Page 6 of The Heir Affair (Claimed by a Greek #1)

He stepped into the speedboat, steadying himself with ease when the boat rocked, then turned to offer her his hand.

The flash of memory, when he’d offered her his hand once before, to help her onto his jet ski—and later at his pool on the island, when he’d pulled her up off the lounger—made the pulsing between her thighs increase.

She squeezed her thigh muscles to try and control it… It didn’t help.

What was wrong with her? Was this some kind of weird biological reaction to her baby’s father? Because she wasn’t still attracted to him. How could she be? Now she knew all the lies he’d told to lure her into a false sense of intimacy that day.

Unfortunately, though, there was no way she was going to be able to climb aboard the boat without taking his hand, because she wasn’t exactly an accomplished sailor. And she was wearing a pencil skirt.

‘It is a little late to be afraid of my touch, Poppy,’ he said, his gruff voice snapping her out of her frantic thoughts.

That he had noticed her hesitation made the heat in her cheeks surge. ‘I—I’m not,’ she replied. From the sceptical arch of his eyebrow, he knew she was lying.

She grasped his hand, bracing against the telltale shiver when his long strong fingers folded over her palm.

But as she stepped from the safety of the dock, the boat swayed alarmingly.

She gasped, as his hands dropped to hold her waist and lift her the rest of the way.

Suddenly, she was flush against him, her rounded stomach touching him, her lungs filling with the intoxicating scent she remembered, soap and man, detectable now under the expensive notes of his sandalwood cologne and the fresh salty air.

She tried to step back, aware of the heat rising up her neck and sinking deep into her abdomen, but his hold on her waist remained firm.

‘Stand still until the boat stops rocking, or we will both end up in the water,’ he demanded.

She glanced up—way, way up—to find him gauging her reaction. But instead of the cynicism and disdain she had expected, she saw the flicker of amusement. And the dark awareness she remembered from that day.

‘It’s not funny,’ she managed, her throat as raw as the rest of her, unsettled by the reminder of the brooding beach bum, and the watchfulness that had once aroused her.

‘You think not?’ he asked, clearly amused now, and at her expense.

The boat finally stopped swaying and he slid his hands from her waist, but not before she got another lungful of his addictive scent.

She scrambled into the passenger seat, so aware of him she was shaking. He seemed unmoved by the brief contact though, as he climbed into the driving seat.

She had to grab the handrail as the boat purred to life, then lifted out of the water.

They sped across the bay, bouncing over the slow tug of the tide, towards an enormous boat—its four storeys lit up like a Christmas tree. Her heartbeat accelerated.

That’s a yacht?

From where Poppy was sitting—as the launch circled the enormous hull and Caras cut the speedboat’s engine to drift up to the lowered platform at the back—it looked more like a mini ocean liner.

A man appeared wearing a uniform of black shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt with epaulets that had the Caras Shipping logo embroidered on the breast pocket. Caras threw him a line and the crew member tied it off.

‘Welcome aboard, Mr Caras,’ he said. ‘Miss,’ he added, giving her a nod of greeting.

‘Hi, Jack. This is Poppy,’ he said, surprising her. She hadn’t expected him to introduce her to his crew, especially as she was obviously pregnant. Wouldn’t they ask questions? ‘Tell Meghan to prepare the Sunrise Suite for my guest.’

Sorry? What now?

‘Is Theo aboard?’ he added, while Poppy was still trying to control her shock. Why would she need a suite? She wasn’t going to stay.

The crew member shook his head. ‘Your brother has not yet returned. I’ll send the launch back for him and let Meghan know right away, sir. Do you and your guest require dinner?’

Stepping off the launch, Caras turned to offer her his hand again. She didn’t have much choice but to take it, even though all her alarm bells were going off when he tugged her onto the deck then placed a controlling arm around her waist.

‘Are you hungry?’ His gaze shifted to her belly. ‘Is there anything you would like?’ he asked, as if she really were a guest instead of being here under duress.

She shook her head, not able to speak round the ball of outrage forming in her throat.

He turned to his crew member. ‘Tell Angelo we’re good for tonight. We’ll be on the starboard terrace. Make sure no one disturbs us.’

‘Of course, sir,’ the man said, then bowed and disappeared back into the bows of the ship.

As soon as he was gone, Poppy shifted away from that controlling hand.

‘Why does Meghan need to prepare a suite for me?’ she hissed. ‘As soon as this conversation is over, I’m going back to my hostel.’

He frowned. As if he were surprised by the news. She pushed her frustration with him to the fore, to cover the spurt of panic, and the unsettled feeling in her gut.

She already felt overwhelmed, not just by his enormous yacht, but also by the arrogant way he had of simply taking charge, with no apparent consideration of her wishes or feelings.

‘Do you seriously believe we are going to be able to get anything settled tonight?’ he demanded. The arrogance from the restaurant was back full force. Why was she not surprised?

‘What exactly is there to settle?’ she countered, far too aware of the cynical glitter in his eyes.

Ever since she’d told him the baby was his, he’d looked at her as if she were a problem that needed to be solved and to his satisfaction.

It hurt to realise he had never been the man she’d thought he was, but it hurt more somehow to realise he thought she was as manipulative and mercenary as he was.

‘You know very well what there is to settle. If this is my child, I intend to be involved.’

If…

She supposed she should have expected that. But still she found herself flinching inside at how little he truly thought of her. But she was still cauterising that wound when he continued.

‘I need to inform my legal team and arrange a DNA test once the child is born. But I do not intend to shirk my financial responsibilities,’ he declared.

‘So, at the very least, we will need to negotiate a suitable amount, which I am sure you are well aware of or you would not have turned up here on the eve of my engagement announcement.’

The hurt and humiliation curdled in her stomach.

Lord spare her from rich men—was every single thing about money to them?

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ she shot back. ‘The only reason I came to Galicos now was because I knew you would be here. The plan was to get a message to you, so you would know you were going to become a father. I thought I owed you that much.’

The naiveté of that mission struck her now.

What had made her believe for a single second a man like him wouldn’t see her appearance here as some kind of shake-down?

It hurt to realise she had been so wrong about him.

It hurt even more to realise his cruel assumptions had fundamentally shaken her long-held confidence in the essential goodness of people, even billionaires like him.

But she did not intend to make that mistake again.

‘I don’t want or expect anything else from you.

I never did. And that includes your vast hoards of filthy lucre.

Nor do I intend to derail your engagement to Princess Freya.

’ She pressed a hand to her bump. Her bump.

Not his. And dismissed the hurt that he had fallen in love with someone else so soon after meeting her, because according to the gossip columns his engagement to the Princess had been muted for months.

In fact, he might well have already been dating his princess when they had made love in his villa.

But that thought just made her feel grubby as well as used, so she tried not to think about it.

‘I chose to have this baby, and I intend to raise it, on my own, without any help from you. If you really want to be a part of its life, I will agree to a DNA test after it’s born to confirm you’re the father.

But if you don’t want to be involved, there’s really no need for one.

Because I have absolutely nothing I need to prove to you. And nor does my child.’

She huffed out a breath, glad to have got all that off her chest.

‘So now we’ve got that settled, you can take me back to the marina.’

His frown became catastrophic, but she put that down to the arrogance that made him believe any woman who he slept with had to be after his money.

‘Your vast hoard of filthy lucre…’ What the…?

Xander was pretty sure he could hear the ticking time bomb of his temper about to explode.

‘The hell I will…’ he growled, the effort not to yell at the woman in front of him so great he felt as if he were chewing on a rock.

He never lost his temper. Not with anyone. Not even his brother, Theo, who had made it his life’s mission to push Xander’s buttons. Because he had learned as a boy that when people knew they could hurt you, or provoke you, it only gave them power, while you lost your own.

That this slip of a woman had managed to do what even Theo had only achieved occasionally, and only because his brother was the one person he truly cared about, was even more infuriating.

Why did it matter what she thought of him, or his money?

It didn’t. Nor should it bother him that he might have underestimated her. And her motives.

If she was not here to destroy his marriage plans, or blackmail him, he should be rejoicing. Why should he feel insulted that she had decided she didn’t need his money, that somehow his wealth was tainted?

But the truth was, he did feel insulted.