Page 32 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

Five minutes later

‘Here, I hope it’s strong enough for you,’ Poppy said as she handed Xander the cup of black coffee, and then went to sit on the armchair opposite him.

She folded her legs under her and blew on the mint tea she’d made for herself.

She tried to concentrate on the balloon of hope under her breastbone as she watched Xander take a gulp of the coffee—which had to taste like tar, but that was the way he preferred it. He set the mug on the occasional table by his sofa, his hands shaking.

He’d taken off the drenched coat, the figure-hugging black cashmere polo neck he wore beneath making her brutally aware of his impressive chest.

She’d been impossibly grateful for the chance to dash into the kitchen and make them beverages that she was far too worked up to actually drink. Because she’d needed time to process all the emotions threatening to choke her.

As soon as he’d appeared in her doorway, she’d known she had made a colossal mistake two weeks ago.

She shouldn’t have run. She should have stood her ground, and demanded answers from him.

Because it seemed so obvious to her now that, while she’d been panicking about whether or not he would ever love her, she had somehow missed the obvious: that Xander had massive abandonment issues.

Was that why he’d found it so difficult to tell her how he felt about her?

Why he’d demanded marriage, while at the same time wanting to keep her on Parádeisos, and visit her at his convenience?

Because he was scared of committing to a real relationship that would leave him vulnerable too?

But how could she know or understand his motivations if he wouldn’t talk to her?

They’d both been in the wrong. She shouldn’t have run, but he shouldn’t have shut her out the way he had. And if she let him get away with not talking about it again—they’d be right back where they started.

But as he sat opposite her, she could see the fear he’d struggled so hard to hide, and she knew it was not going to be easy for him.

Then her gaze caught the photo of her and her mum together on Parádeisos that summer, which she’d found in an old shoebox upstairs and placed on the mantel.

And she could hear her mum’s voice, still loving, still supportive the last time she’d been fully conscious:

‘I hate to leave you, Pops. I wish I didn’t have to. But always remember to fight for your dreams.’

She blinked, the tears filling her eyes.

She didn’t know when it had happened, when loving Xander and having their baby had become her dream.

But when his head lifted, and his gaze met hers and she saw the lost look in his eyes, she knew what she had to do now was stop running, and fight for him, too.

‘Was it because he left you, Xander? Were you scared I would do it too? That’s why you didn’t want to give me a choice?’

He looked away, his cheeks heating. But she’d seen the shame on his face, before he could mask it. And her heart broke for him, even as it seemed to swell against her ribs, the bubble of hope expanding to impossible proportions.

She wanted to go to him, wanted to tell him it would all be okay, because she loved him. But she remained rooted to her seat, knowing she had to wait for his answer. Knowing she deserved it.

The fire crackled, the rain beat down, cocooning them in the small cottage. She could hear his harsh breathing, see the tense muscle in his jaw flexing, and sensed the battle he was waging to admit the fear that had haunted him for so long.

But finally, he turned towards her. And gave her a stiff nod. ‘How did you know?’ he asked.

‘Because I know what it’s like to be vulnerable, to be alone, Xander. To be terrified that you’re somehow unlovable.’ Except she’d always had her mum, even after she was gone.

‘You cannot love me, Poppy,’ he said, staring at the hands he had clasped above his knees.

The weariness in his voice shocked her, almost as much as the ashen colour of his skin in the flickering firelight.

‘What? Why?’ She leaned forward.

‘Because I am not a man anyone could love.’

‘Why would you think that?’ she asked.

He shrugged, the movement stiff and unyielding—and so defensive her heart hurt.

‘We were forced to beg, to steal, to scavenge for scraps, to lie and keep on lying, simply to survive.’ He shook his head, staring at his whitening knuckles.

‘I made a promise to myself then, I would never be that vulnerable again.’ His gaze rose to hers, the bleak acceptance in his eyes devastating.

‘That is why I wanted this marriage. To trap you. To keep you. I didn’t want to give you a choice, because I was terrified that, eventually, you wouldn’t choose me, any more than he did. ’

He looked so broken in that moment, she went with instinct and rose from her chair to go to him.

Kneeling on the sofa, on either side of his thighs, she sank into his lap. Resting her round belly against his much flatter one, she cradled his cheeks and pressed her forehead to his. ‘I hope you realise,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘that’s complete crap.’

A raw chuckle broke from his throat as he lifted his hands to stroke her spine, then dragged her the rest of the way into his embrace. He held her so tightly, wrapping his arms around her body, his heart beating against hers.

‘I don’t know if I can ever love you back, Poppy,’ he said, the sad acceptance in his voice nothing like the arrogant, demanding man she had come to know. ‘Something died inside me when I was a child. I killed it because I had to, and I don’t know if I can ever get it back. Even for you.’

Yes, he could. She knew he could. He had been through hell and back to support his brother.

He had been invested in this baby, determined to protect it the minute he’d known about its existence.

He’d treated her with care, even when they’d been driving each other nuts.

And he’d shown her he needed her, that he wanted her, already in so many ways.

Not least by trying to give her an island.

And if that hadn’t convinced her, his desperate search to find her, the agony on his face when he had, were more than enough to persuade her that she mattered to him already. A lot.

But they had time, so much time, to figure all this out. And she didn’t want to hurt him any more than she already had, by demanding more than he was ready to give.

‘I don’t need that, Xander. Not yet.’ After all, they were just words. ‘I just need you to be honest with me. To tell me how you feel. And to give me choices, so I can have an equal stake in our future.’

‘I can do that.’ He nodded. ‘But you must promise not to run from me again. I couldn’t bear it.’

She smiled, the sunlight bursting inside her a direct counterpoint to the cold and damp outside. ‘I promise.’ She took his hand and pressed his palm to her belly. ‘Me and junior both.’

He rubbed the bump, his eyes flaring with an emotion so raw it took her breath away.

His hands rose up her spine to ease her back into his arms and he captured her happy sigh with his lips.

The kiss was hard and deep, the way they both liked it, going from thankful to carnal in a heartbeat, but just as he slipped his hands under her sweater to pull her even closer, she felt the flutter of movement. And he stilled.

‘What is that ?’ he asked.

‘You felt it, too?’ She grinned, the joy exploding through her nerve endings alongside the arousal. ‘It’s your daughter… Or maybe your son, saying hello.’

He laughed, wonder shining in his eyes as he pushed up her sweater and T-shirt to gaze at her bare belly. ‘Hello, junior,’ he murmured.

Just as she thought her heart would burst, watching him talk to his child for the first time, he kissed her bump, then proceed to drag off her sweater and T-shirt.

‘Now go back to sleep,’ he said, still caressing her belly, before he unclipped her bra. ‘I have important business with your mother,’ he added, his face fierce with longing.

And the hunger she loved.