Baby of Shame (5 page)

Her beauty, for one.

Grimly, he could only be glad of it.
Rhianna
Davies’s beauty had made him lose his self-control, had caused an indulgence he should
never
have allowed himself. But he was safe from her wiles now, all right. The gaunt death’s head staring up at him held no allure for him—or any male.

Except—and the thought stabbed at him—a heartbroken little boy, with nothing left to cling on to but his battered teddy bear…

He took a sharp, inward breath and opened negotiations.

The most critical of his life.

He was playing for his son—and he
had
to win.

Rhianna
stared. It was a vision, a nightmare—it had to be. It had to be! Alexis Petrakis was gone—gone for ever! Thrust into the oblivion of the past, nailed down in a box with the key buried so deep she would
never
open it again! For five long,
gruelling
years she had kept it buried—had had so much else to worry about,
agonise
about, exhaust herself with, that it had been all but obliterated from her mind.

Self-preservation had helped her keep the past buried, unremembered. Because to remember Alexis Petrakis would have been to remember everything he had done to her—everything she had allowed him to do.

Everything he had said to her on that hideous, hideous morning.

She had crawled away from his hotel suite shaking with shame, with revulsion at
herself—
at him—wanting only to hide for ever.

Instead she’d had to go back, face her father, tell him…tell him she had failed. Failed to save his company, the one thing in his life he loved above all else, far more than his discarded wife and daughter—because how could a mere family compare with his obsession to design yachts?

If I had managed to save his company…

The old, familiar taunting scraped at her. If she had been able to do the one thing that her father had craved,
needed
above all else…

Oh, then he would have loved her! Surely then he would have loved her?

But she had failed. That vile, hideous night had seen to that, had destroyed both her self-respect and her last hope of salvaging her father’s company and so saving him from dwindling down through his remaining years, stricken by stroke, bereft of the one thing that had given his life meaning, increasingly ill, increasingly cantankerous, increasingly difficult to look after. Blaming her for not being the son he had wanted her to be, who would have been useful to him—not a useless girl, unable even to save his company, and now, worst of all, saddled with a fatherless bastard baby…

And all the time, like some grinding, relentless mill of God, their new poverty had crushed them exceeding fine, until they’d been reduced to living in a council flat on a sink estate that no one else wanted to live on and she had become
carer
to both her infant son and her invalid father, eking out their existence on state benefit.

Until the bitter, painful end had come to her father’s life, draining the very last of her worn, exhausted energies…

Tiredness sapped her. She lay there now, in her hospital bed, and despair swept over her.

After all she had gone through in the last five years, now was the worst of all.
Nicky—gone.

There Alexis stood, once more dominating her vision, obliterating the rest of the world for her!
Once more an overpoweringly tangible and oppressive presence.
Taller, it seemed than she remembered, and darker-hued. His Mediterranean origins were obvious—not just in his
colouring
, but in his stance.
And, most vivid of all, the arrogance, that dominance of the Mediterranean male.
Exacerbated a thousand times by the knowledge of his wealth, his power.

Power.

That was what Alexis Petrakis radiated.

Fear froze through her.

Why was he here? How was he here?

And worst of all—most terrifying of all—what did he want?

Out of nowhere the answer iced through her.

Nicky.

Fear bit like a wolf at her heart. No! He couldn’t know about Nicky! He couldn’t!

Sanity fought its way through her terror. Even if Alexis Petrakis
had
found out about Nicky, the last thing he’d do would be to
care
about him!

Unless it were to ensure her silence about him.
To tell her not to even think of wanting financial support. But she had never, ever thought to do that! Alexis Petrakis was the last man on earth she wanted her or Nicky to have anything to do with.

So what was he doing here now?

Dread filled her.

For one long, last moment Alexis stood looking down at the haggard woman lying there. He’d had her moved to a private ward—not for her sake, but for his. Not only did he not want to talk to her in a public ward, but in a private ward he could ensure she had no access to a phone. She wouldn’t be phoning the tabloid press with some scandalous story of a Greek tycoon’s illegitimate son living in a council flat, with his drug addict mother!

He wondered, coldly, how she was going to play it. She was, as he knew to his cost from five years ago, a superb actress.

But he’d taken her by surprise; that was obvious from her stunned reaction. She looked terrified—and well she might.

Rage spurted through him again, and he crushed it back.

She stared at him, face stricken, features twisting.

‘Why are you here?’ Her voice was thin, strained. He could hear the tension in it. Inside him, the emotions he was holding back, leashed so tight it was taking him more effort than he’d thought possible to keep them in check, were nipping and snarling at him like a pack of caged wolves.

‘You don’t know?’

Her face tightened, with a wary expression in her eyes he did not miss. She was recovering her guard.

‘How should I?’

Her evasiveness enraged him. She
dared
lie there and try and play games with him while his son was abandoned to foster care?

He subdued his rage again.

Instead, he simply said a single word.

‘Nicky.’

The name fell into the silence.
Into the yawning space between them.

He watched her face as he said his son’s name.

It froze.

Completely.

His veiled eyes went on looking down at her expressionlessly. Dismay was etched visibly through her every haggard feature. Anger bit at him again. So he’d been right—she hadn’t wanted him to know yet, had wanted to go on biding her time, keeping his son from him until she could get the best deal on him.

The best price for him.

Black fury convulsed through him. He thrust it aside. It would not help now.

Instead, he watched her, like a fly trapped in treacle, as he forced his knowledge upon her. Beneath his rigidly schooled expression he could feel his anger, leashed on a hard, tight wire.

Rhianna
could only stare sickly, frozen, the air solidifying in her lungs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Oh God, he knew about Nicky…

He
knew.

She could feel panic start to rise in her breast like a clawing beast.

How—
how
had he found out?

She must have mouthed the word, because his brows suddenly drew together. For an instant, no more, there was a flash deep in his eyes. But when he spoke the tight mesh of control was still in place, draining all emotion from his voice.

But the very lack of emotion filled
Rhianna
with dread.

‘How?
Your social worker phoned me.’ He paused infinitesimally, his eyes boring down into
Rhianna’s
. Hers were still glazed with shock, her face frozen. He went on, biting out each word, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘She made very free with her views on men who fathered children and then declined to shoulder financial responsibility for them.’ His voice chilled. ‘She was particularly incensed that a man with my “extensive financial resources”, as she phrased it, should have so evaded his obligations.’ As he finished, there was ice in every word. ‘She gave me to understand that she was sure I would find it both socially and
reputationally
embarrassing if my…neglect…of my responsibilities were to reach the courts or the press.’

Oh, God, thought
Rhianna
,
realisation
hollowing her out. So that’s why he’s here. That social worker has ripped into him and threatened him with the tabloids!

Her nails clenched into her palms, digging painfully. She was reeling, punch-drunk. Her mind had gone numb, completely numb. All she could feel was the horror ballooning inside her that Alexis Petrakis knew about Nicky’s existence.

He was speaking again, and she tried to make sense of the words, desperately trying to pull her mind together, still reeling from shock and dismay. His clipped, staccato words cut through her flailing emotions.

‘I want him out of care.
Immediately.’

The hard, expressionless eyes bored down on her, drilling into her. Yes, she thought—fighting to make sense of this nightmare that had just walked through the door and seized her by the throat until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—that’s why he’s here. The tabloids would have a field-day—a multimillionaire refusing to pay maintenance for his son in state foster care!

He would never risk that. And that was why he was here—to
neutralise
the danger to himself.

‘They won’t release him until I’m discharged from hospital.’

Her voice was thin. Flat. Not revealing her agony at being parted from Nicky, her gut-churning fear that he would never be returned to her. Every instinct told her to hide her emotions from this man, whose sole concern was protecting
himself
from scandal.

Alexis’s mouth tightened. No sign of admitting that her drug addiction was keeping her son in care as much as her injuries. Let alone any sign of emotion at losing
her own
child! Yet again he banked down the anger roiling inside him. Time enough to throw at her head her total moral unfitness to take care of a child!

Right now, all that was important was getting Nicky out of care.

‘That is no longer a problem. I have spoken to your physician and he has agreed to discharge you.’

For a second he thought he saw her eyes blaze with emotion. Then, instantly, they were blank again.

‘I—I don’t understand.’

His voice was terse as he spoke. ‘I have informed him that I will provide appropriate nursing care for you, which means that you no longer need to be
hospitalised
. I have also informed the council authorities that I will provide a qualified nanny to undertake childcare. This has satisfied them to the extent that they have agreed to rescind the temporary Care Order.’

Like a vast, welling wave
Rhianna
felt emotion pour through her. Oh, God, did this really, really mean she could get Nicky back? Hope soared within her. Though she would rather eat dirt than let Alexis Petrakis anywhere near her and Nicky, if he was the only way of getting Nicky back then she would do it.

But she must not, must
not
let him see how much it meant to her. God, did she not know how ruthless he was? How vile? He was already clearly furious that his hand had been forced like this—a bastard son who threatened his reputation foisted on him.

She looked up at the hard, shuttered face of the man who had once turned her insides to mush, who had been able to seduce her as effortlessly as taking candy from a baby. It had been the most incredible night of her life, but in the morning—

Her mind sheered away.

Nicky—her beloved son.
He was all that was important now. And she must not show her desperation to get him back.

She forced a cool, unnatural calmness into her voice.

‘So what happens next?’

Alexis’s pupils narrowed. A stab of cold rage bit at him.
Christos
,
her cold-blooded reaction damned her! Like a snake deep in a pit, memory writhed within him, struggling to be let out, to be remembered…He thrust it back. Only one thing now was important—his son. When he spoke, his voice was as impassive as before.

‘You will be discharged tomorrow, into the care of the nurse I have hired. Together with the nanny, your car will call at the foster home
en route
to the airport—’

‘What do you
mean,
airport?’
Rhianna’s
interjection was sharp, high-pitched. Every aching muscle in her battered body tensed, alarm bells shrieking.

Alexis Petrakis looked down at her without expression. ‘You will be flying to Greece—’

‘
Greece
?’

Dark eyes flickered coldly.

‘You will stay in my villa, by the sea. It is on a private island that I own. It is very luxurious, fully staffed. You will be waited on hand and foot.’

With a slow, painful exhalation
Rhianna
understood. Her battered mind had fastened on to the single phrase that made sense to her. ‘Private
island
’ he had said.

So that was what this was about—he was going to hide her and Nicky away on his private island, safe from prying eyes. For him, it made sense.
But for her and Nicky?

How could she possibly let herself and Nicky be taken to Greece by Alexis Petrakis? Locked away on a private island, surrounded by Petrakis staff!

But it was the only way she could get Nicky out of care.

And that was all,
all
that was important.

It didn’t matter how she got him back!
Didn’t matter that the man she hated more than anyone else in the world was doing it for his own selfish, self-protecting reasons.
It only mattered that Alexis Petrakis was using his wealth and position to make state bureaucracy, the medical system,
work
in his
favour
.