Greek's Pride. Helen Bianchin
I bought land and built houses before venturing into building construction. The ensuing thirteen years have escalated my company to a prestigious position within the building industry. Without doubt,’ he continued drily, ‘I possess sufficient independent wealth to garner instant approval with the Family Services Department, and there are no mythical skeletons in any one of my closets.’
‘Hardly a complete résumé, Mr Stefanos,’ Alyse discounted scathingly.
‘How far back into the past do you wish to delve? Does the fact that my mother was Polish, hence my unusual Christian name, condemn me? That she died when I was very young? Is that sufficient, Miss Anderson?’ One eyebrow slanted above dark eyes heavily opaque with the rigors of memory. ‘Perhaps you’d like to hear that a sweet, gentle Englishwoman eased my father’s pain, married him and bore a male child without displacing my position as the eldest Stefanos son or alienating my father’s affection for me in any way. She became the mother I’d never known, and we keep in constant touch, exchanging visits at least once each year.’
‘And now that Georgiou is dead, they want to play an integral part in Georg’s life.’ Alyse uttered the words in a curiously flat voice, and was unprepared for the whip-hard anger in his.
‘Are you so impossibly selfish that you fail to understand what Georg’s existence means to them?’ he demanded.
‘I know what it means to me,’ she cried out, sorely tried. ‘If Antonia hadn’t written to Georgiou, if—’
‘Don’t colour facts with unfounded prejudice,’ Aleksi Stefanos cut in harshly. ‘The letters exist as irrefutable proof. I intend assuming the role of Georg’s father,’ he pursued, his voice assuming a deadly softness. ‘Don’t doubt it for a minute.’
‘Whereas I insist on the role of mother!’ she blazed.
‘You’re not prepared to compromise in any way?’
‘Compromise? Are you prepared to compromise? Why should it be me who has to forgo the opportunity of happiness in a marriage of my choice?’
His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Is there a contender waiting in the wings, Miss Anderson? Someone sufficiently foolish to think he can conquer your fiery spirit and win?’
‘What makes you think you could?’
His eyes gleamed with latent humour, then dropped lazily to trace the full curve of her lips before slipping down to the swell of her breasts, assessing each feature with such diabolical ease that she found it impossible to still the faint flush of pink that coloured her cheeks.
‘I possess sufficient experience with women to know you’d resent any form of male domination, yet conversely refuse to condone a spineless wimp who gave way to your every demand.’ Alyse stood speechless as his gaze wandered back to meet hers and hold it with indolent amusement. A sensation not unlike excitement uncoiled deep within her, and spread throughout her body with the speed of liquid fire, turning all the highly sensitised nerve-endings into a state of sensual awareness so intense it made her feel exhilaratingly alive, yet at the same time terribly afraid.
‘The man in my life most certainly won’t be you, Mr Stefanos!’ she snapped.
‘One of the country’s best legal brains has given me his assurance that my adoption application will succeed,’ he revealed. ‘This morning’s consultation in Hugh Mannering’s office was arranged because I felt honour-bound to personally present facts regarding my stepbrother’s accident and subsequent death. As to Georg’s future …’ he paused significantly ‘… the only way you can have any part in it will be to opt for marriage—to me.’
‘You alternately threaten, employ a form of emotional blackmail, attempt to buy me off, then offer a marriage convenient only to you?’ The slow-boiling anger which had simmered long beneath the surface of her control finally bubbled over. ‘Go to hell, Mr Stefanos!’
The atmosphere in the lounge was so highly charged, Alyse almost expected it to explode into combustible flame.
He looked at her for what seemed an age, then his voice sounded cold—as icy as an Arctic gale. ‘Think carefully before you burn any figurative bridges,’ he warned silkily.
Alyse glared at him balefully, hating him, abhorring what he represented. ‘Get out of my house. Now!’ Taut, incredibly angry words that bordered close on the edge of rage as she moved swiftly from the room.
In the foyer she reached for the catch securing the front door, then gasped out loud as Aleksi Stefanos caught hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him with galling ease.
One glance at those compelling features was sufficient to determine his intention, and she struggled fruitlessly against his sheer strength.
‘The temptation to teach you the lesson I consider you deserve is almost irresistible,’ he drawled.
His anger was clearly evident, and, hopelessly helpless, Alyse clenched her jaw tight as his head lowered in an attempt to avoid his mouth, only to cry out as he caught the soft inner tissue with his teeth, and she had no defence against the plundering force of a kiss so intense that the muscles of her throat, her jaw, screamed in silent agony as he completed a ravaging possession that violated her very soul.
Just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and she sank back against the wall, her eyes stricken with silent hatred.
At that precise moment a loud wailing cry erupted from the bedroom, and Alyse turned blindly towards the nursery. Crossing to Georg’s cot, she leant forward and lifted his tiny body into her arms. He smelled of soap and talc, and his baby cheek was satin-smooth against her own as she cradled him close.
His cries subsided into muffled hiccups, bringing stupid tears to her own eyes, and she blinked rapidly to still their flow, aware within seconds that her efforts were in vain as they spilled and began trickling ignominiously down each cheek.
This morning life had been so simple. Yet within twelve hours Aleksi Stefanos had managed to turn it upside down.
She turned as the subject of her most dire thoughts followed her into the nursery.
‘You bastard!’ she berated him in a painful whisper. ‘Have you no scruples?’
‘None whatsoever where Georg is concerned,’ Aleksi Stefanos drawled dispassionately.
‘What you’re suggesting amounts to emotional blackmail, damn you!’ Her voice emerged as a vengeful undertone, and Georg gave a slight whimpering cry, then settled as she gently rocked his small body in her arms.
‘What I’m suggesting,’ Aleksi Stefanos declared hardily, ‘is parents, a home, and a stable existence for Georg.’
‘Where’s the stability in two people who don’t even like each other?’ Damn him—who did he think he was, for heaven’s sake?
An icy shiver shook her slim frame in the knowledge that he knew precisely who he was and the extent of his own power.
‘The alternatives are specific,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘the choice entirely your own. You have until tomorrow evening to give me your answer.’
She was dimly aware that he moved past her to open the door, and it was that final, almost silent click as he closed it behind him that made her frighteningly aware of his control.
ALYSE STOOD WHERE she was for what seemed an age before settling Georg into his cot, then she moved slowly to the front of the house, secured the lock and made for her own room, where she undressed and slid wearily into bed.
Damn. Damn him, she cursed vengefully. Aleksi Stefanos had no right to place her in such an invidious position. For the first time she felt consumed with doubt, apprehensive to such a degree that it was impossible