Page 48 of The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife

‘So tell me about the baby. About Daisy.’

It was the chance she had wanted, that she had prayed for. But now that it was here she hardly knew where to begin.

But Andreas had used the baby’s name. He’d called her Daisy. So surely he couldn’t be going to turn his back on the little girl. Not when that seemed to mean that she was becoming a real person to him.

‘I have a photograph—it’s upstairs in my…’

She had been getting to her feet, anxious to go and fetch it, to show him her beautiful baby niece, but she stopped when he shook his head, sank back down into her seat instead.

‘I want to hear about her from you.’

For a second Becca couldn’t find the words, didn’t know where to begin, but then she started hesitantly, and suddenly everything just came pouring out. How reluctant her sister had been to admit that she was having a baby. The way that Macy had neglected herself during her pregnancy…

‘She’s always been in danger of being anorexic and when she started getting bigger with the baby, she hated it. I tried to get her to eat, but she was always saying she was too fat. She never ate enough to keep herself alive, never mind let the baby grow healthy. Then she went into labour early—too early. Daisy was born prematurely…’

She choked off the words, unable to continue, staring in front of her with unfocused eyes as she remembered the tiny little scrap of humanity that the baby had been at that time.

‘They managed to save her—but there are problems with her heart. We were told that the operation she needs isn’t available in England—it’s too new, too specialised. Before this babies like her just died—no one could do anything for them. But there’s a surgeon in America who has been working wonders on tiny babies just like her. If we could just get him to operate on her.’

‘And for that you need money.’

Becca could only nod silently, her heart too full for speech. Putting Daisy’s plight into words like this had brought it home to her how desperate the situation was; made her remember just how fragile the little girl’s life could be.

‘And that is why you came to me?’

There was a note in his voice that she couldn’t interpret, and his eyes were bleak as ice floes.

‘I—I wrote to you about it,’ she managed and Andreas nodded slowly.

‘I remember that now—a letter that arrived just before the accident. Those days are still not clear.’

He frowned faintly, rubbing at his temples, obviously trying to recall things from before the car crash.

‘The distant past is something I remember better. But I sent an answer, I believe.’

‘Yes. You told me to get in touch with your solicitors—write down exactly what I needed and why and you would con—consider my request.’

That frown was back between Andreas’ black brows, but it was more pronounced now.

‘Then why are you here? Why didn’t you just do that?’

‘Because…’ Becca began then broke off sharply as something Andreas had said a moment earlier hit home to her.

Those days are still not clear…The distant past is something I remember better.

Did he not remember that he had been asking for her? That was the one reason she was here. A reason that she had been forced to decide had just been Leander imagining things, because nothing in Andreas’ behaviour seemed to fit with a moment like that.

But if he didn’t remember…

‘Because?’ Andreas prompted harshly.

Leaning forward, Becca snatched up her glass of wine again and took an unwary gulp. It was enough to clear her head.

‘Because I thought it was best to explain the situation to you face to face. You deserved that at least if you were going to help us.’

‘But when you got here, you found that I didn’t remember your letter—or you.’

‘And so I let you think that we had never split up. I’m sorry,’ Becca put in hastily and sincerely. ‘I couldn’t think of anything else to do.’

Andreas didn’t seem to be listening. He was reaching into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He tossed it onto the table beside her wine glass.

‘What’s this?’ Becca looked at him, puzzled.

‘Open it and see.’

She picked up the paper with hands that shook, opened it with difficulty. But she couldn’t make head or tail of the contents. Even when she held the document directly under the lamp, it still didn’t make any sense and the words and figures on it—especially the figures—danced and blurred in front of her eyes.

‘What is this?’

‘Instructions to my bank—I faxed them just now. They will release the money—anything you need.’

‘Anything I need…’

Becca couldn’t believe that this was happening. Was it true. Had Andreas really said…?

‘You’re going to help?’

‘I always said I would give you any money you needed.’

‘Oh, thank you!’

It was hopelessly inadequate to express the way she felt. She wanted to dance for joy—she wanted to fling her arms around Andreas and kiss him…but a careful look into his dark, shuttered face made her rethink that idea hastily. Instead she reached out across the table and caught both of his hands in hers, holding them tightly.

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