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But it would bring her friend back into her life. It would mean she didn’t have to tell anyone—including Rafael—about her past because Molly already knew.
“It’s too much for me to ask of you, Moll,” Sasha protested weakly.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” A huge smile was breaking across her face. “Please let me try. I want to do this for you if I can, Sasha. I really do.”
Sasha was speechless, unable to imagine how they would manage it or how she would repay her, but she jerkily nodded. “If you’re sure, then yes. Please. Let’s try.”
“Do you have business in London soon?” Alexandra asked when they arrived at their villa in Attica, overlooking Dikastika Bay, about an hour from Athens.
Built to his wife’s specifications, the house had more stairs than Rafael would have liked, given its five floors, but it was not only tasteful and the envy of any guest for its panoramic views, river stone pool, and xeriscape grounds, but it felt like a home. They casually shed their travel clothes and dipped naked into the water, confident their staff would busy themselves with unpacking and allow them their privacy.
“Nothing pressing, why?” He’d been away from the office for nearly two weeks and, while he was productive aboard the Alexandra, he had a lot to attend to at headquarters now that he was back, not least of which was following up on the fine points of the deal he’d negotiated with Gio Casella. Gio had a London office, though. Perhaps it would be useful to meet with him there.
“I think I’ve found us a surrogate.”
“What?” He ducked and arrowed closer to her in a wide sweep of his arms, surfacing where she was treading water, but he could stand on the bottom of the pool. “How? Who?”
“You don’t sound pleased.” The blur of her naked body shifted as she also reached her foot toward the shallow end and stood on the bottom.
“You’ve never wanted to talk about a surrogate.” Granted, that had been as they were going into the third IVF, but... “This seems like something we ought to discuss and decide together.”
“We’re discussing it now.” She was being her loftiest, most irritatingly snooty self, barely looking at him as she turned her back and waded to the stairs.
She continued to be the most alluring woman he’d ever seen as she stepped naked under the outdoor shower, keeping her hair out of the water as she’d done in the pool. She rinsed, then turned off the spray before shaking out a bath sheet from the cupboard.
“Or not,” she added as she wrapped the towel around herself, referring to his dumbfounded silence.
“Tell me, then.” He came out behind her and snapped the shower on, blasting the water against his face and chest, turned to rinse his hair, then snapped it off and accepted the towel she handed him.
The evening was cool, but he didn’t dry off. He wrapped the towel around his hips and followed her up the outer stairs to their bedroom.
The maid quickly excused herself and hurried from the room, leaving them to the long shadows of sunset while they dressed.
“You remember I had breakfast with Gio’s assistant?” There was something in her voice that made his ears strain, certain there was more to hear in her tone than its deliberate casualness.
“Molly,” he recollected.
“You remember her name?” Her head turned so she could sear him with her gaze.
“No need to be possessive, darling. Banking names is a useful skill.”
“Hmph. Well, we got to talking about my issues.”
“How?” It came out with unvarnished astonishment. “You never talk about it with anyone.” She barely talked to him about it and had flatly refused to see a professional counselor, no matter how much he and their fertility specialist suggested it might be helpful.
“She mentioned her mother is a midwife.” She shrugged. “It came out and, long story short, she offered to be our surrogate.”
He choked on disbelief. “Why?” As if he didn’t know.
“Are you really going to look down on someone who is willing to carry a pregnancy for money? You married me for mine,” she reminded him.
“Touché.” His reaction had been a reflex of his well-honed cynicism. He stepped into his trousers. “You’re right. It’s labor.” Literally. He’d never thought of it that way, but, “It deserves compensation.”
“Is that what you think being my husband is? Work?” she asked with affront, head poking from the knitted top she pulled over it.
Damn, she was prickly these days.
“More of a calling, darling,” he assured her, approaching to skim his hands alongside her neck, freeing her hair from the collar. “But I deserve danger pay sometimes.”
