Читать книгу Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife - Sarah Morgan - Страница 6

NUMB with misery, Millie stood in front of the mirror in the huge, luxurious bathroom. She didn’t reach for a towel. She did nothing to improve her appearance. She simply stared at herself.

No wonder, she thought numbly. No wonder he’d strayed.

Leandro Demetrios was six feet two inches of devastatingly handsome, vibrant masculinity and she was—she was, what?

Ordinary.

She was just so ordinary.

Staring at her wild, curling hair, she reflected on how long it had taken her each day to straighten it into the tame, sleek sheet that everyone expected. And even with the weight she’d lost during the misery of the last year, her breasts were still large, and her hips curvy.

No wonder he’d chosen her sister.

Trying not to think about that, Millie ran the tap and splashed cold water on her face. One thing about already having lost your husband to another woman, she thought, was that you no longer had to pretend to be someone different. She could just be herself. What did she have to lose?

Nothing.

She’d already lost it all.

But life kept throwing boulders at her, and she had a whole new challenge ahead of her. She had to put aside all her dreams of having her own baby, and instead love and nurture the baby that had been the result of her husband’s affair with her sister.

Caught in a sudden rush of panic, Millie covered her mouth with her hand. It was all very well to say she was going to do this, but what if she looked at the baby and hated it? That would make her an awful person, wouldn’t it?

She wanted to do the right thing, she really did, but what if doing the right thing proved too hard?

Her encounter with Leandro had been a million times harder than she’d anticipated and she’d always known it was going to be awful.

Even though their marriage was over, nothing had prepared her for the agonising pain of seeing Leandro with another woman. And worse still was the realisation that she hadn’t healed at all. She wasn’t over him and she never would be.

She’d learned to survive, that was all. But life without him was flat and colourless.

‘Millie?’ Leandro’s harsh tones penetrated the closed door and she stilled, fastened to the spot like a rabbit caught in headlights. Then her eyes slid to the bolt on the door. Even Leandro in a black temper couldn’t break his way through a solid bolt, could he?

She didn’t understand his anger. Surely he should have been grateful to her for solving a problem for him. The last thing he needed in his life was a baby.

An image of the actress slid into her brain and paralysed her. For a moment she couldn’t move or think.

What had she expected? That he was sitting in alone at night, thinking of her?

‘Wait a minute!’ Hands shaking, she looked at herself in the mirror, hoping that she’d turn out to be the person she hoped she was. She didn’t want to be a pathetic, jealous wimp, did she? She wanted to have the strength to walk away from this marriage with her head held high and her dignity intact. She wanted to be mature enough to care for the baby and give him the love he deserved, regardless of how much his parents had hurt her.

That was the person she wanted to be.

Gritting her teeth, Millie turned away from the mirror, walked across the bathroom and opened the door.

Leandro was leaning against the doorframe, dark lights in his eyes warning her of just how short his fuse was. ‘What have you been doing for the last half an hour? You look exactly the same as you did when you went in. I assumed you were going to shower and change. Or at least use a towel.’

Up until that point she hadn’t realised that she’d forgotten to dry herself. ‘I…didn’t have anything to change into.’

Leandro reached out a hand and touched her damp hair with a frown of exasperation. ‘You didn’t bring any clothes.’

‘I left my suitcase on the train,’ she muttered. ‘I was…upset. And I’m only staying in London for one night. It will be fine.’ She wished she could feel angry again. The anger had given her energy to cope with the difficult situation. Without it, she felt nothing but exhaustion.

His hand dropped to his side. ‘You still have clothes here. Wear them.’

‘You kept my clothes?’ Shocked, Millie stared up at him and his cold, unemotional appraisal chilled her.

‘I hate waste and I find them useful for overnight guests.’

The barb sank deep, the pain resting alongside the earlier wounds he’d inflicted, and she wondered why it was that emotional agony could be so much more traumatic than physical wounds.

He’d dismissed her from his life so easily.

Millie thought about all the bleak, lonely hours she’d spent agonising over whether or not she was right to have walked out—about the tears she’d shed. The times she’d wondered whether he was thinking about her. Whether he cared about their break-up.

Well, she had her answer now.

He was just fine. He’d moved on—apparently with effortless ease. Which just proved that he’d never loved her. He’d married her on impulse. He’d seen her as a novelty. Unfortunately it hadn’t taken long for her novelty value to wear off. When they’d been living in their own little world everything had been fine. It had been when they’d returned to his world that the problems had started.

Did you really think you’d be able to hold him? Her sister’s sympathetic question was embedded in her brain, like a soundtrack that refused to stop playing.

‘The baby.’ Knowing that the only way she was going to be able to hold it together was if she didn’t dwell on how she felt, Millie forced herself to ask the question. ‘Who has been looking after him?’

‘Two nannies. Change your clothes,’ Leandro said roughly. ‘The last thing I need is you with pneumonia.’

‘I’m not cold.’

‘Then why are you shivering?’

Did he honestly not know? She wanted to hit him for not understanding her feelings. He possessed confidence by the barrel-load and that natural self-assurance seemed to prevent him understanding those to whom life didn’t come quite so easily. What did a man like Leandro Demetrios know about insecurity? He didn’t have a clue.

Neither had he shown any remorse for the way their relationship had ended. In fact, he’d made it obvious that he thought she’d been in the wrong.

Maybe other women would have turned a blind eye, but she wasn’t like that.

‘I’m shivering because I’m finding this situation…’ She struggled to find a suitably neutral word. ‘Difficult.’

‘Difficult?’ His sensual mouth formed a grim, taut line in his handsome face. ‘You haven’t begun to experience difficult yet, agape mou. But you will.’

What did he mean by that?

What could possibly be worse than being forced into the company of the man she adored and hadn’t been able to satisfy, and forced to care for the child he’d had with another woman? At the moment that challenge felt like the very essence of difficulty.

Feeling as though she was balancing precariously on the edge of a deep, dark pit, Millie took a deep breath. ‘I’d like to see my nephew.’ She drew the edges of her damp cardigan around her. She was shivering so hard she might have been in the Arctic, rather than his warm bedroom. ‘Where’s the baby?’

‘Sleeping. What else did you expect at this hour?’ His mouth grim, he strode across the bedroom and into the dressing room, emerging moments later with some clothes in his hands. ‘Put these on. At least they’re dry.’

‘They’re my old jeans.’ She frowned down at them. ‘The ones I wore when I first met you.’

‘This isn’t a trip down memory lane,’ he gritted. ‘It’s an attempt to get you out of wet clothes. Get back in that bathroom. And this time when you come out, make sure you’re dry.’

With a sigh, Millie turned back into the bathroom. The lights came on automatically and she stopped, remembering how that had amused her when he’d first brought her to this house. She’d walked in and out of all the rooms, feeling as though she’d walked into a vision of the future. Lights that came on when someone walked into a room, heating sensors, a house that vacuumed itself—Leandro exploited cuttingedge technology in every aspect of his life, and for her it had been like walking into a fantasy.

Trying not to think how the fantasy had ended, Millie stripped off her wet clothes, rubbed her cold skin with a warm towel and pulled on the jeans and silky green jumper he’d handed her.

She glanced in the enormous mirror and decided that the lighting had been designed specifically to highlight her imperfections. She looked nothing like a billionaire’s wife.

Emerging from the bathroom, her eyes clashed with his. ‘Now can I see the baby? I just…’ She swallowed. ‘I just want to look at him, that’s all.’ To get it over with. Part of her was so afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it.

This was a test, and she wasn’t sure whether she was going to pass or fail.

Leandro yanked a towel from the rail and starting rubbing her hair. ‘You’ve been in that bathroom twice and your hair is still soaking.’

‘You need to invest in a device that automatically dries someone’s hair if it’s wet.’

Something flickered in his eyes and she knew he was thinking of the time when he’d first brought her here and she’d played with the technology like a child with a new toy. ‘What were you doing all that time?’

Thinking about him. About her life.

Trying to find the strength to do this.

‘I was playing hide and seek with the lights. They’re a bit bright for me.’ Millie winced as his methodical rubbing became a little too brisk and tried not to think about the fact that he was turning her hair into a tangled mess.

What did it matter? What did smooth, perfect hair matter at this point in their relationship? They were way past the point where her appearance was an issue.

Leandro slung the towel over the heated rail. ‘That will do.’

‘Yes, there’s no point in working on something that’s never going to come up to scratch,’ Millie muttered, and he frowned sharply.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing.’ Trying to forget her appearance, Millie lifted her chin. ‘I want to see the baby.’ At least the baby wouldn’t care whether her hair was blow-dried or not.

She felt inadequate and out of place in this man’s life, but she was here because the baby needed her. It was abandoned. Unloved. Like her…

For a whole year she’d locked herself away—protected herself from the outside world. And if it hadn’t been for the baby she would have stayed in her hiding place. Not that she’d needed to hide. Leandro hadn’t come to look for her, had he? She’d left, but he hadn’t followed.

Leandro gave her a long, hard look, as if asking himself a question.

Knowing with absolute certainty what that question was, Millie walked towards the bedroom door.

‘You can see the baby,’ he drawled as they walked out of the room. ‘But don’t wake him up.’

The comment surprised her. Why would he care whether she woke the baby or not? She’d thought he would have been only too anxious for her to remove the child and get out of his life.

Millie glanced at the paintings, reflecting that most normal people had to go to art galleries to see pieces like this. Leandro could admire them on his way to the bathroom.

Following him up a flight of stairs, she frowned. ‘You’ve put him as far away from you as possible.’

‘You think he should sleep in my bedroom, perhaps?’ His silken enquiry brought a flush to her cheeks.

‘No. I don’t think that. I can’t think of a less suitable environment for a baby than your bedroom.’

Millie leaned against the wall for support, unable to dispel the image of his hard, muscular body entwined with the sylphlike actress.

Of course he’d had relationships since they’d broken up. What had she expected? Leandro was an intensely virile man with a dark, restless sex appeal that women found irresistible. Just as she had. And her sister.

Millie gave a low moan, wondering how she’d ever found the arrogance to think their marriage could work. How naïve had she been, thinking that they shared something special. When they’d first met he’d been so good at making her feel beautiful that for a while she’d actually believed that she was.

Leandro opened a door and stood there, allowing her to go first.

Her arm brushed against the hard muscle of his abdomen and her stomach reacted instantly.

A uniformed nanny rose quickly to her feet. ‘He’s been very unsettled, Mr Demetrios,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Crying, refusing his bottle. He’s asleep now, but I don’t know how long it will last.

Leandro dismissed her with a single imperious movement of his head and the girl scurried out of the room.

Had he always been that scary? Millie wondered. Had he been cold and intimidating when she’d met him?

The answer was yes, probably, but never with her. With her he’d always been gentle and good humoured. That was one of the things that had made her feel special. The power and influence he wielded made others stutter and stumble around him, but when they’d met, she hadn’t known who he was. And that had amused him. And she’d continued to amuse him. With her, the tiger had sheathed his claws and played gently, but she’d never been under any illusions. She hadn’t tamed the tiger and she doubted any woman ever would.

As the door closed behind the girl, Millie wondered how on earth she’d ever had the courage to talk to this man.

‘Your nephew.’ He spoke the words in a low tone and Millie forced aside all other feelings and tiptoed towards the cot. Her palms were clammy and she felt ever so slightly sick because she’d pictured this scene in her head so many times, but now it was twisted in a cruel parody of her dream.

Yes, she and Leandro were leaning over a cot. But her dream had never included a baby who wasn’t hers, fathered by the man she loved with the woman who was closest to her.

Agony ripped through her, stealing her breath and her strength. She thought she gave a moan of denial, but the baby didn’t stir, his perfect features immobile in sleep.

Innocent of the tense atmosphere in the room, he was so still that Millie felt a rush of panic and instinctively reached out a hand to touch him.

Strong fingers closed over hers and drew her away from the cot.

‘He’s fine.’ Leandro’s low, masculine voice brushed against her nerve endings. ‘He always sleeps like that. When he sleeps, which isn’t that often.’

‘He looks—’

‘As though he isn’t breathing. I know.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘I’ve made that mistake several times myself. Once I even woke him up just to check he was alive. Believe me, I don’t advise it. He’s very much alive and if you poke him just to check, he’ll confirm it in the loudest possible way. He has lungs that an opera singer would envy and, once woken up, he doesn’t like going back to sleep. I had to walk him round the house for three hours.’

Leandro worried about the baby so much he’d woken him? And then he’d carried him around the house? It didn’t fit with what she knew of him.

‘What did you do with your BlackBerry?’ She asked the question without thinking and he gave a faint smile.

‘You think I spoke into the baby and tucked my mobile phone into the cot?’ His eyes were mocking and Millie looked away, flustered.

‘I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with the baby.’ In a way her question was a challenge. Would he care for a baby that wasn’t his?

For a moment—just for a moment—something shimmered between them and then she dragged her eyes away from his and focused on the baby. Her heart was thumping, her stomach was tumbling over and over. But he’d always had this effect on her, hadn’t he? He could turn her legs to jelly with just one glance. Everything else became irrelevant.

Except that it wasn’t irrelevant and she had this baby to remind her of that fact.

He lay quietly. Even in sleep Millie could see the dark feathering of his eyelashes against his cheek and the shock of dark hair. And her heart melted. To her intense relief, the baby softened everything inside her. ‘You poor thing,’ she whispered, gently touching his head with her hand. ‘You must be missing your mummy—wondering what you’re doing in this strange place.’ Aware that Leandro was looking at her oddly, she flushed. ‘Sorry. I suppose it’s a bit crazy speaking to a baby who’s asleep.’

Her eyes met his and in that single instant she knew he was thinking about the child they could have made together. The image was too painful and she looked away, determined not to torture herself with what she would never have. If she’d produced a child quickly, perhaps this would never have happened. But that had been another failure on her part. Another failure to add to the list. ‘He’s sweet. He has your hair.’

‘Then the child is a miracle of conception,’ Leandro snapped. ‘But I can assure you that your sister was definitely the mother.’

Millie struggled not to react. ‘Becca was always confident. I think that’s why she was so successful. It just didn’t enter her head that she couldn’t do something or have something.’ Even her sister’s husband. ‘Like you, she never questioned herself or doubted herself. You had that in common.’

‘Alpha woman.’

Millie looked at him. ‘Yes. She was.’ And she’d always felt insecure around her big sister. There had been just no way she could ever measure up. Even as a very young child, she’d been aware that she was walking in her sister’s shadow.

And even in death Becca had left that shadow—a dark cloud that had stolen the light from Millie’s marriage. From her life.

‘Let’s leave the baby to sleep.’ Taking control, Leandro put a hand in the centre of her back and urged her out of the room. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘No.’ Millie wondered how he could be thinking about food. ‘It’s past midnight. I was going to go straight to the bed and breakfast.’

‘You’re not going to any bed and breakfast. We need to talk—and I need coffee, so we’ll have the conversation in the kitchen.’

Too drained to argue, Millie followed him downstairs. The kitchen was another room that had surprised her when she’d first seen the house. It was a clever combination of modern and traditional, a large range cooker giving warmth and comfort, while the maximal use of glass ensured light poured into every available space. As a result the lush garden appeared to be part of the room and the table was positioned in such a way that, whatever the season, it felt as though you were sitting outdoors.

‘Sit down before you fall down.’ Leandro strolled to the espresso machine and ground some beans.

The sound pounded her throbbing head and Millie winced. ‘You still make it all from scratch, then?’ It had been one of the many things that she’d learned about him early on. He wanted the best. Whether it was art, coffee or women—Leandro demanded perfection. Which made it even more surprising that he’d picked her.

He made the coffee—as competent in the kitchen as he was everywhere else. Leandro used staff because his life was so maniacally busy, not because he was deficient in skills. And sometimes, she knew, he just preferred to be on his own.

He’d rolled back his shirtsleeves and the muscles of his forearm flexed as he worked.

Strong, Millie thought as she looked at him. He was strong; physically, emotionally—and that inherent strength was part of his devastating appeal. He was a man who led while others followed. A man women were drawn to.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that the baby had been brought here?’ To distract herself, she asked the question that was on her mind. ‘Why did I have to read about it in the newspapers?’

‘You walked out on me.’ His voice terse, he reached for a cup. ‘I had no reason to think you’d be interested.’

Absorbing that blow, Millie curled her fingers over the back of the chair. ‘Why are you so angry with me? I would have thought you’d be apologetic or at least a little uncomfortable but you’re not. You’re…’

‘I’m what, Millie?’

‘You’re…’ She hesitated. ‘Boiling with rage. And I just don’t get it.’

He didn’t reply, but she knew he’d heard her because his hand stilled for a moment. And then he lifted an empty cup. ‘Do you want one?’

‘No, thank you. You make it so strong it will keep me awake.’ Not that she’d sleep anyway. The adrenaline was pumping round her bloodstream like a drug. She wanted to walk. Pace. Sob?

Leandro waited while the thick dark brew filled the small cup. Then he walked across to the table. ‘Right, let’s talk.’ He put the cup on the table and sprawled in the nearest chair. The edges of his torn dress shirt slid apart, revealing his flat, bronzed abdomen.

Millie kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. ‘What is there to talk about?’

‘This is going to be a tiring conversation for you if you stand all the way through it. And you already look ready to drop.’

She sat, too emotionally wrung out to think for herself. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You look wrecked. You should have told me you were coming. I would have sent my private jet.’

‘I wouldn’t have felt comfortable.’

‘You’re still my wife. You’re entitled to the perks of the job.’

‘I don’t want anything from you.’ Millie sat very upright. ‘Except maybe the stuff you’ve bought for the baby. It’s a waste to buy a second pram and things. Tomorrow I’ll remove Costas from your life. You can get back to your BlackBerry and your—’ She almost said ‘actress’ but thought better of it. ‘And your undisturbed nights.’ From the corner of her eye she saw his fingers close round his coffee cup.

‘I don’t want to talk about Costas.’ He let that hover in the air while he drank his coffee. ‘I want to talk about us.’

Her heart started to thump faster because she could feel him watching her and his scrutiny made her squirm. ‘How is that relevant?’

‘It’s relevant.’

‘How? There is no “us”. There’s nothing to talk about.’ Why would he want to go back over old ground? Millie wasn’t sure she could stand reliving the whole thing again.

‘You made promises, Millie. You stood up in that little village church and made those vows.’ Leandro put his cup down slowly. ‘And then you just walked away. For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health—remember that?’

Her chin lifted. ‘Forsaking all others…’

‘I might have known you’d throw that one at me.’ He inhaled deeply, his eyes holding hers. ‘You asked me how it’s relevant—let me tell you. You’re my wife, Millie. And to a Greek man, marriage is binding. It isn’t something you opt in and out of depending on the mood. It’s forever.’

‘Leandro—’

‘You chose to come back, Millie.’ His mouth tightened and his eyes glinted hard and dangerous. ‘And now you’re going to stay.’