Greek's Pride. Helen Bianchin
‘I’ll organise yours and Georg’s combined luggage and have it sent to the hotel. I’m sure the babysitter won’t object to a change of venue.’
Her eyes widened in surprise, then long lashes swept down to form a protective veil. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she managed with remarkable steadiness, and detected cynicism in his drawling response.
‘For the purpose of convention, we’ll begin our marriage together by sharing the same roof. It’s the hotel, or your home. Choose.’
‘Just as long as you understand it won’t involve the same bed.’
‘Did I suggest that it would?’
Alyse closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again. Careful, a tiny voice cautioned. ‘In comparison, I’m sure your luggage is far less substantial than Georg’s and mine combined,’ she declared in stilted tones, and watched as he hailed a taxi and instructed the driver to take them to his hotel.
His suite was situated on the twelfth floor and offered a magnificent view of the river. Alyse crossed the deep-piled carpet to stand at the window, all too aware of the intimacy projected by the opulently spreaded king-size bed.
‘Help yourself to a drink,’ Aleksi directed. ‘The bar-fridge is fully stocked, and there’s tea and coffee.’ Without waiting for her reply, he moved towards the bedside phone and lifted the receiver, stating his intention to check out.
Anything remotely alcoholic would go straight to her head. ‘I’d prefer coffee,’ she said as he replaced the receiver, and good manners were responsible for her asking, ‘Will you have some?’
When it was made, she sipped the instant brew appreciatively while Aleksi emptied contents of drawers and wardrobe into a masculine-styled bag. It was a chore he executed with the deft ease of long practice, and when it was completed he drained his coffee in a few measured swallows.
‘Shall we leave?’
Alyse stood to her feet at once and preceded him from the suite, aware of an increasing sense of trepidation as she walked at his side.
It couldn’t be fear, she analysed as they rode the lift down to the ground floor, for she wasn’t afraid of him. Yet in some strange way he presented a threat, for she was aware of an elemental quality apparent, a primeval recognition that raised all her fine body hairs in protective self-defence.
It was after five when they reached suburban Peppermint Grove, and Alyse was grateful for the babysitter’s presence as she effected the necessary introductions before escorting Aleksi to one of the spare bedrooms.
‘You can leave your bag here. I’ll make up the bed later.’
She felt awkward and ill at ease, and her chin tilted slightly as she met his mocking gaze. Damn you, she longed to scream at him. I hate you!
‘I’ll check on Georg.’ Without another word she turned and left the room, telling herself she didn’t care whether he followed her or not.
Georg was fast asleep, and Alyse moved silently towards her own bedroom, where she quickly shed her shoes, then exchanged her suit for a towelling robe.
Despite the babysitter’s being hired until late evening, Alyse wanted to bath and feed Georg herself before settling him down for the night. It was a ritual she adored, and tonight it held special meaning, for only due legal process separated Georg from being officially hers.
Almost on cue she heard his first wakening cry, and she reached him within seconds, loving the way his tears ceased the moment she picked him up.
Bathing and feeding took almost an hour, and Alyse was supremely conscious of Aleksi’s presence during the latter thirty minutes.
‘May I?’
With extreme care she placed Georg into the crook of Aleksi’s arm, watching every movement with the eagle eye of a mother-hen.
‘I won’t drop him,’ Aleksi drawled with hateful cynicism, and her eyes darkened to a deep cerulean blue.
‘I never imagined you would,’ she snapped, aware that the babysitter was in the kitchen preparing her own dinner and therefore happily in ignorance of their barbed exchange.
Alyse willed Georg to cry, thus signalling his displeasure at being placed in a stranger’s care, but he failed to comply and merely lay still, his bright eyes wide and dark. One could be forgiven for imagining he was fascinated, and perhaps he was, she decided uncharitably, for there had to be an awareness of change from her own scent and body-softness in comparison with his uncle’s muscularly hard male-contoured frame.
Aleksi’s expression was inscrutably intent, and she watched as he placed a forefinger into Georg’s baby palm, detecting a momentary flaring of triumph as tiny fingers closed around it.
‘He’s a beautiful child,’ she said quietly, and suffered Aleksi’s swift scrutiny.
‘He’s my brother’s son.’ He paused slightly, then added with soft emphasis, ‘Our son.’
For some reason a chill shiver feathered its way down her spine. His words sounded irrevocable, almost as if he was issuing a silent warning. Yet he could have no inkling of her intention to instigate a divorce and gain custody of Georg—could he?
Stop it, she bade silently. You’re merely being fanciful.
‘He really should go down for the night.’ She purposely shifted her gaze to Georg, who in total contrariness looked as if he had every intention of remaining wide awake.
‘Why don’t you go and change?’ Aleksi suggested. ‘The babysitter can settle him into his cot, and you can check him before we leave.’
A slight frown momentarily furrowed Alyse’s brow.
‘Dinner,’ he elaborated.
The thought of suffering through another meal in his sole company was the last thing she wanted, but the alternative of staying in was even worse. ‘I’m not very hungry, and I still have to pack.’ It was a token protest at best, and he knew it.
‘We won’t be late.’
Dammit, what she’d give to ruffle that implacable composure! A sobering thought occurred that she had, and the result wasn’t something she’d willingly choose to repeat.
‘In that case, I’ll go and get ready.’
‘Unequivocal compliance, Alyse?’
‘Conditional accedence,’ she corrected, and leaning forward she brushed her lips to Georg’s forehead. ‘Goodnight, darling,’ she bade softly. ‘Sleep well.’
The gesture brought her far too close to Aleksi, and she straightened at once, moving away without so much as a backward glance as she left the room.
Selecting something suitable to wear took scant minutes, and she chose to freshen her make-up, merely adding a light dusting of powder and reapplying lipstick before running a brush through her hair.
Slipping into shoes, she collected a clutch-purse, then took one quick glance at her mirrored reflection, uncaring that the tailored black dress and red jacket provided a striking foil for her attractive features and pale shining hair.
As she emerged from her room she almost collided with Aleksi, and she bore his scrutiny with equanimity.
‘Georg is already fast asleep,’ he enlightened her quietly as he walked at her side to the lounge.
‘Aleksi has written down the name and telephone number of the restaurant in case of any emergency,’ the babysitter revealed, her eyes sparkling as they moved from one to the other, and Alyse could have sworn there was a degree of wistful envy in the young girl’s expression. ‘Please enjoy yourselves, and stay as long as you want. I don’t mind.’
One glance at Aleksi Stefanos had been sufficient for the romantic eighteen-year-old to weave