‘And you are now used to it?’ he demanded, heat in the question.
She let out a small laugh, but it was a sound completely without humour. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever adjust.’
‘I don’t want anything from you, Leonidas,’ she said firmly, not registering the way something like admiration sparked in his eyes. ‘I had no idea who you were that night, nor that you’re worth a squillion dollars. I have no interest in asking you for any kind of support payment or whatever.’ She shuddered in rejection of the very idea.
‘I mean it. This isn’t my way of asking you to support me in any way. I don’t want that.’
He spoke then, his voice low and husky. ‘So what do you want?’
She bit down on her lip then immediately stopped when he took a step closer, his eyes on the gesture, his body seemingly pulled towards hers.
‘I want…to know you’ll be a part of her life,’ she said quietly, her own childhood a black hole in her mind, swallowing her up. She would do whatever she could to make sure her own daughter never had to live with the grief she’d felt.
He was quiet, watching her, and nervousness fired in Hannah’s gut. ‘Don’t misunderstand me,’ she said thickly. ‘I would happily never see you again. But our daughter deserves to know both her parents.’ She lifted a hand, toying with the necklace she wore, running her finger over the chain distractedly. Hannah needed the security of knowing their child would have two people who loved her, two people in case something happened to one of them.
‘I appreciate this news is probably an even bigger inconvenience to you than it was to me,’ she said simply. ‘I understand you didn’t want this. You were very clear about that.’ She cleared her throat, sidestepping him and moving towards the windows that framed a sensational view of the waters off the coast of Capri. ‘But we are having a child together, and I don’t want her to grow up thinking she’s not wanted.’ Hannah’s voice cracked and she closed her eyes, sucking in breath, needing strength.
‘You want me to be a part of our daughter’s life?’
‘Yes.’ The word rushed out of her. She spun around, surprised to find Leonidas had come to stand right behind her, his eyes on hers, his expression impossible to comprehend.
‘And what kind of part?’
She furrowed her brow, not understanding.
‘Tell me, do you expect me to see her once a year? At Christmas, perhaps? Or for her birthdays, as well? Do you envisage I will spend time with my daughter according to a stopwatch?’
Hannah’s eyes rounded in her face. ‘I don’t understand…’
‘No,’ he said succinctly and now she understood what was holding his face so completely still. He was angry!
‘I will not be a figment of my child’s life—the kind of father who exists like a tiny part of her.’
Hannah didn’t get a chance to reassure him.
‘My child will be raised by me.’ His eyes were like flints of coal as he spoke. ‘She will be raised with my name, and will have everything I can provide her with. She will be mine.’
At the completely possessive tone to his voice Hannah shuddered, because it was exactly how she felt, and they couldn’t both raise their daughter.
‘Don’t make me regret coming here,’ Hannah said quietly.
At this, his features grew taut, his jaw locked and his eyes showed a swirling comprehension that filled her with ice. ‘Are you saying you contemplated not doing so?’
She paled, tilting her chin with a hint of rebellion. ‘I’ve contemplated a great many things since I found out about her.’
‘And was not telling me that I fathered a child one of those things you considered?’
Her cheeks glowed pink, revealing the truth of that statement. ‘Briefly,’ she conceded. ‘Yes, of course. Wouldn’t it be easier that way?’
Fury contorted his features and she rolled her eyes.
‘I contemplated it for about three seconds before realising I could never do that. Obviously you deserve to know you’re going to be a father. She’s your child. I’m not saying you don’t have a claim on her. But she’s an innocent in this, she doesn’t deserve to be pulled between us just because of that night.’
‘I do not intend for her to be pulled between us.’ He seized on this and, for a moment, she felt relief. Perhaps he was going to be reasonable after all, and not make this so difficult.
‘You can be very involved,’ she promised. ‘I’m a reasonable person, Leonidas, and what I want most in this world is for our daughter to grow up secure in the love of her parents. But I want full custody. Full rights.’ He didn’t speak and she took strength from that. ‘It’s better this way, don’t you see that?’
‘Better for you,’ he drawled, and then shook his head angrily. ‘At least, you seem to think it is, but you do not have all the facts, Hannah.’
‘No? What am I missing?’
He ground his teeth together. ‘Does it not occur to you that there are risks to you, to her, in being connected to someone like me?’
She blinked, and something tapped the back of her mind, something she’d seen on an Internet search. Only she’d tried not to look too deeply at his life, his past—she’d felt dirty enough having to look him up on the internet to find the name of this boat.
‘No one needs to know.’
His laugh was a mocking snort. ‘That’s simplistic and naïve. The tabloid press probably already has paparazzi on your trail. That’s before you show up to this—one of the most hotly photographed events of the year—heavily pregnant and asking to see me.’
‘I am not heavily pregnant,’ she said, and then clamped her mouth shut in frustration and the sheer irrelevancy of that. ‘And so what? Who cares? Lots of people have illegitimate children. There’ll be a rumour. We’ll say nothing, and then it will die down.’
‘You are missing my point,’ he insisted darkly. ‘From the minute this news hits the public domain, you will become a part of my world, and so will she, whether you want to be or not. Thinking you can just hide away from that is unrealistic.’
‘So?’ she said, though she hadn’t considered this, and didn’t particularly like the way it made her feel. ‘I’ll cope.’
‘As a bare minimum, you will find yourself and your every move open to speculation in the gossip papers, and our daughter will be photographed and written about even when doing the most mundane things. You will want my protection from this, Hannah, and she will certainly deserve it.’
‘I’d rather find my own way to protect her,’ Hannah said crisply. ‘I can handle a few photographers, and as for the stories, I just won’t read them.’
His smile was a grim flicker of his lips. ‘Sure, give that a go.’ It was pure sarcasm.
‘In any event, it is not,’ he continued, ‘the photographers that I am concerned with.’
She waited, holding a hand protectively over her stomach without realising it.
‘I was married once,’ he said, finally, the words like steel.
She remembered. Oh, it had been buried deep inside her mind, but as soon as he said it she recalled reading that, somewhere, at some time.
‘And my wife was murdered.’
Hannah