She heard the steel in his voice, the determination. Yet that did not change her reaction to what had to be the most absurd, insane suggestion she’d ever heard in her life! Even if he was wishing they could divorce later...
She opened her mouth to say so, but he was still speaking.
‘You can see just why a marriage between us makes sense! Not only does it keep the adoption authorities happy, but it keeps Timon happy too! He will know that Marcos’s son will be raised in Greece, under my guardianship, once his days are gone.’
And that, Anatole knew, would be exactly what Timon would want. He would expect Anatole to take care of Marcos’s son, raise him as his own.
That is what I want, too!
The realisation hit him as his eyes went once again to the diminutive figure in the buggy. Emotion welled through Anatole. Of course he would look after Marcos’s son—there was no question that he would not! He had known of his existence such a short time, known the tiny bundle for even less, but already that tiny bundle had seized upon his heart. He would never abandon him—never. That was an indelible certainty now.
Whatever it took to make certain of it!
Whatever...
‘It’s still impossible! Completely impossible!’
Her voice, still high-pitched and strained, made him twist his head back round to her. She saw his expression change. Something about it sent a shaft of fear spearing through her.
He spoke quietly, but there was a quality to that quietness that made her tense—something about the way his veiled eyes were resting on her. ‘Please understand that if we cannot agree on this, then...’ he paused a moment, then said what he knew he must say to her, to make it clear that he was set on this course. ‘Then I will put in an application to adopt Georgy myself, as his closest, most suitable relative on his father’s side.’
He had said it. And it had on her the impact he’d known it must. She paled again, her skin taut and white over her cheekbones.
He pressed on relentlessly. ‘Do you really want to take the risk that my claim to Georgy may supersede yours, despite my only being his second cousin, not his mother’s sister, as you are?’
She seemed to shrink away from him, and the flash of fear in her eyes was the strongest yet. He could see her face working, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap.
He covered them again with his own. Set his gaze on her. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that—truly it does not. I do not want confrontation or conflict. I want you to trust me—trust me that what I am suggesting, that we solve this situation by agreeing to marry, is the best way forward.’
She was still shrinking away from him, her expression still fearful.
‘I need you to trust me,’ he said again.
She could feel his gaze pouring into her, willing her to accept what he was saying. But how could she? How could she possibly accept it?
He’ll try and adopt Georgy himself! He’ll use the pots of money he’s got—that Georgy’s great-grandfather’s got—and throw it at lawyers and judges and just go on and on and on...
And it was not just his money that would give him the power to take Georgy from her...
Fear coursed through her again—so familiar—so terrifying.
She gave a little cry, jumping to her feet, pulling free of the clasp that was so warm and strong on her hand.
‘I don’t want this! I don’t want any of this! I just want to go back to the way it was!’
He got to his feet too. A sigh escaped him. He understood her reaction.
‘I, too, wish we could go back,’ he said quietly, but now the quietness was different. It was threaded with sombre emotion. ‘I wish I could go back to before Timon was diagnosed with terminal cancer, to before he gave that lethal car to Marcos, to before Marcos smashed himself to pieces in it. But I can’t go back. And neither can you. All we can do...’ his eyes sought to convey the ineluctable truth ‘...is go forward as best we can.’
His eyes went to Georgy. Softened. Then back to Lyn, standing there trembling in every line of her body.
‘And the best that we want is for Georgy.’
Right on cue Marcos’s baby son seemed to hear himself addressed and turned his head enquiringly. Anatole went over and hunkered down to pay him attention. Lyn stood, looking down at them both. Emotion was churning in her over and over, like a washing machine inside her.
Anatole glanced up at her. He could see how overwrought she was. It was time to lighten the atmosphere.
‘Come,’ he said, holding out a hand towards her. ‘We have had enough heavy stuff for the moment. Let’s take a break from it. Tell me,’ he asked, glancing towards the swings and slides, ‘can Georgy go on any of those yet?’
She nodded, swallowing. ‘He likes the slide, but you have to hold him—don’t let him go!’ she said.
‘Great,’ said Anatole.
He unfastened the safety belt of the buggy and drew Georgy out. Georgy gave a crow of excitement. Lyn stood watching them interact—Anatole talking to him in what she realised must be Greek. A little pang went through her. Georgy was as much Greek as he was English. Could she truly deny him all that his father’s family could offer him?
He will be the heir to a fortune.
She might not care, but wouldn’t Georgy want that inheritance when he grew up? Wouldn’t he want to be part of his Greek heritage as well?
Yet what Anatole Telonidis had just proposed was absurd—no one could say otherwise, no one at all!
A chill crept through her. Except if she did not agree to that absurdity then he had made it very clear—ruthlessly clear—that he would seek to adopt Georgy himself.
Fear knifed her. I can’t lose Georgy—I can’t!
The cry—so familiar, so desperate—sounded in her head, her heart.
She watched Anatole carry Georgy over to the slide, hold him on the slippery surface halfway up and then whoosh him down to the end, to Georgy’s patent delight. He repeated the whole process over and over again, and she heard his words resonate in her head. She could not go back to the way it had been when it was just Georgy and her. That was over now—over. All she could do was go forward. Forward into a future that seemed frighteningly uncertain. Full of risks of losing Georgy for ever.
I have to do whatever I can to prevent that—whatever I can to safeguard him, keep him with me. I have to do whatever it takes.
And if that meant taking the most insane, most absurd decision of her life then she would have to do it...
‘If...’ Lyn began slowly. ‘If we...go ahead...with what you said...then...’ She tried to make herself stop talking so hesitantly, but couldn’t. ‘How long do you think—um—before we could—well—divorce?’
‘It depends,’ said Anatole. He’d lifted Georgy off the slide and returned to sit next to Lyn, keeping hold of Georgy. It felt good to have the weight of his solid little body perched on his knees. He’d presented Georgy with his favourite plastic keys, and the little hands shot them straight to his mouth to start chewing on them enthusiastically.
He felt his heart clutch, thinking of the tragedy that had befallen his wayward, headstrong young cousin, who had not deserved to die so young, so brutally. Leaving his helpless child behind.
But his son has me now—me to care for him—to guard his interests, ensure his future.
‘On what?’
Lyn’s thin voice dispersed his memory, his vehement thoughts. He took a breath, focusing on what she’d said, this woman he’d met only the day before whom he was now telling he wanted to marry.
And then divorce again as soon as possible.
‘Well, I guess whatever is the minimum time needed, really. I’m not sure what the law is—or if it’s different in Greece from here. Obviously the adoption has to go through first, since that’s the whole reason for getting married.’
Lyn frowned. ‘I think there are laws about not getting married...well, artificially. You know—the law says it has to be a genuine marriage.’ She swallowed uneasily.
Anatole did not seem fazed. ‘Well, it will be, won’t it? We will genuinely get married in order to provide security for our orphaned relative. I don’t see any problem with that.’
The problem, thought Lyn wildly, was in the very idea of her marrying Anatole Telonidis at all! She swallowed again. ‘When...when would it actually happen? The—um—wedding?’
‘Ah...’ he answered. ‘Well, again, I believe there are legal timescales—and, again, I don’t know what the law is here on how soon a couple can marry.’ His eyes moved to her and held hers. ‘The thing is, we will need to marry in Greece. Timon,’ he said, ‘is not well enough to travel.’
‘Greece...’ echoed Lyn, her voice hollow.
Anatole’s mouth quirked, and Lyn felt that little pulse go through her, as it had when she had first seen humour lighten his face.
‘You speak of my country as though it were the far side of the moon,’ he said wryly.