Greek Mavericks: Winning The Enigmatic Greek. Tara Pammi

different now. She was different. She carried Ariston’s child beneath her heart.

      ‘Forgive me if I find it intolerable to be fobbed off with an answer like that.’

      ‘And forgive me if I tell you it’s the only answer you’re getting,’ he clipped back.

      ‘But we’re married. It’s funny.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘You talk so openly—so unashamedly—about sex yet you shy away from intimacy.’

      ‘Maybe that’s because I don’t do intimacy,’ he snapped.

      ‘Well, don’t you think you ought to try? We can’t keep talking about cups of tea and the weather.’

      ‘Why are you so curious, Keeley? Do you want something to hold over me?’ He slammed his whisky glass down on a nearby table so that the amber liquid sloshed around inside the crystal. ‘Some juicy segments of information to provide you with a nice little nest egg should ever you wish to go to the papers?’

      ‘You think I’d stoop to something as low as that?’

      ‘You already did when you wanted to leave Lasia, remember? Or are you blaming a suddenly defective memory on your hormones?’

      It took a moment or two for Keeley to recall her blustering bravado, spoken when she’d been swamped by humiliation and the realisation that he’d had sex with her for all the wrong reasons. ‘That was then when you were intimating that you might not allow me to leave your island,’ she retorted. ‘This is now...and I’m having your baby.’

      ‘And that changes things?’ he demanded.

      ‘Of course it does. It changes everything.’

      ‘How?’

      She licked her lips, feeling as if she were on trial, wishing her gaze wouldn’t keep straying towards his hands and wishing they would touch her. ‘What if our little boy...?’ She saw his face change suddenly and dramatically. Saw the same look of fierce pride darkening his autocratic features, as it had done when the sonographer had skated a cold paddle over her jelly-covered bump and pointed out the unmistakable outline of their baby son. For a man who claimed not to do emotion it had been a startling about-turn.

      ‘What if our little boy should start asking me questions about his family, as children do?’ she continued. ‘Isn’t it going to be damaging if I can’t answer a simple query about his grandma just because his daddy is uptight and doesn’t do intimacy? Because he insists on keeping himself hidden away and won’t even tell his wife?’

      ‘I thought you said our vows weren’t real?’

      She met his eyes. ‘Fake it to make it, remember?’

      There was a pause. He picked up his glass and took a long mouthful of whisky before putting it down again. ‘What do you want to know?’ he growled.

      There were a million things she could have asked him. She was curious to know what had made him so arrogant and controlling. Why he possessed a stony quality which made him seem so distant. But maybe the question she was about to ask might give her some kind of insight into his character. ‘What happened to her, Ariston?’ she questioned slowly and watched his face darken. ‘What happened to your mother?’