The Greek Tycoon's Pregnant Wife. Anne Mather

       CHAPTER THREE

      JANE found it impossible to do as he asked. OK, she knew that nothing had changed really. Just because they’d had sex—pretty phenomenal sex, as it happened—didn’t make a scrap of difference to Demetri. Sex was what he did. Particularly when he wanted something from her. It had always been a damn good means of getting his own way in the past. And he must be thinking she was such a pushover. He’d only had to tumble her onto the bed and she’d been practically begging him to do it.

      She’d been so stupid, she thought bitterly. If only he hadn’t chosen to come here at a time when she was not only exhausted from her trip, but expecting her period as well. She was always overly emotional at this time of the month. And his deliberate kindness had been the last straw.

      ‘I’m not thinking anything,’ she lied now, as the water dripped through the filter. Then, turning the tables, ‘What about you? What are you thinking, Demetri?’

      Believe me, you don’t want to know, Demetri reflected drily, aware that his thoughts ran along the lines of taking her back to bed. But he’d be crazy to admit that. It would expose a weakness and he was already feeling far too exposed as it was.

      ‘I’m thinking—I should apologise,’ he declared at last, choosing the least provocative option. ‘I—never intended this to happen.’

      ‘Well, that makes two of us,’ said Jane at once and Demetri felt a fist twisting in his gut. Did she have to sound so dismissive? Couldn’t she at least have admitted that she’d been partially to blame?

      But that wasn’t going to happen, he realised, and, leaving the counter, he walked back to the position he’d previously occupied beside the window. His limousine still stood there and he wished he could just get into the car and drive away. He wanted to forget what had happened, forget that when he’d come here he’d been looking for closure. Closure! His lips twisted. Instead, he’d torn away a veneer and left what felt like an open wound.

      ‘So?’ He heard her voice and turned to find Jane had come to perch on the arm of one of the sofas. She was holding a mug filled with black coffee and she lifted enquiring eyes to his face. ‘Do I take it there’s someone else?’

      It was such a ludicrous question in the circumstances. Demetri was tempted to say ‘Damn you!’ and walk out. He felt so foolish having to admit that that was the reason he’d come here. That he was intending to marry someone else when he was free.

      But he didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was what was expected of him as his father’s eldest son. When Leonidas Souvakis retired, he’d handed the control of Souvakis International to him. And such power held responsibilities, not all of them to do with the company itself.

      ‘My father’s dying,’ he said at last, deciding he didn’t owe her any consideration. But even so, he was unprepared for the way the colour drained out of her face.

      ‘Leo is dying?’ she echoed faintly. ‘My God, why didn’t you tell me?’ Her soft lips parted in mute denial. ‘I can’t believe it. He was so—so fit; so strong.’

      ‘Cancer is no respecter of strength or otherwise,’ responded Demetri flatly. ‘He found a lump. He did nothing about it. He said he was too busy.’ He shrugged. ‘When he did go and see the doctor, it was too late to operate.’

      ‘Oh, God!’ Jane put down her cup and pressed both hands to her cheeks. Her eyes were once again filled with tears. ‘Poor Leo. He’s such a good man, a kind man. He was always kind to me. He made me welcome when your mother never did.’

      Demetri said nothing. He knew that what she’d said was true. His mother had never wanted him to marry an English girl. Their values were so different, she’d insisted. And ultimately she’d been proved to be right.

      Now Jane attempted to pull herself together. ‘How long have you known?’ she asked, wondering what this had to do with Demetri wanting a divorce. She paused, trying to find a connection. ‘Does he want to see me?’

      Demetri was taken aback. Although he had no doubt that Leo Souvakis would have liked to see his daughter-in-law again, his mother would never agree to it. For the past five years she’d persistently begged her son to go and see a priest and try to arrange an annulment of his marriage to Jane. She was sure Father Panaystakis would do everything in his power to get some special dispensation from the church.

      But, ironically, Demetri had been in no hurry to sever his relationship. It had been convenient in all sorts of ways. Not least to discourage any gold-digging female from getting the wrong idea. Now remaining unattached was no longer an option and only a divorce would do.

      His silence must have given Jane her answer, however, because now she said, ‘Then I don’t understand. What does your father’s illness have to do with you asking for a divorce?’

      Demetri’s sigh was heavy. He pushed his balled fists into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels before he spoke. ‘Mi pateras—my father,’ he corrected himself, ‘wants a grandchild. Grandchildren. With Yanis a priest and Stefan not interested in women, the responsibility falls to me.’

      ‘How archaic!’ Jane was sardonic. Then she frowned. ‘But what about—’ she hesitated ‘—the boy?’

      ‘Ianthe’s son?’ Demetri was matter-of-fact, and Jane’s nails dug into her palms. ‘Marc died. I thought you knew.’

      Jane was incensed. ‘And you thought this, why? We haven’t exactly kept in touch, Demetri.’

      He shrugged as if acknowledging her words. ‘Poli kala, Marc caught pneumonia when he was only a few days old.’ His voice was tight. ‘The doctors tried to save him, but he was too small, too premature. He didn’t stand a chance.’

      Jane caught her breath. ‘Poor Ianthe,’ she said, finding she meant it.

      ‘Neh, poor Ianthe,’ echoed Demetri, though there was a distinct edge of bitterness to his tone. ‘She didn’t deserve that.’

      ‘No.’ Jane shook her head, reaching for her coffee again. She took a gulp, grateful for the rush of caffeine. ‘So now I suppose you two are planning on getting married at last.’ She tried to sound casual. ‘Your mother will be pleased.’

      Demetri’s thin—yet oh, so sensual—lips curled into a scowl. ‘No,’ he told her harshly. ‘I was never interested in Ianthe, despite what you believed. I intend to marry Ariadne Pavlos. You may remember the Pavlos family. Ariadne and I have been friends since we were children. She has recently returned from an extended visit to the United States.’

      ‘How nice!’ Jane tried not to let her true feelings show. Ariadne’s mother, Sofia Pavlos, was a friend of Demetri’s mother, she remembered. Someone else who hadn’t approved of their marriage. She moistened her lips. ‘Does Ariadne know about Ianthe’s baby, too?’

      ‘She knows enough,’ said Demetri shortly, realising he was getting into deep water. The past was the past and there was no point in raking it all up now. He shouldn’t have come here. He should have taken his lawyer’s advice and let him handle it. But he hadn’t realised how dangerous it would be for him to get involved with Jane again.

      ‘Look,’ he said, when the silence had become unbearable, ‘I’ve got to get going.’ He sucked in a breath before adding, ‘I’m sure you hate me now, but I really didn’t intend to—to—’

      ‘Seduce me?’

      ‘No.’ Demetri was angry. ‘It was hardly a seduction. You met me halfway.’

      Jane’s colour deepened. ‘All right. Perhaps that was unjustified. But it wouldn’t be the first time you used—it—against me.’

      Demetri swore then. ‘What do you expect me to say, Jane? I came here to warn you about the divorce, that’s all. I didn’t expect to find you half-naked.’