The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride Page 8

  ‘He needs you. He’s still a baby. I understand that,’ Leonidas intoned, strolling lithely closer.

  Maribel grew so tense her knees trembled beneath her. ‘But he won’t always be a baby and I can’t keep on changing the rules.’

  ‘If you insist on making rules I’ll break them or go round them, mali mou,’ Leonidas imparted huskily, dark eyes shimmering slices of golden enticement below his lashes. ‘I’m made that way.’

  ‘But as I found out that time that you stayed with me in Imogen’s house when we were students,’ Maribel muttered in a breathless rush, like a deer with a lion stalking around it in an ever-decreasing circle, ‘you can follow rules beautifully if it suits you to do so.’

  ‘Maybe I was scared you would slap me again.’ The sexual provocation of his slow-burning smile was an erotic work of art.

  Her mouth ran dry. A pulse seemed to be beating low in her tummy. Excitement was building, tensing her every muscle. And then she remembered Sloan and she went into instant retreat, ashamed and angry over her weakness in Leonidas’ vicinity. ‘I have to get ready. I have a date.’

  Lean, hard-boned face taut, Leonidas frowned. ‘You have a date?’

  Still backing, Maribel nodded in vigorous confirmation. ‘So if you don’t mind I’ll go back upstairs and leave you with Elias.’

  The atmosphere was heavy, ultra-quiet.

  ‘Okay?’ Maribel pressed uneasily.

  Pale beneath his bronzed skin, Leonidas fixed his attention on a distant point beyond the window. She had taken him by surprise. But what took him even more by surprise was the tide of anger flooding him. ‘Who is this guy?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ Maribel almost whispered.

  Leonidas thought of several very unreasonable responses to that statement. He relived the insulting way in which she had backed away from him. Had that ever happened to him with a woman before? His lean, strong features darkened and set in hard, angular lines. He had been tempted to yank her back to him. He reminded himself that it was not his way to be possessive with a woman. But then Maribel was different, he reasoned just as quickly. Maribel was in a class of her own. Surely it was understandable that he found the very idea of his son’s mother becoming intimate with another man deeply objectionable? Elias was tugging at his raincoat now to get his attention. Leonidas had to make an effort to show an interest in the toy train being extended for his admiration. Thinking of how her boyfriend might get to spend time with his son gave Leonidas another cast-iron reason for loathing the whole concept of such a relationship.

  His silence in response to a defiant answer shook Maribel rigid, but she didn’t quarrel with the reprieve. She hurried away to get dressed. Keen to avoid Leonidas, she even painted her nails to use up more time. Only when she heard Ginny’s car pulling up outside did she hasten downstairs to answer the door.

  As Maribel reappeared Leonidas glanced up and, in ten seconds flat, minutely catalogued the amount of effort Maribel had made to prepare for her outing. Much more effort than she had ever made for his benefit, he decided, lethal antagonism building on the anger still seething below his unemotional surface. In fact, she had gone to town on her appearance: perfume, chestnut hair straightened into a smooth fall round her pale pink luscious mouth, a pastel girlie top, peach-tinted nails, shapely legs on view in a swirly skirt, sexy high heels.

  ‘This is Ginny Bell, my friend and neighbour who will be looking after Elias while I’m out. Ginny, this is Leonidas Pallis.’

  Only when Maribel spoke did Leonidas take note of the woman who had followed her into the room. He rose silently up to his full height. The dark-haired older woman by Maribel’s side was staring at him as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. Agitated as a jumping bean, Maribel watched Leonidas switch on his effortless social charm and wondered anxiously why he had gone so quiet with her earlier. If he was displeased, quietness was in no way typical of Leonidas. Ginny was bowled over by him, couldn’t hide the fact and chattered. Leonidas soon established that Maribel was attending a wedding party and was expected home late, so Ginny was staying the night. His mood was not improved by that information, or by the enthusiasm with which Maribel rushed outside before her date could even get his car door open and put in an appearance.

  When Leonidas left five minutes after Maribel’s speedy departure, rage was sitting like a hard black stone at the heart of him and consuming more of his thoughts with every second that passed. As he headed back to the helicopter Vasos called him on his mobile. His bodyguards, who had watched the farmhouse while he was inside, converged on him.

  ‘I’ve had a tip-off,’ his security chief told him. ‘A tabloid newspaper has a lead on Dr Greenaway and the child. You have the connections to kill the story at this stage.’

  Shrewd intelligence glittered in Leonidas’ hard dark eyes. He pictured the farmhouse under siege by the paparazzi. The press would go crazy: A SECRET HEIR TO THE PALLIS BILLIONS? There would be no place to hide from the storm of publicity and speculation. Maribel would need his help to handle that attention. She would also need somewhere to stay, for there was no way that she could be adequately protected in her current location. Before she knew where she was, she would be putting down roots at Heyward Park, alongside Elias and Mouse and the moth-eaten poultry collection. Satisfaction at that prospect lifted the chilling shadow from his lean, strong face.

  ‘I don’t want the story killed.’

  ‘You don’t?’ Vasos was startled, as he was well-acquainted with his employer’s loathing for the endless press coverage of his private life.

  ‘We’ll use the same source to feed back certain facts. I’ll sue if there’s any hint of sleaze. Dr Greenaway and my son will also require surveillance and protection from this moment on.’ Having referred for the first time to Elias as his son, Leonidas slid his phone back in his pocket. He knew he was being a bastard. But Maribel would never find out. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. All that mattered was the bottom line.

  In the early hours of the following morning, Maribel slid her shoes off her aching feet, locked up and crept upstairs as quietly as she could.

  Tired and disheartened, she acknowledged that she had faked her every smile with Sloan. From the moment Leonidas had arrived and stolen her attention, her chances of having a good time with Sloan had gone downhill fast. She hated herself for the fact. But the relentless pull of Leonidas’ attraction had broken through her barriers again.

  As she got into bed she reflected that Imogen had never got over Leonidas either and losing the entrée to his exclusive world had devastated her. Only near the end of her cousin’s life had Maribel learned that it was Leonidas who had persuaded Imogen to enter rehab; not only had he paid for it, but he’d also settled all her debts at the same time. Only after Imogen had twice abandoned her treatment programme had Leonidas stopped returning her calls.

  His grim reserve on the day when Imogen had been buried had warned Maribel that he was finding the occasion a trial. That was the day when she had finally realised that she was surprisingly good at reading Leonidas, who struck other people as utterly unfathomable. At the funeral, she had also noticed his aversion to sycophantic strangers and the women trying to chat him up. He had spoken to her several times while assiduously ignoring everyone else.

  Her aunt had asked her to go on and clear out Imogen’s house. By then, Maribel had had her own apartment, although she had often stayed with her cousin to look after her. In fact, during that last year, all Maribel’s free time had gone into watching over her troubled relative. After the funeral, Maribel had felt bereft, and when she’d reached the house she’d found it in a mess: Imogen’s sisters had already sacked her wardrobe and rummaged through every cupboard, taking what they wanted, leaving Maribel to tidy up and dispose of what was left. Maribel had wandered round the silent house and, when she’d come on some old photos, had cried unashamedly while allowing herself to remember the good times.

  Leonidas
’ arrival had been a total bolt from the blue.

  ‘I knew you would be here. You’re the only one who genuinely cared about Imo.’ Sombre and magnificent in his black suit and overcoat, Leonidas skimmed a knuckle gently across Maribel’s tear-streaked cheek and frowned down at her in reproof. ‘You feel like ice.’

  ‘I left my coat at my aunt’s and the house is cold.’

  With a ceremonial flourish, Leonidas removed his coat and draped it round her shoulders. He signalled one of the men stationed by the limo and addressed him in Greek. While she hovered in bewilderment, the gas fire in the front room was lit.

  ‘You should have a brandy.’

  ‘The drinks cabinet was cleaned out a long time ago.’

  Leonidas issued another instruction. Within ten minutes she was sipping a brandy and warming up inside and out. She was further disconcerted when he began talking about the first time Imogen introduced him to her. He was the only person who seemed to understand the depth of her attachment to her cousin.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Maribel finally asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  And Maribel saw that he didn’t recognise or understand the grief and sense of regret that had prompted him to come to Imogen’s house and talk about the past. His incomprehension of his own emotions somehow pierced her to the heart that day.

  ‘It was an impulse,’ he finally added. ‘You were very upset at the funeral.’

  Afterwards, she told herself that the brandy she’d drunk went straight to her head. Of course, there’d also been the exhilaration of Leonidas’ full attention and the delight of almost drowning in the sensuality of his kiss. How they’d got upstairs to the guest room that had once been hers, she could not recall. Nothing had seemed to matter but the moment. For a few brief hours she had discovered a happiness more intense than any she had ever known. But the next morning she’d felt terrifyingly scared and oversensitive. His mocking request for breakfast, as though they had shared only the most casual encounter, had hurt like salt in a wound. But had she learnt even then?

  No, she had raced out to buy food, as there had been nothing to eat in the entire house. But it had been a foggy morning and, before she’d even reached the supermarket, someone had rammed their car into the back of hers and she’d been injured. It had been hours before she’d recovered consciousness in a hospital bed.

  Two days later, Maribel was wakened by the doorbell.

  Assuming it was a special postal delivery, she sighed and got up. The phone started ringing as she opened the door. It was a shock when a bunch of people she had never seen before began running across the lawn towards her shouting and waving cameras. She slammed the door shut again so fast she bashed a microphone being extended towards her.

  Her mind blank with shock, she snatched up the phone.

  ‘It’s Ginny. My sister phoned me. There’s a front-page story on you and Elias in The Globe!’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Maribel stared in horror at a man peering in through the living-room window at her. She flew over to close the curtains. ‘There’s a crowd of people in the garden. They must be reporters.’

  ‘I’m coming over. You can’t possibly bring Elias to me this morning.’

  Someone was knocking on the back door. Every window seemed to have a face at it. She ran around frantically closing curtains and blinds. The phone rang again. It was a well-known female journalist asking if Maribel wanted to sell her story for a substantial cash payment.

  ‘I mean, from what I can see,’ the woman commented cheekily, ‘Leonidas Pallis isn’t exactly keeping you in the luxury you deserve.’

  That call was followed by another of a similar ilk, and then she unplugged the phone. Elias had climbed out of his cot and seated himself at the top of the stairs to await a storm of maternal protest over his athletic achievement. Big dark brown eyes alight with curiosity, he watched his mother race about instead in a panic. A hand rapped on the narrow window beside the front door. Maribel ignored it, but nerves were making her feel nauseous. The hubbub outside her quiet and peaceful home horrified her. Mouse would be having a panic attack in his kennel with all those strangers around.

  As she pulled on her clothes at speed she peered out through the side of her bedroom curtains and fell still in surprise. Three large thickset men in smart suits were practising crowd control and forcing the photographers to back away from the house itself into the lane. She recognised one of the men as a member of Leonidas’ security team. How had they got here so fast? Not that she wasn’t grateful for the support, she conceded ruefully.

  Her mobile buzzed while she was trying to keep Elias in one place long enough to get a pair of trousers on him. It was Leonidas.

  ‘I understand the press are harassing you, glikia mou,’ he murmured with audible sympathy.

  ‘It’s a nightmare! But your men are out there making them stay back from the doors and windows, which is quite an improvement,’ Maribel confided in a rush, feeling in charity with him for the first time in weeks. ‘I’m amazed that your bodyguards were able to get here so quickly.’

  ‘The paparazzi are very persistent. You won’t find it easy to shake them off. It’s a big story.’

  ‘Fortunately, Ginny will be here soon to look after Elias, and now I have the protection of your heavy mob. I’m going to work in half an hour.’

  At the other end of the line, Leonidas almost groaned out loud at her innocence. Like a little train on a single track, Maribel would stick stubbornly to her routine, no matter what happened. ‘They’ll follow you there. Some of my staff will take you. I don’t want you trying to drive with those guys tailing you.’

  ‘No, thanks for the offer. But bodyguards would stick out like a sore thumb,’ Maribel told him gently.

  ‘I think you may find it very difficult to remain at your home. It might be a good idea to consider a move to Heyward Park.’

  Maribel stiffened. ‘I don’t run at the first sign of trouble, Leonidas.’

  ‘You can’t keep Elias locked up out of sight for ever.’

  At that salient point, Maribel’s face shadowed and she came off the phone in an even more troubled mood.

  Ginny arrived while she was giving Elias his breakfast and settled a newspaper on the table. ‘There’s the article. I decided to buy a copy before I came over. Let me finish feeding Elias. Where did the heavies come from?’

  ‘Heavies? Oh, Leonidas’ security men.’

  ‘I should’ve guessed. They’re very professional. They checked me out before they would let me approach the door. It’s bedlam out there, though. I don’t envy you trying to go to work with a posse behind you.’

  BILLIONAIRE BABY BOY! the headline screamed. Maribel was too busy reading the lead story to respond to her friend. An old photo of her taken some years earlier at one of Imogen’s parties made her eyes widen. She wondered how on earth it had been obtained and the more she read, the more confused she became. Instead of the shock-horror lies, half-truths and errors she had expected, all her background details were correct, right down to the little-known fact that her late father had been an award-winning scientist who’d chosen academia over financial gain. She was described as a long-standing and trusted confidante of Leonidas Pallis and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, wondering who had dreamt up that whopper. When had Leonidas ever confided in anyone?

  ‘The article is all right,’ Ginny commented. ‘It’s surprisingly tame and kind. You sound like a cross between Einstein and Leonidas’ best friend.’

  ‘It’s a disaster,’ Maribel muttered wearily. ‘I’ll never be taken seriously again in the ancient history department.’

  Her friend gave her a wry look. ‘Don’t underestimate the effect of having a very close connection to one of the wealthiest men in the world. Some of your colleagues will be deeply envious and others will suck up to you. Anyway, it’s time you went to work. Elias will be safe here with me and Leonidas’ men.’

  Maribel found it a real challenge to leave her home and
drive away with cameras popping and flashing and questions being shouted at her. When she arrived at the department there were more journalists waiting. A crowd began forming around her before she even got upstairs to her office. Even people she knew were stopping and staring and she hated every minute of the attention. Her small tutorial group was uneasy with the number of interruptions that occurred. She couldn’t concentrate either. When she emerged from her office in the late afternoon, she had to almost force her passage back out to her car, which was surrounded by photographers urging her to give them a chance to take a decent picture of her. By the time she got away, her hands were trembling on the wheel and her brow was damp with perspiration. Her heart sank when she turned up the lane to her house and saw that there were even more paparazzi encamped than there had been at the start of the day. She was very grateful when the Pallis security team cleared her path to the house.

  Ginny was still sitting behind closed curtains in a dim interior. Mouse was now indoors but in a pitiable state, shaking all over and refusing to come out from below the table. Elias had curled up with the dog. Maribel picked him up and cuddled him.

  ‘I’m rather puzzled about something,’ Ginny remarked. ‘I made coffee for the bodyguards. What do you think I found out?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘One of them let drop that they were detailed to work here the day before yesterday.’

  Maribel gave her friend her full attention. ‘But that’s not possible.’

  ‘Someone must’ve known in advance that that story was in the pipeline. Leonidas’ men were here ready and waiting for the balloon to go up.’

  Maribel became very still. It was as if the circuits in her brain were connecting to show her an unexpected pattern. Mental alarm bells began jangling. One too many inconsistencies in recent events forced her to reconsider all of them. Leonidas had been remarkably mild about the paparazzi invasion, and astonishingly tactful and unassuming when he had merely suggested that she should consider moving into his Georgian mansion. Mildness, tact and humility were not typical Pallis traits. In addition, the personal information in the article had been staggeringly accurate and the tone unusually benevolent. That she should suspect Leonidas of prior knowledge and even of having had a hand in destroying her anonymity struck Maribel as appalling. But the suspicion also roused her furious indignation and a strong need to know the truth beyond all doubt.