Page 27 of The Heir Affair

It was obvious he was a man who didn’t usually talk about his emotions and that he was also used to giving orders and having them obeyed even more so. That he might never have had to compromise his needs was another a hurdle to overcome. But perhaps she needed to stop being so defensive, too.

He was a rich, powerful man—and that scared her, because she never wanted to let any man have the power to hurt her or reject her again. But if he was only interested in their physical chemistry, and the baby growing inside her, why should he be a threat? She didn’t love this man, she hadn’t been falling in love with him that day, she’d been falling for the fictitious Alex.

She folded her arms around her waist, aware of how virtually naked they both were, and the ripples of desire still skittering over her skin.

‘Could we have this conversation later? I’m really hungry,’ she said, knowing it was a cop-out, but also knowing she had to have her wits about her before she had this conversationwith him. ‘And I need to shower and get dressed.’ She frowned. ‘Although I have no idea where my clothes are.’

‘I told Meghan to have them cleaned,’ he said. ‘Until I can buy you a new wardrobe.’

Her temper spiked at his arrogance. ‘Xander, I don’t want you to buy me new clothes. I just need my own clothes, which you chose to leave behind in…’

‘Please, do not let us argue about this…’ He interrupted her, his rueful expression suggesting he knew he had crossed another line he was unaware of. ‘Again.’

She sighed. And thrust her hand through her bed hair. Having him buy her clothes—because they’d left Galicos without her belongings on his orders—did not seem all that trivial, but she was feeling too raw to argue the point. And at least he had said please… Perhaps that was progress, of a sort.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I would really appreciate it if you stopped making decisions for me. When you tell me you’re just trying to keep me safe, but you don’t discuss it with me, it reminds me of when my mum died and I didn’t have a say in anything that happened to me,’ she continued, suddenly desperate to make him understand how his high-handedness made her feel. Perhaps he didn’t like to talk about his feelings, or hers, but she would be damned if she would let him take her choices away from her again. ‘Everyone said they were doing what was best for me, and maybe they were, but they nevereverasked me what I wanted. And that sucked. I refuse to let you make me that powerless again, whether I’m pregnant with your child or not. Okay?’

His eyes darkened, his gaze intensifying even more, and the muscle in his jaw began twitching again.

He didn’t like being challenged. At all.

She braced herself for the familiar pushback—which she had endured as a grief-stricken teenager and learned to hate so much—the high-handed assumption he knew better than she did what was good for her.

But then something in his expression shifted. The hard muscle in his jaw softened, and the slabs of muscle on his broad chest lifted, and fell, as his breath guttered out on a long-suffering sigh. And then, to her utter astonishment, he nodded.

‘I understand,’ he said.

‘You do?’ she asked, wanting to believe him, but knowing she should not trust him too easily.‘How?’

Did he really understand how she felt? Or was he simply trying to placate and manipulate her again? To lull her into a false sense of security, so he could get what he wanted… The way he’d done on his private island five months ago.

His gaze became shuttered, and wary. And his cheek tensed again.

Yup, Xander Caras is so not big on ‘share and discuss’.

When he finally replied, though, his words were so carefully devoid of emotion, they had the harsh ring of painful truth.

‘My mother died too, when I was very young… And then…’ He let out a heavy sigh. ‘Ourbaba…woke me late one night…’

He paused, his gaze shifting to the horizon, but she suspected he wasn’t seeing the cliffs topped with grand hotels, the dots of boats moored in the port, or the mound of Vesuvius, which hovered over the Bay of Naples as the yacht powered closer to Sorrento.

‘He told me Theo was my responsibility now.’ He released an unsteady breath. ‘I thought it was all a dream. A bad dream… But when I woke the next morning, my father was gone and we never saw him again.’

She gasped, shocked by his words and what it revealed. His life had not been as charmed and entitled as she had believed.

‘How old were you?’ she asked, compassion welling in her chest.

‘Eleven, twelve… I do not remember.’ He shrugged. But even though his expression remained blank, the cautious shoulder hitch made her heart ache for him. ‘My age then is not important, as that morning I became a man,’ he finished, and she could see he believed that.

But how could that be true? No twelve-year-old deserved to be saddled with that much responsibility. How had he and his brother survived? Had they escaped the authorities, or been taken into care?

Whatever the outcome, though, what he had revealed explained a lot.

Was this why he was so determined to protect her and the baby? Not because he wanted to take her choices away from her, but because his own father had failed to protect him?

‘I’m so sorry that happened to you. It must have been terrifying,’ she said.

He frowned and colour slashed across his cheeks. ‘I do not require your pity.’