Pregnant By The Commanding Greek

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‘Wonderful.’

He waited while she closed up the shop and set the security alarm. She grabbed her coat, but despite the chill in the air she didn’t put it on. The thing was ancient and the zip was broken and she didn’t want him seeing how worn it was.

‘What do you usually have for dinner?’ he asked as they walked along the crowded footpath.

Usually on the nights she’d worked late she grabbed a chocolate bar from the tube station on the way home or didn’t bother. Tonight had been going to be a not-bother night. But she wasn’t about to admit that. ‘I might cook a quick stir-fry.’

‘But if you were to dine out?’

She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. Truth? She never dined out.

He sent her a sideways look. ‘I know a good place.’

‘I thought you were new to the area and didn’t know any of the cool places.’ She couldn’t help smiling.

‘I asked one of the concierges at my apartment building,’ he replied smoothly. ‘They offer a superb service.’

She rolled her eyes and kept pace with him along the busy footpath. A couple of corners later he paused outside a beautiful brick mansion.

She shook her head at him. ‘No chance. You have to have a booking.’

He shrugged as if he wasn’t fazed. ‘We won’t take up much space.’

It was a celebrity chef’s place—the kind you had to make a reservation for six months in advance, which was actually a good thing, as it then gave you the time to save the small fortune you needed just to enjoy an appetiser, let alone sample the full menu. Ettie made bookings all the time on behalf of her Cavendish residents.

But Leon simply walked up to the door, which the discreet security guard immediately opened. The maître d’ swept towards them, his wide gaze fixed firmly on Leon and his smile welcoming and wide. Leon didn’t even need to utter a word.

‘May I have five minutes, sir, if you’d like a drink first?’

‘Thank you,’ Leon answered with the ease of one born to privilege. ‘Champagne?’ He turned to Ettie.

‘Lemonade,’ she replied firmly and caught a gleam of pure amusement in his eyes.

‘Definitely not a risk-taker,’ he murmured.

‘Fine, then,’ she breathed. ‘Champagne.’

One glass wouldn’t do any harm.

They’d barely been given their drinks when the maître d’ reappeared to lead them through the busy dining room. Ettie tried not to stare. Several faces were familiar to her but not through personal acquaintance. These were publicly led lives—an actress, a politician. Possibly a minor royal? They stopped at a secluded table in an alcove near the rear of the restaurant. It was quieter than the main dining room, more intimate and far more private.

‘You like it?’ Leon asked as she took her seat.

‘You know the owner?’ She hazarded a guess as she tried not to stare at the gleaming lighting and sumptuous décor, but she couldn’t hold back her smile. The place was amazing. ‘This is really kind of you.’

‘No, I’m not really kind,’ he corrected bluntly. ‘This is pure self-interest. I get a pretty companion for dinner to take my mind off my misery.’

‘Misery?’ She quirked an eyebrow while battling the warmth she felt at his compliment. He didn’t really mean it. He was just adding ‘charming’ to his repertoire, which was very unfair of him. ‘Because your life’s so terrible?’ Curious, she watched him keenly for his answer.

But he turned the conversation back on her. ‘Was it really going to be a stir-fry?’

‘No,’ she admitted with a chuckle. ‘I hate cooking. Generally I exist on grilled cheese sandwiches.’

‘There’s a place in the world for a good grilled cheese sandwich.’ He nodded. ‘But not here.’

‘Then what do you suggest?’

‘I suggest we leave it to the experts.’ He nodded at the maître d’, who, with a slight bow, left for the kitchen. ‘So, why are you working such intense hours?’ Leon sipped his champagne. ‘Do we not pay you enough to live on?’

She too took a sip and savoured the fizz of bubbles before replying. ‘I’m saving.’

‘For travel? A house?’

She laughed and shook her head. Was she really here to entertain him and take his mind off whatever torments he thought he had? ‘I’ve a younger sister who aspires to go to university.’

‘It’s just the two of you?’

She nodded and took another sip.

‘How old is she?’ His gaze narrowed.

‘Seventeen. She’s away at boarding school up north.’

‘You support her financially?’

‘She’s on a partial scholarship.’

‘And you pay the rest?’ His mouth tightened. ‘But you’re not that far out of school yourself.’

‘I’m twenty-three, so a few years out. It’s her last year, so it really counts.’

‘And she’s obviously talented.’

‘Top of her school.’ Ettie beamed with unashamed pride. ‘She’s amazing. She wants to study medicine. So.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘A lot of study.’ And a lot of tuition and living fees. But Ophelia was worth it and she’d do anything to see her achieve her dreams.

‘What happened to your parents?’

‘Twenty questions, huh?’ She sent him a look but answered anyway. ‘My father was never around. My mother passed away a couple of years ago.’

‘That must have been hard.’

It had been but she didn’t want to dwell on her mother’s slow decline with cancer. Not tonight. Not here. She smiled softly. ‘We’ve survived.’

She didn’t tell him about the huge mistake that she’d made not long after her mother’s death either. The total car crash that had been her love life.

‘What’s your sister’s name?’

‘Ophelia.’

‘Antoinette and Ophelia,’ he said quietly. ‘But you’re “Ettie”?’

‘Yes, fingers crossed neither of us suffers the delusions or disappointment of our namesakes.’ She sat back as the waiter appeared and placed dishes on the table. ‘My mother was a romantic.’ Not that she’d had any kind of romantic luck. Like mother, like daughter. ‘This looks amazing.’

She was pleased to have the interruption to the topic. And she realised she was absolutely starving.

He waited for her to take a bite, amusement softening his innate seriousness. ‘What do you think? Better than a grilled cheese sandwich?’

Ettie couldn’t answer, she was too busy salivating. But she finally swallowed her mouthful. ‘I’ve never eaten anything like it. It’s to die for.’

And that was all she could say, because she needed more this instant. He probably thought she was an idiot, but right this second she didn’t care. This was one of those rare experiences in life that had to be luxuriated in.

‘Here, try this.’ He pushed another plate towards her.

Ettie tasted what was, frankly, the food of the gods. Conversation turned to flavours and textures. Leon was animated, knowledgeable and entertaining as they debated which dish was the most delicious.

‘Do you have room for dessert?’ he teased her almost an hour later as she sat back with a satisfied sigh.

‘I should say no, because I’m not remotely hungry now…’ She trailed off.

When was she ever going to be in a restaurant like this again? With a man like this? It was a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy night and she didn’t want it to end.

‘What if we share?’ He offered her pure temptation.

She flashed a huge grin at him. ‘I get to pick, right?’ she said impulsively. ‘Because you can come here any time.’

He laughed a little beneath his breath. ‘Sure.’

‘Or maybe you should pick.’ She suddenly backpedalled, remembering the guy was all but her boss. ‘You probably know what’s good…’

There was a quizzical light in his eye and his eyebrows twitched. ‘I’m sure they’re all good.’ He turned and said something softly to the waiter who’d magically appeared with his impeccable service-required senses on full alert.

Ettie narrowed her gaze on Leon. ‘You did not just order every dessert on the menu.’

‘You don’t have to eat them all, just taste.’

Her jaw dropped at the decadence of the suggestion and she shook her head. ‘That’s wasteful.’

‘Then we can take the rest home for later,’ he said softly.

Ettie stilled, swamped with heat at the suggestion of intimacy that throwaway comment inferred. Was he assuming she’d go home with him tonight?

Images burned in her brain—of her licking a decadent chocolate dessert while in bed with him. Even better, licking said chocolate dessert off him.

‘Ettie?’ He was watching her closely as if he could read her mind. ‘You can take them home and have them for breakfast,’ he clarified in a slightly husky voice.

The less than subtle undercurrents between them were unbearably strong and gaining power with every passing second. She licked her suddenly dry lips and decided it was his turn to answer twenty questions. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

He hesitated and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

But his mouth twisted. ‘I’m an only child. Spoilt little rich boy.’ His tone was mocking, but the edge of bitterness ran deeper than a mere joke.

‘But you built your own business, right?’ She knew his parents had that Greek hotel empire, but he’d gone into finance on his own. That was according to the official bio in his ‘most eligible bachelor’ blurb in the magazine Jess the housemaid had been flashing around this afternoon at work.

He shook his head. ‘I had every advantage—education, health, wealthy parents. While my business success is my own, I can’t rightly claim to have done it all by myself when I came from that starting point. Most people don’t get that privilege to begin with.’

‘But you made the most of your opportunities.’

Of course those schools, those contacts—sure they helped. But in the end, he had to do the work himself. And there were plenty of heirs to vast fortunes who’d frittered their lives away.

A lick of something indefinable flickered in his eyes. ‘I like to extract every possible success from every possible scenario. Yes.’

Again that undercurrent swept over her like a blanket of wild dizziness—sensuality of a kind she’d never encountered or imagined. Sexual tension so intense…but it was also teasing, almost fun. Which was surprising, given he was so very serious…and she so very inept at banter.

Two waiters appeared and set six dishes on the table. Six decadent desserts that were miniature works of culinary art.

‘They’re only small portions,’ she said softly, as if that made it better. ‘I imagine they’re rich.’

‘Why don’t you take a bite and find out?’ That tone was back—dry on the surface, but wicked beneath—daring her to take the risk, to take a bite of something so far out of her league. To taste something miles away from her realm of experience.

She picked up the silver fork and forced herself to focus on the glorious-looking food, rather than the man across the table mesmerising her. She took a moment to mentally debate which she should taste first—it was a three-way contest between the chocolate nirvana, the caramel or the raspberry heaven. In the end the chocolate won.

Ettie closed her eyes as she sucked the rich mousse from the spoon.

‘Good?’

It was impossible to answer him—the deliciousness too much to express. It was like all the good things in the world had been put together in the one flavour bomb and it had just burst on her tongue.