The Greek Tycoon's Pregnant Wife
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Of course, she realised belatedly, it could have been Demetri, but she didn’t think that was likely. Demetri was no doubt in London on business and he’d have no time to think about his estranged wife if he had meetings to attend. She would come fairly low on his agenda. As she’d always done, she thought bitterly. Judging by his tone of voice, she had no reason to think he’d changed.
Sighing, she abandoned any idea of unpacking until later and trailed into the bathroom to take a quick shower. She looked exhausted, she thought, tucking strands of honey-blonde hair back behind her ears. Gazing into the mirror, she wondered how much she’d changed in the last five years. There were tiny lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes, but her skin was still smooth in other places. Of course, she’d gained a couple of inches around her hips, which was annoying, but her breasts were firm even if they’d filled out, too.
Oh, well, who cares? she thought, too tired to even dry herself properly after her shower. Twisting her still damp hair into a loose knot on top of her head, she tumbled naked between the sheets. And not even her worries about why Demetri might want to see her could keep her eyes open.
The phone awakened her. At least, she thought it was the phone, but when she groped for the extension beside the bed the ringing still went on. It was the doorbell, she realised. Someone wanted access to one of the apartments and was probably ringing every bell in the building until they got lucky.
Sighing, she flopped back against the pillows and looked at the clock on the bedside cabinet. It was almost noon. She’d slept for less than four hours, but that was something, she supposed. Amazingly, she didn’t feel as tired as she’d done when she flew east. Coping with jet lag was always easier in this direction.
The bell rang again and, throwing back the covers, Jane slipped her arms into the sleeves of a green silk wrapper. Then, padding across the living room to the intercom, she lifted the handset. ‘Yes?’
‘Jane?’ It was Demetri, and her stomach made a sickening dive. ‘Jane, I know it’s you. Hristo, will you open the door?’
Jane didn’t move. She couldn’t. She felt frozen. The faint sense of disorientation she’d felt when she’d first woken up seemed to be paralysing her ability to speak. It was too soon, she thought. She needed time to pull herself together. If she’d ever considered encountering her estranged husband again, she’d assumed it would be on her terms, not his.
‘Jane!’ She heard him swear in his own language. ‘Jane, I know you’re in there. Your mother was kind enough to tell me you’d be home today.’ His voice was becoming more impatient. ‘Come on, open the door. Do you want me to be arrested for soliciting or some such thing?’
Anyone less likely to allow himself to be arrested for soliciting Jane could hardly imagine. Demetri Souvakis was far too sure of himself for that. Besides which, that was just an excuse to get her to press the release button. Her fellow flatmates were evidently out at work—or shopping in the case of Mrs Dalladay—and she was his only means of access.
‘I’m not even dressed yet, Demetri,’ she blurted at last, aware that her voice had a breathy sound to it. It was all she could think of to say, but it wasn’t enough.
‘Aghapita, seeing you naked is nothing new to me,’ he reminded her drily. ‘Come. I’ve been trying to reach you for the better part of a week. We can’t all spend half the day in bed.’
That got her juices flowing again. ‘I’ve just flown over six thousand miles, Demetri,’ she told him tartly. ‘And if I remember correctly, you don’t do jet lag very well yourself.’
‘Ah, yes. Signomi. Sorry.’ But he didn’t sound it. ‘I guess that was thoughtless. Put it down to frustration. I’m not very good at that either.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Jane tried to sound sardonic. ‘How are you, Demetri? Still as impatient as ever, I see.’
‘Theos, I have been patient, ghineka. Now, are you going to open up, or must I break down this—’ there was a pause while he obviously endeavoured to control his anger ‘—this door?’
Jane’s jaw took on a stubborn curve. She badly wanted to call his bluff. Only the embarrassment she would suffer if he made good on his threat deterred her, and without another word she jabbed a finger onto the button.
There was a low buzz as the door downstairs was released and then the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Heavy footsteps, climbing the stairs with a speed that had her retreating to the far side of the living room. She’d left the door ajar and, although she told herself she didn’t care what he thought of her, it occurred to her belatedly that she hadn’t even brushed her hair since she’d tumbled so unexpectedly out of bed.
She was finger-combing it behind her ears when Demetri appeared in the doorway. Tall and lean, with the thick dark hair of his ancestors, he too looked older, she reassured herself. But despite the threads of grey at his temples, his face, with its familiar trace of dark stubble, was tougher, harder than she remembered, but just as attractive.
His presence had lost none of its impact, reminding her of the day he strode into the gallery, looking for his father. When the old man had introduced them he’d been polite, but hardly flattering, treating her with a cool indifference she’d half resented then.
Now Demetri paused in the doorway, and then stepped into the apartment. So this was where she lived, he thought broodingly. He’d heard she was doing well at her job. He couldn’t help admiring the huge expanse of living space that swept from the front to the back of the old Victorian building. The sun pouring in from the windows at each end filling the place with a watery light.
But for all his irritation at the way she’d kept him waiting outside, it was to Jane that his eyes were irresistibly drawn. She stood the width of the room away, her arms wrapped protectively about herself. She was wearing a silk robe that she was holding tightly around her. As if he’d threatened her, he reflected, disliking the notion. For pity’s sake, what was she expecting him to do? Jump her bones?
‘Jane,’ he said, before that idea could take hold and destroy his detachment, and her lips, which she’d been pressing together, relaxed a little. She looked good, he thought unwillingly. Too good to a man who was planning to marry another woman as soon as he was free. But then, Jane had always had that effect on him. It was why he’d married her, for God’s sake. Why he’d been so reluctant to find another woman to take her place.