Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy / Redemption Of The Untamed Italian. Clare ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
in London, I’m incapable of fathering children. Three years ago the best doctors in the world delivered that staggering news. And do you know what I did?’
Numb, I shook my head, my anger at his lies dissipating in the face of the searing emotion in his eyes.
‘I found a set of doctors with better credentials than the original set. Guess what? They arrived at the same conclusion. So now do you see how what you’re saying is impossible?’
Why?
Where?
How?
Questions flashed through my brain even while I accepted that this wasn’t the time or place.
I licked lips gone dry with growing anxiety. ‘I can’t speak to your experience. All I can tell you is my truth.’
If anything, his fury grew. ‘Does this truth involve a lapsed memory on your part?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry—you’ve lost me.’
His jaw turned to steel. ‘You wouldn’t be the first woman to find herself in this situation and devise a plan to pass another man’s child off as—’
‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence!’
‘Because it’s much closer to this “truth” you seek to ram down my throat?’
‘Because it’s most definitely guaranteed to get you slapped! And while we’re throwing accusations around, what about what you said to me?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You assured me I had nothing to worry about. You said I couldn’t get pregnant! That it was impossible.’
‘And I have a file of medical reports to back that up. What do you have?’ he snarled.
‘I have that immaculate conception you wished for, apparently. Because three pregnancy tests last week and a trip to the doctor confirms that I’m carrying a baby. Your baby!’
He shook his head, started to speak.
I held up my hand. ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to believe me. I don’t care.’
‘You do care or you wouldn’t be here. Or be crying,’ he grated.
Belatedly, I registered the dampness on my cheek. Hating myself for that weakness, I dashed my hand across my cheek. Only to feel more tears spilling.
‘It must be a side effect of being repeatedly labelled a liar. Or… I don’t know… Pregnancy hormones. But, no matter what, this was the right thing to do. And now it’s done.’
There—you’ve said your piece. Now leave.
But my feet refused to move.
His eyes narrowed with laser focus. ‘If there truly is a baby, does the news distress you that much?’
‘Yes! You lulled me into a false sense of security, made me think I had the flu when I’m pregnant!’
He went a little pale, his movements jerky as he closed the gap between us. ‘And what would you have done if I’d told you two months ago that there was this possibility, hmm? Considered your options without me in the picture, perhaps?’
‘Watch your tone, Mr Xenakis. The last thing you should be doing is lounging on that lofty perch and looking down your nose at me. What happened between us was consensual. What happened with the condom was unfortunate. You do not have the right to question my character. Considering the way we parted, do you really think I would be here, right now, if that was my intention?’
He seemed lost for words even as his gaze scoured my face, dissecting my words.
‘You said yourself you only verified the pregnancy a week ago. That means you’re about two months along. It’s not too late for other options. Maybe that’s your plan? To leverage those options?’
His insult sank in, sharp as a stiletto blade. ‘God, you can’t help yourself, can you?’ I realised I’d screamed the words only after they came out.
He frowned. ‘Calm yourself, Sadie.’
‘If you want me to calm down, then stop upsetting me—Neo!’
He sucked in a deep breath, then another. Then he whirled around, dragging his fingers through his hair. Swift strides put the width of the room between us and I watched him stare out of the window at the Friday afternoon traffic, tension riding his shoulders.
Walking out through the door should’ve been easy, but again that stubborn need to have him believe me held me rooted to the spot.
So when he abruptly grated, ‘Perhaps we should discuss this further. Take a seat. Please,’ I glared at his back for all of half a second before stumbling over to one of the twin plush sofas positioned tastefully at one side of his office.
Unlike his stunning but impersonal London penthouse, there were more signs of Neo Xenakis’s personality here. Priceless objets d’art were placed next to pictures of what looked like his family, and there was even a framed child’s drawing. On the coffee table, a large book on Mayan history was open to a well-thumbed page, and several more Aztec-themed books were piled to one side.
The notion that in another time or place I’d have liked to get to know this stranger whose baby I carried hit me hard.
I was busy pushing the thought away when I heard his deep, low tones. He stood at his desk, speaking in rapid-fire Greek. Done, he returned to the window and stood there for an age.
When he turned around, every inch of his body brimmed with purpose. ‘You mentioned that you saw a doctor?’
‘Yes…after I took the pregnancy tests.’
‘And?’
‘Everything’s fine so far.’
‘This probably won’t come as a surprise to you, but to me the possibility of an offspring is not…unwelcome.’
The depth of yearning in his low, deep voice rocked me to my core, softening a knotted place inside me I hadn’t registered until his words loosened it. Truth be told, I hadn’t allowed myself to think beyond delivering the news. Because when it came down to it, Neo had plenty of other options beyond having a baby with the woman who’d brought chaos into his life. If he was willing to accept—
‘If it’s mine, that is. And at this point I’m hard-pressed to be convinced it is.’
The soft place hardened, strangled tight by his words. ‘You really believe I’d lie about something like this?’
The yearning receded slowly, forced back by the power of his scepticism. And something else. Something dark and grave that took complete control of him, hardening his face into a rigid, implacable mask.
‘I’m a wealthy, influential man. Anyone with a competent internet connection can see for themselves what any association with the Xenakis family represents. Believe it or not, you won’t be the first woman to attempt to saddle me with a paternity claim. Even when the likelihood is remote.’
He believed it. He truly believed he was infertile.
Despite the anguish dredging through me, a tiny voice urged reason. Urged me to see this from his point of view. How many headlines had I caught from my mother’s gossip magazines that shouted about a celebrity vehemently denying alleged paternity? How many women had attempted to scam rich men by dangling a baby in their faces?
I was wasting my time.
Neo wouldn’t believe even if I shouted until I was blue in the face.
I rose. ‘Your hang-ups are your problem, not