The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (127 page)

‘Georgiou’s accident occurred the day after his return,’ Aleksi Stefanos told her. ‘He lay in hospital unconscious for weeks, and afterwards it was some time before he became fully aware of the extent of his injuries. By then it was doubtful if he could foresee a future for himself in the role of husband.’

‘He could have written!’ Alyse exclaimed in impassioned condemnation. ‘His silence caused Antonia months of untold anguish. And you underestimate my sister, Mr Stefanos,’ she continued bleakly, ‘if you think she would have rejected Georgiou simply because of his injuries. She loved him.’

‘And
love
, in your opinion, conquers all?’

Her eyes gleamed with hidden anger, sheer prisms of deep blue sapphire. ‘Antonia deserved the chance to prove it,’ she said with quiet vehemence. Her chin lifted, tilting at a proud angle.

His raking scrutiny was daunting, but she refused to break his gaze. ‘And you, Miss Anderson?’ he queried with deceptive softness. ‘Would
you
have given a man such unswerving loyalty?’

Alyse didn’t deign to answer, and the silence inside the room was such that it was almost possible to hear the sound of human breathing.

‘Perhaps an attempt could be made to resolve the situation?’ Alyse heard the mild intervention and turned slowly towards the bespectacled man seated behind his
desk. For a while she had forgotten his existence, and she watched as his glance shifted from her to the hateful Aleksi Stefanos. ‘I know I can speak for Alyse in saying that she intends lodging an adoption application immediately.’

‘Legally, as a single woman, Miss Anderson lacks sufficient standing to supersede my right to my brother’s child,’ Aleksi Stefanos declared with dangerous silkiness.

‘Only if you’re married,’ Alyse insisted, directing the solicitor a brief enquiring glance and feeling triumphant on receiving his nod in silent acquiescence. ‘Are you married, Mr Stefanos?’

‘No,’ he answered with smooth detachment. ‘Something I intend remedying without delay.’

‘Really? You’re
engaged
to be married?’ She couldn’t remember being so positively
bitchy
!

‘My intended marital status is unimportant, Miss Anderson, and none of your business.’

‘Oh, but it is, Mr Stefanos,’ she insisted sweetly. ‘You see, if
marriage
is a prerequisite in my battle to adopt Georg, then I too shall fight you in the marriage stakes by taking a husband as soon as possible.’ She turned towards the solicitor. ‘Would that strengthen my case?’

Hugh Mannering looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I should warn you against the folly of marrying in haste, simply for the sole purpose of providing your nephew with a surrogate father. Mr Stefanos would undoubtedly contest the validity of your motive.’

‘As I would contest
his
motive,’ she insisted fiercely, ‘if he were to marry immediately.’

‘I’m almost inclined to venture that it’s unfortunate you could not marry each other,’ Mr Mannering opined,
‘thus providing the child with a stable relationship, instead of engaging in lengthy proceedings with the Government’s Family Services Department to determine
who
should succeed as legal adoptive parent.’

Alyse looked at him as if he had suddenly gone mad. ‘You can’t possibly be serious?’

The solicitor effected an imperceptible shrug. ‘A marriage of convenience isn’t an uncommon occurrence.’

‘Maybe not,’ she responded with undue asperity. ‘But I doubt if Mr Stefanos would be prepared to compromise in such a manner.’

‘Why so sure, Miss Anderson?’ The drawled query grated her raw nerves like steel razing through silk.

‘Oh, really,’ Alyse dismissed, ‘such a solution is the height of foolishness, and totally out of the question.’

‘Indeed?’ His smile made her feel like a dove about to be caught up in the deadly claws of a marauding hawk. ‘I consider it has a degree of merit.’

‘While
I
can’t think of anything worse than being imprisoned in marriage with a man like you!’

If he could have shaken her within an inch of her life, he would have done so. It was there in his eyes, the curious stillness of his features, and she controlled the desire to shiver, choosing instead to clasp her hands together in an instinctive protective gesture.

Against
what
? a tiny voice taunted. He couldn’t possibly pose a threat, for heaven’s sake!

‘There’s nothing further to be gained by continuing with this conversation.’ With graceful fluidity she rose to her feet. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Mannering,’ she said with distinct politeness before spearing her adversary with a dark, venomous glance. ‘
Goodbye
, Mr Stefanos.’

Uncaring of the solicitor’s attempt to defuse the situation, she walked to the door, opened it, then quietly closed it behind her before making her way to the outer office.

It wasn’t until she was in her car and intent on negotiating busy traffic that reaction began to set in.

Damn.
Damn
Aleksi Stefanos! Her hands clenched on the wheel until the knuckles showed white, and she was so consumed with silent rage that it was nothing short of a miracle that she reached the boutique without suffering a minor accident.

T
HE REMAINDER OF
the morning flew by as Alyse conferred with the boutique’s manageress, Miriam Stanford, checked stock and tended to customers. It was almost midday before she was able to leave, and she felt immensely relieved to reach the comfortable sanctuary of her home.

As soon as the babysitter left, Alyse put a load of laundry into the washing machine, completed a few household chores, and was ready for Georg at the sound of his first wakening cry.

After changing him, she gave him his bottle, then made everything ready for his afternoon walk—an outing he appeared to adore, for he offered a contented smile as she placed him in the pram and secured the patterned quilt.

The air was fresh and cool, the winter sun fingering the spreading branches of trees lining the wide suburban street, and Alyse walked briskly, her eyes bright with love as she watched every gesture, every fleeting expression on her young nephew’s face. He was so active, so alive for his tender age, and growing visibly with every passing day.

A slight frown furrowed her brow, and her features
assumed a serious bleakness as she mentally reviewed the morning’s consultation in Hugh Mannering’s office. Was there really any possibility that she might fail in a bid to adopt Georg?
Could
the hateful Aleksi Stefanos’s adoption application succeed? It was clear she must phone the solicitor as soon as possible.

On returning home Alyse gave Georg his bath, laughing ruefully as she finally managed to get his wriggling slippery body washed and dry, then dusted with talc and dressed in clean clothes. She gave him his bottle and settled him into his cot.

Now for the call to Hugh Mannering.

‘Can I lose Georg?’ Alyse queried with stark disregard for the conversational niceties.

‘Any permanent resolution will take considerable time,’ the solicitor stressed carefully. ‘Technically, the Family Services Department investigates each applicant’s capability to adequately care for the child, and ultimately a decision is made.’

‘Off the record,’ she persisted, ‘who has the best chance?’

‘It’s impossible to ignore facts, Alyse. I’ve studied indisputable records documenting Aleksi Stefanos’s financial status, and the man has an impressive list of assets.’

A chill finger slithered the length of her spine, and she suppressed the desire to shiver. ‘Assets which far outstrip mine, I imagine?’

‘My dear, you are fortunate to enjoy financial security of a kind that would be the envy of most young women your age. However, it is only a small percentage in comparison.’

‘Damn him!’ The oath fell from her lips in husky condemnation.

‘The child’s welfare is of prime importance,’ the solicitor reminded her quietly. ‘I’ll have the application ready for your signature tomorrow.’

The inclination to have a snack instead of preparing herself a meal was all too tempting, and Alyse settled for an omelette with an accompanying salad, then followed it with fresh fruit.

She should make an effort to do some sewing—at least attempt to hand-finish a number of tiny smocked dresses which had been delivered to the house by one of her outworkers this morning. Certainly the boutique could do with the extra supplies.

The dishes done and the washing folded, Alyse collected a bundle of garments from its enveloping plastic and settled herself comfortably in the lounge with her sewing basket. Working diligently, she applied neat stitches with precise care, clipped thread, then deftly rethreaded the needle and began on the next garment.

Damn!
The soft curse disrupted the stillness of the room. The third in an hour, and no less vicious simply because it was quietly voiced.

Alyse looked at the tiny prick of blood the latest needle stab had wrought, and raised her eyes heavenward in mute supplication.

Just this one garment, and she’d pack it all away for the evening, she pleaded in a silent deal with her favourite saint. Although it would prove less vexing if she cast aside hand-finishing for the evening and relaxed in front of the television with a reviving cup of coffee. Yet tonight she needed to immerse herself totally
in her work in an attempt to alleviate the build-up of nervous tension.

Specialising in exquisitely embroidered babywear sold under her own label,
Alyse
, she had by dint of hard work, she reflected, changed a successful hobby into a thriving business. Now there was a boutique in a modern upmarket shopping centre catering for babies and young children’s clothes featuring her own exclusive label among several imported lines.

Five minutes later Alyse breathed a sigh of relief as the tiny garment was completed. Stretching her arms high, she flexed her shoulders in a bid to ease the knot of muscular tension.

Georg’s wakening cry sounded loud in the stillness of the house, and she quickly heated his bottle, fed him, then settled him down for the night.

In the hallway she momentarily caught sight of her mirrored reflection, and paused, aware that it was hardly surprising that the combination of grief and lack of appetite had reduced her petite form to positive slenderness. There were dark smudges beneath solemn blue eyes, and the angles of her facial bone-structure appeared delicate and more clearly defined.

Minutes later she sank into a chair in the lounge nursing a mug of hot coffee, longing not for the first time for someone in whom she could confide.

If her parents were still alive, it might be different, she brooded, but both had died within months of each other only a year after she had finished school, and she had been too busy establishing a niche in the workforce as well as guiding Antonia through a vulnerable puberty to enjoy too close an empathy with friends.

The sudden peal of the doorbell shattered the quietness
of the room, and she hurried quickly to answer it, vaguely apprehensive yet partly curious as to who could possibly be calling at this time of the evening.

Checking that the safety chain was in place, she queried cautiously, ‘Who is it?’

‘Aleksi Stefanos.’

Stefanos.
The name seemed etched in her brain with the clarity of diamond-engraved marble, and she closed her eyes in a purely reflex action as undisguised anger replaced initial shock.

‘How did you get my address?’ she wanted to know.

‘The telephone directory.’ His voice held an infinite degree of cynicism.

‘How
dare
you come here?’ Alyse demanded, trying her best to ignore the prickle of fear steadily creating havoc with her nervous system.

‘Surely eight-thirty isn’t unacceptably late?’ his drawling voice enquired through the thick wood-panelled door, and she drew in a deep angry breath, then released it slowly.

‘I have absolutely nothing to say to you.’

‘May I remind you that I have every right to visit my nephew?’

For some inexplicable reason his dry mocking tones sent an icy chill feathering the length of her spine.
Damn
him! Who did he think he was, for heaven’s sake?

‘Georg is asleep, Mr Stefanos.’

Her curt dismissing revelation was greeted with ominous silence, and she unconsciously held her breath, willing him to go away.

‘Asleep or awake, Miss Anderson, it makes little difference.’

Alyse closed her eyes and released her breath in one
drawn-out sigh of frustration. Without doubt, Aleksi Stefanos possessed sufficient steel-willed determination to be incredibly persistent. If she refused to let him see Georg tonight, he’d insist on a suitable time tomorrow. Either way, he would eventually succeed in his objective.

Without releasing the safety chain, she opened the door a fraction, noticing idly that he had exchanged his formal suit for light grey trousers and a sweater in fine dark wool. Even from within the protection of her home, he presented a disturbing factor she could only view with disfavour.

‘Will you give me your word that you won’t try to abduct Georg?’ she asked him.

His eyes flared, then became hard and implacable, his facial muscles reassembling over sculptured bone to present a mask of silent anger.

‘It isn’t in my interests to resort to abduction,’ he warned inflexibly. ‘Perhaps you should be reminded that your failure to co-operate will be taken into consideration and assuredly used against you.’

The temptation to tell him precisely what he could do with his legal advisers was almost impossible to ignore, but common sense reared its logical head just in time, and Alyse released the safety chain, then stood back to permit him entry.

‘Thank you.’

His cynicism was not lost on her, and it took considerable effort to remain civil. ‘Georg’s room is at the rear of the house.’

Without even glancing at him, she led the way, aware that he followed close behind her. She didn’t consciously hurry, but her footsteps were quick, and consequently
she felt slightly breathless when she reached the end of the hallway.

Carefully she opened the door, swinging it wide so the shaft of light illuminated the room. Large and airy, it had been converted to a nursery months before Georg’s birth, the fresh white paint with its water-colour murals on each wall the perfect foil for various items of nursery furniture, and a number of colourful mobiles hung suspended from the ceiling.

Fiercely protective, Alyse glanced towards the man opposite for any sign that he might disturb her charge, and saw there was no visible change in his expression.

What had she expected? A softening of that hard exterior? Instead there was a curious bleakness, a sense of purpose that Alyse found distinctly chilling.

Almost as if Georg sensed he was the object of a silent battle, he stirred, moving his arms as he wriggled on to his back, his tiny legs kicking at the blanket until, with a faint murmur, he settled again.

Alyse wanted to cry out that Georg was
hers
, and nothing,
no one
, was going to take him away from her.

Perhaps some of her resolve showed in her expressive features, for she glimpsed a muscle tighten at the edge of Aleksi Stefanos’s powerful jaw an instant before he moved back from the cot, and she followed him from the room, carefully closing the door behind her.

It appeared he was in no hurry to leave, for he entered the lounge without asking, and stood, a hand thrust into each trouser pocket.

‘Perhaps we could talk?’ he suggested, subjecting her to an analytical scrutiny which in no way enhanced her temper.

‘I was under the impression we covered just about everything this morning.’

Chillingly bleak eyes riveted hers, trapping her in his gaze, and Alyse was prompted to comment, ‘It’s a pity Georgiou himself didn’t accord his son’s existence such reverent importance.’

‘There were, I think you will have to agree, extenuating circumstances.’

‘If he really did
love
my sister,’ she stressed, ‘he would have seen to it that someone—even
you
—answered any one of her letters. He had a responsibility which was ignored, no matter how bravely he grappled with his own disabilities.’

His gaze didn’t waver. ‘I imagine he was tortured by the thought of Antonia bearing a child he would never see.’

‘The only bonus to come out of the entire débâcle is Georg.’

He looked at her hard and long before he finally spoke. ‘You must understand, he cannot be raised other than as a Stefanos.’

Alyse saw the grim resolve apparent, and suddenly felt afraid. ‘Why?’ she queried baldly. ‘A man without a wife could only offer the services of a nanny, which, even if it were a full-time live-in employment, can’t compare with my love and attention.’

His shoulders shifted imperceptibly, almost as if he were reassembling a troublesome burden, and his features assumed an inscrutability she had no hope of penetrating.

‘You too employ the part-time services of a nanny in the guise of babysitter. Is this not so?’ An eyebrow slanted in silent query. ‘By your own admission, you
operate a successful business. With each subsequent month, my nephew will become more active, sleep less, and demand more attention. While you delegate, in part, your business duties, you will also be delegating the amount of time you can spend with Georg. I fail to see a significant difference between your brand of caring and mine.’

‘On that presumption you imagine I’ll concede defeat?’ Alyse queried angrily.

‘I would be prepared to settle an extremely large sum in your bank account for the privilege.’

She shook her head, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. ‘Bribery, Mr Stefanos? No amount of money would persuade me to part with Antonia’s son.’ She cast him a look of such disdainful dislike, a lesser man would have withered beneath it. ‘Now, will you please leave?’

‘I haven’t finished what I came to say.’

He must have a skin thicker than a rhinoceros! Alyse could feel the anger emanate through the pores of her skin until her whole body was consumed with it. ‘If you don’t leave
immediately
, I’ll call the police!’

‘Go ahead,’ he directed with pitiless disregard.

‘This is my home, dammit!’ Alyse reiterated heatedly.

His eyes were dark and infinitely dangerous. ‘You walked out on a legal consultation this morning, and now you refuse to discuss Georg’s welfare.’ It was his turn to subject her to a raking scrutiny, his smile wholly cynical as he glimpsed the tide of colour wash over her cheeks. ‘I imagine the police will be sympathetic.’

‘They’ll also throw you out!’

‘They’ll suggest I leave,’ he corrected. ‘And conduct
any further discussion with you via a legal representative.’ He paused, and his eyes were hard and obdurate, reflecting inflexible masculine strength of will. ‘My stepbrother’s child has a legal right to his stake in the Stefanos heritage. It is what Georgiou would have wanted; what my father wants. If Antonia were still alive,’ he paused deliberately, ‘I believe
she
would have wanted her son to be acknowledged by her lover’s family, and to receive the financial benefits and recognition that are his due.’

Alyse’s eyes sharpened as their depths became clearly defined. ‘I intend having you and your
family
fully investigated.’