Page 76 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

‘Yes,’ Aristophanes said. ‘You’re here to tell me you’re pregnant.’

Nell had no idea how he’d guessed. She was too busy trying to get some air into her lungs, an impossible task when Aristophanes seemed to take up every square inch of the extremely small space of the elevator. And not only with his tall, muscular body, but also with the electrical charge of his magnetic presence.

He was so very intense.

She hadn’t forgotten how beautiful he was, but shehadforgotten how physically devastating he was in the flesh. She could almost feel her body readying itself for him, which was disconcerting in the extreme, especially since it had been three months since she’d last seen him. Apparently, though, it didn’t matter how long it had been. She still wanted him with the same hunger as she had back then.

The past six weeks had been such a roller coaster. First there had been the shock of discovering she was pregnant and then a barrage of appointments to make sure everything was looking as it should. Then there had been the nausea and exhaustion of early pregnancy, as well as the uncertainty of what she was going to do about the baby.

That she was going to keep it had never been in doubt—she’d always wanted children and, despite the timing being horrendous, she desperately wanted to keep this one. However, she felt very strongly that a child should have two parents. She’d lost hers so early and it was a constant grief to her, and she couldn’t imagine her own child not having them.

It made letting Aristophanes know he was going to be a father imperative. She’d decided to wait until after the twelve-week mark just to be sure, but after emails, phone calls and requests to speak with him had all fallen through, she’d eventually booked a ticket to New York since that was where he apparently was for the next month. She hadn’t had much in the way of savings, but it had been enough for a flight and some cheap accommodation, which wasn’t very cheap because it was New York.

She’d debated about how to tell him, because he’d been very clear he didn’t want to see her again and likely wouldn’t welcome the news he was going to be a father. But that was too bad. She didn’t want his money; she wanted only his presence in their child’s life. That was all.

So all the way on that long, interminable flight from Melbourne to JFK, she’d gone over and over in her head what she was going to say to him. How she was going to tell him. Then, in the end, he’d taken the words straight out of her mouth.

The pedantic fool.

She stood in her damp coat, in the too-small space of the elevator, staring into his silver eyes. Conscious once again of his physical beauty. He was even taller than she remembered, his magnificent physique clad in what had to be a handmade suit of dark grey wool that seemed to highlight every inch of his broad shoulders and wide chest. His pristine black shirt was offset with a silver silk tie the exact colour of his eyes, and she wished she’d chosen something better to wear than the cheap rust-red dress she’d bought at a chain store because it was stretchy and would go over the little bump that was beginning to show.

Sadly, it was too late for that. She hadn’t had the money to buy anything decent anyway, not after the extortionate flight had been paid for.

She shivered as his intense silver gaze scanned her from the top of her damp head to the wet black leather of her pumps, and back up again. The elevator seemed to get smaller and smaller, the air in it thicker and thicker.

‘Thanks for completely ruining my announcement,’ she said, unable to hide her irritation. She hadn’t been in his presence more than a minute and already he was getting under her skin. How he managed to do that, she couldn’t fathom.

The first few weeks after their night together, she’d pushed him firmly to the back of her mind, because he’d said they’d never see each other again, and she’d agreed. Then after she’d discovered she was pregnant, the night they’d spent together had flooded back into her consciousness and had been taunting her ever since.

She’d thought she wouldn’t want him again. She’d thought that one night was enough. Yet here she was, cold and jet-lagged and irritable, and all she could think about was putting her hands on his broad chest and pulling the buttons of his shirt open, pressing her mouth to his skin, tasting him...

Aristophanes tilted his head, the silver in his eyes glittering brighter as his gaze roved hungrily over her. And yes, it was hungry. The three months since she’d last seen him might as well not have existed. He might have been standing once again in the hallway of her small flat, staring at her as though he wanted to eat her alive.

Nell swallowed, her irritation turning into something more intense yet no less unsettling, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears.

The tension filling the elevator car felt almost unbearable.

‘Mr Katsaros,’ she began determinedly.

Abruptly and without a word, he dropped the briefcase he was carrying and took two steps towards her, forcing her back against the rail that ran around the interior of the elevator at waist height.

The look in his eyes burned, making an intense burst of wild excitement flood through her in response, an excitement she’d only ever felt once before: in his arms.

Oh, Lord, he wanted her and badly.

Slowly and with intent, he put one hand on the rail next to her, then the other hand, caging her against it the way he’d caged her against the door back in her Melbourne flat. And now, as then, she was acutely conscious of his warmth, of the musky spice of his aftershave.

It was intoxicating. She hadn’t realised how cold she’d been until he was here.

He didn’t move, only stared at her, his gaze searching her face as if looking for something. She couldn’t get enough air, the only sound her heartbeat thumping crazily in her ears.

‘Don’t,’ she breathed shakily, even though he hadn’t said anything or moved another inch. She only knew if he did, she’d be lost, and she didn’t want to be lost, not with this baby literally between them. Also, they needed to talk, not do...this.

‘Don’t?’ he echoed, a thread of heat running through his deep, dark voice like fire in a coal seam. ‘Don’t what?’

Her breathing was getting faster and faster, the physical electricity he was throwing off making it difficult to think. He was standing so close, the gap between them mere inches.

‘This,’ she breathed, her voice husky. ‘Don’t do...this.’

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