His Pregnancy Ultimatum

‘As in plural?’

‘Uh-huh.’

A shiver slid down her spine, for which she had no logical explanation. ‘Perhaps you should fill me in on the evening’s game plan.’

The Porsche growled to a halt at a traffic intersection, and he spared her a penetrating look. ‘You’re a friend I happen to regard with affection.’

‘Platonic friend,’ she conceded, and earned his swift smile.

‘That’s the description I’ve offered.’

‘Good.’

‘They’ll adore you. What’s not to like?’

Mia offered a slightly rueful smile. There was a part of her that wanted to tell him to turn the car round and take her home.

Get a grip. It was only one evening. A few hours. She’d exchange social pleasantries, decline the obligatory glass of wine and eat fine food.

Rose Bay held an eclectic mix of well-established homes, many with panoramic views of the harbour, and stately came to mind as Cris eased the Porsche to a halt outside a magnificent set of ornate wrought-iron gates guarding entrance to a sweeping driveway that led to a double-level plantation-style home in cream-plastered brick.

Wide bi-fold doors, timbered shutters, pillars and an elegant porte-cochère, set in beautiful landscaped grounds, the home…mansion, Mia amended…gave hint to serious family wealth. Very serious wealth.

Something Cris had neglected to mention.

As if to compound it, a Maybach sat parked beneath the porte-cochère. Its opulent lines were easily identifiable as the ultimate in the Mercedes group.

‘You’re impressed.’

It was a statement, uttered without emotion, and she allowed her gaze to settle on his features. ‘Am I meant to be?’

His expression became unreadable as he drew the Porsche to a halt in a designated parking bay. ‘It’s only stuff,’ he said quietly. ‘Material possessions gathered and passed from one generation to another as a visual attestation to entrepreneurial success.’

‘Which you hate?’

‘No. I merely prefer not to hang onto the familial coat-tails.’ He reached for his seat belt as Mia undid her own. ‘Okay, let’s go do this.’

‘Face the fray?’ she teased lightly, and was rewarded with a teasing smile.

‘You got it in one.’

Seconds later they gained the spacious bi-level marble-tiled external entrance, and two large panelled doors swung open to reveal an impeccably attired butler.

‘Good evening.’

A butler? Why should she be surprised?

Cris executed an introduction. ‘Costas has been with the family for years.’

‘The family are assembled in the lounge.’

When it came to strict formality, she’d take warm spontaneity any time. Didn’t families of Greek origin fall into the latter category?

Perhaps not.

Mia crossed the wide expanse of marble-tiled floor at Cris’ side, a few steps behind the butler, who paused on reaching what she presumed to be the lounge.

‘Ma’am, your son and his guest are here.’

It was a large, exquisitely furnished room in which two women were seated and a man stood in side profile beside a wall of French doors.

A man whose height and stance struck a familiar chord. One Mia instantly dismissed, despite the swift curl of apprehension twisting her stomach.

The younger of the two women rose to her feet and moved forward.

‘Mia. How nice to meet you at last.’

‘My mother, Sofia Karedes,’ Cris alluded with a smile. ‘Mia Fredrickson.’

‘Allow me to introduce my mother-in-law.’ Sofia indicated the older woman remaining seated. ‘Angelena Karedes.’

The matriarch, Mia concluded, meeting Angelena Karedes’ intense unwavering gaze. Nothing, she deduced, would pass unnoticed beneath those sharp dark eyes.

‘Mia.’ It was a polite acknowledgement, nothing more.

‘My elder son, Nikolos.’

He turned, and she felt as if her heart suddenly ceased beating.

No. The silent cry rose up from the depths of her soul. It couldn’t possibly be…

There had to be a mistake. How could Cris’ brother and the man with whom she’d spent a wild night of unbridled sex be one and the same?

Yet his identity was beyond doubt. His height and breadth of shoulder were achingly familiar. So too were his broad-sculpted facial features, the strong jaw, dark eyes, and a mouth that was to die for.

All it took was one look, and her bones began to melt.

Dear heaven…just thinking about what they’d shared almost brought her undone.

He knew. It was there in the depths of his eyes, the sensual curve of his mouth…an instant recognition that appeared fleetingly as he moved forward to greet her.

She wanted to obey an instinct to turn and run, and it was only courage that forced her to remain.

‘Mia.’

Her name on his lips sent the blood surging through her veins, heating her body to fever pitch, and it was all she could do to utter a brief acknowledgement.

Did he recognise her discomfort? Worse, did anyone else in the room sense it?