Chapter NINE
THE DEBILITATING WEAKNESS was back again, weighting her limbs down and fanning a dull ache throughout her body.
But it was nothing compared to the crushing weight of suspicion anchoring her heart.
No matter how much she tried to push the thought away, it kept coming back, intruding, demanding to be heard, to be acknowledged.
Perla cast a furtive glance at the man who stood beside her in the hotel lift, his hand gripping her arm. He hadn’t said a word since they left the restaurant. He’d been there when she emerged from the Ladies, pale, weak and shaky, barely able to meet his gaze when he’d enquired whether she wanted to leave.
The restaurant staff had been profusely apologetic but she hadn’t had the courage to reassure them that what was going on was most likely not the fault of their food. She’d left the soothing of ruffled feathers to Ari, simply because she hadn’t been able to think past the stark reality of what she could be facing.
They exited the lift and she followed him numbly. It wasn’t until they were inside the suite that was easily three times the size of hers that she realised they hadn’t returned to her suite but to his. He bypassed the living room, the study and the master bedroom and entered a second bedroom.
Before her stood what was easily an emperor-sized bed, complete with solid four-posters and cream silk muslin curtains. A bathroom and walk-in closet were visible through a golden-lit arch and beyond the windows Washington DC shone its powerful light over the city.
Her gaze returned from sweeping the room to find Ari standing with his hands on his hips, those mesmerising eyes fixed questioningly on hers.
‘There’s a new toothbrush through there if you need to use it?’
She nodded, dropped her clutch on the bed and darted into the bathroom. The need to escape was less to do with cleaning her mouth properly and more to do with delaying the inevitable.
Quickly, she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth. Then gripped the edge of the sink as a fresh wave of apprehension rolled through her.
Arion Pantelides wasn’t stupid. The knowledge in his eyes told her his thoughts had taken the same path as hers.
‘Perla.’
She jumped and whirled so fast, her vision blurred.
Callused hands steadied her, one curving around her waist and the other rising to cradle her cheek for a moment before he dropped his hand.
‘Come.’
The gentle gesture threatened her equilibrium and she fought not to react as he led her back to the room and sank onto the bed beside her. He’d discarded his jacket and folded back the sleeves of his shirt.
The sight of the silky hairs on his forearm made sensation scythe through her but it was the look in his eyes that stopped her breath.
His fingers trembled as they caught her chin and an emotion moved through her heart she was almost too afraid to examine. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked in a low, deep voice.
Something in his tone made her glance at him. His face had lost a few shades of vibrancy and in his eyes dark, unfathomable shadows lurked.
Whatever was ahead of them, Perla knew it wouldn’t be an easy road.
‘I...I’m...’ Her throat felt swollen and scratchy so she stopped.
‘Here, have some water.’ He passed her a glass and waited while she took a few sips. His gaze never left her and, feeling her hands begin to shake, she put the glass down.
Trepidation welled up inside her. ‘Ari...’
More colour leached from his face. ‘Before you say anything, Perla, I need you to be one hundred per cent sure.’
The depth of emotion in his voice made her heart flip over, then thunder with enough force to threaten her ribs. ‘Why?’ she asked before she could stop herself.
‘Because the ramifications would mean more than you could ever imagine.’ The roughness in his voice and the faint trembling of the hand still at her waist made her insides quake.
Incomprehensible emotions swirled around inside her. Unbidden, tears welled up in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
‘Theos, do not cry. Please,’ he ordered raggedly.
‘Sorry, I’m not normally a crier,’ she muttered, then cringed as more tears fell. ‘I just can’t seem to help myself.’
He gritted his teeth and brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, then stared down at her with dark eyes but said nothing as the tears continued to fall.
The knock on the door made him turn away but not before she caught another glimpse of jagged torment in his eyes. ‘The doctor’s here.’
‘The doctor?’ When had he even called him? ‘Ari, I don’t need a doctor. I feel fine.’
He stood and stared at her for a long moment before he shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I can send him away if that’s what you want. But I think we need to make absolutely sure that you’re not coming down with an illness. That is not negotiable. So we can do it now or we can do it tomorrow. Your choice.’
She gripped the covers, the feeling of hurtling towards the unknown growing by the second. But Ari was right. They needed to be sure nothing else was wrong before they went any further.
She nodded. ‘Okay, we do it now.’
He left the room and returned moments later followed by a tall, lanky man with brown hair and serious brown eyes. He proceeded to look her over and fire questions at her that made her cringe. Ari stood, hand in his pocket next to the bed the whole time, his eyes never leaving her.
‘The headache and fatigue worries me a bit, and your glands are slightly swollen,’ the doctor finally said. ‘My advice is to rest for a few days—’
‘Yes, she’ll do that—’
‘No, she won’t,’ she countered sharply with a frown which he returned twice as hard and twice as dangerous. ‘I’m not sick, Ari. Seriously, I’ll be fine by morning.’
The doctor looked between them, clearly sensing the undercurrents. ‘Or I can give you a flu shot just in case? Head it off at the pass?’
At her nod, he opened his bag and took out the needle. She tensed and tried to curb her nerves but Ari’s narrowed gaze told her he’d seen her reaction.
Rounding the bed, he slid in beside her and pulled her close, his warm, hard body a solid comfort. ‘You fear needles and yet you’re refusing the simple alternative.’
‘I’ll take a small prick any day compared to days lazing about in bed.’
The small charged silence that followed gave her time to hear her words echo in the room. Then a fierce blush washed over her face.
The doctor hid a smile as he focused on preparing the syringe. Ari’s mocking laughter lightened the tense atmosphere a touch, although she could feel his tension. ‘It’s not gentlemanly to laugh at a harmless double entendre. Especially when it comes at the patient’s expense.’
He blinked and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
This close, his designer stubble was within touching distance and the gold flecks in his eyes and the sensual curve of his mouth were even more mesmerising. The hand he’d slipped around her tightened, drawing her infinitesimally closer to his body. Heat oozed through her, breaking loose that wild yearning she seemed to be useless at keeping sealed up.
The doctor clearing his throat made her jump. The needle filled with liquid was poised against her skin. ‘Stop! Will this harm a pregnancy?’ she blurted.
Beside her, Ari tensed.
The doctor frowned. ‘Are you pregnant, Miss Lowell?’
‘It’s Mrs...actually,’ she murmured absently as her gaze swung and collided with Ari’s. In that moment, she knew.
And so did he.
The doctor moved. With a swiftness that stunned the breath out of her, Ari grabbed the doctor’s needle-holding hand and held it in a death grip. All without taking his eyes from hers.
‘So you’re sure?’ he rasped.
She nodded.
Wordlessly he let go of the doctor’s wrist. Lines of torment bracketed his mouth as he left the bed.
She was pregnant. With Ari’s child. The two thoughts tumbled over one another in her brain, one seeking dominance over the other and neither coming out the victor. Because both thoughts were equally mind-boggling.
Vaguely, she heard him dismiss the doctor and leave the suite.
But all too soon he was back. Tall, imposing, bristling with emotions she was too cowardly to try and name.
For several minutes, he paced the room. Then he finally stopped at the foot of the bed. ‘Did you know you were pregnant?’ His voice was gritty with emotion.
‘No, I didn’t. I didn’t even guess.’
‘Not even when you were late? How late are you?’
The date flared like a beacon in her mind. ‘Almost two weeks.’
He muttered a word she didn’t need translation for. ‘Theos!’ Running a hand through his hair, he resumed pacing. ‘And it didn’t raise any alarms?’
‘No. My period has always been irregular.’
She thought back to that night and felt shame crawl over her skin when she remembered she’d been so into it, too far gone with delirium that she hadn’t stopped to think about safe sex that second time.
And now she was pregnant.
Tiny waves of joy slowly spread through her stunned senses.
A child of her own. To cherish and love. And, if she was lucky, a child who would love her back.
She jerked upright, her hand rushing to cover her stomach. ‘Oh, God, I took some painkillers this afternoon!’
His gaze sharpened on her. ‘What did you take?’
She told him. ‘W...would it have harmed the baby?’
He shook his head. ‘The doctor told me which medicines are okay to take during pregnancy.’
Relief poured through her. ‘You asked him?’
Ari stilled. ‘Of course. This baby is mine too,’ he grated out.
But it didn’t take a genius to see that he wasn’t thrilled about it. Pain and hurt scythed through her joy. A second later a rush of protectiveness enveloped her.
‘I realise this is unexpected. I don’t want you to think that you need to be involved in any way...’
‘Excuse me?’ His voice was a rasp, his eyes dark with thunder as he stared at her.
Perla licked her lips, contemplated taking a sip of water and discarded the idea. She was too shaken not to pour it all over herself.
‘I mean this wasn’t planned or anything, so don’t feel as if you have to participate in any decision-making. I’ll take care of it.’
‘You’ll take care of it?’
The skin-flaying fury in his voice made her realise that once again she’d chosen the wrong words.
‘No! I meant I’ll take care of him or her after the birth.’
Dark implacable eyes bored into hers. ‘So, just so we’re clear, you intend to keep the baby?’
‘Of course! I’d never, ever dream of...’ She raised her chin. ‘Yes, I intend to have this baby. What I meant was that I’ll take sole responsibility so you don’t have to worry.’ Her eyes dropped to her stomach. This child was hers and she intended to protect him or her with her last breath.
‘What gives you the right to assume sole responsibility for the child? Sexual responsibility is a two-way street.’
‘I know, but I participated too without giving a thought to protection. Arion, all I’m trying to say is there’s no need to get all macho and blame yourself for something that involved both of us.’
‘Perla, look at me.’ The order was soft, deadly.
She dragged her eyes from where she’d been staring at her stomach in silent wonder. The resolution and implacable determination in his eyes made her shiver.
‘Do I look like the sort of man who would leave his child to be brought up by another man? And I assume you don’t intend to remain single for the rest of your life? That you will seek another relationship at some point in the future?’
That thought was so unlikely she wanted to laugh. Except the look on his face told her he wouldn’t find it funny. So she shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Let’s try something else much simpler.’ He drew closer to the bed. His hands hung loose at his sides and his open-legged stance was unthreatening. But she didn’t fool herself for one second that Ari wasn’t seething beneath that calm exterior. ‘Do I look like I’m going anywhere?’
‘Ari—’
‘Do I?’
‘No. You don’t.’ And she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or frightened by that admission.
If Ari wanted this child and, from his stance, she concluded he did...for now...it would mean she would have him in her life for the foreseeable future.
Her childhood in foster care had opened her eyes to the fact that not all children were wanted. No matter what the circumstances of conception, there came a point in time where some parents simply abandoned their children and walked away.
She had no intention of ever doing that to her child. But she couldn’t speak for Ari. His childhood had created deep scars that rippled through his every decision. He’d been let down by the people who should’ve been there for him. In a way it was worse than never having felt the love of two devoted parents. She hadn’t experienced that particular devastation because she hadn’t had the fantasy in the first place. To know that he’d had parents who’d let him down, who’d let him shoulder the responsibility of caring for his brothers on his own was too distressing to bear.
A wave of despair swept over her. Would Ari let go of his pain long enough to let himself love a child?
‘Good, I’m glad we’ve established that fact.’ He stepped back from the bed and turned towards the door. Without speaking another word, he left.
He returned less than ten minutes later with a tray of food which he set on her lap. The simple ham and cucumber sandwich made her stomach rumble and she remembered she’d barely eaten a few mouthfuls of dinner before her attack.
‘I prepared it myself. Until I find you a personal chef who will be apprised of all your dietary requirements, I’ll prepare all your meals myself.’
Her mouth dropped open for several seconds before she managed to snap it shut. ‘Wait... What?’
He poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to her. ‘Which part needs explanation?’
‘The part...all of it. You don’t have to do this, Ari.’
‘Yes, I do. You’re carrying my child. I absolutely have to do this.’
Again, the depth of emotion behind the words made her eyes widen. But when she looked at him, his eyes were veiled and his face inscrutable.
‘Eat,’ he instructed.
In silence she ate because as much as she wanted to argue with him, probe behind his words, she was starving. And she needed to do everything in her power to keep her baby healthy and safe.
She forced herself to eat slowly this time. She accepted a second glass of orange juice. Once she’d drained it, Ari set the tray aside.
‘How do you feel?’ Again there was that concern in his voice. But, coupled with that, there was a thin vein of anxiety that made her heart skitter.
‘I’m fine. Right now I’m more interested in how you feel.’
He rose with the tray. ‘My feelings are irrelevant. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.’
She wanted to ask what exactly they would be talking about, but he was already leaving, his shoulders and back set in tense lines that made her nervousness rise higher.
Her hand slid down to rest on her abdomen.
Whatever it was, she could handle it. As long as it didn’t interfere with the welfare of her baby.
* * *
He was having a child.
Ari barely managed to set the tray down before it slid out of his useless grip.
Shaking from head to toe, he gripped the edge of the granite counter in the suite’s kitchen and tried to breathe.
He was having a child!
The self-indulgent need to rail at fate was so strong the growl bubbled up through his chest before he managed to swallow it down. He stalked to the living room and contented himself with a fiery shot of single malt Scotch. Except he was no better equipped to handle the bone-crushing fear gripping him. It writhed like a poisonous snake inside him before sinking its merciless fangs into his heart.
Was he doomed to fail at this task too, the way he’d failed Sofia? He’d single-handedly taken care of his brothers and his mother, had ensured they were protected as much as possible from the fallout of his father’s misdeeds.
And yet he hadn’t been able to save his wife.
Or his unborn child.
Was fate taunting him again? Willing him to fail again?
No!
His fist tightened around the glass and he set it aside before it shattered. This time things would be different. Because anything else was unthinkable.
He moved restlessly across the room, willing his pulse to slow, his insides to stop churning viciously with the acrid mix of guilt and fear.
He was going to be a father. His steps slowed and he stopped in front of the view. Funny, he’d stood here just two days ago thinking he was in control of his world. It had been in the moments before Perla burst in and accused him of controlling her life.
Now he barely felt in control of his.
Whirling round, he walked out of the living room and entered his study. It might be the middle of the night in Washington, but it was still a working day in London and the rest of Europe.
His first call was to the Pantelides headquarters in London, where he gathered all the pertinent information he needed. Next he placed a call to his lawyers in Greece. His dealings with them so far had been purely business so he wasn’t surprised at their thinly veiled shock as he outlined his wishes.
By the time he finished his calls, the horizon was lightening with the coming dawn.
Ari rubbed a hand across his jaw and rested his head against his seat.
He had no idea how Perla would take the conversation he intended to have with her come morning. There could potentially be many obstacles to getting his way but he intended to smash them all aside.
Because one thing had become clear in his mind from the second he’d found out Perla was carrying his child.
The welfare of his child was the most important thing in his life.
* * *
She was already up when he knocked on her door just after seven o’clock. Up, showered and dressed.
In black. Only the flame of her hair provided vivid colour in the harsh landscape. And she was in the process of coiling it into a tight bun when she followed him out to the dining room, where he’d set her breakfast tray.
Ari resisted the urge to pull her hands away from her task. He also resisted the urge to command her to change her clothes.
She finished securing her hair and turned to him. Her gaze met his for a moment before travelling over his body.
Noting his attire, she looked back up. ‘Have you slept at all?’
‘No,’ he replied, vaguely disturbed by his anger at her choice of clothes.
A look of concern crossed her eyes. He allowed it to touch him for a second, two seconds, before he looked away.
‘Sit down. Drink your tea and have some of those dry crackers. They’ll calm any nausea that triggers morning sickness.’
She looked at the tray and wrinkled her nose. ‘Too late. I’ve already thrown up twice.’
He forced away the anxiety that tightened his nape. ‘Drink it anyway.’
She sat and he poured her tea and passed it to her, noting the anxious glances she sent his way. Part of him wanted to reassure her. He curbed the feeling because he knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy.
‘Aren’t you having anything?’
‘No. Until we find out which smells trigger your nausea, I’ll eat my meals separately.’
‘How come you know so much about morning sickness and nausea triggers?’
Ice formed in his belly, stealing his breath. But it was nothing compared to the pain that ripped through his heart as the guilt and fear returned twice as forcefully.
He looked up and saw the anxiety stamped on her face.
‘Ari?’
‘I know because my wife was four months pregnant with our first child when she died.’
Her cup clattered onto the saucer and her features paled. ‘Oh, my God. I’m... I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for—’
He slashed a hand through the air, unwilling to dwell on the past, unwilling to let her see the devastation that still had the power to shred his insides.
They had more important things to discuss than the subject of his hubris.
‘Drink your tea, Perla. We have a lot to discuss.’
The shock of his revelation still clear in her eyes, she slowly picked up her cup and took another tiny sip. He waited until she’d eaten a cracker before he spoke.
‘Do you have any health issues that I should know about?’
She placed her cup down. ‘I’m allergic to shellfish but, aside from that, I’ve always been healthy and Morgan’s health insurance provided me with annual check-ups. They always came back clean.’
The mention of her husband’s name made his fists clench but he forced the feeling away. He needed to get over the fact that she’d been another man’s wife only a short time ago.
‘Good. Then we’ll postpone a thorough health check until we return to London.’
Her eyes connected with his. ‘We’re returning to London?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because London is where we will be married.’