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‘Isn’t that what I’m here for?’ Leonidas surveyed her with resolute cool and satisfaction, for he could think of nothing more appropriate than that she should demand and expect his assistance. Her independence in a crisis infuriated him. ‘You’ve had a very distressing day.’
Maribel snatched her hands free of his in a gesture of rejection. ‘Isn’t that how you planned it?’
His ebony brows drew together. ‘Naturally not.’
‘But you were the instigator of that story in The Globe,’ Maribel fired at him without even pausing to draw breath. ‘You were behind it. No, don’t you dare lie to me!’
Displaying a disturbing amount of confidence in the face of her livid attack, Leonidas lounged back against his designer desk with lithe grace. ‘I have never lied to you.’
Maribel spun away from him, literally so angry she couldn’t speak. But even turned away from him she could feel the power of him. Nobody could be around Leonidas without becoming aware of the extent of that strength and power. ‘The article in the paper was too precise. All the facts were right and there were no scandalous revelations.’
‘There is no scandal in your life,’ Leonidas pointed out gently. ‘Apart from me.’
Angry, incredulous suspicion had brought Maribel to London to confront Leonidas. At the very core of her, though, there had still been room for healthy doubt and an acceptance that sometimes a chain of coincidences could give a misleading impression. But she had accused him and he had not yet voiced a word of denial in his own defence. Not one single word. The meaning of his silence on that score was finally sinking in on her.
‘You did mastermind it—you were behind that story about us,’ she whispered unevenly. ‘It’s hard for me to accept that even you could be that selfish and destructive.’
Leonidas was determined not to rise to the bait. He hoped he was not unreasonable: Maribel was entitled to feel aggrieved and he was prepared to let her get that out of her system. While curious as to how she had worked it all out so fast, he was by no means surprised by her swift grasp of the truth. Shimmering dark-as-ebony eyes screened, he scrutinised her, admiring the natural pink of her cheeks and the generous curve of her mouth. Long before he got as far as the ravishing swell of her abundant breasts, his groin was tightening. He was disconcerted by the speed of his response.
‘The paparazzi were already onto us,’ he pointed out.
‘There is no us!’ Maribel shot back at him angrily.
‘Are you saying that because you’re seeing someone else? And don’t tell me that’s nothing to do with me,’ Leonidas urged. ‘It is relevant to this situation.’
‘I’m not currently involved with anyone else,’ Maribel admitted grudgingly.
‘Whether you like it or not, we have a connection through our son,’ Leonidas asserted in the same outrageously quiet tone. ‘How long did you think I could keep on flying down to see Elias without attracting attention? He could not be kept a secret indefinitely, glikia mou.’
‘I disagree—’
‘But—with respect—you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t live in my world. It’s a goldfish bowl. Even with all my staff and security, my movements are watched and noted in the gossip columns. Sometimes it is wiser to handle the press and shape what is published. The alternative is often a hatchet job, and I felt that when it came to you and my son a sensitive PR spin on the facts was preferable.’ Leonidas viewed her with immense calm. ‘I stand by that decision.’
Her violet eyes blazed with resentment. She could not credit the extent of his nerve. ‘Stop wrapping it up and trying to pretend that you did it to protect us! You weren’t planning to tell me the truth and you don’t seem to understand or care how much damage you’ve done!’
At that condemnation, his chiselled jawline clenched. ‘I appreciate your annoyance.’
‘Like you appreciate me as “a confidante”?’ Maribel slammed back at him with scornful force.
The faintest hint of dark blood demarcated the superb slant of his cheekbones. ‘You’re angry, but my intentions were good. I’m not ashamed of Elias. He’s my son. I’m proud of him. I refuse to hide him.’
A shaken and humourless laugh was dredged from Maribel’s lush pink lips. The most colossal sense of bitterness was overtaking her. ‘And what about our lives? That aspect didn’t matter to you, did it? But my privacy has been destroyed and you had no right to do that. I will for ever be associated with a tacky one-night stand and you—’
