Page 54 of Greek's Temporary Cinderella

Could not bear to.

That was the sorry truth of it.

He made to turn away. He could not face this. Could not bear it. Whatever she was doing in a place like this, whoever she was with, he didn’t want to know.

She’s gone—and I’ve lost her. Lost her just as I lost her before. I have to accept it.

He twisted round to head back down, get the hell out of here.

The sound of the door of the apartment facing the stairwell starting to open—the very door he’d been about to approach—made him pause. He turned back, not wanting to, but turning anyway. As he did so a gasp sounded.

Shock. Dismay.

Frozen in the open doorway was Eliana. And she was pushing a child’s buggy.

Faintness drummed through Eliana. It could not be—she was imagining things, creating a mirage out of her own mind.

Her vision dimmed—then cleared.

He stepped up to her. Leandros. Out of nowhere.

‘How...?’ Her voice was as faint as the faintness drumming through her.

‘A private investigator located you for me. Followed you back from the supermarket you work in.’

There was no expression in Leandros’s voice. But she knew that shock must be going through him, as it was her. Knew why.

His eyes dropped from her to the buggy she was clinging to. To the infant within.

A single word broke from Leandros, and his eyes flashed back to her. ‘Yours?’

There was nothing in his voice. And yet there was everything in it. She didn’t answer. Could not. Desperation clawed in her head.

What to answer—? What to say—?

A voice called from inside the apartment.

‘Who is it, Eliana?’

There was a note of fear in the voice, and she knew why. She turned her head, called back, wanting to reassure.

‘It’s all right—’

But a hand was closing over the handle of the buggy. Leandros had stepped forward, blocking her.

‘Inside,’ he said.

It was not a request or a suggestion.

Numbly, she drew back indoors. Her mind was in free-fall—but how could it not be?

He followed her in. Looked past the narrow entrance hall into the living room beyond.

Incomprehension in his face.

Slowly...very slowly...Leandros took in what he was seeing. A living room with a dining table by the window, a little balcony beyond. The room was filled with old-fashioned furniture, sideboards and cupboards heavy with ornaments, pictures on the wall, a settee covered with a crochet throw, and another swathing a commodious armchair in which a grey-haired woman was sitting, a walking stick propped up beside her chair. Beyond the living room, Leandros could see a small galley kitchen.

The grey-haired woman was speaking, sounding both alarmed and confused. Her local Macedonian accent was distinct to his ears.

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