The Giannakis Bride(30)

"Come with me," he urged. "She should hear it from you."

"I'd love to, but I have a patient I need to get back to, one whose prospects are, sadly, not nearly as favorable as Poppy's."

He caught both her hands in his and squeezed them. "I owe you  everything, Noelle," he said earnestly. "How do I ever repay you for all  you've done?"

"By being happy for a change. Heaven knows, it's been a long time coming."

He watched her leave, then turned back into the house, eager to find  Brianna. But she was not, as he expected, at their table in the  ballroom, nor was she on the dance floor. She sat alone on a hard wooden  bench in the grand hall, close by the front doors, her spine poker  straight, her face empty of the animation she'd shown earlier, her  incredible blue eyes staring sightlessly ahead.

Crossing the floor, he dropped down beside her. "Brianna, what are you doing out here?"

"Waiting for you," she replied, the chill in her voice enough to send the temperature plummeting.

Nice going, Giannakis, he thought ruefully. She knocks herself out  looking gorgeous for a fancy ball she never really wanted to attend in  the first place, and you leave her to fend for herself among a bunch of  strangers. "Look, I'm sorry I abandoned you, sweetheart. It was  unavoidable, but I'm here now, and the night's still young. Would you  like to dance?"                       
       
           



       

"No," she said flatly. "I would like to leave."

"Okay … " Baffled, he observed her more closely. He didn't particularly  want to stay, either. He wanted to be alone with her, and celebrate in  private news that was better than anything they could have hoped for.  But he didn't have to be a rocket scientist to recognize that at this  point, and for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom, she was in no mood  to listen to anything he might say, let alone celebrate with him.  "Brianna, what's happened? Are you not feeling well? Has someone said  something to upset you?"

A brittle laugh escaped her, but her eyes, he noticed, were suddenly sheened in tears.

"Never mind," he said hastily. "Talking can wait. Let's get out of here."

Ignoring the way she shied away from him as if he had the plague, he  slipped his arm around her waist and propelled her outside, and down the  wide front steps to the porte-cochere where the parking valets waited.  During the few minutes it took for his car to be brought round, he kept  hold of her. He might as well have been hugging a marble statue.

He ushered her into the car as if she were made of china, so  persuasively concerned, so convincingly tender, that it was all Brianna  could do not strike out blindly and rake her nails down his beautiful,  deceiving face. Instead she huddled in her seat, as far away from him as  she could possibly get. Turning to the window, she stared blindly out,  seeing nothing as he drove through the streets of Kifissia. Hearing  nothing but Noelle's concise summation of a situation she herself hadn't  begun to guess.

 … there were no guarantees … you knew from the outset the best possible  candidate is always a sibling … if you and Brianna were to have a baby …   And underscoring that elegant English accent, Dimitrios's dark exotic  voice and her own rash, impassioned response.

 … I have no profilaktiko … .

 … I don't care … I want to have your baby … . Furtively she wiped at the lone  tear trickling down her face. He'd hurt her before, but never like  this. She felt emotionally bruised, battered and betrayed. Flayed to the  bone by his deception, every loving touch, every passionate encounter,  every whispered endearment exposed for the lies they were. It had all  been a big sham from start to finish. He'd bamboozled her into believing  he loved her, when all he really wanted was to use her.

Except, she realized with another cold sense of shock, he'd never  actually used the word love. Never once come right out and said, "I love  you." Rather, he'd told her he wanted her and he needed her. And now  she knew why. Knew it had nothing to do with love and everything to do  with expedience.

They'd left the lights of the city behind and were headed down the  eastern slopes of Mount Penteli when he finally spoke, and this time he  sounded every bit as hard and callous as she now knew him to be. "Okay,  Brianna, I've had about enough of the silent treatment. I can't fix the  problem if I don't know what it is, so how about spelling it out for  me?"

Struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, "There is no problem. I have decided I can't marry you, that's all."

"I see. And why is that?" he inquired evenly.

"Because I don't want a husband who sees me only as a means to an end."

"What the devil are you talking about?"

Tired of the games, she said, "I followed you tonight, when you went off  with Noelle. I heard her tell you I didn't measure up as a donor for  Poppy."

"Is that what this is all about?" He actually had the gall to laugh.  "Sweetheart, it's not a question of your not measuring up, it's-"

"A question of how soon you can get me pregnant. Yes, I heard that, too.

"What?" There was no laughter this time, just well-feigned incredulity, which she didn't buy for a second.

"'The ideal donor is always a sibling,'" she recited in her best imitation of Noelle's precise English diction.

"And?"

"And I'm the only woman still alive who can give you a child whose DNA  will match Poppy's. If that's all you ever wanted from me, why didn't  you just say so in the first place, and spare us both this masquerade?"                       
       
           



       

By then they'd reached the coast and were just minutes away from the  villa. "Let me get this straight," he said, slowing to let a cat cross  the road. "You can't donate bone marrow to Poppy, but if you have my  baby, we can use it in your place, instead?"

"That's right. I should be wearing your ring through my nose, not on my finger."

He turned into the drive, parked at the front door and killed the  engine, but made no move to get out of the car. Instead he hefted the  keys in his palm and stared through the darkened windshield at the  moonlit walls of the house. "Whatever happened to the idea of truth and  trust between us, Brianna? You're the only woman I've ever loved. Why  isn't that enough for you?"

"Because your idea of love isn't the same as mine. As for truth and  trust, they're just a couple of five-letter words you throw into the mix  whenever you think they might get you what you want."

"I wanted you," he said harshly. "I thought we had the ideal recipe for  marital bliss. Sexual electricity, desire, passion, yearning-everything  we had before, except this time, it was better because we believed in  one another. And all the time, the same vital ingredient was missing.  You never could quite bring yourself to accept that what we had was  real. I'm surprised you're still here. Usually you don't bother to stop  long enough to say why, before you decide to cut and run."

"Don't worry. I'll be gone tomorrow."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll try to come up with an explanation for Poppy when she asks about you."

"I won't desert Poppy. I love her dearly and I'd do anything in my power  to make her well. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to  do. I'll let you know which hotel I'm at, in case you need to reach me."

She flung open the car door, but before she could escape, he wrenched  her back and pinned her to the seat. "Oh, no, you don't!" he snarled.  "This is one time you'll stay and listen."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say."

"I don't care! First, I have a piece of advice you'd do well to heed.  The next time you decide to eavesdrop on someone else's conversation, do  yourself a favor and make sure you listen in on everything before you  leap to unwarranted conclusions."

"Thank you so much," she said acidly. "Anything else you feel compelled to share?"

"Yes," he replied. "I am not Poppy's biological father."

It was her turn to stare in disbelief. "What did you say?"

"I am not Poppy's biological father, I have no idea who is, and nor do I  care. She is my daughter in every way that matters, and I would give my  life for her. That, Brianna, is how I define love."

"But Noelle said-"

"That even if you and I were to have a child solely for the purpose of  harvesting his or her stem cells, it wouldn't necessarily help Poppy and  that, of course, is something I've known since the day I tested as a  possible donor myself, and discovered not only that I wasn't a match but  also that there was no way I could possibly be her biological parent.  So you see, my dear, my proposal to you was never contingent on your  acting as a brood mare. Oh, yes, and one last thing-I learned tonight  that we've found an unrelated donor who's a perfect match for Poppy.  That was the other piece of news Noelle wanted to convey. She'd have  told both of us yesterday, when she also learned of your unsuitability.  But rather than risk a second disappointment, she waited until she  received absolute confirmation that the other person, a  twenty-three-year-old medical student from Chile, is available.  Apparently, he is and will be here on Tuesday."