‘It’s meant to be about love,’ she whispered. And, while she felt stupid and naïve, it was also important for her to admit her belief in that. He was asking her to go against everything she knew to be true.
‘For some people it is,’ he agreed. ‘But for others, it’s a convenient arrangement. All marriages are an exchange. Ours won’t be based on love but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be good—for both of us.’
Her heart cracked. Not once had Lewis told her about something so pragmatic. She felt a chasm forming inside her, the reality of her situation clear—the rightness of what he was proposing and the reasons she should agree. But the belief she’d always carried in her heart—that one day she’d be swept off her feet by Prince Charming—was smouldering into ashes.
‘I need to think about it,’ she said quietly. ‘Is that okay?’
His eyes held hers for several seconds, each making her heart twist and her pulse throb, but finally he nodded—just once, a shift of his head, a turn of his body. He began to walk; she waited for him to go past her, but as he reached her he stopped, staring down into her eyes, his expression one she couldn’t understand.
‘Think fast, Annabelle. I’ve waited six years. I won’t wait much longer to be his father.’
‘Yes. He’s my son.’ Dimitrios’s tone gave little away. The admission was already more than he ideally wanted to concede, yet using the press to his advantage made sense, given the circumstances. If Annabelle wanted time to think, then she should at least see the full picture. At the moment, the idea of media intrusion was simply hypothetical to her.
‘No kidding.’ Ashton’s laugh was unpalatable. ‘Six years old?’
‘Yes.’
‘And was I right about the mother?’
It was a turning point. Once he confirmed her name, there would be no going back. ‘Yes. Annabelle Hargreaves.’
‘How did you meet her?’
Dimitrios’s lip curled in contempt. ‘You’re going to have to do some of the leg work yourself. If you want to invade my privacy, I can’t stop you, but I’m not going to spoon-feed you the story.’
Another laugh. ‘Have you got a statement for me, then?’
He narrowed his eyes, aware that he was crossing a line he couldn’t uncross. He thought of their son and leaned forward, knowing he really had no choice. Just as Annabelle didn’t. From the moment they’d conceived this child, their futures had been sealed. ‘Annabelle and I have known each other a long time. Recently, we rekindled our romance. We were taking it slowly—for our son’s sake—but now I’m happy for the world to know. We’re getting married—as soon as it can be arranged.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE FLASH EXPLODED in her face like lightning striking. Annie startled, instinctively pulling her hat down lower. There were at least a dozen photographers standing on the footpath, all shouting questions at her. It was hard to discern a single one from the eruption of voices.
‘How did you keep the billionaire’s love child a secret for so long?’
‘Is it true he’s never met his father?’
‘What are you wearing to the wedding?’
‘Can we see the ring?’
‘Have you been seeing him all this time?’
‘How have you put up with the other women?’
‘Is it true there are twins as well?’
Aghast, she kept her head lowered and moved quickly, but they followed behind, hounding Annie as she walked, shouting questions. When she was only a block away from her son’s school, she turned, her face pale and drawn. ‘Please.’ She held up a hand. ‘Just leave me alone.’
Silence fell for a moment and then the questions grew louder.
‘You don’t sound like a woman in love. Trouble in paradise already?’
She spun away and, despite the stultifying heat of the day, began to run. The school gates were her sanctuary—the photographers didn’t cross the barrier.
How the hell had this happened? She walked towards her son’s classroom, fishing her phone out of her back and loading up a browser.
With a finger that shook, she typed Dimitrios’s name. The first article appeared instantly.