“No. That will not happen.”
“Then deal with an unlocked door, because tho
se are your options.” He towered over her, features hard. “I will have a tray sent to you now, and I will see you in the morning for the tour of the house and gardens.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT TOOK FOREVER for Georgia to fall asleep.
She’d only been in Greece a few hours and yet she was already wishing she’d never agreed to travel to Kamari. The money wasn’t worth it—
She stopped herself there.
The money would be worth it, if she calmed down and focused. Getting upset wasn’t going to help. She’d been through many difficult experiences in her life and she could handle this one.
With that said, it would have been better to have known more about Nikos Panos than she did. Mr. Laurent had told her a little bit about the Panos family when she’d been selected for the surrogacy. He’d explained that the Panos family’s fortune was fairly recent, only since the end of World War II, and that they’d made their money rebuilding war-torn Europe, then branched from construction into shipping and from shipping into retail.
She did a little more research on her own at that point. The Panos story wasn’t all sunshine and roses. The company had floundered during the past decade, poor investments and too much expansion in the wrong direction. Teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, son and heir Nikos Panos took the helm and turned the floundering company around.
Nikos’s success had reassured her. She’d assumed he was successful and stable. She needed to learn not to make assumptions.
Or perhaps she needed to stop thinking about Nikos. Maybe she needed to practice detachment. And not just about Nikos, but the pregnancy, too.
She’d lost so much when her parents and sister and grandparents died. And now she had to be careful she didn’t get her heart broken again. He wasn’t her baby. He wasn’t her son. Nor would he ever be.
Georgia finally fell asleep, but the morning came far too quickly. Waking, she frowned at the bright sunshine. She was not ready for the tour or more time with him.
Boundaries and distance, she told herself, showering and then dressing, choosing skinny jeans and an oversize gray cashmere sweater and gray ankle boots. The sky was clear, but her room was cold and outside the wind howled, buffeting the stone villa.
Boundaries and distance, she repeated when Nikos knocked at her bedroom door a few minutes later, coming to collect her personally for the morning tour.
It was a shock seeing him in the windowless hall, cloaked in shadows. He was wearing black trousers and a black shirt, and although she was tall, he towered over her, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, consuming space.
His dark gaze swept over her before focusing on her feet. “Please change the boots to something more practical.”
She choked on an uncomfortable laugh, thinking he was joking, but he didn’t laugh or smile. Her brows lifted, unable to believe they were starting a new day this way. “You’re serious?”
“That’s the third pair of boots. Heeled boots—”
“These are practically flats. The heel is maybe an inch tall.”
“They are two inches or more, and you’re not going to wear them and risk twisting an ankle or breaking your neck.”
“I don’t know what clumsy women you dated in the past—”
“We are not on a date. You are a surrogate. Change your shoes.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it.
From the darkening of his expression, he hadn’t expected that response, which made another bubble of laughter rise. She struggled to smash this one, too, but the sound escaped, and she bit the inside of her lip, trying to muffle her amusement and failing miserably.
Did he really expect her to jump to his bidding? Was he accustomed to women bowing and scraping?
Clearly he had no idea who he was dealing with. The Nielsen sisters were not pushovers. Neither Savannah nor Georgia were known to be quiet, timid, pliable women. The daughters of Norwegian American missionaries, they’d grown up overseas, moving with their parents from mission to mission, before losing their family in a horrific assault four years ago. Georgia and her sister had battled through the grief together and had emerged stronger than ever.
And Nikos should know that.
He’d selected her from thousands of egg donors and potential surrogates. Mr. Laurent told her that Nikos had examined her profile in great depth as he was very specific about what he wanted—age, birth date, height, weight, blood type, eye color, natural hair color, education, IQ.
“You laugh,” Nikos said grimly.
“Yes, I did, and I will again if you continue to act as if you’re a barbarian. I might be your paid surrogate, but I’ve a good brain, and I don’t need you telling me what to do every time I turn around.”
“Then your good brain and your common sense should tell you that wearing impractical shoes is asking for trouble.”
“They are ankle boots, with a tiny stacked heel.” She held up her fingers, showing him a sliver of space between her thumb and pointer finger. “Tiny.”
His sigh was heavy and loud. “You are as exasperating as a child.”
“I don’t know how much experience you’ve had with children, but you do seem to be an expert in belittling women—”
“I’m not belittling women in general. We’re discussing you.”
“You might be surprised to discover that I don’t want your attention. I don’t want your company, either. You are insufferably arrogant. I completely understand why you live on a rock in the middle of the sea. Nobody wants to be your neighbor!”
“And I think you enjoy fighting.”
“I don’t enjoy fighting, but I’m not about to bow and scrape. I don’t like conflict, but I won’t let you, or anyone, bulldoze over me.” She was breathing fast, and her hands knotted at her sides. “You started this, you know. You talk to me as if I’m feebleminded—”
“I’m helping you.”
“You’d help me more by staying out of my business. I don’t tell you how to eat or exercise. I don’t tell you how to dress or what shoes to wear—”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“No, I am—that’s correct. And when I’m upset my blood pressure goes up and my hormones change and the baby feels all of it. Do you think it’s good for your child when you get me all worked up? Or maybe since he is your son he enjoys a good fight.”
Nikos scowled at her. “I don’t enjoy a fight, and nor does he.”
“Then if you don’t enjoy a fight, don’t provoke one.”
“Maybe you are the one that needs to compromise.”
“I am. I have. I’m here!” Georgia gestured to the room, the window, the view beyond. “I left my home to be your guest for three and a half months, and I’ve given up everything to make you happy. You can try to make me happy, Nikos.”
He stretched out his arms, putting an elbow on either side of the plastered doorway, his shoulders forming a thick, muscular wall. He drew a slow, deep breath, his dark eyes burning, revealing his chaotic emotions. “We are not going to do this for the next three-plus months,” he growled as a lock of his thick black hair fell forward, half hiding one dark eye, concealing the scars at his temple. “This is my home, my sanctuary. It’s where I live to be calm and in control—”
“And would it hurt you so much to give up a little control?” she interrupted furiously. “Is it impossible for you to back off and just give me breathing room?”
“You only just arrived.”
“Exactly. And yet you’ve already broken down my door—”
“Which I apologized for.”
She snorted. “You didn’t apologize. You just fixed it. But that’s not an apology. And now you’re hanging from my door, your giant body blocking my room, as you lecture me about calm and control while you act like a crazed werewolf—” She broke off, gulped air. “Mr. Laurent should have told me the whole story. He shouldn’t have sold me on how smart and successful you were. He shouldn’t have portrayed you to be this brilliant Greek tycoon. He should have to
ld me the truth. You’re a nightmare!”
Georgia knew immediately by the flare of hot white light in his eyes that she’d gone too far, said too much. But she was also in too deep, her emotions too stirred up to do anything but end the conversation as fast as she could.
“You’re right,” she added breathlessly. “This isn’t working. Let’s forget the tour. I’ll find my way around. I think it’s best if you just do your thing and let me do mine.” And then she slammed the door shut, praying that as the door scraped shut, it didn’t take off his face.
For a split second after Georgia closed the door, she felt wildly victorious. The rush of adrenaline was pure and strong, and she praised herself for handling the situation—and him—without revealing cowardice or weakness.
Perhaps he’d learn from this, she mentally added, heading toward the sitting area, where she’d piled her books. Perhaps he’d realize that his controlling boorish behavior was detrimental to the well-being of them all—
And then her door flew open, and he stormed across the threshold. Georgia’s heart tumbled to her feet. All self-congratulating ended when she saw his livid expression.
She backed up a step, and then another as he continued to charge across the room. “What are you doing?” she cried, praying he didn’t hear the wobble in her voice. “Get out! This is my room—”
“No, gynaika mou, it seems you are in need of a little lesson. This isn’t your room. It’s a room in my house that I am allowing you to use,” he gritted out, marching toward her. “So to repeat, so we can be absolutely clear, this is my house. My room. You are my surrogate carrying my son.”
Her heart drummed double time as he bore down on her but she wasn’t about to retreat. “It might be your house, and the baby might be your son, but I am not your surrogate. I do not belong to you, and I will never be any man’s possession.”
“You took my money—”
“Not that again!”
“So until you give birth, you are mine.”
“Wrong.” She threw her shoulders back. “Not yours. I will never be yours. In fact, I’d like to call Mr. Laurent right now. I think it’s time he and I had a little conversation and sorted things out.”