Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife. Sarah Morgan

met you.’

      ‘This isn’t a trip down memory lane,’ he gritted. ‘It’s an attempt to get you out of wet clothes. Get back in that bathroom. And this time when you come out, make sure you’re dry.’

      With a sigh, Millie turned back into the bathroom. The lights came on automatically and she stopped, remembering how that had amused her when he’d first brought her to this house. She’d walked in and out of all the rooms, feeling as though she’d walked into a vision of the future. Lights that came on when someone walked into a room, heating sensors, a house that vacuumed itself—Leandro exploited cuttingedge technology in every aspect of his life, and for her it had been like walking into a fantasy.

      Trying not to think how the fantasy had ended, Millie stripped off her wet clothes, rubbed her cold skin with a warm towel and pulled on the jeans and silky green jumper he’d handed her.

      She glanced in the enormous mirror and decided that the lighting had been designed specifically to highlight her imperfections. She looked nothing like a billionaire’s wife.

      Emerging from the bathroom, her eyes clashed with his. ‘Now can I see the baby? I just…’ She swallowed. ‘I just want to look at him, that’s all.’ To get it over with. Part of her was so afraid she wouldn’t be able to do it.

      This was a test, and she wasn’t sure whether she was going to pass or fail.

      Leandro yanked a towel from the rail and starting rubbing her hair. ‘You’ve been in that bathroom twice and your hair is still soaking.’

      ‘You need to invest in a device that automatically dries someone’s hair if it’s wet.’

      Something flickered in his eyes and she knew he was thinking of the time when he’d first brought her here and she’d played with the technology like a child with a new toy. ‘What were you doing all that time?’

      Thinking about him. About her life.

       Trying to find the strength to do this.

      ‘I was playing hide and seek with the lights. They’re a bit bright for me.’ Millie winced as his methodical rubbing became a little too brisk and tried not to think about the fact that he was turning her hair into a tangled mess.

      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