The Marakaios Baby. Кейт Хьюит

well how short a step it was to destitution, to tragedy, when you were on your own. When there was no family, no safety net. If she was going to keep this baby she couldn’t do it on her own. She couldn’t risk it.

      After suffering for a week, she managed to drag herself to the doctor for some anti-nausea medication.

      ‘The good news,’ the doctor told her cheerfully, ‘is that nausea usually means a healthy pregnancy. That baby is here to stay.’

      Margo stared at him, his words reverberating through her. He had no idea, of course, how conflicted she was about this child. Except in that moment she realised she wasn’t conflicted at all. This baby was a gift—a gift she’d never expected to receive. And she knew then—realised she’d known all along—that of course she was keeping her child.

      And of course she would have to tell Leo.

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘SOMEONE’S HERE TO see you, sir.’

      Leo glanced up from his laptop at his assistant Elena, who stood in the doorway of his office on the Marakaios estate. He’d been going over some figures for a new deal with a large North American restaurant chain, and it took a few seconds for Elena’s words to penetrate.

      ‘Someone? Who is it, Elena?’

      ‘A woman. She wouldn’t give her name, but she said it was urgent.’

      Leo frowned. His office was on the family compound in central Greece—the middle of nowhere, as Margo had so acerbically reminded him. He didn’t get unexpected visitors to his office here. Ever.

      ‘Well, why on earth wouldn’t she give her name?’ he asked as he pushed back from his chair.

      ‘I don’t know. But she’s well-dressed and well-spoken. I thought perhaps...’

      Elena trailed off, blushing, and Leo took her meaning. She’d thought this woman might be one of his lovers. Only he hadn’t taken a lover in months—not since he’d last seen Margo.

      And he very much doubted Margo had come all the way to Greece to see him.

      Leo’s mouth twisted cynically at the thought. It had been over four months since he’d seen her—over four months since he’d walked out of her apartment with that ring in his pocket. Four months since he’d let himself think of her. That part of his life was over.

      ‘Whoever this woman is, Elena, I find it decidedly odd that she wouldn’t give her name.’

      ‘She seemed very insistent...’

      With a sigh, Leo strode to the door. ‘I’ll see her, then,’ he said, and walked briskly out of his office.

      It wasn’t until he reached the foyer and saw the woman standing there amidst the leather sofas and sleek coffee tables that his step slowed. His heart seemed to still. And an icy anger came over him like a frozen shell.

      He folded his arms. ‘If I’d known it was you I would have told Elena to send you away.’

      ‘Please, Leo...’ Margo said quietly.

      She looked awful—gaunt, with dark shadows under her eyes. She wore a black wool coat that made her ivory skin look pale...too pale.

      Leo frowned. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘To talk to you.’ She glanced at Elena, who had gone back to her desk and was ostentatiously busying herself, but was of course listening to every word. ‘Privately.’

      Leo opened his mouth to tell her they had nothing to say to one another, but then he paused. He didn’t want to have this conversation in public—didn’t want anyone, even his assistant, to know his private affairs.

      With a terse nod he indicated the corridor. ‘Come to my office, then,’ he said, and without waiting for her to follow he turned and strode back the way he had come.

      He watched as Margo came in and carefully closed the door behind her. She looked bruised and exhausted, as if a breath of wind would knock her right over.

      ‘You don’t look very well,’ he said flatly.

      She turned to him with the ghost of a smile. ‘I don’t feel very well. Do you mind if I sit down?’

      He indicated one of the two chairs in front of his desk and she sank into it with a sigh of weary relief.

      ‘Well?’ Leo asked, biting off the single syllable. ‘What do you want?’

      She looked up at him, and he felt a ripple of uneasy shock at the resignation in her eyes. It was so different from the way he’d usually seen her—all elegant polish and sassy sophistication. This was a different Margo...one with a layer stripped away.

      ‘Leo,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m pregnant.’

      He blinked, the words taking him totally by surprise.

      She said nothing, waiting for his reply.

      ‘And how does this concern me?’ he asked coolly.

      She held his iron gaze. ‘The baby is yours.’

      ‘And you know that how? Do I need to remind you of what you told me four months ago?’

      ‘No.’ She hesitated, her gaze moving away from his. ‘The other...man...he can’t be the father,’ she said at last.

      A rage so fierce it felt like an earthquake shaking his insides took hold of him. ‘Don’t,’ he said in a voice like a whip-crack, ‘talk to me of him. Ever.’

      ‘This baby is yours, Leo.’

      ‘You can’t know that.’

      She sighed, leaning her head back against the chair. ‘I do know it,’ she said wearily. ‘Utterly. But if you like I’ll have a paternity test done. I can prove it beyond a doubt.’

      He stared at her, shaken more than he wanted to admit or reveal that she sounded so certain. ‘I thought you didn’t want children,’ he said, after a long, taut moment.

      ‘I didn’t,’ she answered.

      ‘Then I’m surprised you didn’t just deal with this on your own,’ he snapped.

      She put a hand to her throat, the gesture making her seem even more fragile. Vulnerable.

      ‘Is that what you would have wanted?’

      ‘No.’ He realised he meant it utterly. A child...his child, if she wasn’t lying. Yet how could he trust a word she said? ‘Why have you come here and told me?’ he asked instead. ‘Do you want money?’

      ‘No, not particularly.’

      He laughed at that—a cold, sharp sound. ‘Not particularly?’

      ‘I admit having this child will be hard for me financially. But I didn’t come here to ask for a hand-out. I came because I thought you should know. You’d want to know.’

      He sank into his chair, the reality of it crashing over him as he raked his hands through his hair. ‘Theos, Margo. This is a lot to take in.’

      ‘I know. I’ve had three months to process it—’

      ‘You’ve known for that long and you are only telling me now?’

      Colour touched her cheeks faintly. ‘I’ve been very ill. Extreme morning sickness, apparently.’

      ‘Are you taking medication?’ he asked sharply, and she nodded.

      ‘It helps a little.’ She sighed and shifted in her seat. ‘The truth is, Leo, I didn’t know how you would respond, or if you’d even see me. And I wanted to tell you in person. But with being so sick I couldn’t face