Читать книгу The Marakaios Baby - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

‘SOMEONE’S HERE TO see you, sir.’

Leo glanced up from his laptop at his assistant Elena, who stood in the doorway of his office on the Marakaios estate. He’d been going over some figures for a new deal with a large North American restaurant chain, and it took a few seconds for Elena’s words to penetrate.

‘Someone? Who is it, Elena?’

‘A woman. She wouldn’t give her name, but she said it was urgent.’

Leo frowned. His office was on the family compound in central Greece—the middle of nowhere, as Margo had so acerbically reminded him. He didn’t get unexpected visitors to his office here. Ever.

‘Well, why on earth wouldn’t she give her name?’ he asked as he pushed back from his chair.

‘I don’t know. But she’s well-dressed and well-spoken. I thought perhaps...’

Elena trailed off, blushing, and Leo took her meaning. She’d thought this woman might be one of his lovers. Only he hadn’t taken a lover in months—not since he’d last seen Margo.

And he very much doubted Margo had come all the way to Greece to see him.

Leo’s mouth twisted cynically at the thought. It had been over four months since he’d seen her—over four months since he’d walked out of her apartment with that ring in his pocket. Four months since he’d let himself think of her. That part of his life was over.

‘Whoever this woman is, Elena, I find it decidedly odd that she wouldn’t give her name.’

‘She seemed very insistent...’

With a sigh, Leo strode to the door. ‘I’ll see her, then,’ he said, and walked briskly out of his office.

It wasn’t until he reached the foyer and saw the woman standing there amidst the leather sofas and sleek coffee tables that his step slowed. His heart seemed to still. And an icy anger came over him like a frozen shell.

He folded his arms. ‘If I’d known it was you I would have told Elena to send you away.’

‘Please, Leo...’ Margo said quietly.

She looked awful—gaunt, with dark shadows under her eyes. She wore a black wool coat that made her ivory skin look pale...too pale.

Leo frowned. ‘What do you want?’

‘To talk to you.’ She glanced at Elena, who had gone back to her desk and was ostentatiously busying herself, but was of course listening to every word. ‘Privately.’

Leo opened his mouth to tell her they had nothing to say to one another, but then he paused. He didn’t want to have this conversation in public—didn’t want anyone, even his assistant, to know his private affairs.

With a terse nod he indicated the corridor. ‘Come to my office, then,’ he said, and without waiting for her to follow he turned and strode back the way he had come.

He watched as Margo came in and carefully closed the door behind her. She looked bruised and exhausted, as if a breath of wind would knock her right over.

‘You don’t look very well,’ he said flatly.

She turned to him with the ghost of a smile. ‘I don’t feel very well. Do you mind if I sit down?’

He indicated one of the two chairs in front of his desk and she sank into it with a sigh of weary relief.

‘Well?’ Leo asked, biting off the single syllable. ‘What do you want?’

She looked up at him, and he felt a ripple of uneasy shock at the resignation in her eyes. It was so different from the way he’d usually seen her—all elegant polish and sassy sophistication. This was a different Margo...one with a layer stripped away.

‘Leo,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m pregnant.’

He blinked, the words taking him totally by surprise.

She said nothing, waiting for his reply.

‘And how does this concern me?’ he asked coolly.

She held his iron gaze. ‘The baby is yours.’

‘And you know that how? Do I need to remind you of what you told me four months ago?’

‘No.’ She hesitated, her gaze moving away from his. ‘The other...man...he can’t be the father,’ she said at last.

A rage so fierce it felt like an earthquake shaking his insides took hold of him. ‘Don’t,’ he said in a voice like a whip-crack, ‘talk to me of him. Ever.’

‘This baby is yours, Leo.’

‘You can’t know that.’

She sighed, leaning her head back against the chair. ‘I do know it,’ she said wearily. ‘Utterly. But if you like I’ll have a paternity test done. I can prove it beyond a doubt.’

He stared at her, shaken more than he wanted to admit or reveal that she sounded so certain. ‘I thought you didn’t want children,’ he said, after a long, taut moment.

‘I didn’t,’ she answered.

‘Then I’m surprised you didn’t just deal with this on your own,’ he snapped.

She put a hand to her throat, the gesture making her seem even more fragile. Vulnerable.

‘Is that what you would have wanted?’

‘No.’ He realised he meant it utterly. A child...his child, if she wasn’t lying. Yet how could he trust a word she said? ‘Why have you come here and told me?’ he asked instead. ‘Do you want money?’

‘No, not particularly.’

He laughed at that—a cold, sharp sound. ‘Not particularly?’

‘I admit having this child will be hard for me financially. But I didn’t come here to ask for a hand-out. I came because I thought you should know. You’d want to know.’

He sank into his chair, the reality of it crashing over him as he raked his hands through his hair. ‘Theos, Margo. This is a lot to take in.’

‘I know. I’ve had three months to process it—’

‘You’ve known for that long and you are only telling me now?’

Colour touched her cheeks faintly. ‘I’ve been very ill. Extreme morning sickness, apparently.’

‘Are you taking medication?’ he asked sharply, and she nodded.

‘It helps a little.’ She sighed and shifted in her seat. ‘The truth is, Leo, I didn’t know how you would respond, or if you’d even see me. And I wanted to tell you in person. But with being so sick I couldn’t face travelling all this way until now.’

He nodded. It all sounded so very reasonable and yet he still felt angry. He should have known. He should have had the choice to be involved from the beginning. And now...?

‘If this is indeed my child,’ he told her, laying his hands flat on the desk, ‘there is no question of my not being involved.’

‘I know.’

‘And I don’t mean some weekend arrangement,’ Leo continued, knowing he meant it even though he was still reeling from her news. ‘I won’t be the kind of father who sees his child only on a Saturday afternoon.’

‘No,’ Margo agreed quietly. ‘I don’t want that either.’

‘Don’t you?’

He gazed at her narrowly for a moment. He still didn’t understand why she was here. She hadn’t possessed enough honour to be faithful to him, so why would she care whether he knew about his own child or not?

‘I would have expected you to have had a termination,’ he said abruptly. ‘Or, if you wanted the child, to pass it off as this other man’s.’

She winced at that. ‘Clearly you don’t have a very high opinion of me.’

‘And you think I should?’

‘No.’ She let out a little defeated sigh. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘So why didn’t you do either of those things, Margo?’

It was the first time he’d said her name since he’d seen her again, and it caused him a sudden, surprising flash of pain. He clenched his hands into fists, then deliberately flattened them out, resting them again on his desk.

‘Because I am not, no matter what you think, completely without morals,’ she replied with a bit of her old spirit. ‘I want my child, and I want my child to know its father.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And more than that I want my child to have a loving, stable home. A home where it knows it’s safe, where its parents are, loving and protecting. Always.’

Her dark brown eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire, an utter conviction.

‘And how,’ Leo asked after a pause, ‘do you suppose that is going to work?’

‘That’s the other thing I want,’ Margo said, still holding his gaze, her eyes like burning coals in her pale face. ‘I want you to marry me.’

* * *

In another situation, another life, Margo might have laughed at the way Leo’s expression slackened with surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that—and why would he? The last time he’d seen her she’d sent him away with a scornful rejection, told him lies of infidelity that she’d known would make him hate her. And here she was now, with a proposal of her own.

‘You must,’ Leo said, his voice like ice, ‘be joking.’

‘Do you think I’d come all the way to Greece just to make a joke?’ Margo asked quietly.

Leo stood up, the movement abrupt. He paced in front of the window that overlooked the Marakaios olive groves, now stark and bare in winter, which produced Greece’s finest olive oil.

‘Your proposal,’ he said, his teeth clenched and the word a sneer, ‘is offensive.’

‘I mean it sincerely—’

He cut her off, his voice now low and pulsating with fury. ‘The last time I saw you, you told me you didn’t want marriage or children.’

She gestured to the gently swelling bump that was just barely visible under her coat. ‘Things have changed.’

‘Not that much. Not for me.’

‘Don’t you want to know your own child?’

‘Who says I won’t? Who says I won’t sue for custody?’

Her stomach plunged with fear at that, but she forced herself to stay calm.

‘And do you think that would be in the best interest of our baby, Leo?’

He sat back down in his chair, raking his hands through his hair. With his head lowered she could see the strangely vulnerable nape of his neck, the momentary slump of his shoulders, and everything in her ached.

‘I’m sorry, Leo, for springing this on you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve thought long and hard over these last few months about what is best for our baby, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s to live in a stable home with two parents.’

It hadn’t been an easy decision to make, but Margo’s own sorry history made her wary of going it alone as her mother had. Just like her, her mother had had no friends, no family, no safety net. And she’d lost everything.

Margo would not subject her child to the same risk.

He lifted his head, his eyes flashing although the set of his mouth was grim, bleak. ‘Even two parents who don’t love each other? Who have absolutely no reason whatsoever to respect or trust each other?’

She flinched slightly. ‘I respect you, Leo.’

‘You’ve had a funny way of showing it, then.’

She should tell him, Margo knew, that she’d made up the other man. Any hope of a marriage that was amicable at least was impossible with that perceived betrayal between them. But she was afraid Leo wouldn’t believe her if she told him now, and even if he did believe her he would want to know why she had told such an outrageous and damaging lie. The answer to that question was to admit her own fear, and that was something she was not ready to do.

‘I know you don’t respect me,’ she said.

She clenched her hands in her lap and fought another wave of nausea. The sickness had eased a bit in the last few weeks, but she still felt as if she had to drag herself through each day.

‘I know you don’t trust me. I hope that maybe, in time, I can win back both your respect and your trust. But this marriage would be for the sake of our child, Leo. To give our baby the opportunity of a stable home. And even if we don’t love each other we’ll both love this child.’

‘So you’re willing to enter a cold, loveless union, all for the sake of a baby you professed to not even want?’

Another deep breath and she met his gaze without a flinch. ‘Yes.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Why would I be here, then?’ she asked quietly.

‘You want something. Are you in trouble? Did this other man throw you over? Do you need money?’

‘I told you before, I’m not asking for a hand-out.’

‘You also said,’ Leo reminded her ruthlessly, ‘that having this baby would be a struggle financially.’

‘A struggle, yes, but not impossible. I could do it. I’ve thought about doing it,’ she continued, determined to make him believe her, even if he didn’t—couldn’t—understand her motives. ‘I thought very hard about raising this child on my own and not even telling you I was pregnant.’

‘And yet you now want me to trust you?’

‘I didn’t choose to do that, Leo,’ Margo said, her voice rising. She strove to level it; giving in to temper now would not help her cause. ‘I knew that you needed to know, and that our child needed more. Two parents. Stability, safety—’

‘You don’t think you could give this child those things on your own?’

‘No. Not for certain. I don’t...I don’t have a lot of friends, and no family. This baby needs more than just me. He or she needs a father.’

‘If I am the father.’

‘Please...’

She closed her eyes, waves of both nausea and fatigue crashing over here. Coming all this way, dealing with the plane and the rental car and the endless travel, had completely exhausted her.

She summoned what little strength she had left and made herself continue. ‘Let’s not argue. I want to marry you for the sake of our child. I’m not expecting you to love me or even like me after—after what I did, but I do hope we might act amicably towards each other for the sake of the baby. As for...’ She dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. ‘As for the usual benefits of a marriage...I’d understand if you chose to look elsewhere.’

Leo was silent and Margo risked a look up, wondering if he’d taken her meaning.

‘Am I to understand,’ he asked, his voice toneless, ‘that you are giving me permission to violate my marriage vows?’

‘It would be a marriage of convenience—’

‘But still a marriage.’

‘I’m trying to make this more amenable to you—’

‘To sweeten the deal?’ He cut across her, his voice hard. ‘It still tastes rancid to me.’

‘Please, Leo...’ She swallowed, hating the fact that she had to beg.

Maybe he was right. Perhaps she should go back to Paris, raise the baby on her own. Leo could be the sort of weekend father he claimed he didn’t want to be. Plenty of couples did it—why not them?

Because she was afraid of going it alone. Because she wanted more for her child. So much more than she’d had.

‘You ask so nicely,’ Leo said, his eyes glittering now.

He was furious with her, even after so many months apart. She wondered if his anger could ever be appeased. Perhaps if she told him the truth...if only he would believe it.

‘I’m willing to live in Greece,’ she continued, deciding she might as well say it all.

‘Even in the “middle of nowhere”?’

‘I’d leave my job at Achat. I’d want to stay home with the baby for the first few years, at least.’

‘I thought the whole “housewife routine” bored you to death?’

Once again he was throwing her words back in her face, and she couldn’t blame him. ‘It’s different now.’

‘So you’re saying you want those things? That life?’

He sounded incredulous—contemptuous, even—and bile surged in her stomach again. She swallowed past the metallic taste in her mouth. ‘I’m saying that I am willing,’ she answered. ‘It’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to make.’

‘So I’d be marrying a martyr? What an appealing thought.’

‘You’d be making a sacrifice too,’ Margo replied. ‘I understand that.’

‘I still don’t understand you,’ Leo answered.

‘Why is it so hard to believe I’d be willing to do this?’ Margo demanded. She could take only so much of his sneering disbelief. ‘Most women would.’

‘And yet,’ Leo reminded her softly, ‘you aren’t “most women”.’

She closed her eyes, felt herself sway.

She heard Leo’s sharply indrawn breath. ‘Margo, are you all right?’

His voice was rough, although with impatience or anxiety she couldn’t tell.

She forced her eyes open.

‘I’m just very tired, and still quite nauseous,’ she said levelly. ‘Obviously you need time to think about my—my proposal.’ Not the word she’d wished to use, and Leo’s mouth twisted cynically when she said it. There had been too many proposals already. ‘If you could let me know when you’ve decided...’

‘Are you actually intending to return to France?’ Leo asked sharply. ‘You’re in no condition to travel.’

‘I’ll spend the night at a local hotel,’ she answered, ‘and fly out of Athens tomorrow.’

‘No.’ Leo’s gaze was cold and implacable as he gave his order. ‘You’ll stay here. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.’

Which made her feel like Scheherazade, wondering if she was to be beheaded in the morning. Not the way she would have wanted to think about her marriage, but she’d reconciled herself, or thought she had, to what life with Leo would be like. She’d told herself it was worth it, that anything was worth it if she could give her baby a stable, loving home.

Even if you and Leo will never love each other?

Some sacrifices, she reminded herself grimly, were necessary. And maybe it would be better this way. Without the complication and risk of loving someone, you could never be hurt. Hopefully.

She rose from her chair, blinking back dizziness. Even so Leo must have seen something in her expression, for he reached forward and steadied her elbow with his hand. It was the first time he’d touched her in three months, since he’d made love to her against the window and then walked away.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, and shook off his hand. ‘Just a little dizzy when I stand up, that’s all.’

‘I’ll arrange for someone to show you to the guest suite,’ Leo said.

He was frowning, although over her dizziness or the whole situation she didn’t know. Couldn’t think. He was right: she really wasn’t in a fit state to travel.

She stood, swaying slightly, as Leo made arrangements on his phone. Then he ended the call and gave her one last, hard look.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said, and Margo knew it was a dismissal.