Greek Mavericks: Winning The Enigmatic Greek. Tara Pammi

was quite sure of what happened during the operation—only that my mother was left brain-damaged afterwards. And that she never recognised me—or anyone else again. Her capacity for normal living is “severely compromised” is how they described it.’ She swallowed. ‘And she’s been living in that care home ever since.’

      He frowned. ‘But you visit her regularly?’

      ‘I do. Every week, come rain or shine.’

      ‘Even though she doesn’t recognise you?’

      ‘Of course,’ she said quietly. ‘She’s still my mother.’

      Ariston flinched at the quiet sense of dignity and grief underpinning her words. Maybe it was inevitable that they made him think about his own mother, but there was no such softening in his heart. Bitterness rose in his throat but he pushed it away as he studied the woman in front of him. She looked very different today, with her newly washed hair shining over her shoulders in a pale fall of waves. The shapeless sweat-pants and baggy top were gone and in their place was a loose cotton dress. She looked soft and feminine and strangely vulnerable.

      ‘Why don’t you tell me what it is you want?’ he said suddenly.

      She met his gaze warily, as if suspecting him of setting up some kind of trap. ‘I want my baby to have the best,’ she said cautiously. ‘Just like every mother does.’

      ‘And you think that living here...’ he looked around, unable to hide the contemptuous twist of his mouth ‘...can provide that?’

      ‘People have babies in all kinds of environments, Ariston.’

      ‘Not a baby carrying the Kavakos name,’ he corrected repressively. ‘How are you managing for money? Are you still working?’

      She shook her head. ‘Not at the moment, no.’

      ‘Oh?’ His gaze bored into her.

      She shrugged. ‘I found another supermarket job when I got back from Lasia and then I started getting sick. I eked out the money you paid me but...’

      ‘Then how the hell,’ he persisted savagely as her words tailed off, ‘do you think you’re going to manage?’

      Keeley swallowed in a vain attempt to stop her lips from wobbling, before drawing on her residual reserves. She’d overcome stuff before and she could do it again. ‘Once the sickness has improved, then I can start working more hours. If I need to I might have to move to a cheaper area somewhere.’

      ‘But that would take you further away from your mother,’ he pointed out.

      She glared at him for daring to point out the obvious but suddenly she couldn’t avoid the enormity of her situation. She hadn’t even got a buggy or a crib—and even if she had, there was barely any space to put them. And meanwhile Ariston was offering what most women in her situation would snatch at. He wasn’t trying to deny responsibility. On the contrary, he seemed more than willing to embrace it. He was offering to marry her, for heaven’s sake. Whoever would have thought it?

      But yesterday he’d wanted her to give him the baby, she reminded herself. To take her child away from her. Because he could. Because he was powerful and rich and she was weak and poor. He’d wanted to remove her from the equation—to treat her like a surrogate—and that was a measure of his ruthlessness. At least if she was married to him she would have some legal rights—and wouldn’t that be the safest place to start from? Staring into the watchful brilliance of his eyes, she repressed a shiver as she realised what she must do. Because what choice did she have? She didn’t. She didn’t have a choice.

      ‘If I did agree to marry you,’ she said slowly, ‘then I would want some kind of equality.’

      ‘Equality?’ he echoed, as if it was a word he’d never used before.

      She nodded. ‘That’s right. I’m not prepared to do anything until you agree to my terms.’

      ‘And what terms might they be, Keeley?’

      ‘I would like some say in where we live—’

      ‘Accommodation is the last thing you need concern yourself with,’ he said carelessly. ‘Don’t forget, I have a whole island at my disposal.’

      ‘No!’ Her response came out more vehemently than she’d planned but Keeley knew what she could and couldn’t tolerate. And the thought of the isolation of his island home and of being at Ariston’s total mercy made her blood run cold. ‘Lasia isn’t a suitable place to bring up a baby.’

      ‘I grew up there.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      There was a flicker of amusement in his brilliantine eyes before it was replaced by the more familiar glint of hardness. ‘Let me guess, you have somewhere else in mind—somewhere you’ve always longed to live? A town house in the centre of Mayfair perhaps, or an apartment overlooking the river? Aren’t these the places women dream about if money were no option?’

      ‘I haven’t spent my whole life plotting my rise up the property ladder!’ she snapped.

      ‘Then you are rare among your sex.’ His gaze bored into her. ‘Lasia is my home, Keeley.’

      ‘And this is mine.’

      ‘This?’

      She heard the condescension in his voice and suddenly she was fighting for her reputation and what she’d made of her life. It wasn’t much, but in the circumstances hadn’t it been the best she could manage? Hadn’t she struggled to get even this far? But what would Ariston Kavakos know of hardship and making do, with his island and his ships and the ability to click his fingers to get whatever he wanted? Even her. ‘I want to stay in London,’ she said stubbornly. ‘My mother is here, as you yourself just pointed out, remember? I can’t just up sticks and move away.’

      He rubbed his forefinger along the bridge of his nose and Keeley watched as he closed his eyes, the thick lashes feathering blackly against his olive skin. Was he wondering how he was going to tolerate a life saddled with a woman he didn’t really want, with a mother whose incapacity had been brought about by her own vanity? Was he now working out how to back-pedal on his hastily offered proposal of marriage?

      His eyes flickered open. ‘Very well. London it shall be. I have an apartment here,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘A penthouse in the City.’

      Keeley nodded. Of course he did. He probably had a penthouse in every major city in the world. ‘Just out of interest, how long do you think this marriage of ours is going to last?’

      ‘The tone of your voice indicates that you think a long-standing union unlikely?’

      ‘I think the odds are stacked against it,’ she said. ‘Don’t you?’

      ‘Actually, no, I don’t. Put it this way,’ he added softly. ‘I don’t intend for my child to be brought up by any other man than me. So if you want to maintain your role as the mother, then we stay married.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘But what, Keeley? What makes you look so horrified? The realisation that I am determined to make this work? Surely that is only a good thing.’

      ‘But how can it work when it isn’t going to be a true marriage?’ she demanded desperately.

      ‘Says who? Perhaps we could learn to get along together. Something which might work if we put our minds to it. I have no illusions about marriage and my expectations are fairly low. But I think we could learn how to be civil to one another, don’t you?’

      ‘That isn’t what I meant and you know it,’ she said, her voice low.

      ‘Are you talking about sex?’ A trace of sardonic amusement crept into his tone. ‘Ah, yes. I can see from your enchanting little blush that you are. So what’s the problem? When two people have a chemistry like ours it seems a pity not to capitalise on it. I find that good sex makes