Читать книгу Greek Mavericks: At The Greek's Pleasure - Maisey Yates - Страница 19

CHAPTER NINE

“IF YOU DON’T mind me saying, Mr. Savas, you’ve been impossible the past few weeks.”

“I know you don’t mind saying it, Alethea,” he said, his tone hard as he looked at his computer screen, ignoring his assistant.

“It’s true,” she said, turning on her heel and walking out of the office. Apollo didn’t look up until the door had been shut firmly behind her.

Damned woman. She was always speaking the truth. He should fire her and hire someone stupid, beautiful and biddable.

When he thought the word beautiful, only one face came to mind. Of course, that woman was neither stupid, nor biddable. And she was persistently in his head.

Particularly in his dreams. He had woken up hard and reaching for her and she wasn’t there. Because he’d sent her away.

It had seemed necessary at the time. Like he needed to put distance between them. But the longer he spent without her, the more he questioned that decision.

After all, his issue had been his loss of control, but sending her away wasn’t any more controlled.

He had removed temptation from his path, but he had not successfully destroyed his lust for her. Because of that, he was suffering now.

There was no reason to do so, of course. She had nothing to do, nowhere to go. No job. He could have her back. Make her his.

The memory of her—the warm weight of her, her sweet scent, the way she sighed and said his name—haunted him. His days, his nights.

He was like an addict in desperate need of a fix. His hands shaking, sweat breaking out over his skin at the thought of tasting her lips. Feeling her softness beneath his palms.

She was his own personal designer drug. One taste had only sent him headlong into an addiction he couldn’t shake.

So maybe that was the problem. Cutting himself off completely would never work. It would only leave him wondering what it would be like to have her one last time. To lose himself inside her. To feel her delicate fingertips skimming over his back.

Just the thought sent a rush of need through him, so hot, so swift it nearly sent him down to his knees.

He had never felt like this before. Had never felt the need to keep and possess quite so fiercely.

As her father felt for your mother?

No. This was different. But one thing he knew: he had spent too many years denying this desire. He would not continue on.

He had been forced into denial, into poverty as a boy because of her father.

He would not subject himself to denial of his needs again.

He would not go one more night without her in his bed.

* * *

Elle was certain she was dying. It had been four weeks since she had left Greece. Four weeks since she had left Apollo, jobless, broken and humiliated. At least none of it had made it out into the public.

All anyone knew was that she had been replaced in her position at Matte. No one knew about her relationship with Apollo, and that was about the only thing saving her from melting into a puddle and sliding down the nearest drain, disappearing forever.

As upset as her father was about the entire situation, at least he didn’t blame her. Or, maybe she didn’t care. She had no idea how she felt. In only a month her entire life had been completely upended. She was avoiding her father. Avoiding dealing with that situation entirely.

Everything Apollo had said, all of the things he had told her that her father was guilty of, had settled down deep inside of her, and created just enough doubt about...everything that she wasn’t sure she could deal with right now.

And then, purely selfishly, there was the issue of her firing.

She stood up, the floor pitching beneath her as she rose from the couch for the first time in hours. Being unemployed was bad for her wardrobe choices. She had been wearing sweats for three days, because there was no one there to see her anyway. Yesterday she’d worn flannels with small foxes on them. Today, her pants had owls.

“Very sexy,” she said, crossing the length of the apartment and heading toward her fridge. She opened it up, immediately swamped by the smell coming from the inside. She wrinkled her nose. Something did not smell right. But it wasn’t like she kept that much food in the fridge.

She dry heaved, and slammed the door shut. She’d forced herself to eat when she’d first woken up, but nothing tasted like...anything. A broken heart did that to you, apparently. But any semblance of an appetite she might have was gone now.

She felt like she had licked the inside of the tennis shoe. Okay, that thought made her stomach feel even worse.

She heard a knock on her door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. People didn’t just gain admittance to the building, so it had to be someone who already lived here. Though, her neighbors didn’t speak to her, so she had no idea who it was or what it could be about.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed the apartment and undid the dead bolt and the chain, jerking it open just as she realized she should have looked through the peephole first.

But it was too late. The door was open, and standing there was her worst nightmare.

Suddenly, the vague sense of nausea intensified and she ran from the room, losing her breakfast violently in the bathroom.

“Elle?” Apollo’s voice was coming from behind her.

“Stay away,” she said, shakily getting to her feet. “I’m...horrifying.”

“You’re sick,” he said, his tone vaguely accusatory.

“I...wasn’t.” Except she had been—though not this sick—but off her game for the past few days.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” She wandered over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. “Who buzzed you in?”

“Some young woman who lives down the hall. Nose ring. Pink hair. She thought I looked trustworthy.”

Elle laughed. Bitter, hollow. “She thought you looked like you belonged in her bed. I would give her advanced warning, but I imagine she wouldn’t really care either way.”

“Sadly for her. I’m not on the market.”

“Okay. If you aren’t here to hook up with my down-the-hall neighbor, why are you here?”

“Would you believe that I came to check on you?”

“No.”

“I want you back.”

“No,” she said, her tone incredulous. “You can’t have me back. You were awful to me. You fired me.”

“And now you don’t have a job. I thought you might be interested in pursuing some sort of arrangement.”

She laughed, flinging her arms wide. “And here I am, vomiting as you ask me to come be your mistress. Really, there are probably more romantic settings than the bathroom.”

“You need money. You certainly need a way to occupy your time.”

“You’re despicable.”

She swept past him, trying to hold her head high. Difficult to do when the man who had made love to you then humiliated you had just seen you puke.

“Maybe,” he said, lingering in the door frame, bracing his hands against it. “But it doesn’t change the facts.”

“Oh,” she said, the world tilting slightly. “I need to lie down.”

He frowned. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

“I told you, I only just... That, in the bathroom.”

“You’ve been otherwise feeling well?”

“Not really. But then, you humiliated me and fired me. So I don’t know how well you could possibly expect me to feel.”

“I’m not talking about your emotions, I’m talking about physically.”

“No. I have not been feeling very well. But your emotions inform things like that.”

“Have you gotten your period?”

Her mouth dropped open. “What kind of question is that?”

“The only question that matters to me right now.”

Ice shivered down her spine. “I haven’t,” she said. “But that doesn’t... It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re here vomiting and looking pale, you haven’t had your period in the past month and you don’t think that means anything.”

“We...”

“Were not very careful.”

No, they hadn’t been. They hadn’t used a condom in the elevator, and again during that last time at his home. So really... She hadn’t had a period since the elevator. “No, I guess we weren’t.”

“And it didn’t occur to you until just now that you might be pregnant?”

“No,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide. “No. I’m not... I’m not.”

“You have no way of knowing that.”

No. She didn’t. Because she hadn’t taken a test. And, while she had never been particularly regular, that hadn’t exactly been a problem because she had been a virgin. Now...it was a bit suspicious.

“I mean, I would prefer to wait a few days...”

He had already pulled out a cell phone. “Yes, Alethea? Find a discreet women’s doctor in Manhattan who can see a patient immediately. Text me the information once you have it. When I say immediately, I mean I’m about to get in the car and start driving. They had better be ready to see us.”

He hung up, and she could only stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“We are going to answer this question once and for all, agape. And make no mistake, if you are carrying my child there is no question that you are coming back to Greece with me. Immediately.”

* * *

He could do nothing but pace outside the office at the posh, private medical facility he had taken Elle to.

He had found himself back in Manhattan for business reasons, and then he had displayed a characteristic weakness and found himself at Elle’s building.

He did not know what manner of witchcraft Elle possessed that she made it impossible for him to forget her. Forget how she made him feel. Whether it was four weeks in the past, or nine years—before he had ever even touched her. She was a woman who lingered in his mind in a way that none before her—or since—ever had.

He wondered now if she had been some sort of bad omen. If the fact that he had never been able to get her out of his mind had been a warning of some kind. If she were truly pregnant with his child, he could not discount that. He had never intended to have children. But the moment the idea that she might be pregnant had entered his mind he had known that he would take possession of his child.

After his own childhood, after the way he had lost his father, he knew he would never subject his own child to such a thing. To a life without the man who was meant to protect him.

He gritted his teeth. His own father’s feelings had hardly been his fault. He had been pushed into ruin by David St. James. The fault would always lie with St. James. Apollo however was standing on his own two feet. No one was pushing him anywhere.

The door opened, and Elle emerged, clutching a few pieces of paper, her face pale. He didn’t need her to speak to know what the answer was.

He had never imagined being in this situation. He supposed that any man who was sexually active could potentially face it, but he had always been very careful. So it was never anything he had considered seriously. But he had not been careful with Elle. The theme in their relationship, and the consequences of that, were now coming home to roost.

There was no panic. There was not even any rage, though he had expected it. No, there was nothing but cold, clean determination. He knew exactly what he was going to do. What he would demand.

“I...”

“Yes, I think I can guess.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“I know exactly what we are going to do.”

Her eyes widened. “You do?”

“Yes. You will be coming back to Athens with me. And then, agape, you and I are going to marry.”

* * *

Elle was dimly aware of the fact that she was sitting in Apollo’s limo, essentially in a catatonic state. But she had just found out she was pregnant with the baby of a man who despised her and her family, a man who had left her jobless and broken when he had ended their affair.

She had never really thought about being a mother. Her own mother had abandoned her early on and not bothered to keep in touch at all. Her stepmother was a lovely woman, but often silent next to her husband.

And Elle’s father was so...imposing. He didn’t bend. He didn’t show affection. It was like loving a rock.

She had never imagined trying to re-create that parent-child relationship with herself in the parenting hot seat. It seemed...completely unappealing. It also meant she was linked to Apollo. Forever.

As if you weren’t before.

She gritted her teeth. She had no idea what to say. No idea what to do next. And as far as she knew she was being shanghaied and sent to Athens again.

That thought sent her into action. “I’m not going to marry you.”

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Then prepare yourself for a custody battle that will drain you of your every resource.”

She blinked. “Who said I would fight you for custody?”

The moment she said it, she realized that she would. Not because her parents had been wonderful, not because they had made her long for a parent-child relationship in her own life. But because they had demonstrated in a million small ways how unimportant she was. She would be damned if her own child would walk through life feeling like their mother couldn’t be bothered with them.

Just the thought made her stomach clench in agony. Her own little one, believing that she didn’t want them. She wanted to apologize to the little life inside her. As though it had somehow sensed her hesitance.

“If you don’t feel strongly enough about our child to stand and fight for them, then I would gladly have you step aside.”

“I won’t,” she said, her tone infused with conviction.

The numbness was starting to wear off. And even though she couldn’t quite imagine what it would be like to have a child, even though she wasn’t sure if she was devastated or happy, she knew that she wouldn’t stand aside.

“You just said—”

“Yes, well, I am trying to figure out exactly where I stand. It might surprise you to know this but I didn’t exactly fantasize about a life with a picket fence, a husband and children.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. A woman with as much white in her apartment as you have doesn’t seem to be planning ahead for sticky fingers.”

“I wasn’t. You can be sure of that. But I’m also not one to walk away from my responsibilities. And I don’t want any child of mine going through life imagining they aren’t wanted.”

“Then, marriage it will be.”

Her mind was ticking over at a million miles a minute. “I would have a few conditions,” she said.

She could not believe she had just said that. She knew that you weren’t supposed to negotiate with terrorists or superalpha Greek billionaires who had far too high of an opinion of themselves. So, she didn’t know why she was attempting it.

“Conditions, agape?” He sounded...angry. But interested.

“Yes. Conditions.” Now she had to quickly think of her conditions. “New York is my home. I’m not leaving New York.”

“I have a villa in Greece.”

“I daresay you have homes all over the world. I know you don’t have a permanent residence in New York, but I do.”

“Your apartment is the size of a postage stamp.”

“It’s big enough.”

“For you. There is no room for a child. No room for a husband.”

She gritted her teeth. “I did not agree to taking a husband. Not yet. I have conditions, but I won’t make my final decision until I’m certain that the situation is to my liking.”

“I’m not certain you want to challenge my authority. I am a well-respected billionaire, after all, and you are unemployed. The daughter of a businessman on the verge of being washed-up. If your mother hasn’t spent all of his payoff money by now, she’s certainly close to it. What could you possibly give a child that I can’t?”

“Love. Warmth. Human emotion?”

“I’m sure the court will be more impressed with my net worth.”

“I don’t think so. Everyone agrees that a child needs love above anything else.”

“And you feel you are more qualified to give a child parental love that I am?”

She shifted in her seat. “Yes. I do.”

“On what grounds? Prior to being unemployed you were a workaholic.”

“I was not.”

“Did you have a single friend who was not also a coworker?”

She didn’t even have to think about that. She knew the answer to the question. But whether or not they were from work Suki and Christine were real friends. Suki had brought cupcakes after Elle had been fired. Friendship.

Though the thought of cupcakes made her stomach turn right now.

“You’re a workaholic, too,” she said.

“I’m also a man and a billionaire. No one will judge me for the amount of time I spend working. It is irrelevant. Not so for you.”

“The point is, I am the child’s mother and I don’t think I’m going to have an issue retaining custody.”

“I disagree.”

“You will have to wait, Apollo,” she said, her voice infused with iron, with a strength she wasn’t sure she truly felt right now. “I’m not afraid of fighting you in court. To hear you tell it your mother was manipulated into a relationship with my father and now you want to do the same to me? How are you any better?”

“I’m not,” he said, his expression bleak, cold. But only for a moment. Then his walls went back up.

“Name your conditions clearly.”

“I want to stay in New York. I wish to have the child here. I wish to raise him here.”

“The child will be Greek. He should be exposed to his homeland.”

“Exposure is fine. But I want him raised here. I want to stay here. Because that leads me to my next requirement. I want my job back.”

“The new CEO has only been there for a month. If I let him go I will seem capricious.”

“There is a cost to everything. And that is the cost to having me without muss or fuss. Do you accept, or not?”

She wasn’t certain if she wanted him to say yes, or if she wanted him to refuse. She wasn’t sure what she wanted at all.

“I accept.”

A strange mixture of relief and terror washed through her. “Excellent.”

He pulled out his phone again. “Alethea,” he said. “I require some real estate. A penthouse, Manhattan. Something large, but secure. No rooftop balconies or anything like that. Or, if there are balconies, they need to be secure. Childproof.” He hung up.

“Is your assistant finding you a house?”

“No, agape,” he said, smiling a smile that was not friendly at all. “My assistant is going to find us a home. Now do you agree to marry me?”

Elle took a deep breath and met that coal-black gaze. “If I find the conditions are met to my satisfaction. And if I feel you won’t spend my whole life making me miserable. You said I was your revenge, Apollo. Until you see me as a woman—a whole woman, not your stepsister who you harbor rage against, not an instrument of vengeance to use against my father—you will not have me. Not in your life, not as your wife. That’s a promise.”