Читать книгу The Greek Prince's Chosen Wife - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 7

PREGNANT?

Pregnant, with his child?

Damian’s brain reeled.

Thee mou, a man didn’t want to hear that accusation from a woman he didn’t love once in a lifetime, let alone twice…

And then his sanity returned.

This woman, Ivy, might well be pregnant but it didn’t have a damned thing to do with him. Not unless science had come up with a way a man could have sex with a woman without ever seeing her or touching her.

She was looking at him, defiance stamped in every feature. What was she waiting for? Was he supposed to blink, fall down, clap his hand to his forehead?

The only thing he felt like doing was tossing her over his shoulder and throwing her out. But first—but first—

Damian snorted. Snorted again and then, to hell with it, burst out laughing.

Ivy Madison gave him a killing look.

“How can you laugh at this?” she demanded.

That only made him laugh harder.

He’d heard some really creative tall tales in his life. His father had been especially adept at telling them as he took his company to the edge of ruin but nothing, nothing topped this one.

It was funny.

It was infuriating.

Did she take him for a complete fool? Her sister had. Yes, but at least he’d had sex with the sister. There’d been a basis—shaky, but a basis—for Kay claiming she was pregnant.

Hell, the hours the two women must have spent talking about what a sucker he was, how easily he could be taken in by a beautiful face.

“Perhaps you’d like to share what’s so damned amusing, Prince Damian?”

Amusing? Damian’s laughter faded. “Actually,” he said, “I’m insulted.”

She blinked. “Insulted?”

“That you’d come up with such a pathetic lie.” He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and sighed dramatically. “You have to have sex with a man before he can impregnate you, Miss Madison, and you and I…”

Suddenly he knew where this was heading. He’d heard of scams like it before.

A beautiful woman chooses a man who’s rich. Well-known. A man whose name would garner space in the tabloids.

When the time is right, she confronts him, tells him they met at a party, on a yacht—there were dozens of places they could have stumbled across each other.

That established, she drops the bomb.

She’s pregnant. He’s responsible. When he says That’s impossible, I never saw you before in my life, she starts to cry. He was drinking that night, she says. He seduced her, she says. Doesn’t he remember?

Because she does.

Every touch. Every sigh. Every nuance of their encounter is seared in her memory, and if he doesn’t want it all over the scandal sheets, he’ll Do The Right Thing.

He’ll give her a fat sum of money to help her. Nothing like a bribe, of course. Just money to get her through a bad time.

Some men would give in without much of a fight, even if they could disprove the story. They’d do whatever it took just to avoid publicity.

Damian’s jaw tightened.

Oh, yes. That was how this was supposed to go down…Except, it wouldn’t. His beautiful scam artist was about to learn she couldn’t draw him into that kind of trap.

He’d already been the victim of one Madison sister. He’d be damned if he’d be the victim of the second sister, too.

Damian looked up. The woman had not moved. She stood her ground, shoulders squared, head up, eyes glittering with defiance.

God, she was magnificent! Anyone walking in and seeing her would be sure she was a brave Amazon, overmatched but prepared to fight to her last breath.

Too bad there wasn’t an audience. There was only him, and he wasn’t buying the act.

Damian smiled. Slowly he brought his hands together in mocking applause.

“Excellent,” he said softly. “An outstanding performance.” His smile disappeared. “Just one problem, kardia mou. I’m on to you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I know your game. And I’m not going to play it.”

“Game? Is that what you think this is? I come to you after my sister’s death because you didn’t have enough concern to come to me and you think—you think it’s a game?”

“Perhaps I used the wrong word. It’s more like a melodrama. You’re the innocent little flower, I’m the cruel villain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Damian started slowly toward her. He saw her stiffen. She wanted to back away or maybe even turn and run. Good, he thought coldly. She was afraid of him, and she damned well ought to be.

“Don’t you want to tell me the rest? The details of our passionate encounter?”

She looked at him as if he were crazy. “What passionate encounter?”

“Come now, darling. Have you forgotten your lines? You’re supposed to remind me of what we did when I was drunk.” He stopped inches from her, a chill smile curling across his lips. “Well, I’m waiting. Where did it happen? Here? Athens? A party on my yacht at the Côte d’Azur? Not that it matters. The story’s the same no matter where we met.”

“I didn’t say—”

“No. You didn’t, and that’s my fault. I never gave you the chance to tell your heartbreaking little tale, but why waste time when it’s so trite? I was drunk. I seduced you. Now, it’s—it’s—How many months later, did you say?”

“Three months. You know that, just as you know the rest of what you said isn’t true!”

“Did I get the facts wrong?” His eyes narrowed; his voice turned hard. “Frankly I don’t give a damn. All I care about is seeing the last of you, lady. You understand?”

Ivy understood, all right.

This man her sister had worshipped, this—this Adonis whose face and body were enough to quicken the beat of a woman’s heart…

This man Kay had been willing to do anything for, was looking at her and lying through his teeth.

How could Kay have loved him?

“Shall I be more direct, Miss Madison?” Damian clamped his hands on her shoulders. “Get out of here before I lose my temper.”

His voice was low, his grasp painful. He was furious and, Ivy was sure, capable of violence.

That wasn’t half as important as being certain she understood exactly what he was telling her.

He didn’t want the child she was carrying.

She’d figured as much, when she hadn’t heard from him after the accident. She’d waited and waited, caught up first in shock at losing Kay, then in growing awareness of her own desperation until, finally, she’d realized the prince’s silence was a message.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

He had to put his denial of his rights to his child in writing. She needed a document that said he didn’t want the baby, that he’d rather believe her story was a lie than acknowledge he’d fathered a child.

Even that was no guarantee.

Damian Aristedes was powerful. He could hire all the lawyers in Manhattan and have money left over. He could not only make his own rules, he could change them when he had to.

But if she had something on paper, something that might give her a legal edge if he ever changed his mind—

“I can almost see you thinking, Miss Madison.”

Ivy blinked. The prince was standing with his arms folded over his chest, narrowed eyes locked on her face.

It was disconcerting.

She was accustomed to having men look at her. It went with the territory.

When you had done hundreds of photo shoots, when your own face looked back at you from magazine covers, you expected it. It was part of the price you paid for success in the world of modeling.

Men noticed you. They looked at you.

But not like this.

The expression on Damian Aristedes’s face spoke of contempt, not desire. How dare he be disdainful of her? She’d made a devil’s bargain—she knew that, had known it almost from the beginning—but she’d been prepared to stand by that bargain even if it tore out her heart.

Not him.

He was the man who’d started this. Now, he was pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about.

That was fine. It was perfect. It meant she’d kept her promise and now she was free to put the past behind her and concentrate on the future. On the child she’d soon have.

Her child, not his.

It was just infuriating to have him look at her as if she were a liar and a cheat.

Except, there’d been a moment, more than one, when she’d caught him watching her in a different way, his eyes glinting not with disdain but with hunger.

Hunger only she could ease.

And when that had happened, she’d felt—she’d felt—

“You’re as transparent as glass, Miss Madison.”

Years of letting the camera steal her face but never her thoughts kept Ivy from showing any reaction.

“How interesting. Do you read minds when you’re not busy evading responsibility, Your Highness?”

“You’re trying to come up with a way to capitalize on that moment of shock I showed when you told me I was your baby’s father.” He smiled thinly. “Trust me. You can’t.”

He was partly right. She was trying to come up with a way to capitalize on something, but not that.

Ivy took a steadying breath.

“I’ll be happy to leave, happier still never to see you again, Prince Damian. But first—”

“Ah. But first, you want a check for…How much? A hundred thousand? Five hundred thousand? A million? Don’t shake your head, Miss Madison. We both know you have a price in mind.”

Another steadying breath. “Not a check.”

“Cash, then. It doesn’t matter.”

The icy little smile slipped from his lips and she repressed a shudder. The prince would be a formidable enemy.

“I don’t want money. I want a letter. A document that makes it clear you’re giving up all rights to the child in my womb.”

He laughed. Laughed, damn him!

“Thee mou, lady. Don’t you know when to quit?”

“Sign it, date it and I’ll be out of your life forever.”

His laughter stopped with the speed of a faucet turning off. “Enough,” he said through his teeth. “Get out of my home before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Just a letter,” she said. “A few lines—”

He said something in what she assumed was Greek. She didn’t understand the words but she didn’t have to as he gripped her by the shoulders, spun her around, put a hand in the small of her back and shoved her forward.

“And if you’re foolish enough to tell your ridiculous story to anyone—”

The thing to do was hire a lawyer. Except, he’d hire a dozen for every one she could afford. He had power. Money. Status. Still, there had to be a way. There had to be!

“And if you really are knocked up, if some man was stupid enough to let your face blind him to the scheming bitch you really are—”

Ivy spun around, swung her fist and caught him in the jaw. He was big and strong and hard as nails but she caught him off guard. He blinked and staggered back. It took him all of a second to recover but it was enough to send a warm rush of pleasure through her blood.

“You—you pompous ass,” she hissed. She marched forward, index finger aimed at his chest, and jabbed it right into the center of his starched white shirt, her fear gone, everything forgotten but his impossible arrogance. “This isn’t about you and who you are and how much money you have. It isn’t about you at all! I don’t want anything from you, Prince Damian. I never—”

She gasped as he caught her by the elbows and lifted her to her toes.

“You don’t want anything from me, huh?” Damian’s lips drew back from his teeth as he bent his head toward hers. “That’s why you came here? Because you don’t want anything from me?”

“I came because I thought I owed it to you but I was wrong. I don’t. And I warn you, letter or no letter, if you should change your mind a month from now, a decade from now, and try and claim my baby—”

“Damn you,” he roared, “there is no baby!”

“Whatever you say.”

“The truth at last!”

“Truth?” Ivy laughed in his face. “You wouldn’t know it if it bit you in the tail!”

“I know that I never took you to bed.”

“Let go!”

“How come you didn’t factor that into your little scheme?” Damian yanked her wrist, dragged it behind her back. She flinched but she’d sooner have eaten nails than let him know he was hurting her. “You made several mistakes, Miss Madison. One, I don’t drink to excess. Two, I never forget a woman I’ve been with.” His gaze swept over her with slow deliberation before returning to her face. “Believe me, lady, if I’d had you, I’d remember.”

“I’m done talking about that.”

“But I’m not.” He drew her closer, until they were a breath apart. “Why should I be? You said we were intimate. I said we weren’t. Why not settle the question?”

“It isn’t worth settling. And I never said we’d been intimate.”

His lips drew back from his teeth. “Ah, Ivy, Ivy, you disappoint me. Backing down already?” His smile vanished; his eyes turned cold. “Come on, glyka mou. Here’s your chance. Convince me we slept together. Remind me of what it was like.”

“Stop it. Stop it! I’m warning you, let me—”

She gasped as Damian slipped one hand lightly around her throat.

“A woman can only taunt a man for so long before he retaliates. Surely someone with your skills should have learned that by now.”

“You’re wrong! You know the truth, that we never—”

Damian kissed her.

Her mouth was cool and soft, and she made a little sound of terrified protest.

That was how she made it sound, anyway.

It was all part of the act. Part of a performance. Part of who she was and why she was here and…

And she tasted sweet, sweeter than the first time he’d kissed her, maybe because he knew the shape of her mouth now. The fullness of it.

The sexy silkiness.

She cried out again, jammed her hand against his chest and Damian told himself it was time to let go of her.

He’d accomplished what he wanted, met her challenge, showed her that she had no power over him…

His arousal was swift. He put one hand at the base of her spine and pressed hard enough so she had no choice but to tilt her hips against his and feel it.

God, he was on fire.

Another little sound whispered from her mouth to his and then, same as before, he felt the change in her. Her mouth softened. Warmed. The stiffness went out of her body and she leaned toward him.

He reminded himself that nothing she did was real. It was all part of her overall plan.

And it didn’t matter.

He knew only that he wanted this. The taste of her. The feel of her. He was entitled to that. Hell, he’d been accused of something he had not done.

Why not do it now?

Lift Ivy into his arms. Carry her up the stairs to his bedroom. Take everything she wanted him to believe he’d taken before, again and again and again…

“Please,” she whispered, “please—”

Her voice was soft. Dazed. It made him want her even more.

Deliberately he slid his hand inside her jacket and cupped the delicate weight of one breast.

“Please, what?” he growled. “Touch you? Take you?”

His fingers swept over her breast, blood thundering in his ears when he felt the thrust of her nipple through the silk that covered it. She moaned against his mouth.

A wave of lust rolled through him, shocking him with its intensity.

She moaned again and he gathered her closer. Slid his hands under the waistband of her black jeans. Felt the coolness of her buttocks, the silk of her flesh.

Primal desire flooded his senses. He wanted her, no matter what she was. And she wanted him. Wanted him. Wanted him…

Panagia mou! Damian flung her from him and stepped back. Tears were streaming down her face. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have honestly thought she was weeping.

“I can’t believe Kay loved you, that she wanted to give you a child!”

“Your story’s getting old. And confused. You’re the one who’s pregnant. Who I took to bed, remember?”

“That’s not true! Why do you keep saying it? You know we didn’t go to bed!”

“Right,” he said, his voice cold with contempt and sarcasm. “I keep forgetting that. We didn’t. We did it standing up. Or sitting in a chair. Or on a sofa—”

“There was no chair. No sofa. You know that. There was just—just your sperm. A syringe. And—and me.”

“Yeah. Sure. You, my sperm, a syringe…” Damian jerked back. “What?”

“You damned well know what! And you didn’t even have the—the decency to let Kay be artificially inseminated by a physician. Oh, no. You wanted to protect your precious privacy! So you—you used a—a condom to—to—” Her voice turned bitter. “I knew what you were when you didn’t ask to meet me in advance. When you didn’t care enough to come with Kay the day she—the day I—the day it took place.”

Damian wanted to say something but he couldn’t. He felt as if his head were in a vise.

Her story was fantastic. Far more interesting than the usual He made me pregnant tale.

And the media loved fantasy.

They’d fall on this like hyenas on a wounded antelope. By the time a different scandal knocked the story off the front pages, the damage would have been done. To his name, to Aristedes Shipping, the company he’d spent his adult life rebuilding.

“Nothing to say, Your Highness?” Ivy put her hands on her hips and eyed him with derision. “Or have you finally figured out that denial will only take you so far?”

Tossing this woman out on her backside was no longer a viable option. She was too clever for such easy dismissal.

“You’re right about that,” he said calmly. “Denial only goes so far and then it’s time to take appropriate action.” He closed the distance between them, relishing the way she stumbled back. “You will take a pregnancy test. Then, if you’re really pregnant, a paternity test.”

Ivy stared at him. She couldn’t think of a reason he’d want her to take such tests…Unless he was telling the truth. Unless he really hadn’t known about the baby.

And if he hadn’t…What would happen once he did?

“I don’t want to take any tests,” she said quickly. “You said you didn’t want the baby. That’s fine. You only have to give me a document—”

“No, glyka mou. It is you who will provide me with a document that legally establishes that you and I and a syringe never met, except inside your scheming little brain.”

“But—”

Damian took her arm, marched her to the elevator and pushed her inside it. Seconds later, the doors slid shut in her face.