Пиппа Роско – Claimed For The Greek's Child (страница 8)
Dimitri cursed again, but this time silently. He hadn’t want to reveal that much. He needed to get this back on to an unemotional level if he had any hope of persuading her to his cause. But the more and more he thought of all the things he had missed out on, all of the things Amalia would have grown up with, the stigma of being illegitimate in a sternly familial culture...and at how he hadn’t been able to protect her from that... He knew how much damage could be done to a child when they were unwelcome, unwanted...
So, no. No. He’d never put his daughter through that. He would do what he had to do. Because that was what Dimitri did. He put aside anything that would prevent the required outcome. He cut off the thoughts of the past, his mother, his half-brother’s betrayal, thoughts of the time he had spent wrongfully incarcerated in prison. They had no place here. Here was his daughter. And the mother of his child. And he needed them in Greece.
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ he said, looking around the small bathroom. ‘Can we... Do you have coffee? Can we sit and have a proper conversation, when you’re not...?’ He gestured towards the cleaning products and the hideous yellow gloves Anna was wearing.
* * *
The smell of coffee seemed to have a calming effect on his nerves, but the moment the insipid, thin liquid hit his tongue he regretted it. Dimitri kept his eyes trained on Anna, who had yet to stop moving, either around the small bathroom she’d been cleaning or the impressive, sleek chrome kitchen he’d been surprised to find tucked away from the main part of the old cottage.
He supposed the small staff area could pass as cosy and compact. But while he sat pressed up against the wall, his long legs barely fitting beneath the wooden table, his patience finally wore thin.
‘Sit down,’ he demanded.
Anna stilled, freezing against the command, but finally she slipped—easily—into the seat opposite him. Though her body had finally stopped moving, her eyes seemed to take everything in but him.
‘I want you to come to Greece.’
Ah. That did it. Anna’s gaze zeroed in on his.
‘No.’
‘No?’ he asked, his eyebrow raised.
She let out an incredulous laugh. ‘How can I go to Greece? I have a business here, my mother, my...life is here, Dimitri. I can’t.’
This was nothing he hadn’t expected, but the email he’d received from David that morning had confirmed that everything was in place. In fact, in just five short minutes Anna would see how pointless her arguments would be. He didn’t want to use her mother’s behaviour from the night before against her. But even if Mary didn’t live under the same roof she was still an influence on his daughter’s life, she could still put his daughter at risk. So he
‘Anna. The situation you’re in can’t be easy. The bank is about to take all this away from you.’ He ignored the small gasp of shock that fell from her mouth.
‘How do you—?’
‘And between Amalia and your mother, dealing with all that alone—’
‘I haven’t been alone—’
‘—must have been incredibly trying. All the work that you have to do here... You must be exhausted. It certainly can’t allow you the time you’d like to dedicate to our daughter.’ That there was no interruption this time told him all he needed to know. ‘I want to pay off the mortgage—in your name. I will also pay for your mother to go to a rehab clinic. Anna, your mother needs help. Proper help. And I can provide that.
‘A lovely couple is ready and willing to run the bed and breakfast in your absence, just for a short time, whilst you come to Greece. There, Amalia can get to know me, get to know her Greek heritage, her family.’ Forestalling her objections, he pressed on. ‘Anna, it’s something that you deserve—time away from this place, to relax and to spend time with your daughter without having to worry about keeping the roof together over your heads.’
Anna’s head spun. In her wildest dreams she had wanted this. She had wanted someone to sweep in, take care of everything, to resolve all her financial worries, to help with her mother, to allow her to focus solely on her daughter. In her deepest heart, she’d even wanted that person to be Dimitri. Like the fairy-tale prince and the happy-ever-after that she had never thought was possible. But, just like in all good fairy tales, Dimitri’s offer was surely too good to be true. Like the poisoned apple, or the spindle needle’s prick, there was always a price to pay. And, just like the miller’s daughter, there was no way she would hand over her child.
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