Page 21 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

‘Did you not?’ he questioned, the sensual smile widening. Still holding her now clenched fist, he drew it towards him, then prised open her fingers—far too easily. ‘And there I was thinking that purring sound you made—like a cat begging to be petted—meant you enjoyed my attentions very much.’

He drew his thumb across her palm in lazily circles, his gaze hot on her now burning face.

She ought to tug her hand free, ought to call him a liar.

But she was powerless to do anything but stare, and tremble, as he lifted her palm to his mouth.

He bit lightly into the flesh under her thumb.

Sharp, heady sensation geysered up from her core and the sob of arousal that rumbled out sounded exactly like a purr. The bastard.

He laughed—as she snatched her hand back.

She shoved her sizzling fingers into her lap and glared at him, her face now so hot it felt radioactive.

‘You’re incorrigible,’ she declared grumpily, but her admonition didn’t carry the weight it should, because they both knew he’d just proved her the liar and not the other way around.

‘There is no need to be ashamed, Poppy,’ he said, the patronising tone almost as galling as the triumphant twinkle in his eyes. ‘We have an exceptional chemistry. Why should we not enjoy it?’

Before she could come up with a suitable comeback to that suggestion, without making even more of a fool of herself, he leant forward, the amusement turning to a heated promise.

‘Perhaps sex is the best way to get to know each other, also? If this is what you need? Instead of raking over the sad details of our pasts?’ he said, sounding so reasonable—and persuasive—she almost didn’t see the great gaping hole in his logic.

Almost. ‘I have no desire to go back there, and, from what you have confided in me about your childhood, neither do you.’ He took the other hand she now had resting on the table and lifted it back to lips to kiss her knuckles.

‘We have made a child together. This is not something either one of us can change. But if you must learn to trust me, then come back to Parádeisos with me, so we can start over again.’

She shuddered, the tangle of emotions streaking through her at the bold suggestion hard to identify, let alone understand.

‘You want to go back to the island?’ she asked, stunned. And extremely conflicted, even though she couldn’t deny the excited leap in her heart rate.

What was that even about?

But then her head finally caught up with her thundering pulse—and all the pheromones that had gone into freefall again at the determined look on his face.

Was he manipulating her again—not just with the physical desire she couldn’t hide but also with her emotions?

He knew, because she’d told him all those months ago, how special Parádeisos was to her.

How much being there had meant to her that day, not just because of him and the friendship she’d thought they’d been forming.

But also because of her mum and the summer day she’d spent with her there as a teenager…

Before the island had been purchased by a billionaire.

Was that why he wanted to go back there—because he knew how raw it made her feel, and how easily she had fallen for him the first time?

‘That is where we are headed, yes,’ he said.

‘And yes, I want to take you there again. You are right when you say we must rebuild trust. I see no better place to do it than there, where we can be safe from any press intrusion. And we’d also have the privacy we need to discuss the practicalities of our shared future. ’

Our shared future.

When he said it like that, it struck at the heart of all her insecurities. The desperate yearning to have a home again, to have the kind of love and approval that had disappeared with her mother’s death…

She tensed, hating the sudden pulse of longing, and how vulnerable it made her feel.

She couldn’t afford to turn into that needy teenager again, looking for scraps of affection from someone who had never really cared for her.

She’d looked for that from her father, and never found it…

Looking for it from a man like Xander would be equally pointless.

She’d dived into a relationship with him once before, when she’d thought he was someone else…

Someone who was on her level, not just financially, but also emotionally.

However moody he’d been when she’d first met him, she’d thought he’d let his guard down by the time they’d made love that day.

But of course he hadn’t, because he’d never been who he’d said he was…

And this man—this billionaire, who had the world at his fingertips and answered to no one and nothing—was even more closed off and emotionally unavailable.

She was still puzzling how best to respond to his offer though—not that it had really been an offer, more a foregone conclusion—when a waiter appeared on the terrace to take their order.

Xander and he had a short conversation in rapid Italian—making her wonder how many languages he spoke fluently, because she’d already heard him speak in perfect English and French as well as his native Greek.

‘Our waiter says the chef is happy to make you a real Neapolitan pizza, with any toppings you wish…’ His lips quirked. ‘Although he says the chef will not put pineapple on a pizza, even for the King of England.’

She choked out a laugh, suddenly desperate to lighten the mood—because her stomach was already in knots trying to consider all the angles here and she didn’t want him to know how much his offer of a return to Parádeisos had unsettled her.

‘I’m happy to go with anything he says is good. There’s nothing much I won’t eat…’ she said, then flushed again, when Xander’s gaze intensified. ‘Except maybe anchovies…’ she added hastily, trying to yank the conversation back into the PG zone. Again.

For Pete’s sake, how did he make her think of sex now with a single look? This was getting ridiculous.

Xander rattled off more orders in Italian to the waiter.

Once they were alone again, though, her reprieve was over. Because that intent, all-seeing gaze settled back on her face.

‘So, what is your answer, Poppy? Will you return to Parádeisos with me?’

‘For…for how long?’ she asked. ‘I’m not sure I can afford to—’

‘Do not say this again,’ he interrupted her, his tone sharpening. ‘You cannot work in menial jobs when you carry my child, Poppy. Surely this must be obvious. If you must buy your own clothes, I will allow it.’

Her back stiffened. ‘Oh, will you now?’ she said, working up her outrage to cover her panic at the way he was taking charge again. She couldn’t let herself rely on him, or her independence would be gone—why couldn’t he understand that? ‘How very accommodating of you.’

‘Stop. That is not what I meant, and you know it,’ he interrupted her again as frustration swirled, turning the pure blue of his eyes into a stormy grey.

‘I don’t care about your clothes, but I do care about you.

You must not continue to fight me on this.

There is no shame in letting me support you,’ he added as his gaze dropped to where her pregnancy bump was visible over the tabletop.

‘And I could not live with myself if anything happened to you or the child while I have the means to keep you safe.’

She blinked back the swell of tears—and emotion—at his outburst, as one phrase echoed in her head.

I do care about you.

She clutched her hands in her lap and stared down at them—forced to acknowledge what she’d already guessed.

That his need to support her—and their baby—wasn’t actually about her.

It was rooted in that little boy who had been deserted by the man who should have protected him—however much Xander might want to deny it.

‘I just, I don’t want to lose my independence, that’s all,’ she said, suddenly feeling small and foolish for finding it so hard to get past that feeling of needing too much from people who would never give it to her…

Her fear wasn’t about Xander, it was about her dad, and those years spent living with the family who mattered to him the way she never would. But why did it have to be about Xander too? When she’d already realised the foolish feelings she’d had for him in April had been an illusion?

How insecure was she that she was linking his need to protect his child to all her own insecurities?

And how exactly did she think she was going to support herself waitressing when she was having a billionaire’s baby?

Because she wasn’t convinced now her panic had ever been about the money.

Had it always been the fear of relying on Xander emotionally, when he had never even offered her that?

She let out a hefty breath and lifted her head. Perhaps she just needed to have more faith in her ability to remain emotionally independent? Surely it wouldn’t be that hard, now she knew who he really was?

‘But I get where you’re coming from too,’ she conceded. ‘I don’t want to put our baby at risk either.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that I think working as a waitress is dangerous when I’m healthy and strong, and…’

‘Poppy…’ he admonished.

She trailed off, because he had that indomitable look on his face that told her he wasn’t going to budge on this. And in a weird way she found that reassuring.

She just needed to ensure she didn’t kid herself again that he cared about her , per se. Then it didn’t have to be a bad thing that he wanted to support his baby. Right?

‘I want to be reasonable, but this…’ he said slowly.

‘ This I cannot be reasonable about. Not when you are having my baby. And what about the child? It will be my heir—this will make it extremely vulnerable. The kidnap threat alone will have to be managed. You must understand that I must protect you too, as its mother, for the child to be safe.’

Kidnap threat?

She balked, shocked into silence by the serious expression on his face.