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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.’
CHAPTER THREE
MILLIE sat in frozen silence, so stunned by his unexpected declaration that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. It took several uncomfortable moments for the full implications of his words to sink into her shocked brain.
Then she sprang to her feet and paced to the far side of the kitchen, so agitated that it was impossible to stay still. ‘You expect me to come back to you? You’re blaming me for walking away?’
‘Yes.’ His tone was hard. ‘I am.’
Millie stared at the row of shiny saucepans on the wall. ‘The fact that you won’t let me take the baby tells me only one thing.’
Leandro gave a humourless laugh. ‘I always insist that my employees are capable of thinking laterally. For some reason I didn’t apply the same standards to my wife. Take a word of advice from me—when you study a picture, there is almost always more going on than first meets the eye.’
‘I can see only one reason why you’d be so protective of this baby.’
‘Then remind me not to set you up in business. Tunnel vision is a guaranteed path to failure.’ He was a tough adversary—intelligent, articulate and able to counter every word spoken with the effortless ease of a practised negotiator. ‘Did you really think I’d let you walk out with him? A baby is a massive responsibility, requiring the ultimate commitment. Given your track record, I’m hardly likely to hand him over.’
‘My track record?’
‘When you met an obstacle in life, you walked away.’
His accusation was so unfair that her breath hitched. ‘You were with my sister. What did you expect? My blessing?’
‘You are my wife. I expected your trust.’ He was on his feet, too. And determined to halt her retreat. ‘Answer me a question.’ His handsome face taut and grim, he closed his hands over her shoulders. ‘After everything we shared—after those vows you made—why were you so quick to believe the worst of me? You stalked out that night and you never contacted me again. You didn’t ask me about it.’
Her eyes level with his bare chest, Millie’s heart was pounding uncomfortably. ‘I saw what I saw.’
‘You saw what your sister wanted you to see.’
‘I know that some of the blame lay with her, but—’
‘Not some of it,’ his tone was harsh, ‘all of it. She set you up, Millie, and you believed all the lies she fed you. And I was so angry that you believed her, I let you go. And that was a mistake, I admit that. One of many I’ve made where you’re concerned. I should have run after you, pinned you to our bed and made you see the truth.’
‘Don’t do this!’ Millie covered her ears with her hands. ‘Why are you doing this now when it’s all too late?’
‘Because this is a conversation we need to have. What about those feelings you claimed you had for me, Millie? Or was it all a damn lie because you wanted the lifestyle?’
She almost laughed at that. The lifestyle had been the problem, but he’d never understand that, would he? ‘I didn’t care about the lifestyle.’
‘Really? For a woman who didn’t care, you certainly spent enough time on your appearance.’
It was such an unexpected interpretation of the facts that for a moment Millie just gaped at him. He had no idea. ‘What you said just now,’ she croaked, ‘about a picture sometimes having another meaning—’
‘Shopping is shopping.’ There was an acid bite to his tone. ‘It’s hard to find another meaning for that. Unless you convinced yourself that it was an act of charity to prop up the world economy single-handed.’
Millie was so shocked and stung by that all she managed by way of response was a little shake of her head. ‘I was trying to be the woman you wanted me to be.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
Wasn’t it obvious? She was standing in front of him in her oldest jeans with bubbling hair and no make-up. The shiny surface of his large American fridge reflected her deficiencies back at her. Even in the kitchen there was no escape. ‘I’m not your type. We met and married in less than a month. It was just too quick. We didn’t know each other. It was a mistake.’
‘Which part, exactly, was the mistake?’ He made a rough sound in his throat and stepped towards her, trapping her against the wall with the sheer force of his presence. ‘The part when you lay underneath me, sobbing my name?’
She felt the hard muscle of his thighs against her. ‘Leandro—’
He slid his hand into her hair, tilting her face so that she was forced to look at him. ‘Or the part when you came again and again without any break in between—was that when you thought, This is a mistake?’
‘Don’t do this—please don’t do this.’ Millie pushed at his chest and immediately regretted it because her hands encountered sleek muscle and it took every fibre of her being not to slide her greedy fingers over the deliciously masculine contours of his chest.
‘When you fell asleep with your head on my shoulder, were you dreaming of mistakes?’
He’d conjured up one of her most precious memories and she closed her eyes against the tears and felt them scald the backs of her eyelids. The sex had always been incredible but also a little bit overwhelming because she could never quite let go of the thought that a man like him couldn’t possibly want a girl like her. But in those moments afterwards—those moments when he’d held her and murmured soft words against her hair—that had been her favourite time. The time she’d actually let herself believe that the fairy-tale might be happening.
‘When you told me that you loved me, Millie…’ His voice was hoarse and his fingers tightened in her hair. ‘Were you thinking that it was a mistake? Was it all a lie?’
‘No.’
Her eyes flew to his and for one desperate moment she thought he might actually kiss her. His mouth hovered, a muscle flickered in his lean, dark jaw and his eyes glittered black and dangerous. He looked like a man on the edge.
And then he stepped back from the edge, displaying that formidable control that raised him apart from other men. ‘I don’t think you know what you want, Millie. And that’s why I’m not letting you take this baby.’ With a searing glance in her direction, he closed his hand over her wrist and propelled her back to the table. ‘Sit down.’
‘Leandro, you can’t—’
‘I said sit down. I haven’t finished.’ His harsh tone was all the more shocking because she’d never heard it before. Always, with her, he’d been gentle. She’d never been on the receiving end of his biting sarcasm or his brutal frankness.
‘If you yell, I won’t listen.’
‘I’m not yelling.’ But he drew in a breath to calm himself and Millie sat, wondering again why he was so angry.
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