Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy / Redemption Of The Untamed Italian. Clare Connelly
before dropping to my legs. The return journey was just as sizzling. Hell, more so.
That stain of inadequacy, of not being worthy—which had dogged me from the moment my father’s abscondment-announcing postcard had landed on the front doormat, in shocking synchronicity with the bailiff’s arrival on our doorstep eight years ago—flared like a fever.
I didn’t need one of my mother’s magazines to tell me that this man didn’t meddle with the likes of me…ever.
It was in every delicious frame of his impeccable body, every measured exhalation and every flicker of those sooty, spiky eyelashes that most women would pay hundreds to replicate. He would date socialites with faultless pedigree. Heiresses with flawless bone structure who listed royalty as close friends.
Not the callously abandoned daughter of a disgraced middle-grade financier and an almost-addicted gambler, whose only nod to the arts was learning how to execute a half-decent jeté in year-five ballet.
‘Or do you feel inclined to use your five minutes in melodramatic silence?’ he drawled.
The realisation that I’d been gaping at him brought a spike of embarrassment. ‘I’m not being melodramatic.’
One brow hiked, and his gaze scanned me from top to toe again before his face slowly hardened.
‘You stated that you needed to see me as a matter of life or death, but between the time you set foot in my building and your arrival in my office I’ve ascertained that every member of my family is safe and accounted for. My employees’ well-being will take longer, and a lot of manpower to establish, so if I’m being pranked I’d caution you to turn around and leave right now—’
‘This isn’t about your present family. It’s about your future one.’
He turned to stone. A quite miraculous thing since he was such a big, towering force of a man whose aura threw off electric charges. His ability not to move a muscle would have been fascinating to watch if I hadn’t been terrified of the look in his eyes. The one that promised chaos and doom.
‘Repeat that, if you please.’
I couldn’t. Not if I valued my life.
‘I… Perhaps I need to start from the beginning.’
A single clench to his jaw. ‘Start somewhere. And fast. I’m not a patient man, Miss Preston. And I’m about to be late for an important meeting.’
My rib-banging heart rate shuddered in terror.
My life flashed before my eyes. Again.
I pushed away disturbingly bleak images of a life unfulfilled and dreams dashed. Curled my sweaty fists tighter and cleared my throat.
‘My name is Sadie Preston…’ When that only prompted a higher arch of his brow I hurried on. ‘I work…worked at the Phoenix Clinic.’
Right until I was summarily fired, three hours ago. But the problem of my unemployment would have to be addressed later. Provided I didn’t end up in jail—
My train of thought screeched to a halt as he rocked forward, slid his hands into his trouser pockets and brought muscular thighs into singeing relief. Time pulsed by in silence as the very masculine stance ramped up the heat running through me.
‘For your sake, I hope this isn’t some sort of misguided attempt to garner employment, because I can assure you—’
‘It’s not!’ My interruption was much more shrill than I’d intended. And I knew immediately that neither it nor my tone had gained me any favours. Hell, his imposing presence seemed to loom even larger in the vast office, his aura terrifying. ‘Please…if you would just hear me out?’
‘You’re the one who seems to be tongue-tied, Miss Preston. While my precious time bleeds away. So let me make this easy for you. You have one minute to state your business. I advise you to make it worthwhile, for both our sakes.’
Or what?
For a single moment I feared I’d blurted the words, the volatile mix of annoyance and trepidation having finally broken me. But he didn’t seem any more incandescent. Simply terribly hacked off at my continued delay in spilling the beans.
‘I was fired this morning because…’ pause, deep breath ‘…because I accidentally destroyed your…’ I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, he was still there, breathtaking and immovable as a marble statue.
Firm, sensually curved lips flattened. ‘My what?’ he demanded tersely.
Tension vibrated through me as I forced my vocal cords to work. ‘I destroyed…your…your stored sperm sample.’
For a horribly tense minute he simply stared at me with utter confusion—as if he couldn’t quite comprehend my words—and then that face that defied description tautened into a mask of pure, cold disbelief.
‘You. Did. What?’
It wasn’t shouted. Or whispered. It was even toned. And absolutely deadly.
I shivered from head to toe, severely doubting my ability ever to speak again as I opened my mouth and words failed to emerge.
Terrifying seconds ticked away as we stood in rigid silence, gazes locked.
‘Speak,’ he commanded, again without so much as any inflexion in his voice. His lips had gone white with grim fury and he was barely breathing.
I prised my tongue from the roof of my mouth. To do what I’d come here to do. Appeal to his better nature.
Taking a hesitant step towards him, I tried a small smile. ‘Mr Xenakis—’
One hand erupted from his pocket in a halting motion. ‘Do not attempt to cajole. Do not attempt to prevaricate. I want the facts. Bare and immediate.’
This time his voice had altered. It was a primordial rumble. Like the nape-tingling premonition before a cataclysmic event.
My smile evaporated. ‘When I arrived at work this morning…’ late because of my mother and another futile attempt to get through to her ‘… I was given a list of samples to dispose of. I… It’s not part of my job description, but—’
‘What is your actual job at the Phoenix Clinic?’ The barest hint of an accent had thickened his voice, making him impossibly sexier.
‘I’m a receptionist.’
It was the only half-decent paying job I could find that would support my mother and me until I figured out a way to help her out of her dark tunnel of despair and resume the marketing degree I’d suspended so I could care for her.
‘And what business does a receptionist have handling patient samples?’
His tone was a chilling blade of reason. He wasn’t furious. Not yet, anyway. Right now Neo Xenakis was on a cold, fact-finding mission.
I managed to answer. ‘It’s not the usual procedure, but we were severely short-staffed today and the list I was given stated that the samples had already been triple-checked.’
‘Obviously not. Or you wouldn’t be here, would you?’ he rasped.
A wave of shame hit me. My error could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so frazzled. If I hadn’t been worried that my mother and I were about to lose the roof over our heads. If my boss’s medical secretary hadn’t called in sick, leaving me as temporary—and infinitely unlucky—cover.
About to attempt another pleading of my case, I froze when a loud buzz sounded from his desk.
For the longest time he stared at me, as if trying to decipher whether or not everything I’d told him was some sort of hoax.
When the intercom sounded again, he strode to his desk with unbridled impatience. ‘Yes?’ he grated.
‘There’s