continued in a harder voice, ‘if you did your duty to provide me with an heir and marry.’
‘You know I never plan to marry.’
‘Your duty—’
‘I refuse to marry a woman I love,’ Lukas intervened flatly, ‘and I refuse to marry without love. It would not be fair to the woman.’
‘There are plenty of women who would marry without love,’ Theo scoffed.
Lukas suppressed a sigh. They’d had this conversation many times.
‘Scheming gold-diggers or materialistic snobs,’ he dismissed. ‘Hardly suitable material.’ The thought of not providing an heir for the Petrakides empire was an uncomfortable one, but he knew his limits. Marriage was outside of them. As was love.
‘Fine,’ Theo said, willing to let go of this thorny subject for a moment. ‘Still, the English bit goes.’ He stared his son down. ‘And soon.’
Lukas gazed at his father. ‘There is no question that she will leave when the child’s paternity is determined,’ he agreed coolly. ‘There can be no place for her in our lives. But until then it would benefit us all to keep her sweet.’ He busied himself with some papers on his desk. ‘Now, I have work to do, Papa. I will see you at dinner.’
Theo glanced sharply at his son, but with a jerky nod he left the room.
Lukas swivelled to stare out of the window. The aquamarine sea stretched flatly to an endless horizon—yet he knew that only a few miles out there would be boats. Boats disguised as fishing vessels, but filled with photographers and journalists clamouring for an exclusive shot of Lukas with his illicit family. Photographs which would then be sold to tabloids around the world, to make the Petrakides name raked through the mud and the dirt once again.
He sighed, thrusting a hand through his hair. He understood the need to avoid bad press—God knew, the Petrakides family had had enough of it.
He also understood that Rhiannon Davies would have to go. As his father had said, her presence could only complicate matters, and he didn’t want a Petrakides child—any child—attached to a woman whose motives in staying were at best uncertain, at worst suspect.
What did she want? he wondered, not for the first time. She didn’t want to leave the child; she didn’t want to stay. Lukas still wasn’t sure if she was playing a high-stakes game, or if she simply didn’t know what she wanted.
Hardly a woman to trust with a child, he thought in derisive dismissal. With a child’s love.
Still, he had use of her, as did the child. He wasn’t ready to release her just yet.
* * *
THAT NIGHT FOR dinner Rhiannon dressed in the outfit she’d worn yesterday to the reception—now slightly crumpled, but still clean at least.
She’d fed Annabel in the kitchen, under the eye of Adeia, the kindly housekeeper and cook. After giving the baby a bath in the huge tub in her adjoining bathroom, she’d put Annabel to sleep in the middle of the wide bed in her room. There were no travel cots, but Lukas had assured her one would be found by the next day.
Dinner, she’d been informed, was in the villa’s dining room, and she was expected there at half past seven.
Rhiannon drew in a shaky breath and examined her reflection.
Her hair had turned wild and curly due to the moisture in the sea air, and no amount of brushing or spray would tame it. She’d abandoned any pretence at styling it, and settled for a slick of lipstick, a dab of perfume, and her old outfit.
It wasn’t as if she were trying to impress either Theo or Lukas. Though she dreaded seeing the older man again. His words rang in her ears.
Bastard.
That was all he saw Annabel as. What would he think, she wondered with wry bitterness, if he knew she was illegitimate too?
What would Lukas think? Would he judge her an unfit mother? Damn her for the circumstances of her birth, as Theo seemed willing to do?
Rhiannon threw back her shoulders, her mouth hardening into a grim line. That wasn’t going to happen. Because she was going to stick around. No matter what they said. No matter what they did.
After checking that Annabel was deeply asleep—exhausted, no doubt, by the upheavals of the day—Rhiannon headed downstairs. The wide, sweeping staircase led to a tiled foyer flanked with mahogany double doors that led to the villa’s reception rooms.
Lukas came into the foyer from one of the rooms at the sound of her heels clicking on the tiles. He wore a light grey button-down shirt, expensive and well made, and charcoal trousers cinched with a leather belt. He looked comfortable, walking with the innate arrogant grace of someone who was used to being watched, admired, obeyed.
He swept her with a cool gaze that made Rhiannon uncomfortably aware of her unruly hair, her crumpled outfit. Her position weak, helpless.
Hopeless.
Who was she kidding? She might put on a face of bravado, but that was all it was. False courage. If Lukas didn’t want her here, there was nothing she could do to convince him to let her stay.
She swallowed, realising afresh how out of her depth she truly was.
Out of her mind.
Lukas said nothing, merely took her arm to lead her into the dining room.
The table was set, and Theo stood by the wide windows that overlooked the shoreline. The stars were just visible in a lavender sky, and a few lights twinkled on the water.
‘Are there boats out there?’ Rhiannon asked, moving closer to the window to look.
‘Journalists,’ Theo replied flatly. ‘Hoping to get a good photo. They know if they come too close we can prosecute.’ He spoke slowly, deliberately, as if she were stupid. Rhiannon bit her lip, bit down the annoyance at the man’s condescension, and turned to Lukas.
‘Have they followed you out here already?’
‘They’ve followed you,’ Theo interjected. He smiled, but his eyes were hard. ‘Something to do with what you said, I should think. My son’s baby.’
Rhiannon flushed at the condemnation in his tone. ‘I’m sorry. I was desperate, and I didn’t realise the tabloids would make such a fuss.’
Theo looked unconvinced. ‘Didn’t you? Haven’t you read the papers before? The Petrakides family has, alas, been mentioned many times before.’
‘Have they?’ Rhiannon lifted her chin, her eyes shooting amber sparks. ‘I do not read those kinds of papers, Mr Petrakides.’
Theo’s mouth hardened, and he jerked a shoulder towards the table. ‘Shall we?’
He was gentleman enough to wait to sit until she was seated, but Rhiannon didn’t like the way he so quickly and coldly assessed her. Dismissed her. Lukas, she feared, felt the same way. He was simply better at hiding his feelings.
It
