The Love Islands Collection. Jane Porter

And yet you’ve already broken down my door—”

      “Which I apologized for.”

      She snorted. “You didn’t apologize. You just fixed it. But that’s not an apology. And now you’re hanging from my door, your giant body blocking my room, as you lecture me about calm and control while you act like a crazed werewolf—” She broke off, gulped air. “Mr. Laurent should have told me the whole story. He shouldn’t have sold me on how smart and successful you were. He shouldn’t have portrayed you to be this brilliant Greek tycoon. He should have told me the truth. You’re a nightmare!”

      Georgia knew immediately by the flare of hot white light in his eyes that she’d gone too far, said too much. But she was also in too deep, her emotions too stirred up to do anything but end the conversation as fast as she could.

      “You’re right,” she added breathlessly. “This isn’t working. Let’s forget the tour. I’ll find my way around. I think it’s best if you just do your thing and let me do mine.” And then she slammed the door shut, praying that as the door scraped shut, it didn’t take off his face.

      For a split second after Georgia closed the door, she felt wildly victorious. The rush of adrenaline was pure and strong, and she praised herself for handling the situation—and him—without revealing cowardice or weakness.

      Perhaps he’d learn from this, she mentally added, heading toward the sitting area, where she’d piled her books. Perhaps he’d realize that his controlling boorish behavior was detrimental to the well-being of them all—

      And then her door flew open, and he stormed across the threshold. Georgia’s heart tumbled to her feet. All self-congratulating ended when she saw his livid expression.

      She backed up a step, and then another as he continued to charge across the room. “What are you doing?” she cried, praying he didn’t hear the wobble in her voice. “Get out! This is my room—”

      “No, gynaika mou, it seems you are in need of a little lesson. This isn’t your room. It’s a room in my house that I am allowing you to use,” he gritted out, marching toward her. “So to repeat, so we can be absolutely clear, this is my house. My room. You are my surrogate carrying my son.”

      Her heart drummed double time as he bore down on her but she wasn’t about to retreat. “It might be your house, and the baby might be your son, but I am not your surrogate. I do not belong to you, and I will never be any man’s possession.”

      “You took my money—”

      “Not that again!”

      “So until you give birth, you are mine.”

      “Wrong.” She threw her shoulders back. “Not yours. I will never be yours. In fact, I’d like to call Mr. Laurent right now. I think it’s time he and I had a little conversation and sorted things out.”

      “You don’t need to call anyone.”

      “Oh, but I do. I’ve had enough of your hospitality and think I’d be more comfortable in a hotel somewhere in Athens—”

      “That’s not going to happen.”

      “You can’t keep me here.”

      “But I can. You’re my responsibility. You’re in my care.”

      “Are you telling me that I can’t leave?”

      For a moment there was just silence. His jaw tightened. His dark eyes glowed, and then his lashes dropped, concealing his expression. “You are safe here,” he said quietly. “Safer here than anywhere else in Greece.”

      “But I don’t feel safe. You don’t respect me, nor do you respect my need for distance and boundaries.”

      He frowned. “How am I not respecting your boundaries? I haven’t touched you, haven’t threatened you in any way.”

      “If you don’t know what respect is, I am certainly not going to try to explain it to you. But it does renew my concern about staying here, living in such close proximity to you. Safety isn’t just physical. It’s psychological—”

      “Renew your concern? What does that mean? You were not comfortable coming here?”

      “Of course I wasn’t comfortable. I didn’t know you. I still don’t. But what I’ve learned since arriving isn’t flattering.” She held his gaze. “I feel as if you and Mr. Laurent deliberately deceived me—”

      “Deceived you how? Were you not paid? Were you not given an incredibly generous bonus for traveling here?”

      “Now that I know you, it wasn’t enough. In fact, I don’t think you could have ever paid me enough to put up with your nonsense.”

      He threw his head back. “Nonsense?”

      “Yes. You’re behaving like a thug, a bully—”

      “That’s enough, gynaika.”

      She had no idea what he’d called her in Greek, but she didn’t particularly care, not when his tone and words were so insufferably patronizing. “I’d like to use your phone. I want to call Mr. Laurent.”

      “And what do you think Mr. Laurent is going to do?”

      “Get me a plane ticket out of here.”

      “Mr. Laurent works for me. He is my attorney.”

      “He promised me...” Her voice faded, and she swallowed hard as she struggled to remember just what Mr. Laurent had promised. She drew a blank. Surely Mr. Laurent had promised her something...?

      “And what did my attorney promise you, Georgia?” Nikos drawled, seeing her uncertainty.

      She held her breath, fighting her nerves. Her heart hammered hard. “He said you were a good person. He said you could be trusted.” She stared him in the eye. “And I believed him. And I believed in you. So, either you respect my wishes, and leave my room now, or I will know everything he said, and everything you are, is a lie.”

      Thank God her voice was clear, strong, authoritative. It was the right voice for emergencies.

      And Nikos Panos was most definitely an emergency, especially when he stood toe to toe with her, hands clenched, jaw tight. His dark eyes continued to bore into her, scorching her, demanding her to back down. Acquiesce.

      Georgia didn’t acquiesce. Ever.

      “No one speaks to me with such impertinence,” he ground out.

      “Perhaps if they did, you’d have better manners.”

      “Enough,” he snapped, silencing her. “Enough with your words. The sound of your voice exhausts me. I am quite certain my son is fed up, as well.” And then he walked out.

      Georgia dropped onto the couch in the living room and curled her legs up under her, stunned. She felt as if she’d been through a major battle and she was wiped out.

      Nikos Panos was not like any man she’d ever met before, and she sincerely hoped she’d never meet anyone like him again.

      Even after sitting for several minutes she continued to shake. She wasn’t afraid, just shell-shocked.

      She couldn’t believe his behavior. She couldn’t imagine anyone acting that way, much less to the woman hired to carry his child.

      How did he think she’d react when he threw his weight around, told her how to dress, how to behave?

      A rap sounded on her door. She knew from the firm knock who it was.

      “Yes?” she called, too worn-out to get off the couch.

      The door opened, and Nikos stood on the threshold, looking not much happier than he had ten minutes ago when he’d stormed out.

      “May I come in?” he asked with terse civility.

      “If