Baby Out of the Blue: The Greek Tycoon's Pregnant Wife / Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child / The Secret Baby Bargain. Annie WestЧитать онлайн книгу.
can’t believe that.’
Jane bit her lip. ‘What happened between Demetri and me was—a mistake. It should never have happened.’
‘So why did it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Jane was glad now she hadn’t told her mother why Demetri wanted a divorce. ‘I was—upset, and he—he—’
‘Took advantage of you.’
‘No, it wasn’t like that.’
‘So what was it like?’
Jane felt the colour enter her cheeks at the question. ‘Mum, please. It happened. Can’t you just accept that?’
Her mother looked at her closely. ‘Don’t you usually take precautions on—on occasions like this?’
‘I don’t usually have occasions like this,’ replied Jane honestly. ‘It was reckless, I know. But my period was due and—’
‘And you thought you’d be OK?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dear lord!’
‘I know. It was stupid. I realise that now.’
‘I wonder how many young women have said that.’ Mrs Lang got up from the sofa to pace restlessly about the room. ‘And let’s face it, he’s just as much to blame.’
‘He probably thought the same as you: that I’d take care of it.’ She shrugged. ‘It wasn’t something we discussed at the time.’
‘Even so—’
‘Mum, this isn’t Demetri’s problem. It’s mine. And I want to keep it that way.’
‘Humph.’ Her mother snorted. ‘That man seems to make a habit of fathering children with women he shouldn’t.’ She hesitated. ‘I assume you saw—what was her name?—Ianthe, while you were there.’
Jane bent her head. ‘I saw her, yes.’
‘And is that who he’s going to marry?’
‘No.’ Jane hesitated. Then she said, ‘Ianthe’s baby died.’
Her mother’s brows ascended. ‘Really? How convenient!’
‘It wasn’t like that.’ Jane had to defend the other girl. ‘I believe she was very upset.’
‘And was Demetri upset, too?’
‘I think so.’ She paused and then added, ‘He still maintains the baby wasn’t his.’
Mrs Lang stared at her. ‘You don’t believe him, do you?’
Jane made a helpless gesture. ‘N…o.’
‘That’s something, anyway.’ Her mother’s face mirrored her relief. ‘So what do you plan to do? Bring up the child yourself?’
‘That’s one option, obviously.’
‘One option?’ Mrs Lang frowned. ‘What other options have you got? If you’re not going to involve Demetri…’ The words trailed away and, when she spoke again, there was real concern in her voice. ‘You wouldn’t consider not—not having the baby, would you? I mean,’ she rushed on, ‘there’s no need for any hasty decisions. I’d be happy to do what I can and I know Lucy would help out.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Jane felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘The last thing you need is a baby here.’
‘If it makes the difference between you having the baby and not, there’s no argument,’ retorted her mother firmly. She glanced about the cluttered room with impatient eyes. ‘It’s time I had a clear-out. Lucy’s always telling me that. And don’t forget, that baby’s my grandchild, just as much as Paul and Jessica.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ said Jane chokily, getting up and enfolding the older woman in her arms. ‘I do love you, you know.’
‘I should hope you do.’ Mrs Lang tried to sound indignant and didn’t quite make it. ‘Now drink your tea. Pregnant young women need to keep their strength up.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DEMETRI was standing at the bedroom window of his house in Kalithi, staring out at the darkening ocean, when there was a tentative knock at his door.
Cursing, because he hadn’t yet started to dress for dinner at the villa, he went to open it, hoping against hope that it wasn’t Ariadne. He could do without another argument with her, he thought heavily. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been to her bed since seeing his estranged wife again. And God knew, he didn’t have an answer for her.
But to his relief, it wasn’t Ariadne. A manservant stood outside with the news that his father was waiting to see him. His father? Demetri didn’t hesitate before following the man downstairs.
‘Papa,’ he said with some concern, entering the salon where the old man was reclining with evident relief on an ivory velvet sofa. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve driven here by yourself.’
‘No, no.’ Leo Souvakis regarded his eldest son with a mixture of affection and impatience. ‘Micah brought me.’ He paused. ‘Though I have to say, I’m still capable of handling a motor vehicle.’
‘If you say so.’ Demetri slipped his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. But, although he adopted a conciliatory tone, he was well aware that his father’s face showed the strain of walking unaided from the car into the house. ‘Can I offer you a drink? Some wine, perhaps?’
Leo grimaced. ‘Wine,’ he muttered irritably.
‘Ouzo, then.’ Demetri walked across to the wet bar and returned a few moments later with an ouzo and water, the ice clinking pleasantly in the glass. ‘Does that suit you better?’
‘Much.’ Leo took the glass and looked up at his son with a rueful expression on his face. ‘You know your mother forbids me to drink this.’ He took a taste, savouring the flavour of aniseed on his tongue. ‘But I say, if I’m dying, why prolong the exercise?’
‘You don’t mean that.’ Demetri dropped into the chair opposite his father, legs spread, clasped hands hanging between his knees. ‘But I doubt if one rather weak drink is going to do you any harm.’
‘Weak, eh?’ Leo raised the glass to look into it, and then, seeing his son’s face, he smiled. ‘OK, I know I should be grateful. And I am. But every now and then…’
Demetri nodded. And then, because he knew the old man wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t have something on his mind, he said, ‘So—what brings you here? Is something wrong?’
‘You tell me.’ Leo took another sip of the ouzo, regarding his son over the rim of the glass. ‘Hmm, this is delicious, weak or otherwise.’
Demetri frowned, not diverted by the compliment. ‘What is it you want me to tell you?’
‘Oh, come on.’ His father waited and, when his son didn’t speak, he went on, ‘Ariadne thinks you’ve changed your mind about getting married again. Or so she’s informed your mother.’
Demetri felt the hot colour invade his face. ‘Ariadne should keep her opinions to herself.’
‘So it’s not true?’
‘That I’ve changed my mind about marrying her?’ Demetri was defensive. ‘I haven’t said anything like that.’
‘Or done anything?’ suggested his father drily. ‘How shall I put it? Ariadne is feeling—neglected, no?’
Demetri pushed himself to his feet. ‘For pity’s sake, what has she been saying?’
‘I think I do not need to answer that, Demetri.’