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Hugh Mannering made the introduction with polite civility. ‘Alyse Anderson—Aleksi Stefanos.’
‘Miss Anderson.’ The acknowledgment was voiced in a deep, faintly accented drawl, and an icy chill feathered across the surface of her skin. His eyes swept her features in raking appraisal, then locked with her startled gaze for a brief second before he directed his attention to the man opposite.
‘I presume you have informed Miss Anderson of the relevant details?’
‘Perhaps Mr Stefanos,’ Alyse stressed carefully as he folded his lengthy frame into an adjacent chair, ‘would care to reveal precisely his connection with the father of my sister’s child?’
There could be no doubt she intended war, and it irked her incredibly that he was amused beneath the thin veneer of politeness evident.
‘Forgive me, Miss Anderson.’ He inclined his head cynically. ‘I am Georgiou’s elder brother—stepbrother, to be exact.’
‘One presumes Georg,’ she paused, deliberately refusing to give the name its correct pronunciation, ‘dispatched you as his emissary?’
The pale eyes hardened until they resembled obsidian grey shards. ‘Georgiou is dead. A horrific car accident last year left him a paraplegic, and complications took their final toll little more than a month ago.’
Alyse’s mind reeled at the implication of a bizarre coincidence as Aleksi Stefanos went on to reveal in a voice devoid of any emotion,
‘My family had no knowledge of your sister’s existence, let alone her predicament, until several carefully concealed letters were discovered a week after Georgiou’s death. Time was needed to verify certain facts before suitable arrangements could be made.’
‘What arrangements?’
‘The child will, of course, be brought up a Stefanos.’
Alyse’s eyes blazed with brilliant fire. ‘He most certainly will not!’
‘You contest my right to do so?’
‘Your right?’ she retorted deliberately.
‘Indeed. As he is the first male Stefanos grandchild, there can be no question of his rightful heritage.’
‘Georg’s birth is registered as Georgiou Anderson, Mr Stefanos. And as Antonia’s closest relative I have accepted sole responsibility for her son.’
He appeared to be visibly unmoved, and her chin lifted fractionally as she held his glittering gaze.
‘Verification of blood groupings has established beyond doubt that my brother is the father of your sister’s child,’ he revealed with chilling cynicism.
Alyse felt the rush of anger as it consumed her slim frame. How dared he even suggest otherwise! ‘What did you imagine Antonia had in mind when she dispatched those letters begging for help, Mr Stefanos?’ she managed in icy rage. ‘Blackmail?’
‘The thought did occur.’
‘Why,’ she breathed with barely controlled fury, ‘you insulting, arrogant—’
‘Please continue,’ he invited as she faltered to a speechless halt.
‘Bastard!’ she threw with disdain, and glimpsed an inflexible hardness in the depths of his eyes. ‘Antonia had no need of money—your brother’s, or that of his family. As Mr Mannering will confirm, both my sister and I benefited financially when our parents died some years ago—sufficient to ensure we could afford a comfortable lifestyle without the need to supplement it in any way other than with a weekly wage. On leaving school, Antonia joined me in business.’ She had never felt so positively enraged in her life. ‘Your brother, Mr Stefanos,’ she stressed, ‘proposed marriage during their shared holiday, and promised to send for Antonia within a week of his return to Athens for the express purpose of meeting his family and announcing their engagement.’ Her eyes clouded with pain as she vividly recalled the effect Georgiou’s subsequent rejection had had on her sister.
‘Georgiou’s accident occurred the day after his return,’ Aleksi Stefanos told her. ‘He lay in hospital unconscious for weeks, and afterwards it was some time before he became fully aware of the extent of his injuries. By then it was doubtful if he could foresee a future for himself in the role of husband.’
‘He could have written!’ Alyse exclaimed in impassioned condemnation. ‘His silence caused Antonia months of untold anguish. And you underestimate my sister, Mr Stefanos,’ she continued bleakly, ‘if you think she would have rejected Georgiou simply because of his injuries. She loved him.’
‘And love, in your opinion, conquers all?’
Her eyes gleamed with hidden anger, sheer prisms of deep blue sapphire. ‘Antonia deserved the chance to prove it,’ she said with quiet vehemence. Her chin lifted, tilting at a proud angle.
His raking scrutiny was daunting, but she refused to break his gaze. ‘And you, Miss Anderson?’ he queried with deceptive softness. ‘Would you have given a man such unswerving loyalty?’
Alyse didn’t deign to answer, and the silence inside the room was such that it was almost possible to hear the sound of human breathing.
‘Perhaps an attempt could be made to resolve the situation?’ Alyse heard the mild intervention and turned slowly towards the bespectacled man seated behind his desk. For a while she had forgotten his existence, and she watched as his glance shifted from her to the hateful Aleksi Stefanos. ‘I know I can speak for Alyse in saying that she intends lodging an adoption application immediately.’
‘Legally, as a single woman, Miss Anderson lacks sufficient standing to supersede my right to my brother’s child,’ Aleksi Stefanos declared with dangerous silkiness.
‘Only if you’re married,’ Alyse insisted, directing the solicitor a brief enquiring glance and feeling triumphant on receiving his nod in silent acquiescence. ‘Are you married, Mr Stefanos?’
‘No,’ he answered with smooth detachment. ‘Something I intend remedying without delay.’
‘Really? You’re engaged to be married?’ She couldn’t remember being so positively bitchy!
‘My intended marital status is unimportant, Miss Anderson, and none of your business.’
‘Oh, but it is, Mr Stefanos,’ she insisted sweetly. ‘You see, if marriage is a prerequisite in my battle to adopt Georg, then I too shall fight you in the marriage stakes by taking a husband as soon as possible.’ She turned towards the solicitor. ‘Would that strengthen my case?’
Hugh Mannering looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I should warn you against the folly of marrying in haste, simply for the sole purpose of providing your nephew with a surrogate father. Mr Stefanos would undoubtedly contest the validity of your motive.’
‘As I would contest his motive,’ she insisted fiercely, ‘if he were to marry immediately.’
‘I’m almost inclined to venture that it’s unfortunate you could not marry each other,’ Mr Mannering opined, ‘thus providing the child with a stable relationship, instead of engaging in lengthy proceedings with the Government’s Family Services Department to determine who should succeed as legal adoptive parent.’
Alyse looked at him as if he had suddenly gone mad. ‘You can’t possibly be serious?’
The solicitor effected an imperceptible shrug. ‘A marriage of convenience isn’t an uncommon occurrence.’
‘Maybe not,’ she responded with undue asperity. ‘But I doubt if Mr Stefanos would be prepared to compromise in such a manner.’
‘Why so sure, Miss Anderson?’ The drawled query grated her raw nerves like steel razing through silk.
‘Oh, really,’ Alyse dismissed, ‘such a solution is the height of foolishness, and totally out of the question.’
‘Indeed?’ His smile made her feel like a dove about to be caught up in the deadly claws of a marauding hawk. ‘I consider it has a degree of merit.’
‘While I can’t think of anything worse than being imprisoned in marriage with a man like you!’
If he could have shaken her within an inch of her life, he would have done so. It was there in his eyes, the curious stillness of his features, and she controlled the desire to shiver, choosing instead to clasp her hands together in an instinctive protective gesture.
Against what? a tiny voice taunted. He couldn’t possibly pose a threat, for heaven’s sake!
‘There’s nothing further to be gained by continuing with this conversation.’ With graceful fluidity she rose to her feet. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Mannering,’ she said with distinct politeness before spearing her adversary with a dark, venomous glance. ‘Goodbye, Mr Stefanos.’
Uncaring of the solicitor’s attempt to defuse the situation, she walked to the door, opened it, then quietly closed it behind her before making her way to the outer office.
It wasn’t until she was in her car and intent on negotiating busy traffic that reaction began to set in.
Damn. Damn Aleksi Stefanos! Her hands clenched on the wheel until the knuckles showed white, and she was so consumed with silent rage that it was nothing short of a miracle that she reached the boutique without suffering a minor accident.
CHAPTER TWO (#ufc880091-a52e-5504-a6ec-0cc13958ae35)
THE REMAINDER OF the morning flew by as Alyse conferred with the boutique’s manageress, Miriam Stanford, checked stock and tended to customers. It was almost midday before she was able to leave, and she felt immensely relieved to reach the comfortable sanctuary of her home.
As soon as the babysitter left, Alyse put a load of laundry into the washing machine, completed a few household chores, and was ready for Georg at the sound of his first wakening cry.
After changing him, she gave him his bottle, then made everything ready for his afternoon walk—an outing he appeared to adore, for he offered a contented smile as she placed him in the pram and secured the patterned quilt.
The air was fresh and cool, the winter sun fingering the spreading branches of trees lining the wide suburban street, and Alyse walked briskly, her eyes bright with love as she watched every gesture, every fleeting expression on her young nephew’s face. He was so active, so alive for his tender age, and growing visibly with every passing day.
A slight frown furrowed her brow, and her features assumed a serious bleakness as she mentally reviewed the morning’s consultation in Hugh Mannering’s office. Was there really any possibility that she might fail in a bid to adopt Georg? Could the hateful Aleksi Stefanos’s adoption application succeed? It was clear she must phone the solicitor as soon as possible.
On returning home Alyse gave Georg his bath, laughing ruefully as she finally managed to get his wriggling slippery body washed and dry, then dusted with talc and dressed in clean clothes. She gave him his bottle and settled him into his cot.
Now for the call to Hugh Mannering.
‘Can I lose Georg?’ Alyse queried with stark disregard for the conversational niceties.
‘Any permanent resolution will take considerable time,’ the solicitor stressed carefully. ‘Technically, the Family Services Department investigates each applicant’s capability to adequately care for the child, and ultimately a decision is made.’
‘Off the record,’ she persisted, ‘who has the best chance?’
‘It’s impossible to ignore facts, Alyse. I’ve studied indisputable records documenting Aleksi Stefanos’s financial status, and the man has an impressive list of assets.’
A chill finger slithered the length of her spine, and she suppressed the desire to shiver. ‘Assets which far outstrip mine, I imagine?’
‘My dear, you are fortunate to enjoy financial security of a kind that would be the envy of most young women your age. However, it is only a small percentage in comparison.’
‘Damn him!’ The oath fell from her lips in husky condemnation.
‘The child’s welfare is of prime importance,’ the solicitor reminded her quietly. ‘I’ll have the application ready for your signature tomorrow.’
The inclination to have a snack instead of preparing herself a meal was all too tempting, and Alyse settled for an omelette with an accompanying salad, then followed it with fresh fruit.
She should make an effort to do some sewing—at least attempt to hand-finish a number of tiny smocked dresses which had been delivered to the house by one of her outworkers this morning. Certainly the boutique could do with the extra supplies.
The dishes done and the washing folded, Alyse collected a bundle of garments from its enveloping plastic and settled herself comfortably in the lounge with her sewing basket. Working diligently, she applied neat stitches with precise care, clipped thread, then deftly rethreaded the needle and began on the next garment.
Damn! The soft curse disrupted the stillness of the room. The third in an hour, and no less vicious simply because it was quietly voiced.
Alyse looked at the tiny prick of blood the latest needle stab had wrought, and raised her eyes heavenward in mute supplication.
Just this one garment, and she’d pack it all away for the evening, she pleaded in a silent deal with her favourite saint. Although it would prove less vexing if she cast aside hand-finishing for the evening and relaxed in front of the television with a reviving cup of coffee. Yet tonight she needed to immerse herself totally in her work in an attempt to alleviate the build-up of nervous tension.
Specialising in exquisitely embroidered babywear sold under her own label, Alyse, she had by dint of hard work, she reflected, changed a successful hobby into a thriving business. Now there was a boutique in a modern upmarket shopping centre catering for babies and young children’s clothes featuring her own exclusive label among several imported lines.
Five minutes later Alyse breathed a sigh of relief as the tiny garment was completed. Stretching her arms high, she flexed her shoulders in a bid to ease the knot of muscular tension.
Georg’s wakening cry sounded loud in the stillness of the house, and she quickly heated his bottle, fed him, then settled him down for the night.
In the hallway she momentarily caught sight of her mirrored reflection, and paused, aware that it was hardly surprising that the combination of grief and lack of appetite had reduced her petite form to positive slenderness. There were dark smudges beneath solemn blue eyes, and the angles of her facial bone-structure appeared delicate and more clearly defined.
Minutes later she sank into a chair in the lounge nursing a mug of hot coffee, longing not for the first time for someone in whom she could confide.
If her parents were still alive, it might be different, she brooded, but both had died within months of each other only a year after she had finished school, and she had been too busy establishing a niche in the workforce as well as guiding Antonia through a vulnerable puberty to enjoy too close an empathy with friends.
The sudden peal of the doorbell shattered the quietness of the room, and she hurried quickly to answer it, vaguely apprehensive yet partly curious as to who could possibly be calling at this time of the evening.
Checking that the safety chain was in place, she queried cautiously, ‘Who is it?’
‘Aleksi Stefanos.’
Stefanos. The name seemed etched in her brain with the clarity of diamond-engraved marble, and she closed her eyes in a purely reflex action as undisguised anger replaced initial shock.
‘How did you get my address?’ she wanted to know.
‘The telephone directory.’ His voice held an infinite degree of cynicism.
‘How dare you come here?’ Alyse demanded, trying her best to ignore the prickle of fear steadily creating havoc with her nervous system.
‘Surely eight-thirty isn’t unacceptably late?’ his drawling voice enquired through the thick wood-panelled door, and she drew in a deep angry breath, then released it slowly.
‘I have absolutely nothing to say to you.’
‘May I remind you that I have every right to visit my nephew?’
For some inexplicable reason his dry mocking tones sent an icy chill feathering the length of her spine. Damn him! Who did he think he was, for heaven’s sake?
‘Georg is asleep, Mr Stefanos.’
Her curt dismissing revelation was greeted with ominous silence, and she unconsciously held her breath, willing him to go away.
‘Asleep or awake, Miss Anderson, it makes little difference.’
Alyse closed her eyes and released her breath in one drawn-out sigh of frustration. Without doubt, Aleksi Stefanos possessed sufficient steel-willed determination to be incredibly persistent. If she refused to let him see Georg tonight, he’d insist on a suitable time tomorrow. Either way, he would eventually succeed in his objective.
Without releasing the safety chain, she opened the door a fraction, noticing idly that he had exchanged his formal suit for light grey trousers and a sweater in fine dark wool. Even from within the protection of her home, he presented a disturbing factor she could only view with disfavour.
‘Will you give me your word that you won’t try to abduct Georg?’ she asked him.
His eyes flared, then became hard and implacable, his facial muscles reassembling over sculptured bone to present a mask of silent anger.
‘It isn’t in my interests to resort to abduction,’ he warned inflexibly. ‘Perhaps you should be reminded that your failure to co-operate will be taken into consideration and assuredly used against you.’
