Christmas Baby For The Greek (Mills & Boon Modern) by Jennie Lucas

Author:Jennie Lucas [Lucas, Jennie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Modern
Published: 2019-10-09T23:00:00+00:00

Stavros stood out on the terrace, leaning against the white balustrade overlooking the cliff. He was still dressed in a tailored black button-down shirt and trousers that fit snugly against his body. He’d thought of changing to casual clothes, but there was no point in pretending to be casual, when the truth was, he felt anything but.

A table had been set up on the terrace, with three place settings. But he knew his father would not come.

His jaw tightened, and he looked behind him at the house of his childhood. He felt his back break out in a cold sweat. How unhappy he’d been here. He still remembered his mother’s wretchedness and heartbreak. His father hadn’t just been selfish. He’d been cruel to her, flaunting his affairs, just to prove his power over her.

Now, the sprawling white villa glowed gold, orange and red, illuminated like King Midas’s palace by the sun setting over the Aegean to the west.

It had been a shock to return here. He wondered how long he’d been frozen when he’d arrived in the convertible, staring up at the house. He’d been stunned to see Eleni. Like Vassilis, the guard, she’d grown much older. Even the villa, which had loomed so large in his youth, had grown much smaller. Or maybe, like Eleni had said, it was just Stavros who’d grown larger.

He’d lived here until he was eight. He had strong memories of his father’s violent arguments with his mother, that had left Aristides shouting insults, and Rowena weeping. When, after years of emotional abuse, his mother could stand no more, she’d announced she was divorcing him and moving back to Boston.

In response, Aristides had coldly informed Stavros he could either remain in Greece as a rich man’s son, or go to Boston to be a “nobody” and a “pitiful mama’s boy.”

Stavros had made his choice, and his father had been livid. He’d spoken with Aristides only once since then, when Stavros was seventeen. After months of ignoring his son’s increasingly frantic phone messages, his father finally answered the phone on the day Stavros called to tell him Rowena had died.

“Why would I care about that?” Aristides had responded.

Now, every time Stavros thought of his mother’s heartbreak, how hard she’d tried to love her husband through his betrayals, how hard she’d worked to try to support her child when the divorce had left her with nothing but custody of him…he was furious. His mother had died from overwork and grief, as much as the cancer that had claimed her life.

No wonder, when Stavros had gotten his own diagnosis, he’d been so sure he would obviously die. How could he live, when his mother—so much better and kinder than he—had not?

Setting his jaw, he stared out bleakly at the sea. The sun was setting, leaving a red trail against the dark water that looked almost like a trail of blood.

It was a strange irony that he had lived. And now he had a son of his own. He would not abandon Freddie.

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