‘So Annabel’s own mother didn’t bother notifying the father of her child, but you did?’
Rhiannon met his gaze directly. ‘Yes.’
‘Why come all this way? Why not call?’
‘I tried. Your receptionist led me to believe you wouldn’t get my messages. And you didn’t, did you?’
Lukas shrugged. ‘I’m an important man, Miss Davies. I receive too many messages, solicitations.’
‘No doubt.’ She didn’t bother to hide the contempt in her voice. ‘Too important to consider your own daughter.’
‘She’s not mine.’
‘Then why are you here?’ Rhiannon demanded. ‘Why did you come back? Did you suddenly conveniently remember that you did go to Naxos after all?’
His eyes blazed silver—an electric look that sizzled between them so that Rhiannon took an involuntary step back.
‘I told you I did not lie.’
Rhiannon believed him. So why was he here? What did he want?
‘You took the chance,’ Lukas continued, ‘that I would want to know this child, and no doubt support it.’
‘I didn’t come here for money,’ Rhiannon snapped. ‘As I believe I’ve said before.’
‘Not blackmail money,’ Lukas replied, unfazed by her anger. ‘Maintenance. If this Annabel were indeed my child, you would certainly be within your rights to think that I would support her financially.’
Rhiannon was disconcerted by his flat, businesslike tone. Was it all about money to people like him? ‘That’s true,’ she agreed carefully. ‘But that isn’t why I came. If I’d just wanted money I would have filed a court order. I came because I believe children should know their parents. If there was any chance you might love your daughter—that you might want her…’ Her voice wavered dangerously and she gulped back the emotion that threatened to rise up in a tide of regret and sorrow. ‘I had to take that chance.’ She didn’t want to reveal so much to Lukas, to a man who regarded her as if she were a problem to be resolved, an annoyance to be dealt with.
Lukas stared at her, his eyes narrowed, yet filled with the cold light of comprehension. He looked as though he’d finally figured it out, and he scorned the knowledge.
‘You didn’t come for money,’ he said slowly, almost to himself. ‘You came for freedom.’
‘I told you—’
‘To give this baby away,’ he finished flatly, and every word was a condemnation, a judgement.
‘I want to do what’s best for Annabel!’ Rhiannon protested, her voice turning shrill. ‘Whatever that is.’
‘A convenient excuse,’ he dismissed.
Rhiannon clenched her fists, fury boiling through her. Yet mixed with it was guilt. There was a shred of truth in Lukas’s assessment. She had been prepared to give Annabel up…but only because it was the right thing to do.
It had to be.
‘There’s no need for this,’ she said in a steely voice. ‘So why don’t you just go? And so will I.’ She turned back to the sliding glass door.
‘No one is going anywhere.’
The command was barked out so harshly that Rhiannon stopped, stiffened from shock. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You will not go,’ Lukas told her shortly. ‘This matter has not been resolved.’
‘This matter,’ Rhiannon retorted, ‘has nothing to do with you!’
‘It has everything to do with me,’ he replied grimly, ‘since you have involved me in such a public way. You won’t leave until I’ve had some answers.’ He paused, reining in his temper with obvious effort. ‘Answers you’ve been looking for too, perhaps?’
Rhiannon glared at him, but she didn’t move. He was right, she knew. He was involved now, and that was her fault. She owed him a few more minutes of her time at least.
‘Why do you think your friend lied?’ he asked abruptly.
Rhiannon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. That’s why I didn’t think she had lied—she’d no reason. She was dying. I thought she’d want me to know Annabel’s father, even if she never intended for me to get in touch with him.’
‘She told you not to?’
‘No, she didn’t say anything about that. She just…’ She swallowed, forced herself to continue. ‘She just asked me to care for her. Love her.’ Her throat ached and she looked down.
‘A mother’s dying request?’
Rhiannon couldn’t tell if he was being snide or not. She gulped. ‘Yes.’ She looked up at him. ‘She had nothing to gain by lying. I honestly think she believed she was with Lukas Petrakides…with you.’
Lukas stiffened, his expression becoming like that of a predator that had scented danger. There was no fear, only awareness.
‘But we both know it wasn’t me.’ His mouth twisted wryly, but there was a hard edge of bitter realisation in his eyes. ‘So it had to have been someone else…someone who told her my name.’
Rhiannon shook her head in confusion. ‘Who would do that?’
Lukas muttered an expletive in Greek under his breath. ‘I should have considered it,’ he said, his face hardening into resolve. ‘He’s done it before.’
Rhiannon felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice. She didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to cross over. She just wanted to tiptoe quietly away.
‘Who are you talking about?’ she asked faintly, and when Lukas met her gaze his face was full of grim realisation.
‘My nephew.’
‘YOUR nephew?’ Rhiannon stared at him in blank incredulity. He looked angry, determined. Hard. ‘But how…? I mean why…?’
She’d come here with the assumption—the belief—that Lukas Petrakides was Annabel’s father. A man of integrity, honour, responsibility. A man who would love her.
She wasn’t prepared for alternatives.
She didn’t want them.
‘Why would your nephew use your name?’ she finally asked as Lukas continued to stare, arms folded, his expression implacable. ‘Who is he, anyway?’
‘My nephew, Christos Stefanos, has used my name before.’
