“Thank you, Eleni,” Stavros interrupted as he looked into the closet. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a stack of bills from his wallet. “Will this cover the cost of the clothes?”
Eleni shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not necessary. Your father still owes you and your mother for what he never—”
“No,” he said grimly. He gently placed the money in her hands. “You know I’d never take money from him.”
“I know,” the woman agreed. She looked at the bills. “But this is too much.”
“Keep it.” With a smile that didn’t meet his eyes, he said, “You made my life here endurable. For Mom, too.”
Hearing the strained edge to his voice, Holly stared at him. His face looked almost...vulnerable.
What had happened in his childhood? Why hadn’t he spoken to his father in twenty years?
Not even the most gossipy secretaries in the New York office, the ones who kept track of Stavros’s every lavish date with starlets and models, had spoken about his childhood. Stavros’s American mother had died when he was a teenager. That was all they knew.
Now Holly felt like there was some big secret. Some tragedy. She watched as the petite, elderly woman hugged him fiercely, tears in her eyes, saying something in Greek.
Stavros stiffened, then shrugged, and said in English, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“It is good of you to bring the baby here to meet him,” the housekeeper responded.
“Is he here?”
Eleni looked embarrassed. “Not yet. I did tell him about the baby. He knew you were coming.” Her cheeks went red. “He said he might be back for dinner, but he might not, depending...”
“I remember how he was. With Mom.”
The housekeeper looked sad, then squeezed his arm as she said softly, “Your mother was a good lady, Stavi. I was so sorry when I heard she died. I wish she could have lived to see all your success.”
“Thank you.” His handsome face held no expression. He pulled his arm away. “There is no point in waiting for him. Perhaps we could have dinner on the terrace?”
“Of course.” Eleni brightened. “Whenever you like.”
Stavros looked at Holly. “Are you hungry?”
As if on cue, her stomach growled noisily. She blushed as the others laughed. But dinner wasn’t what she was worried about. She bit her lip. “Er, about this bedroom—”
“We’ll have dinner in an hour,” Stavros told the housekeeper, who nodded and left, still smiling.
Holly turned on him. “Stavros, you can’t imagine we can share a bedroom!”
Stavros tilted his head, a half smile on his lips. “Can’t I?” He glanced toward the baby, who’d started to fuss. “Freddie, what’s wrong?” He reached out for the baby. “Let me—”
Instinctively, Holly moved the baby out of Stavros’s reach. “He’s tired.”
He asked quietly, “I know I don’t have experience. But won’t you let me try to hold my son?”
It was the first time he’d asked.
“I’m sorry, it’s not a good time.” Holly’s cheeks went hot. She, who always prided herself on being kind, knew she was being a jerk. She was just protecting Freddie, she told herself. It was only a matter of time before Stavros realized he didn’t want to be a father. He would let them down. Why pretend otherwise? Why even let herself hope? “He’s hungry. I need to give him a bath, then feed him and get him ready for bed.”
“Of course,” he said stiffly. Lowering his head, he tenderly kissed the baby’s head. “Good night, my son.”
Guilt built inside her, all the way to her throat.
He straightened, and said quietly to Holly, “Can you make your way to the terrace in an hour?”