‘Yet she came to you when she was dying, to care for her child?’ Lukas raised an eyebrow in obvious scepticism.
‘I was the only person she trusted enough to care for Annabel,’ Rhiannon said simply. ‘There was no one else. There never had been.’ The realisation made her ache. It was also the leaden weight of responsibility that rested heavily on her shoulders, her heart.
She would not let Leanne down.
She would not let Annabel down.
She saw Lukas’s eyes narrow, his mouth tighten, and realised with an uncomfortable twinge that she was wasting his time. He should be at the reception, meeting and greeting, drinking and laughing.
Flirting.
‘But this has nothing to do with you,’ she said. ‘As you have already made abundantly clear.’ She shook her head. ‘Why are you here?’
Lukas was silent for a moment, his eyes, his face, his tone all hard. Dark. ‘Because I’m afraid it may have something to do with me,’ he said finally, ‘after all.’
‘What? Are you saying…you did…?’
‘No, of course not.’ Lukas waved a hand in impatient dismissal. ‘I don’t lie, Miss Davies.’
‘Neither do I,’ Rhiannon flashed, but he merely flung out one hand—an imperious command for her to still her words, her movements.
His fingers, she saw, were long, lean and brown, tapering to clean, square nails. It was a hand that radiated both strength and grace.
She gave herself a mental shake; it was just a hand.
Why did he affect her so much? Why did she let him?
Was she just so desperate for someone—anyone—to want her? To want Annabel.
‘I’d like you to tell me how Leanne came to mention my name. After the little stunt you pulled at the reception, the tabloids will be filled with stories about my secret love-child.’ His face twisted in a grimace, and Rhiannon flinched. ‘I want to know all the facts.’
‘I wouldn’t have said anything if you’d listened,’ Rhiannon snapped, unrepentant. ‘Instead of assuming some sordid blackmail story—’
‘Just tell me, Miss Davies.’ He spoke coldly, and Rhiannon realised that even though he’d returned, even though he’d shown a moment of compassion, of understanding, he still didn’t believe her. Didn’t trust her.
She drew in a wavering breath. ‘I told you. She said she met you at a club in London. You took her to Naxos. To be honest…’ She looked up at him with frank eyes. ‘The man she described was younger than you are—a bit more…debonair, I suppose.’
He raised his eyebrows, his mouth curving in mock outrage. ‘You don’t think I’m debonair?’
The humour in his voice, in his eyes, surprised her. Warmed her. Rhiannon found she was smiling back in wry apology. It felt good to smile. It eased the pain in her heart. ‘It’s not that…’ She could hardly explain the difference between the man before her and the man Leanne had described.
Her friend’s glowing phrases had been indications to Rhiannon of a player—a man who lived life full and hard, just as Leanne had. The descriptions of Lukas Petrakides in the press hadn’t matched up, but Rhiannon had been prepared to believe that the man with the sterling reputation had enjoyed one moment—well, one weekend—of weakness. Of pleasure.
She hadn’t blamed him for it. It had made him seem more human. More approachable.
‘She discovered she was pregnant several weeks later,’ she finished. ‘By that time she’d lost contact with you. She realised it had only been a weekend fling.’
‘Something she was used to, apparently?’
‘Don’t judge her!’ Rhiannon’s eyes flashed angry amber as she looked up at him. ‘You never knew her, and you don’t know what it’s like to live a life where no one cares what happens to you. Leanne had no one. No one,’ she emphasised. ‘She was just looking for a little love.’
‘And she found a little,’ Lukas agreed tersely. ‘Did she try to get in touch with the father?’
She shook her head. ‘No, she didn’t see the point. She was sad, of course, but pragmatic enough to realise that a man like—like you wouldn’t be interested in supporting her or her illegitimate child.’
‘Surely she could have used the money?’
Rhiannon shrugged. ‘She was proud, in her own way. It had been clear from the outset that it was a weekend fling. I suppose,’ she added slowly, ‘she didn’t want to be rejected by someone…again. At least this was on her own terms.’
Pity flickered across his face, shadowed his eyes. ‘A sad life,’ he said quietly, and Rhiannon nodded, her throat tight.
‘Yes.’
‘So Annabel’s own mother didn’t bother notifying the father of her child, but you did?’
Rhiannon met his gaze directly. ‘Yes.’
‘Why come all this way? Why not call?’
‘I tried. Your receptionist led me to believe you wouldn’t get my messages. And you didn’t, did you?’
Lukas shrugged. ‘I’m an important man, Miss Davies. I receive too many messages, solicitations.’
‘No doubt.’ She didn’t bother to hide the contempt in her voice. ‘Too important to consider your own daughter.’
‘She’s not mine.’
‘Then why are you here?’ Rhiannon demanded. ‘Why did you come back? Did you suddenly conveniently remember that you did go to Naxos after all?’
His eyes blazed silver—an electric look that sizzled between them so that Rhiannon took an involuntary step back.
‘I told you I did not lie.’
Rhiannon believed him. So why was he here? What did he want?
‘You took the chance,’ Lukas continued, ‘that I would want to know this child, and no doubt support it.’
‘I didn’t come here for money,’ Rhiannon snapped. ‘As I believe I’ve said before.’
‘Not blackmail money,’ Lukas replied, unfazed by her anger. ‘Maintenance. If this Annabel were indeed my child, you would certainly be within your rights to think that I would support her financially.’
Rhiannon was disconcerted by his flat, businesslike tone. Was it all about money to people like him? ‘That’s true,’ she agreed carefully. ‘But that isn’t why I came. If I’d just wanted money I would have filed a court order. I came because I believe children should know their parents. If there was any chance you might love your daughter—that you might want her…’ Her voice wavered dangerously and she gulped back the emotion that threatened to rise up in a tide of regret and sorrow. ‘I had to take that chance.’ She didn’t want to reveal so much to Lukas, to a man who regarded her as if she were a problem to be resolved, an annoyance to be dealt with.
Lukas stared at her, his eyes narrowed, yet filled with the cold light of comprehension. He looked as though he’d finally figured it out, and he scorned the knowledge.
‘You didn’t come for money,’ he said slowly, almost to himself. ‘You came for freedom.’
‘I told you—’
‘To give this baby away,’ he finished flatly, and every word was a condemnation, a judgement.
‘I want to do what’s best for Annabel!’ Rhiannon protested, her voice turning shrill. ‘Whatever that is.’
‘A