Page 55 of Greek's Temporary Cinderella

‘Eliana, who is this? Why is he here?’

He turned his attention to the woman. ‘I am a...a friend of Eliana’s, kyria,’ he said. ‘I am sorry to disturb you—but I need to speak to Eliana.’

‘She was about to take Miki to the park,’ the elderly woman said.

‘Miki?’ Leandros echoed.

His eyes went back to the infant. Maybe two years old, or three—he didn’t know much about the ages of small children. The little boy was looking at him with interest in his dark eyes.

‘My grandson,’ the woman said.

There was pride in her voice—and doting affection too.

‘We can still go to the park, Ya-Ya.’

Eliana’s voice made Leandros turn back to her. She was as white as a ghost, her hands tightly gripping the handle of the buggy.

She looked at Leandros.

He nodded. Absolutely nothing here made sense. But getting out of there did.

He gave a brief, perfunctory smile to the grey-haired woman, just to be civil, and then he was turning back into the entrance lobby, reopening the front door that he had closed. Pointedly waiting for Eliana to precede him.

‘We’ll take the lift,’ he said.

Eliana, her heart thudding as it had been from the moment her eyes had seen Leandros, sat on a bench in the little park that was only a street away from the apartment.

It was a pretty enough place, with mulberry trees for shade, pleasant paths, well-planted flower-beds, hibiscus shrubs, and an area of grass, dry and brown in this season after summer. There was a children’s play area, with swings and slides, a little roundabout and a see-saw, and a few other attractions to appeal to small children. Miki was seated on one—a colourful pony perched on a strong steel spring, rocking himself happily backwards and forwards. Rubberised flooring meant that even falling off would not be painful.

Leandros sat down beside her.

Memory pierced. How they sat side by side that afternoon in the Luxembourg gardens, into which this little urban park would have fitted a score of times over, eating their patisserie, watching the Parisians and the tourists enjoying themselves.

‘So talk,’ said Leandros at her side.

His voice was grim. And, as before, it was not a request or an invitation.

For a moment she did not answer. Her eyes rested on the little boy, oblivious to the complications and currents swirling all around him.

‘I take it he’s yours.’

Leandros’s voice was flat. Hard. As hard as stone. Things were starting to make sense—but darkly. Bleakly.

‘But who the hell is his father? Because the woman in that apartment is not Damian’s mother! And besides—’ He broke off. ‘Damian was gay, so—’

He broke off again.

Eliana turned to look at him. He was frowning.

‘But you were a virgin,’ he said. ‘So how—?’

He took a rasping breath.

‘IVF might have got you pregnant by Damian, or by any other man, but to give birth and still be a virgin...? Is it even possible?’ He lifted a hand, then dropped it like lead. ‘Caesarean delivery?’

He gave a swift shake of his head in negation.

‘But you have no scar.’ His frown deepened. ‘Maybe you used a surrogate? Because how the hell else—?’

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