Page 4 of Pregnancy Clause in Their Paper Marriage
TOHISCREDIT—or not—Christos’s expression didn’t change. He simply regarded her thoughtfully, his deep green gaze scanning over her slowly, while Lana tensed, waiting for his reaction, his response. She wasn’t going to jump in with all her explanations and caveats, her assurances and reassurances, as much as she wanted to. Not until she could gauge his response to what admittedly appeared to be an outrageous suggestion. Although not, she reminded herself, as outrageous as it might first seem, once she’d explained.
‘Well, thisisinteresting,’ he finally remarked in a low, lazy drawl. ‘Definitely more interesting than a joint credit card. Even more so than sharing Netflix.Muchmore, as it happens.’
‘I’m serious, Christos.’ Her voice trembled and she made herself take a steadying breath. She usually enjoyed and appreciated his ready sense of humour, but she wasn’t sure she could bear him joking about this.
‘Yes, clearly you are.’ His laughing look dropped as he cocked his head, his gaze still sweeping over her in assessment. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so serious before, Lana. Not even when you first proposed to me.’
‘That started out as something of a joke,’ she protested, a bit feebly. They’d both been more than a little drunk at the time, restless and reckless from their recent, disappointing encounters. She’d been bruised from having fended off another thoughtless grope, a typically suggestive innuendo. She’d been dealing with them since she hit puberty, and the one man who she’d actually let breach her defences...well, she wasn’t going to think about him. But for her, marrying someone for the sheer convenience of it had seemed like a no-brainer.
But as for Christos...? She hadn’t ever truly understood why he’d shown up at her office the next day, with the terms of the marriage outlined in boldfaced type, ready to go over every detail. Seeming enthused about the whole idea, and as reassuringly pragmatic as she’d been. She’d pressed him on the point, and the only information he’d given her was that he preferred to avoid messy emotions, something she could certainly get on board with. And so she’d agreed to it all with alacrity, pushing aside the unease she’d had about whyhewas willing to agree to a marriage made on paper.
And yet...was it really just about fending off would-be Mrs Diakoses? What else could it be? She’d never truly known, but she’d put a prenup in place just in case, even though he made twenty times the amount she did, and she made sure, as ever, to guard her heart, which was far more precious than anything in the bank.
‘So, are you going to elaborate on this particular proposal?’ Christos asked after a moment, his voice still as relaxed as his stance. ‘Because I assume there’s a little more to it than what you just said.’
‘Yes, there is.’ She glanced around the room in all its bland, businesslike impersonality, wishing they were somewhere a little more comfortable. A littlefriendlier, because it was hard enough to go over the practicalities of baby-making while standing in such a sterile room, although maybe she should take advantage of the whiteboard to outline her points.
Number one...you don’t need to be involved beyond the obvious.
Christos, as he so often did, immediately picked up on what she was thinking about the room. ‘This seems like the sort of discussion we need to have somewhere more comfortable,’ he remarked, sliding his phone out of his pocket.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he thumbed a text.
‘I have the penthouse suite here on standby,’ he explained with a shrug. ‘We can go there to talk.’
‘Oh, do you?’ She couldn’t quite keep the telltale sharpness from her voice. Part of their arrangement had been they were free to conduct affairs with other people, as long as they were completely, utterly discreet, but she found she didn’t really need or want the reminder right now.
He looked up from his phone, his expression a cross between wry and exasperated. ‘For business meetings, Lana. Or VIP clients. Not my...perceived paramours.’
‘I don’t care about your paramours,’ she tossed back at him, and he slid his phone into his pocket.
‘I know. I can pick up the key card for the penthouse at Reception.’
Already he was striding forward, sliding his arm under hers, his long fingers resting on her bare wrist, making her pulse jump. Did she really want to go to the penthouse suite with him? In the three years of their marriage, he’d never made a single physical advance, not even a potential innuendo or suggestive remark, and she’d been both glad and grateful. He’d been the perfect gentleman for the entire time, and there was no reason to think he’d change now, simply because she’d told him she wanted his baby.
Right?
‘I’m presuming,’ he remarked dryly as he guided her towards the lobby, ‘that this is just an initial discussion, not a potential act of consummation?’
Lana nearly choked. ‘Ofcourse—’
‘I just wanted to reassure you,’ he cut across her, ‘because you were looking kind of nervous.’
‘I’m—’
‘And,’ he added imperturbably, ‘to tell you the truth, I’m not really in the mood right now. It’s been a tough week.’ He grinned wickedly at her then, a gleam of teeth and glint of eye that belied what he’d just said and made her body spark to life—again. She’d always known Christos had a keen sense of humour, but she hadn’t quite seen—or felt—it like this before, with such a dangerous, exciting edge that ran like a razor along her nerve endings, twanging everything to life. The last thing she needed right now was to feel the zing of attraction for such an impossible man, and yet...
‘Good to hear,’ she managed, hoping her voice sounded as light as his did. ‘Because I’m not in the mood, either.’ Frankly, she never was. Not any more. Even if feeling Christos’s arm twined with hers was making her achingly aware of him—his body, his heat, his scent.
A few seconds later he’d accepted the key card from the member of staff at the reception desk, and then they were soaring upwards in the penthouse’s private lift, towards the sky.
‘I’ve never been in the penthouse of this particular hotel,’ Lana remarked as the doors opened to a large living room, all black marble and scattered leather sofas, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan’s glittering skyline on three sides, Central Park a swathe of darkness in the middle.
‘I find one penthouse is much like any other,’ Christos replied carelessly, tossing the key card onto an ebony console by the elevator as he strolled into the soaring space. ‘You really just get them for the view.’
Lana walked to the window, nerves still racing through her body. She’d got this far, she told herself, and at least Christos was interested in what she had to say. ‘It is quite a view,’ she remarked, nodding towards the lights of the city.
‘Yes, it is.’ He spoke from right behind her, his breath warm on the nape of her neck, and she jumped a little, whirling around as she let out an unsteady laugh. ‘You surprised me,’ she said, one hand pressed to her chest.