Hot Picks: Exotic Propositions

Rhiannon’s thoughts were flying, whirling round and round in frightened, desperate circles. Lukas Petrakides as Annabel’s father was one thing. He was known to be steady, responsible. A good father figure. That was why she had come.

This Christos was something else entirely.

‘But why?’ she asked again, clutching at one seemingly improbable thread.

‘To impress your friend?’ Lukas shrugged. ‘Or more likely to annoy me. He likes to give me bad press, although the tabloid journalists are wise to him by now. They usually ignore his little peccadilloes.’

‘But surely people—the press—would know he wasn’t you?’

Lukas’s mouth twisted in harsh acknowledgement. ‘I keep a low profile. There are few photographs of me, and Christos has a family resemblance. He only does it outside of Greece—he knows he can’t get away with it there.’ He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. ‘It has been an annoyance in the past, but now it poses…’

‘A major inconvenience?’ Rhiannon finished, and he gave her a cool look.

‘A challenge, certainly.’

Rhiannon was silent for a moment. Her thoughts chased themselves down dark tunnels that led to implications her heart shied away from. There was too much new information. Too much to think about…to wonder about. To be frightened about.

‘From the sound of him, I don’t think he would make a good father,’ she finally said. ‘Would he?’

Lukas was ominously silent. ‘I cannot say he is particularly suited for the role.’

‘Or interested in it?’ Rhiannon surmised, feeling sick. She’d come to France to find Annabel’s father…but not this. Not some young, rakish sot who couldn’t care less. Not someone who would openly reject her.

‘No, probably not,’ Lukas agreed after a tense moment.

‘He won’t want Annabel,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘Will he?’

Lukas’s expression was like steel. Flint. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘He won’t.’

Rhiannon shook her head. This was so far from what she’d hoped. Dreamed. She realised now that the happily-ever-after she’d been planning in her head was a fantasy, pathetic and unreal. Could she leave Annabel with a man who didn’t want her?

Could she take her home?

Nothing made sense. Nothing felt right.

‘What are you going to do?’ Rhiannon asked. She didn’t like giving control to Lukas, no matter how used to it he was. She just didn’t know what to do next.

Lukas was studying her in an odd way, his mouth twisting in a grimace of acknowledgement. ‘You really don’t want her,’ he stated flatly. ‘That’s why you came, isn’t it? To give her up…to anyone willing to take her.’

‘If that were true,’ Rhiannon snapped, ‘I would have left her with Social Services. Don’t mistake me, Mr Petrakides. I have Annabel’s best interests at heart.’

‘Undoubtedly.’ It came out as a sneer.

Rhiannon shook her head. If Lukas wanted to judge her for giving up a child she couldn’t truly call her own—if he thought her attempt to find Annabel’s father was suspect—then fine. She refused to exonerate herself. She didn’t need to.

‘If Annabel is indeed Christos’s child,’ Lukas stated with flat finality, ‘then she is my great-niece. My relative.’ In case she didn’t yet get it, he added with steely determination, ‘My responsibility.’

‘I see.’ Rhiannon thought of every article she’d read, every glowing word about Lukas Petrakides being a man of honour, of integrity.

Of responsibility.

When she’d made her decision to find him, those descriptions had seemed like promises.

Now they were threats.

She didn’t want Annabel to be someone’s loveless responsibility. A burden. Yet now she realised she didn’t have much choice.

She’d given her choices away when she’d embarked on this reckless mission.

‘You will stay here until the issue of Annabel’s paternity is resolved,’ Lukas continued in implacable tones.

She’d expected as much, but his autocratic dictate still rankled. How about saying please? ‘What about my responsibilities back home?’ she demanded. ‘My job, my life?’

‘You can’t spare a few days?’ He raised one eyebrow in contemptuous disbelief. ‘Surely you’ve already arranged a leave of absence?’

‘Yes, but only for a few days…’ She’d had holiday coming to her, as she rarely took days off.

‘Then arrange some more.’

‘It’s not that simple…’

‘Actually,’ Lukas replied coolly, ‘it is. Annabel is your first responsibility now—as you have told me yourself. You are her legal guardian aren’t you? For the moment.’

For the moment. Panic fluttered through her insides, left her weak and afraid. ‘Yes, I am. But I’m under no obligation…’

Lukas waved this empty threat aside with scathing contempt. ‘Do not think to outmanoeuvre or outrank me, Miss Davies. I don’t care what the law says. If Annabel is related to me, I will be the one deciding what place you may have in her life…if any. Is that understood?’

Rhiannon blinked in shock at the cold assessment. If any? ‘I’m her guardian…You can’t—’

‘If you didn’t want to start this,’ Lukas informed her with soft menace, ‘you shouldn’t have come. No one would have been any the wiser.’

‘I came,’ Rhiannon replied jerkily, ‘because it was my responsibility to find her true family—’

‘So let me fulfil my responsibility,’ Lukas interjected with cold finality. ‘Until her future is decided, you will remain.’

And then she would be dismissed. The thought frightened her. It hurt, and she hadn’t expected it to.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Rhiannon knew there was no point in arguing, no use in being angry. He had the power, the money, and the expensive legal team to enforce whatever he wished; she had nothing. She didn’t even know what her rights were, hadn’t even checked. After all, it wasn’t supposed to have turned out like this.

‘Fine. I’ll stay…but on my terms. Annabel is still in my care, and nothing has been proved yet.’

‘Indeed. In the meantime, you can move to a better room. A private suite.’

Rhiannon stared at him. It was a generous offer, but it was also a way to control her. Imprison her. ‘I’m not moving rooms.’

‘You must. You would be more comfortable, and so would the child. Besides, there is more privacy. Here—’ he motioned to the expanse of beach ‘—anyone could come along. Photographers included.’

‘Photographers?’ Rhiannon repeated blankly, only to have him stare at her in disbelief.

‘Paparazzi. Since you have so publicly announced that I have a child, the tabloid press are no doubt starting to swarm, clamouring for a photo or statement. I’d prefer for you—and the child—to be removed from such things.’

Rhiannon nodded jerkily, her mind whirling, becoming numb. ‘All right.’

A cry pierced the stillness of the late afternoon, and Lukas jerked in surprise at the sound. Rhiannon hurried inside.

Annabel was sitting up in her cot, her hair matted sweatily to her flushed face, arms held up in helpless appeal.

Rhiannon scooped her up, breathed in her baby scent. It was becoming familiar, she realised. It was becoming dear.

Annabel’s arms crept around her neck, held on. She nestled her chubby face in the curve of Rhiannon’s shoulder and something in her splintered, fell apart to reveal the raw, aching need underneath.

She wanted this child.

She wanted to love her…and to be loved back.

She’d tried to hold the tide of emotions back, but they came anyway.

And now it looked as if Lukas Petrakides wasn’t going to let that happen.

She turned, aware of his presence in the doorway. The fading sunlight outlined him in bronze, touching his hair with gold.

There was a look of fierce longing in his eyes, something deep and primal, before he noted tonelessly, ‘She likes you.’

‘We’re starting to bond,’ Rhiannon admitted cautiously. ‘It’s only been two weeks.’

‘Two weeks? When did Leanne die?’

‘Tuesday.’

Lukas stared at her in surprise, a frown marring the perfection of his features, putting a crease in his forehead. ‘Four days ago?’

Rhiannon’s hands stroked Annabel’s back, her arms curling protectively around her warm little body. ‘Yes. She only showed up on my doorstep a little over two weeks ago, and she died ten days later. Annabel has been in my sole care since then.’

‘So there’s been no time to formally adopt her?’ Lukas surmised.

Rhiannon’s arms tightened so that Annabel let out a squeal of protest.

‘No, but Leanne did make me Annabel’s legal guardian. I have the papers to prove it. It satisfied the immigration authorities, so it should be enough for you.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Annabel is mine.’

‘If you wanted her to be,’ Lukas said quietly. ‘Somehow I don’t think you do.’

Hurt and fury rippled through her at his brutal assessment. ‘You’re making assumptions,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘Annabel needs her bottle. So you’ll have to excuse me.’

She turned away, escaped to the bathroom, where she’d rinsed out Annabel’s army of bottles. She set the baby in her car seat and with shaking fingers measured out the powdered formula.

‘Quite a set-up you’ve got here,’ Lukas remarked, one shoulder propped against the doorway.

Rhiannon nearly dropped the bottle.

‘Could I please have some privacy?’

‘No. Annabel’s now as much of my concern as she is yours. I don’t plan on letting either of you out of my sight.’

Rhiannon’s mouth twisted. ‘Do you think I’ll make a run for it?’

‘I don’t know what you’re capable of,’ Lukas admitted coolly. ‘Or what you want. I wonder what you’re after from this deal, Rhiannon Davies. Is Annabel your bargaining chip?’

She whirled around, the bottle flying out of her hand and landing on the tiled floor with a clatter. Annabel began to wail.

‘I don’t know what type of people you consort with,’ she hissed furiously, ‘but they must be different from the kind I’m used to. Because I would never, never stoop so low. I’m not in this for myself, Mr Petrakides. I’m here for Annabel, and all I care about is her wellbeing. If that means being without me, then I’ll let her go. If it means being with me, then I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep her. But I’m not going to obey your every barked-out command, or cater to your controlling whims. If I do anything—anything—it will be in consideration of Annabel only. Not you. Understood?’

She stood, chest heaving, fists clenched, and Lukas stared at her long and hard, his mouth tightening into a thin line of resolve before he gave a slight, self-mocking bow of acknowledgement.

‘Understood.’

‘Good.’ She still didn’t know if he believed her, but she didn’t care. She was shaking, trembling from head to foot, as she scooped up Annabel, pressed her downy cheek against her pounding heart. Annabel, sensing her fear and anger, kept crying.

‘You’re in no state to hold her right now,’ Lukas admonished, and he eased the baby from her reluctant grasp.

Rhiannon watched as he cradled her carefully, awkwardly. He wasn’t used to babies, she thought.

The smile he gave Annabel was tender, his eyes widening in surprise at his own reaction to her toothless grin.

Rhiannon scooped the bottle from the floor and dumped it in the sink. As Annabel began to grizzle again, from hunger, she set to making another one.

She didn’t know what was going to happen now, and she wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

All she knew was the next few days might determine the rest of Annabel’s life…and hers.

Several hours later Annabel was finally asleep. Stars glittered in an inky sky, reflected back in diamond pinpoints on the water, and Rhiannon prowled restlessly around the suite Lukas had insisted she move into a few hours ago. She’d never seen such luxury, and if the circumstances had been different she might have enjoyed it.

She ran a hand over the silky duvet on the king-sized bed, glanced in mocking derision at the whirlpool bath for two. All the trappings for romance, and totally unnecessary.

There was a separate sitting area, as well as a kitchenette filled with gleaming appliances and crockery—admittedly handy for dealing with Annabel’s bottles and food.

A wide balcony stretched the entire length of the suite, and after one last check to make sure Annabel was settled Rhiannon slipped out into the warm cover of darkness.

She sank into a chair, brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top. It was a pose from childhood—a pose of protection.

She closed her eyes.

She could hear the sounds of a party from the resort’s gardens—was Lukas there? She hadn’t seen him since he’d had her moved up here. Out of sight.

For the last few hours she’d entertained Annabel, fed and bathed her, keeping the doubts, the fears at bay.

Now they hurtled back with startling force.

Lukas had the power to take custody of Annabel, she realised dejectedly. She knew she was Annabel’s legal guardian but the courts could easily decide in Lukas’s favour—he had the support of extended family, including the baby’s biological father. He was wealthy, powerful, connected to all the right people…

Anyway, this was what she’d wanted, she told herself. She’d come to France for Annabel to meet her father, to have a family.

The family she’d never had herself.

She’d wanted Lukas to take custody of Annabel, to love her. She’d convinced herself it was best for everyone.

She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. She hadn’t prepared herself for the surge of protectiveness she’d felt when Lukas had threatened paternity tests, custody suits.

She’d expected to offer Annabel, not to have her taken by force.

Taken as a matter of duty rather than of love.

Duty. The word rested heavily on her. Lukas was a man of responsibility. He would do the right thing by Annabel, but he wouldn’t love her.

Would he?

Not like I do. Not like I could.

She shook her head, dashed her hand against her eyes and the tears that threatened to fall. One fell anyway. This was stupid; she was being ridiculous. She didn’t cry.

She had known this would happen—even if she hadn’t anticipated the exact unfolding of events. She would just have to steel herself against the repercussions in her own heart.

‘I thought you might be hungry.’

Rhiannon looked up in surprise. She’d been so lost in her own unhappy thoughts that she hadn’t heard the glass door slide open, hadn’t seen Lukas step out onto the balcony.

Yet now she felt him—felt the way his presence seemed to suck the air right from her lungs.

He was looking down at her with a quiet thoughtfulness that reminded her of that first moment in the bar.

Then she’d believed he was a kind man.

Now she wasn’t sure.

Responsibility, integrity…They were good things, but they weren’t kindness. They didn’t encompass love.

She knew that well. Too well.

He placed a plate of food on the glass-topped table in front of her, then took her chin between his forefinger and thumb.

‘You’ve been crying.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

In response his thumb traced the track of the tear down her cheek, straight to her heart.

‘No?’ he queried gently, and another tear followed silently, dripped onto his thumb.

Rhiannon jerked her chin out of his hand, scrubbed angrily at her eyes. ‘I don’t cry.’

He watched her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Why don’t you eat? The lack of food won’t help things.’

‘Thank you,’ Rhiannon mumbled, and self-consciously drew the plate towards her.

‘A Languedoc speciality,’ Lukas informed her as she dug into the beef stew. ‘Made with black olives and garlic, finished with red wine.’

‘Delicious,’ Rhiannon admitted after one bite. She’d never had such food before.

He sat across from her, watching her with fathomless eyes. ‘How long had it been since you’d seen this Leanne?’ he asked after a long moment, and Rhiannon looked up in surprise.

‘I hadn’t seen her for ten years before she showed up on my doorstep with Annabel, asking me to take her.’ She paused, toying with her fork, lost in memory.

‘It must have been quite an inconvenience,’ Lukas commented, his voice neutral. Yet Rhiannon still heard the judgement. Felt it.

‘All children are inconveniences,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t mean they’re not worth it.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ There was a cynical note to Lukas’s tone that Rhiannon didn’t like.

‘What are you proposing to do?’ she forced herself to ask. ‘If Christos is the father? If Annabel is such an inconvenience to you…?’

‘You think I’d palm her off like you’ve been trying to do?’ Lukas finished, and Rhiannon jerked back at the scorn in his voice. ‘I do my duty, Rhiannon. I’ll do it by Annabel.’

‘I was not palming her off,’ she protested, and Lukas shrugged, unconvinced. Unimpressed.

‘Call it what you like.’

‘I was prepared to give you custody,’ she admitted painfully, driven to the truth. ‘A child should be with her natural-born parent—if that parent wants her.’ She gazed unseeingly before her, the star-spangled sky blurring into a haze of colour. ‘The parameters have changed now, though.’

‘Yes, they have.’ Lukas’s voice was quiet, but held the underlying steel Rhiannon was coming to recognise…and dread. ‘But some things remain the same.’

‘Your nephew might not even be Annabel’s father,’ she pointed out.

‘Perhaps he is not,’ Lukas agreed implacably. ‘But until the matter is resolved you will stay here. With me. When his paternity is proved—’

‘If—’

‘If,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘We will have matters to discuss.’

Rhiannon swallowed. She didn’t want to ask what matters those might be—didn’t have the courage. I will decide what place you have in her life…if any. She had a feeling, a terrible suspicion, that Lukas would cut her out of Annabel’s life as if wielding a pair of scissors.

And she’d started it all by coming here. By looking for Lukas.

Had she anticipated what might happen when she found him?

Yes, she had. She’d pictured Lukas cradling his daughter, his face suffused with tenderness. She’d anticipated shock, followed by gratitude and joy.

She’d anticipated, she acknowledged numbly, a ridiculous happily-ever-after that was never going to happen.

It hadn’t happened before. Why should it happen now?

She’d been a naive, foolish idiot to think for one moment that it could.

Lukas placed his hand on her own. His voice was a condemnation. ‘This is what you wanted.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘You came here to give her away,’ Lukas continued flatly, and Rhiannon shrugged helplessly.

‘To someone who would love her. I wanted…’ She stared down at their hands, his large brown one on top of her paler, more delicate fingers. ‘I wanted her to have a family.’

Lukas was silent, his fingers heavy on hers. She felt his warmth, his heat, and it fanned quickly, alarmingly, into a more dangerous flame.

Desire.

Suddenly it was there, thrumming to life, palpable, heady, filled with possibility.

She wanted to jerk her hand away, but Lukas’s hand was still on hers, still heavy, staying her own movements. And somehow Rhiannon knew she wouldn’t move her hand even if it were free.

She watched as he turned her hand over, traced his thumb lightly down her palm. Rhiannon shivered. She was helplessly in thrall to him, to the barest of his touches.

She snuck a look at him from beneath her lowered lashes, saw he was staring at their hands too, watching his own thumb flick along her palm with an almost clinical interest, as if he too were captive to a greater need than either one of them had ever anticipated or experienced.

Then his eyes met hers, and Rhiannon was rocked to her core by the blatant need, the open hunger in them.

He reached out his other hand, slowly, deliberately, and tangled it in her hair. Rhiannon’s mouth opened soundlessly, yet she didn’t resist as he pulled her towards him, nearly out of her chair. He leaned forward, his lips a breath away from hers.

‘I want to do this.’ He spoke in a ragged whisper; it was a confession.

Rhiannon’s head swum dizzily. So do I. Yet she couldn’t quite say it.

Lukas must have sensed her unspoken permission, or perhaps he didn’t require it, for he touched his lips to hers once—a brush, a flicker, a promise.

Then the promise deepened into a certainty as his tongue plundered her mouth, took possession of her soul. Rhiannon’s fingers bunched on his shoulders, clawed for purchase, for sanity.

Somehow she had slipped out of her chair, was kneeling on the hard tiled floor between Lukas’s powerful thighs. She could feel his arousal against her heart.

His mouth continued to cover hers, plunging, plundering. Taking everything. His hands fisted in her hair, drawing her closer, binding her to him.

The kiss went on endlessly. She’d never felt so treasured, so desired, so needed.

So loved.

The thought was a cold slap of reality, a mocking laugh in the stillness of their entwined bodies.

There was no love involved here. She barely knew this man. All he felt for her was contempt, suspicion. She wanted him—oh, yes—and he wanted her.

But that was all.

Sex.

She pulled away, wincing as her hair tangled around Lukas’s fingers. He was completely still, his hand still snarled in her hair, staring at her as if she were a stranger—as if he were a stranger to himself.

His breathing was ragged, uneven, and so was hers.

‘I’m sorry.’ He looked appalled, angry. Yet Rhiannon had a feeling that anger was not directed at her. Carefully he unwound the strands of hair from his fingers, smoothed the curls back from her fevered brow. ‘That shouldn’t have happened.’

‘No,’ Rhiannon agreed shakily, although the sense of loss she felt would have sent her to her knees if she hadn’t already been there.

Lukas helped her back into her chair. ‘Clearly I’ve been without a woman for too long,’ he said with a cool smile, and Rhiannon’s own mouth twisted in bitterness.

‘That’s what that was about? Sex?’ Of course it was. She was such a pathetic fool, thinking for one second it could ever be anything more.

Lukas sat back, looking surprised. ‘Obviously I desire you. I desired you when I first saw you.’

‘In the bar.’

He looked discomfited for the barest of moments before he gave a quick, sharp nod. ‘Yes. Before any of this happened with the child the desire was there. It was real.’

Real and warm and alive. Yet it was just desire—cheap and easy.

Even desire could be a burden.

It wasn’t love, and Rhiannon knew that was what she needed. Wanted.

She’d just never had it.

‘We should go to bed. Sleep,’ she amended hastily, and Lukas acknowledged her slip of the tongue with a wry nod. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Yes, it has.’

Rhiannon reached for her plate and he stilled her movement with one hand on her arm, his fingers curling around her wrist. ‘Perhaps that was a moment of comfort we both needed,’ he said. ‘It won’t happen again.’

He spoke in warning, as if he thought she might expect a replay. Did she seem so desperate?

Rhiannon’s nerves were splintered, her emotions in tatters.

None of this was supposed to happen.

‘Well, thank you,’ she finally said, her voice strained and low, ‘for that courtesy.’ And without another word, not trusting herself to speak or meet his frowning gaze, she slipped through the door.

She heard him leave the suite from the safety of the locked bathroom. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, her fists in her hair, her lips still burning from his kisses.

Perhaps it was a moment of comfort we both needed.

Damned by compassion. Pity. No doubt his misguided sense of responsibility striking once again. He’d been trying to comfort her.