Page 3 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

‘We’re leaving .’

Poppy stared at the man she had believed she was falling in love with.

The man she had begged to give her a lift on his jet ski to the no longer deserted island where she had once spent her last truly happy day with her mother.

The man who had fathered the baby growing inside her on the beautiful spring day that had unfolded.

The day she had remembered so blissfully—until she’d discovered the truth about him.

The day that had once had so many wonderful memories, encompassing everything love should be—fun, exciting, tender, passionate, adventurous.

When she’d run down to the beach in Rhodes the next morning, hoping to see him again, instead she’d found no sign of him or his jet ski anywhere.

She’d spent the rest of her week-long vacation asking at all the beach bars, trying to find him—or at least something more about him than his first name.

Desperate to contact him, even if she couldn’t see him again.

Desperate to let him know how much their day had meant to her. And to find out his surname.

But no one had heard of a guy named Alex. No one had even noticed the guy with the jet ski, except her.

Why hadn’t she insisted on getting his number?

Or at least his last name? It had seemed so romantic at the time to keep their identities anonymous—after all, they were both trespassing on a billionaire’s private island.

She was the one who had suggested they make a pact—just in case either one of them got caught and questioned—not to reveal their surnames to each other, so they couldn’t be interrogated into giving each other up.

Their pact had seemed impossibly romantic at the time. Especially as that wonderful day had become a blissful bubble of hope and possibilities and searing passion.

He’d made everything so perfect, even suggested they sneak into the new house the billionaire had built.

She’d loved swimming in the guy’s pool, with Alex.

They’d been two crazy kids, claiming the island back, one last time, from the rich bastard who was going to make it out of bounds for ever as soon as he took ownership in a few weeks’ time.

And the sex… She’d come on to him, unable to resist the chance to sweep her hand down his tanned belly as they’d lain side by side on the pool deck.

Feeling the bunch of his hard abs, circling the small scars and crude tattoos that had fascinated her, tracing the happy trail of hair to his belly button.

Heady excitement had eddied through her body at the sound of his sharp groan when she’d cupped the thick erection in his trunks and stroked the evidence that he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him.

He’d insisted on taking her inside, finding one of the deluxe bedrooms, making her feel like a queen—revered and wanted—as they’d stripped off their wet costumes and made love.

The shattering pleasure had validated all the emotions he’d stirred in her—his brooding watchfulness giving way to reckless amusement and then dark passion as they’d shared the day together—creating emotions so intoxicating they’d hurt.

She’d known something wasn’t quite right afterwards, when they’d ridden the waves back to the jetty where they’d met what had felt like a lifetime ago but had been only four hours.

She’d refused to let in her doubts, though, that niggle of panic and regret that she’d said something to offend him without intending to.

When they’d kissed goodbye on the dock as the sun had set, and he’d cradled her cheek, with such tenderness, the passion still making them both ache, she’d tried to tell him her name. But she could still remember his finger pressing against her lips to silence her.

‘Don’t tell me,’ he’d murmured. ‘We don’t want to spoil our perfect day. And we still might get arrested.’

She’d laughed at his silly joke and felt wild and free.

But then she’d assumed, hadn’t she, that he’d be there the next day?

She’d been so excited that night, unable to sleep, sure that this had to be the start of so much more than a casual holiday fling.

So sure he must have felt it too. How could he not when he’d looked at her with such intensity, such brooding passion?

Discovering six weeks later that she was expecting Alex’s baby had been devastating and beautiful all at once. She’d redoubled her efforts to find him. Finally returning to Rhodes again, a month ago now, once she’d saved enough money to make the trip…

Only to discover everything she thought they’d shared had been a cruel hoax. When she’d seen a picture in a local magazine—of the billionaire who had bought the island they’d ‘trespassed’ on together.

Not Alex. But Xander Caras. The Greek shipping magnate who was about to marry a princess.

Not the man she had been falling in love with, then. But a total fraud.

He grasped her upper arm now, and she trembled.

Sensation sprinted down her spine—at the feel of his calluses on her skin again.

It was the first time he’d touched her since he’d pressed his fingertips to her lips to silence her on the sunset dock in Rhodes.

And left her standing there with her heart so full of dreams.

Dreams that had finally been shattered for good a month ago.

Her temper flared, right alongside her shock, the visceral reaction to his touch disturbing her now almost as much as how easily she’d fallen for his lies on that sunny day five months ago.

She yanked her arm loose. ‘Let go of me. I told you. I can’t go anywhere with you now. I’m on shift.’

It wasn’t a lie. She needed to keep this job, not just to earn her passage back to the UK, but also to build up some more savings for when the baby arrived.

She’d had to use the last of them to get to Galicos—once she’d discovered from social media he was due to be here to announce his engagement to the Galician princess—so she could have some chance of informing him he was going to become a father.

If she’d been able to contact him in any other way—discreetly, at a distance—she would have.

But after the devastation caused by discovering his true identity, it hadn’t taken her long to realise billionaires were impossible to contact, because no one would let a complete nobody past the firewall of executive assistants and security personnel who shielded them from the real world.

It was bad enough she’d had to come all the way here, in the hope of maybe discovering where he was staying, just to do the decent thing.

She was already at an enormous disadvantage.

And she’d spent all her mental and physical energy so far on getting here and surviving until she could figure out a way to deliver her message.

She’d wanted to have this conversation face to face, but had never expected it to actually happen, fairly sure after the lies he’d told her already he’d have no interest in the news he had fathered a child.

No doubt he’d done this before to other women—after all, he’d been so good at it.

Inhabiting the persona of a gruff, moody beach bum, cleverly using her own innocence and positivity against her when she’d insisted they remain anonymous to make their adventure more romantic.

One thing was for sure, she certainly wasn’t ready to have this conversation tonight.

And she’d be damned—after the emotional wringer he’d put her through in the past five months—if she’d have it at his convenience and on his terms, instead of her own.

She’d been on her feet since noon. She was worn out and seeing him again—having him touch her again—was more than enough to contend with for one night.

Never for a moment would she have expected him to spot her, or to confront her.

From the suspicion shadowing his eyes, though—reminding her of the moody, watchful guy she’d first met that day—she suspected his decision to confront her had more to do with him wanting to get her out of Galicos on the eve of his high-profile engagement party and nothing whatsoever to do with the discovery he was going to be a dad.

So why shouldn’t she let him stew, for tonight at least, while she got some sleep and prepared for tomorrow’s confrontation?

‘Are you insane?’ he snarled, as if he were the injured party. His burning gaze seared across her midriff again. ‘You are carrying my child. I will not wait to have this conversation a moment longer.’

The anger in his tone only ignited her own.

How dared he behave as if this were her fault? She wasn’t the one who had pretended to be someone she wasn’t. Nor was she the one who had made herself impossible to contact for a month.

‘Well, tough, because I don’t care what you want,’ she fired back. ‘We’ll have this conversation when I’m good and ready and not a moment before.’

His dark brows shot up his forehead—as if no one had ever said no to him before…

They probably hadn’t, she thought, resentfully.

She prided herself on being the first. It helped to strengthen the tremor in her knees that had started the minute she’d turned to see him standing there by the bar.

So tall, so indomitable. His face familiar… But nothing else.

In the expertly tailored designer suit, which hugged his muscular physique like a second skin, he couldn’t have looked more different from the man she’d clung to at the back of that jet ski, in old swimming trunks and a soaked cotton shirt, or the man who had gradually come out of his shell that day as they’d roamed the island and he’d listened to her endless chatter without saying much.

His watchful presence had made adrenaline surge every time she’d caught him staring at her with that sheen of confused fascination in his eyes—as if he hadn’t understood her, but he’d wanted to.