The heir affair, p.14
The Heir Affair, page 14
After their day of blissful isolation, arriving at his villa, where a full staff had now been installed, made her aware once again how different her life goals were from Xander’s. He had acquired so much, so young.
The housekeeper, the personal chef, the gardener and the two maids—none of whom, except the housekeeper, Elena, spoke anything but Greek—had been noticeably discreet, disappearing as soon as Poppy had been introduced to them, and Elena had shown Poppy to a spectacular suite on the first floor.
She was grateful to find herself and Xander alone again, a lavish supper of delicious Greek delicacies laid out for them already, once she had showered and changed and ventured out to join him for the evening on the villa’s rooftop dining terrace.
He stood with his back to her, watching the sunset, looking tall and indomitable in a light linen shirt and trousers. From this vantage point the view from the terrace was spectacular. She could see the lights of Rhodes dotting the shoreline across the water, while the sinking sun turned the sea to a fiery orange. It made her recall their farewell kiss on the dock all those months ago, when they’d parted, and she’d been so sure she had met her soul mate. She’d believed then he was a man content to drift through life the way she did, never worrying about where she would end up next, because she wanted to enjoy the ride and keep her heart open to all the possibilities.
She knew now Xander was the opposite of that guy. He wasn’t moody and enigmatic and rootless, he was focussed and driven and intense. But she could see now that so much of his drive and ambition was linked to his need for the security that had once been denied him.
She released the breath that had been clogged in her lungs ever since their arrival on the island, really, as she stepped onto the terracotta tiles.
He turned towards her. His hair—damp from his recent shower too—gleamed in the twinkle of fairy lights that had been threaded through the grapevines on the lattice that enclosed the terrace. Hunger for her shone in his eyes.
And in that moment, she knew, she no longer wanted ‘Alex’, who seemed oddly shallow in comparison to this man.
Her heart bounced into her throat. Uncovering Xander’s secrets would be tougher, but more rewarding than uncovering Alex’s. Because Xander was more of a mystery, and so much more guarded with his emotions.
‘I have asked the staff to give us privacy while we are here,’ he said as he approached her. ‘I know you do not appreciate their presence.’
She was touched that he’d noticed her discomfort and attempted to alleviate it. But it also disturbed her that he could read her so easily, when she found it so hard to read him.
‘It’s nothing to do with them personally, I just…’ She hesitated. How to explain the situation, without making herself too vulnerable again? ‘I guess it makes me super uncomfortable to be waited on by anyone. It feels weird, you know…’ She began to babble as he placed his hand on her cheek and stroked the skin lazily with his thumb. The possessive touch made her pulse accelerate. She drew in a sharp breath and soldiered on. ‘Like I think I’m better than them. And I don’t want to make anyone feel that way.’
His brow creased, as if he was trying to figure her out again, but then he smiled, his expression softening.
‘Have I ever told you how delightful you are, Poppy?’ he murmured.
She swallowed heavily, trying to force her heart back where it belonged. But then his hand cupped the back of her neck to inch her closer. Until she could feel his breath on her lips.
‘I’m not sure you felt like that a week ago,’ she countered, determined not to make too much of the glow of appreciation in his eyes. Was that a genuine compliment, or was he simply trying to seduce her again? It was hard to tell, because his thumb was now stroking the thundering pulse in her collarbone, making it impossible for her to concentrate.
He let out a deep sigh and raised his head to meet her gaze.
‘I was so frustrated that you would not do as I told you.’
‘I noticed,’ she replied, but her comment came out on a husky breath, because she was oddly touched by the sincerity in his eyes.
He let out a gruff chuckle, but his gaze remained fixed on hers when he continued.
‘I find your free spirit and your determination to see everyone as your equal captivating, too,’ he explained, the honest appreciation in his eyes disarming. ‘But you must not concern yourself with the well-being of my staff. I pay them exceptionally well—and I pride myself on never making unreasonable demands, because I know what it is like to have no power when others have too much. I have been ruthless to make Caras Shipping a success, and I will never apologise for that, but I would never take advantage of those less powerful or wealthy than myself,’ he finished.
‘I—I know,’ she said, humbled by his impassioned explanation—and aware that he wasn’t just talking about his staff now, he was also talking about her.
‘Do you?’ His smile returned, but with a rueful tilt. ‘Does this mean you no longer hate the billionaire who purchased this island…?’
She stiffened, registering the defensiveness behind the deliberately amused expression. ‘You remember that?’
Cursing softly, he released her and walked back across the terrace—to stare out at the sunset again. His shoulders were rigid as he thrust his fingers through his hair, raking it into rows. ‘Forget I mentioned it,’ he murmured.
She followed him across the tiles, her chest hollowed out by the controlled irritation in his stance. He wasn’t angry with her for the words she’d said that day, she realised, but with himself for having let them matter to him.
She couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said after they’d made love. But what she did remember, all too vividly, was the way the atmosphere between them had changed abruptly as soon as the afterglow had faded. How the playfulness, the openness, the heat and longing—and the intimacy—that had been building all day had suddenly disappeared.
When she had discovered Xander’s identity, she had assumed the abrupt change had been because he had been keen to get rid of her once he’d got what he wanted. But now, she realised, it must have been that offhand comment.
‘I’m sorry, Xander,’ she said, softly. And meant it. She’d hurt him. And she had carried on believing he was a man who couldn’t be hurt. But the fact he’d held onto that criticism for so long told a different story.
He swung round, his expression carefully blank. ‘You have no reason to be sorry. You did not know the man you spoke of was me.’
‘You misunderstand me, Xander.’ She touched his forearm, desperate to sooth the tension crackling in the air between them. The muscles hardened but he didn’t pull away. ‘I’m not sorry for what I said about that billionaire, because you’re right, I didn’t know him then. But I know more about who he is now and, for that reason, I’m sorry what I said hurt you.’
* * *
Xander flinched, shocked not just by the unnecessary apology, but also by the fierce compassion in Poppy’s eyes. Why did her compassion, her kindness, feel like a strength, when he had always considered vulnerability of any kind a weakness?
And why did her stalwart belief that he was a good man, despite everything, make him feel like that terrified boy again, who had woken to find himself and his brother alone…? It was almost as if everything he had worked so hard for—the security, the safety, the money—had been for nothing, because he couldn’t defend himself from this slender woman—or resist the tenderness in her eyes.
Shame and embarrassment washed over him.
Why had he mentioned her comment? Had he really allowed himself to stew over that remark for months? How pathetic.
He drew his arm away from her fingertips, resisting the powerful urge to drag her into his embrace and kiss her until they were both breathless.
If only he could tear off that dress and make love to her, until she was crying out his name again, massaging him to climax, so he could obliterate this foolish conversation. But somehow the brutal need to have her only made him feel more defenceless. Because his inability to control the constant hunger felt like a problem now, too.
He bunched his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets, to stop himself from reaching for her. If for no other reason than to prove he could.
‘You did not hurt me,’ he said, determined to reject her sympathy, her pity. She couldn’t hurt him, not unless he let her. And he could not open himself to that again, however much he might desire her.
‘Okay,’ she said. But then she blinked and the sheen of moisture in her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, disturbing him even more.
‘And I certainly do not require an apology,’ he added, annoyed by the defensive tone. ‘If anything, I should say sorry to you, for not being honest with you that day, about who I was…’ he finished, realising the apology was long overdue.
She nodded, but just when he felt as if he could breathe again she asked: ‘Why did you keep your identity a secret that day? Was what happened between us always just about the sex for you?’
Yes. Because I knew you would never sleep with me if you knew I was him.
He opened his mouth to give her the answer he wanted to be true. The answer he’d managed to convince himself was true, five months ago, when he’d walked away from her on the dock, determined to forget her. But her sincerity—and that bottomless pit forming in his chest—made it impossible to lie to her or himself any longer.
‘It is true I wanted you very much,’ he said. ‘From the first moment you approached me on the beach. You were so fresh, and guileless and fierce… When you spoke of your mother with such passion, it moved me, and I am not a sentimental man.’ He paused to ease the tightness in his chest. ‘And as the day progressed, I could see you desired me, too.’
But what had happened that day had always been more than just sexual attraction. Because she still unsettled him, causing emotions he did not recognise, he hadn’t expected, and he did not want to acknowledge even now. But maybe if he stopped pretending nothing had happened, he would finally be able to control those unthinkable emotions. She was the mother of his child. She would always be a part of his life now. So it was important he found a way to rationalise and eventually overcome the feelings that continued to disturb him.
But he could not admit any of that to her, or it would expose him even more.
‘When you suggested we remain anonymous,’ he added, choosing his words with care, ‘it seemed the perfect solution for us to take what we both wanted without consequences.’
His gaze drifted to her stomach. He pressed his palm to the bump and let out a wry laugh.
‘Ironic, given our circumstances now.’
She covered his hand with both of hers. His heart jumped, making him aware that the pit in his stomach was still there, and still bottomless. What he saw in her eyes—soft and warm and real—terrified him more. But even so, he couldn’t look away when she smiled.
‘Ironic, yes, but somehow wonderful too,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you think?’
He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but even so, he nodded, the rush of possessiveness hard to ignore. ‘Yes, I am glad you are having my child,’ he said, surprised to realise it was true.
He doubted he could love a child, and he knew he could never give it what it would need emotionally. He had been forced to give up all those weaknesses on the streets of Athens as a boy to survive—and he did not regret it. But as its mother, Poppy would be able to give their child that so easily.
His role would be as it had been with his brother. To protect, to shelter, and to give their child financial security.
She beamed at him, tears glistening in her eyes now. It made her even more beautiful, and desirable. He tugged his hands out of his pockets to cradle her face, and brush away the tears with his thumbs, ignoring the weightlessness in his belly.
‘Do not cry, Poppy. I will take care of you both,’ he said, wanting to reassure her. As well as himself.
She sniffed, then smiled. ‘I can only let you do that if you’ll let me take care of you, too.’
He frowned, her offer making no sense to him. But then decided he could live with that, if her role was to bear his child, to nurture it, and to take away this constant nagging ache that only she had ever filled.
Tugging her towards him, he slanted his lips across hers, devouring her soft sob of surprise and surrender, determined to seal their deal the only way he knew how.
He angled her head to take the kiss deeper and make her aware of the thick ridge forming against her belly. The hunger intensified as she returned his kiss with equal fervour.
Sex was simple, uncomplicated. This was what he wanted from her, and all he would ever need. To feed the hunger, soothe the longing, sate the desperation.
She was his now, but on his terms. And when they were tired of each other, he would ensure she and the baby would always have what they needed.
Lifting her into his arms, he strode across the terrace, towards his suite.
‘Xander, our dinner?’ she asked, dazed and delightfully flushed.
‘It can wait. It is you I am starving for now,’ he said, grinding out the words as the ruthless need consumed him.
She didn’t object as he carried her to his bed.
Much later—after they had eaten in the moonlight, then made love again—he lay in his bed, staring out of the open terrace doors at the starry sky, the sea breeze cooling his heated skin while he held her warm, exhausted body a little too tightly.
As he caressed her stomach, the fierce hunger returned.
As well as the hollow pain, the old fear, that she might leave him when he needed her still. And suddenly he could think of only one solution.
They must become man and wife.
He would have to handle the proposal with care. She would be resistant, because of that maddening independence that captivated and frustrated him in equal measure.
She was resistant to the life of luxury and leisure he could offer her. But she already understood the ‘freedoms’ she had once taken for granted came with a cost their child would have to pay. So, surely it would not be impossible to convince her she and the child needed the protection of his name. Once the child was born, she would have to nurture it and that would be a full-time job. But surely, given her compassionate nature and her excitement about the pregnancy, being a mother would give her more satisfaction than the menial work she had done before?
He recalled the sheen of deep emotion in her eyes earlier that evening.
Why shouldn’t he use her passionate nature, her sweetness and naiveté and her belief in dreams, to overcome all these other obstacles?
She sighed softly then shifted in his arms, her movements agitated—almost as if she had sensed him making decisions for her again.
He gathered her close, ignoring the prickle of guilt. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her—suncream and summer flowers and female musk—and the familiar heat pounded between his thighs. He could not let her go, he had to make her stay, that much was non-negotiable.
He had already arranged to conduct his business from Parádeisos for the next couple of weeks. Why not use the time to lay the groundwork for a marriage at the end of their stay here? He had always been ruthless in the pursuit of what he wanted, so why should this situation be any different?
He could not stay on Parádeisos indefinitely. But once they were married, she and his child could live here.
And, once she was living in the place her mother had once dreamed of making her home, she would understand her independence was a small price to pay for a future as his wife, and the mother of his heir.
He had learned, even if she had not, that love was a trap. It was fickle and dangerous because it forced you to rely on other people. And he could never offer any woman that.
But a home—a home that no one could take away from her—that was achievable and real, if… He paused, his arms tightening around her until her restless movements stilled and she relaxed back into sleep…
No, when he made her his wife.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two weeks later
Poppy flashed a quick grin into the foggy bathroom mirror at the muffled rap on her bedroom door.
Well, that was new. Xander Caras bothering to knock. Not that he had much cause to knock on her door, as she was usually in his room. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around her freshly showered body and rushed through the suite to open the door.
Her smile faltered when she saw the villa’s housekeeper standing on the other side with her arms full of shimmering silk.
‘Oh, hello, Elena. Hi…’ she said, feeling awkward and trying not to show it. Elena and the rest of the staff at the villa had been wonderful in the past fortnight, tending to her and Xander’s needs while also giving them the privacy they needed.
And, boy, had they made the most of it.
The last fourteen days had been wonderful in ways she never would have expected. She was getting to know Xander better, even if he didn’t want to talk much about his past—she still hadn’t got any more information out of him about his childhood—but in every other way, their time together on Parádeisos had been a revelation.
The sex, of course, had been epic, and exhausting, in the most delicious way possible. She’d become totally addicted to him. All he had to do was look at her now, the fierce awareness darkening his gaze, and her body quickened, preparing to take him inside her. But more than that, each time he touched her, each time he brought her to another shattering climax, then held her afterwards, he made her feel precious, and cherished, and seen. What they had together wasn’t just sex, she knew that for sure now. They had strengthened the connection that had always been there, even on that day when she’d thought he was someone else.
Xander was a sexual being, and so was she. Their connection had been forged in the fire of their physical attraction—but that didn’t make it any less real.
And there was also his enchanting reaction to the pregnancy.
