. ‘But that still doesn’t answer my question with any degree of satisfaction. How do I know—or you know—that I’m the father of your baby?’
‘Because...’
He saw her bite her lip as if she was trying to hold the words back but then they came tumbling out in a passionate torrent.
‘Because I’ve only ever had sex once before!’ she declared. ‘One man, one time, years ago—and it was a disaster, okay? Does that tell you everything you need to know, Ariston?’
He felt a dark and primitive rush of pleasure. It all added up now. Her soft sense of wonder when he’d made love to her. Her disbelieving cries as she had come. These all spoke of a woman achieving satisfaction for the first time, not someone who’d been around the sexual block a few times. But what if she was lying? What if she was simply using the skills of an actress, learnt at the knee of her mother? His mouth hardened. Surely he owed it to himself to demand a DNA test—if not now, then at least when the child was born.
But her waxy complexion and tired eyes were making him stall and he was surprised by another wave of compassion. He forced himself to sift through the available facts and the possible solutions. Despite her lack of qualifications, she wasn’t stupid. She must realise that he’d come at her with all guns blazing if he discovered he’d been bamboozled by a false paternity claim.
He glanced around the shabby little room, trying to impose some order on his whirling thoughts. Fatherhood had never been on his agenda. He accepted that he was a difficult man who didn’t believe in love, who didn’t trust women and who fiercely guarded his personal space—and those factors had ruled out the forced intimacy of marriage. The desire to carry on his own bloodline had always been noticeable by its absence and he’d always supposed that Pavlos would be the one to provide the necessary heirs to take the Kavakos empire forward.
But this disclosure altered everything. In a few short minutes he could feel something changing inside him, because if this was his child then he wanted a part of it. A big part of it. His heart clenched. For how could it be any other way? Why would he not want to stake a claim on his own flesh and blood? He looked into Keeley’s wary eyes and thought this must be the last thing she wanted—an unplanned baby with a man she loathed. And no money, he reminded himself grimly. Her circumstances were more impecunious than most. So why not offer her the kind of inducement which would suit them both?
‘So when were you going to tell me?’ he demanded. ‘Or weren’t you going to bother?’
‘Of course I was. I was just...waiting for the right time,’ she said, with the voice of someone who had been putting off the inevitable. ‘Only it never seemed to come.’
He frowned. ‘Why don’t you sit down in that chair? You don’t look very comfortable standing there and you really should be comfortable, because we need to talk.’
Her chin jutted forward but she didn’t defy him, though he noticed that she stared straight ahead as she made her way towards a battered armchair. Yet despite her unwashed hair and sloppy grey sweat-pants, Ariston couldn’t help his body from reacting as she walked past him. He could feel the tautness and the tension hardening his muscles and the instinctive tightening low in his abdomen. What was it about her which made him want to impale her whenever she came near?
She sank down onto the chair and lifted up her face to his. ‘So talk,’ she said.
He nodded, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he looked at her. ‘I don’t imagine you wanted to be a mother,’ he began.
She shrugged. ‘Not yet, no.’
‘So how about I free you of that burden?’
She must have misunderstood him because her arms instantly clamped themselves around her belly as if she was shielding her unborn child and suddenly she was yelling at him. ‘If you’re suggesting—’
‘What I’m suggesting,’ he interrupted, ‘is that I have you moved from this miniature hell-hole into a luxury apartment of your choice. That you are attended by the finest physicians in the land, who will monitor your pregnancy and make sure that you both maintain tip-top health. And after the birth...’
‘After the birth...what?’ she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if she’d suddenly got an inkling of what he was about to say.
‘You give up your baby.’ He gave a cold smile. ‘Or rather, you give it to me.’
There was a pause. ‘Could you...could you repeat that?’ she said faintly. ‘Just so I can be sure I haven’t misunderstood your meaning.’
‘I will raise the child,’ he said. ‘And you can name your price.’
She didn’t speak for a moment and he was taken aback by the naked fury which blazed from her green eyes as she scrambled to her feet. For a minute he thought she was about to hurl herself across the room and attack him and wasn’t there a part of him which wanted her to go right ahead? Because a fighting woman was a woman who could be subdued in all kinds of ways and suddenly he found himself wanting to kiss her again. But she didn’t. She stood there, her hands on her hips, her breath coming quick and fast.
‘You’re offering to buy my baby?’
‘That’s a rather melodramatic way of putting it, Keeley. Think of it as a transaction—the most reasonable course of action in the circumstances.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘I’m giving you the opportunity to make a fresh start.’
‘Without my baby?’
‘A baby will tie you down. I can give this child everything it needs,’ he said, deliberately allowing his gaze to drift around the dingy little room. ‘You cannot.’
‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Ariston,’ she said, her hands clenching. ‘You might have all the houses and yachts and servants in the world, but you have a great big hole where your heart should be. You’re a cold and unfeeling brute who would deny your baby his mother—and therefore you’re incapable of giving this child the thing it needs more than anything else!’
‘Which is?’
‘Love!’
Ariston felt his body stiffen. He loved his brother and once he’d loved his mother, but he was aware of his limitations. No, he didn’t do the big showy emotion he suspected she was talking about and why should he, when he knew the brutal heartache it could cause? Yet something told him that trying to defend his own position was pointless. She would fight for this child, he realised. She would fight with all the strength she possessed, and that was going to complicate things. Did she imagine he was going to accept what she’d just told him and play no part in it? Politely dole out payments and have sporadic weekend meetings with his own flesh and blood? Or worse, no meetings at all. He met the green blaze of
