CHAPTER FOUR
THEJUNEAFTERNOON had grown hot and humid by the time they arrived at his gleaming Manhattan high-rise on the southern edge of Central Park. As Theo pulled the clunky vehicle to the curb, the doorman hurried forward, scowling.
“Hey, you can’t park that here—” The young man drew back, shocked. “Mr. Katrakis?”
Theo muttered something under his breath, his jaw tight. Emmie glanced at him with amusement as he put the three-year-old minivan into Park. He was scowling, but driving a minivan for the first time was a well-known test and trial for any red-blooded male. Her smile lifted.
“And—Miss Swenson!” The doorman blinked in surprised recognition as he slid open her door. His jaw dropped as he saw the shape of her pregnant belly beneath her sundress. He stammered, “Er—is it still Miss Swenson?”
“Um...yes.” Her cheeks got a little hot, even as she told herself she had nothing to be ashamed of.
“Not for long,” Theo said flatly as he yanked her small duffel from the minivan’s rear with one hand. “We’re going to be married.”
The doorman looked speechless, then overjoyed. “Congratulations to you both! Mazel tov! A baby—and married!” Blinking, he looked back at the minivan. “I guess that explains it.”
Theo’s scowl deepened.
“Just tell Bernard to find a place for it, Arthur,” he said and tossed him the key, which the young man caught midair.
“Will you keep it?” Emmie asked as she followed Theo inside the grand foyer of the high-rise.
He shrugged. “It served its purpose.” Glancing back through the window at the street, he gave a sudden impish grin. “Maybe Arthur would like it as his Christmas tip.”
As their footsteps echoed over the marble floor, she snorted a laugh. Trust Theo to think of something like that. His good deeds were impulsive, almost always by accident. “He’s a little young for a minivan, don’t you think?”
“So am I,” he said darkly as they entered the private elevator. The door slid closed, and he looked at her. “But it was what you wanted. Were you comfortable on the ride?”
“Yes,” she said honestly.
Reaching out, he smoothed back a tendril of her blond hair. “Then, I suppose we can keep it.”
Looking up into his black eyes, Emmie shivered, and it wasn’t just from the elevator’s blast of air-conditioning. She felt something suddenly tremble deep inside her. Was it from the way he’d put her needs over his own in choosing the car? His gentle touch as he smoothed her hair? Or maybe just his casual use of the word we?
Whatever it was, Emmie couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself be seduced by it. She turned away, stiffening her shoulders. When the elevator door slid open with a ding, she bolted out.
With its high-ceilinged rooms and three spacious terraces, his multi-million-dollar triplex penthouse sprawled across the entire fifty-second and fifty-third floors of the building, equal parts beautiful and cold.
Not just cold in temperature, either, she thought, glancing up at the jagged crystal chandelier of the foyer. Taking a deep breath, she hurried into the cavernous great room, notable for its lack of color and Spartan furniture. The penthouse’s design had been done by a famous interior decorator last year. Emmie had organized it herself at her boss’s demand, but to her, the result was chilly, a museum of modern art that might be impressive to outsiders and Architectural Digest but was utterly unsupportive of the vibrant chaos of actual human lives.
There was no comfort in Theo’s home. Nothing but hard sofas that hurt your back to sit in, framed splatters of gray and black on the walls, and cutting-edge technological interfaces running lights, shades, entertainment, security and the rest.
It was impersonal, too. No photographs of family or proof Theo had ever had one. No clutter. No scattered detritus of hobbies, like her brothers’ dusty guitars or her father’s pile of hardcover thrillers. No pets. No messes. No inconvenient feelings of any kind.
Just as Theo preferred.
And yet she’d just promised to marry him?
Emmie swallowed, trying to calm the sudden rapid beat of her heart. It would be just a partnership, she told herself. Like they’d had before. She’d never let herself love him again. Maybe she’d let herself care just a little, just the amount that was appropriate since he was her baby’s father. But no more than that. So what that he’d bought her a minivan? It meant nothing. Buying things was easy for Theo Katrakis. He threw his money around so that no one would ever notice he never put his heart into anything.
At least he hadn’t until he’d stormed her wedding that morning and demanded she marry him instead.
Emmie’s eyes fell on Theo’s muscular back in the snug-fitting black T-shirt as he walked ahead of her, hearing the echo of his motorcycle boots and slap of her own flip-flops on the concrete floor. As his secretary, she’d previously only visited his home in a professional capacity, wearing a skirt suit and three-inch pumps. She’d typed out his orders and instructions on her tablet, or written in shorthand on a yellow legal pad, working long hours to make Theo’s life easier, to make it frictionless, in conjunction with Wilson and with Mrs. Havers, the live-out staff.
Now Emmie was slouching through here in a sundress and flip-flops, coming for lunch, like a guest. No. More than that.
Pregnant with his baby. His future wife.
What had she gotten herself into?
Theo’s butler stood waiting for them calmly in the two-story great room, in front of a wall of shining glass windows facing the terrace, and beyond that, the wide view of the park and surrounding city.
“Mr. Katrakis. Welcome home.”
Wilson seemed imperturbable as ever in his black suit, the penthouse immaculately clean and ready, as if his boss hadn’t just appeared with scant warning after seven months’ absence.
The butler’s eyes warmed when he saw Emmie. “Miss Swenson. I am pleased to see you’re back...” Then his gaze fell to her pregnant belly, clearly visible beneath her white sundress. His eyes actually flickered. A first. Clearing his throat, he said only, “Lunch is on the terrace, sir. Along with the paperwork from your lawyer.”
“Good.”
“What paperwork?” Emmie asked, but Theo only turned away. “Nice to see you, Wilson,” she called, then hurried to follow Theo through the sliding glass doors and out onto the terrace.
Outside was as ascetic in decor as inside, with only a few carefully placed tables and chairs. Stark planters with perfectly clipped greenery separated the terraces into separate spaces, for parties. A clear plexiglass railing, sturdy and bulletproof, revealed every inch of the jaw-dropping view of Central Park and New York City.
In the center of the largest terrace was the crown jewel, a grand dining table for twelve, beneath a pergola that seemed entirely constructed of greenery, white flowers and tiny white lights laced through the foliage.
Turning, Theo stood waiting beside the long table beneath the shade, holding out a chair. She quickened her pace.
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, letting him move her chair up after she sat. Theo had certainly never done that when she was his secretary.
Emmie looked at the delicious lunch spread across the table and hardly knew where to begin. Roast beef and turkey sandwiches on a platter, made with Mrs. Havers’s fresh-baked baguettes; baby greens with walnuts and blueberries and balsamic dressing; juicy watermelon and red strawberries; salty home-fried chips; chocolate chip cookies for dessert, so warm the chocolate was still oozing from the buttery crust.
Sitting beside her, Theo poured a glass of water from the glass carafe and silently handed it to her.
Taking the glass, Emmie drank deeply and immediately felt refreshed by the cold, sparkling water. It occurred to her that she hadn’t had anything to eat in hours, since last night really, when she’d forced down half a piece of cold pizza. She’d been too busy to eat, frantically decorating her wedding cake. That morning, she’d been too nervous, scared that her impending marriage to Harold Eklund was a big mistake.
Now, her appetite returned full force. She loaded her plate, and each thing tasted even better than the last, from the sweet-tart fruit to the crispy chips and tangy salad. She washed it all down with juice and more water, then dug in to her third sandwich, with the savory cheddar and roast beef with Dijon on chewy homemade bread.
Then her gaze fell on the clipped stack of papers, perhaps thirty pages of small-font type, sitting on the far end of the long table. Swallowing the last bite of her sandwich, she squinted. “What’s that?”
Theo calmly finished his glass of water, washing down his own plate of food which he’d already refilled several times. “Our prenuptial agreement.”
Her mouth fell open. She said, faltering, “Prenup?”
He tilted his head. “Surely you, of all people, knew there’d be one.”
After all her time working as his secretary, seeing Theo Katrakis fight for the best deal and always make sure he could never, ever get screwed by an opponent, Emmie should have expected it. But she hadn’t.
She stared at the prenup.
Resting on top of the paperwork was an expensive pen, edged with twenty-four-karat gold. It was the pen Theo always used, signing with a flourish, when he felt he’d made a particularly ruthless deal. Her mouth went dry.
He smiled, his white teeth glinting in the sun. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Emmie had talked herself into settling for a marriage of partnership if she couldn’t have love, but it seemed even that had been too much to hope for.
So much for trust. Theo was already planning their divorce.
“I spoke with my lawyer,” he said casually, eating the last chip from his plate, “and I’m afraid I can’t marry you without it.”
Turning, she stared out past the pergola to the vast greenery of Central Park and distant skyline, sharp against the blue sky.
“Emmie?”
“Fine.” Standing up, she grabbed the prenup and returned to her chair. “I’ll read it.”
She read every word, carefully. She felt him getting restless as the minutes passed. Like many rich, powerful men, Theo disliked unfilled time. He looked down at his phone, reading and typing with his thumbs, fidgeting in his chair.
Emmie took her time, licking a fingertip as she turned the pages, occasionally marking something in a margin for her own memory.
“It’s fine for you to get your own attorney to look it over, if you wish,” Theo said finally.
“It’s not exactly hard to understand,” she said and continued to placidly read in the shade of the pergola as Theo got up and paced the terrace. Finally, she looked up.
“All right. I’ll sign it.”
He returned quickly to the table, his handsome face relieved. “Good. I’ll get Wilson to witness, and we can have a judge here to perform the ceremony in—”
“But I have a few conditions of my own,” she said.
Theo sat in his chair, leaning back to cross his ankle over his knee, his body language relaxed, friendly now he’d gotten his way. He smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Just three small things.”
“I’m all ears.”
Emmie took a deep breath. “First. Our primary domicile will be in New York City.”
He tilted his head with a frown. “I travel constantly for work. You know that better than anyone.”
She looked at him evenly. “And the baby and I may travel with you...sometimes. But I want to raise our child in one place, a real home. Not drag him from place to place living out of a suitcase like some backpacker on a gap year.”
Theo set both feet back on the floor, sitting up straight, all his earlier casual friendliness gone now that there was a threat to his future convenience.
“Why here? Why not Aspen, St. Moritz, London?” he asked, listing the settings of his other multi-million-dollar residences. “Or even Greece? I just bought something there today...”
“You might own houses in those places, but they’re not home.”
“Home can be anywhere we are,” he challenged. “We could live happily in five-star hotels in Paris, Tokyo, Sydney. Why not—” his dark eyes lifted to hers “—Rio?”
She shivered. No. She wasn’t going to think about that night in Rio.
“New York is my home,” she said quietly. She clasped her hands in her lap so he couldn’t see them trembling. “My family is thirty minutes away. My friends live here. My best friend. And yours,” she added, thinking of Honora and Nico.
His jaw tightened. He was clearly irritated at her persistence. As his secretary, she’d always done what he wanted.
“Fine,” he bit out. “Your second condition?”
Emmie lifted her chin. “I want your permission to help my family as I see fit. Don’t worry, nothing crazy,” she rushed to say as he raised his eyebrows. “Just enough to replace what I do in Dad’s business and at home. Some money for his retirement. Maybe some of my brothers could go to community college or learn a trade, since I’m not sure they’re all interested in plumbing.” Another reason the business had been doing so badly the last few years.
“Very well.” Theo’s handsome face was cold, unreadable. “And the last condition?”
This was the hard one. Emmie took a deep breath.
“I release you from all the adultery clauses in the prenup.” She drummed her fingers nervously over the pile of papers. “As far as I’m concerned, you can sleep with whomever you want.”
Theo gasped, his eyes wide. She’d never seen him look so shocked.
“What?” he stammered. “Why?”
“Marriage lasts a lifetime. Or it should. And it would be unreasonable for me to expect you to never have sex again. So my final condition of marrying you is—sleep with anyone you want.” Emmie lifted her gaze to his. “As long as it’s not with me.”
Be married to Emmie and never make love to her?
Had she lost her mind?
Theo set his jaw. Taking a deep breath, he tried to control the pounding of his heart and make his voice sound reasonable. “You’re angry I want you to sign a prenup.”
“No,” Emmie said. Looking up at the pergola’s greenery and white blooms, she sighed with a wistful smile. “You are who you are.”
Theo had always tried to take pride in that, so why did her words make him feel like he’d somehow let her down? Worse—like he’d let himself down?
Stubbornly, he pushed the feeling aside. “So you’re trying to punish me for being practical and logical? You, of all people? Because that’s all a prenup is. A logistical plan.”
“Why would I punish you for that?” she agreed sardonically. Dappled sunlight caught gold and strawberry glints in her dark blond hair. “I love that you’re already planning our divorce.”
He ground his teeth. “I’m not...” Then he realized that a prenuptial agreement was, by definition, laying the groundwork for their divorce. He took a breath. “You must see that any man in my position has no choice but to ask for this. I’d be a fool otherwise.”
“And you’re not a fool.”
“Exactly.”
“Because you earned your money the hard way, all on your own.”
“Yes.”
“And it wouldn’t be fair if you were forced to share your money with some nobody ex-wife, who’d done absolutely nothing but raise your child.”
“Uh...” he said, sensing danger. He changed tactics. “So you’re just trying to delay signing it? By coming up with a crazy idea of celibacy that would only hurt us both?”
“I’m not delaying anything. I’ll sign right now.” Brushing through the pages, she marked it up with her pen and handed it to him. “Here. Call in Wilson to witness.”
Looking down, Theo saw she’d crossed out the clause that would have paid her millions in any divorce caused by his adultery. “You can’t be...” As he read further, his eyes widened. He looked up triumphantly. “You made a mistake.”
“Did I?”
“You forgot to cross out the same penalty if you cheat on me.” He snorted. “You can’t mean that you’d encourage me to sleep with every woman in the world with no problem, while if you so much as kiss another man, I could divorce you and you wouldn’t get a penny, not even if we’d been married thirty years. How would that be fair?”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” she said serenely.
“What?”
Emmie shrugged. “I’m not going to cheat on you. For me, marriage vows are sacred.”
Insinuating that they weren’t sacred for him? He ground his teeth. “So let me get this straight. You’re telling me to sleep around, while you’re planning to remain chaste as a virgin for the rest of your life.”
Her cool violet eyes met his. “For the rest of my life.”
Theo leaned forward in his chair, furious.
“Why, Emmie?” he ground out. “Tell me why.”
She looked down at her clasped hands in the lap of her white sundress, resting close to the swell of her belly. “I don’t have to explain.”
“You’re wrong. I deserve to know.” He licked his dry lips. “It can’t be...can’t...”
It couldn’t be that she didn’t want him.
Could it?
A hot breeze blew across the rooftop terrace, ruffling the papers on the table, swaying the flowers and vines woven above. Several pages of the prenup broke free from the paper clip and scuttered across the terrace. Rising, he went to pick them up.
All he could think about was their kiss that morning, how he’d felt her respond in his arms, rising like the center of a storm.
And in Rio—
After weeks of work closing a development deal, he and Emmie had both been exhausted. When she’d sighed that they never had time to see anything but the job site and conference rooms in the cities they visited, Theo had decided to prove her wrong. So after they’d closed the deal, he’d called in a favor and taken her to Mount Corcovado above the city after the site was officially closed for the night. The two of them were alone at the base of Rio’s most famous symbol, the massive Cristo Redentor statue, lit up in the darkness.
“It’s beautiful,” she had whispered, shivering. Seeing she was cold, even in the warm night, he’d put his jacket over her, and together they’d looked out at the lights of the city, scattered islands and moonlight over Guanabara Bay.
Then he’d paused, his hands still around her. He felt a tropical breeze blow against his overheated skin. Their eyes caught in the moonlight, and feeling like he was in a dream he’d lowered his mouth to hers.
Kissing Emmie at the top of Mount Corcovado, with Rio sparkling like stars beneath them, he’d felt dazed, drugged with desire. They’d wordlessly returned to the waiting sedan and their hotel on Ipanema Beach. The whole time, his brain was shrieking that he had to stop this, that it was madness, that if he didn’t stop it would destroy the best relationship he’d ever had.
Because after nearly a year and a half together, they’d become more than boss and secretary. Working together, day and night, sharing setbacks and triumphs, he’d come to consider Emmie a friend, and those he let even slightly past his guard were few.
But when they’d reached his hotel suite, she’d lifted her violet-blue eyes, hazy with desire, and licked her swollen lower lip.
“Kiss me,” she’d whispered.
And he’d been lost. He didn’t care that he was her boss. Even if it destroyed him and burned his entire fortune to ash in that moment, he would still have taken her. As the warm wind blew from the open balcony, twisting the curtains, he’d possessed her as his own and, discovering her virginity, known such pure and perfect ecstasy he thought he might die in her arms.
And in some ways, he had.
Emmie had disappeared the next morning, after she’d gotten the awful phone call from her father. He’d expected her to return after the funeral, but instead, she’d called him and said she was never coming back.
And since Rio, Theo had had no interest in other women, no matter how beautiful. What supermodel, what mere actress, could possibly compare to the glory he’d known in the arms of his secretary that forbidden night?
The night they’d conceived a child...
Now, Theo’s gaze lingered on her bare pink Cupid’s-bow lips, falling unwillingly to the swell of her breasts overflowing the modest neckline of her sundress. His body was taut with desire.
And yet Emmie wanted to refuse him her bed? She wanted to push him into the arms of other women?
“Whatever your reason, it can’t be you don’t want me,” he said hoarsely. “I know you do. Just as I want you.”
Emmie shifted in her chair. The shade from the pergola’s foliage left patterns of light and dark against her skin, the curve of her cheekbone, the sweep of her lashes that seemed to tremble before she turned away, looking out at the Manhattan skyline.
“Wanting you isn’t the problem,” she said finally.
“Then, what is?”
Rising to her feet, Emmie turned away, walking toward the clear railing of the terrace’s edge. She looked out onto the view of Central Park and sun-drenched blue sky. Rising to his feet, he followed her.
“Emmie,” he said softly, coming up behind her. “What is it?”
She whirled around. “I’m afraid, all right?”
“Afraid?” He was bewildered. “Of what? Of me?”
“Afraid...” Emmie lifted her gaze, her lovely face anguished. “If I sleep with you again,” she whispered, “I’m afraid you’ll break my heart.”
“Break your...?” Theo staggered back, his brow furrowed in shock. That would have to mean... “You can’t be saying that you...love me?”
“I know, right?” She looked away. “What kind of fool would that make me?”
He exhaled in relief. She’d scared him for a second. Relieved, he gave a low laugh. “We both know you’re too smart for that. You’re practical. Modern. You don’t do feelings. You’re like me. Plus, you know me too well. Remember what you said when I first asked you to work for me?”
She didn’t join his laugh. “I said pigs would fly before I could ever love you.”
“So,” he tilted his head, “how could I ever break your heart?”
Emmie looked down at her flip-flops.
“No matter what you might think right now, Theo, we both know you can’t commit to one woman for long. You can’t bear to be tied down. There’s no way you could be faithful to one woman for the rest of your life. And no matter how practical I might be,” she said softly, “I can’t be the lover of a man who won’t be true.” She looked up. “The only way it won’t hurt me is to never sleep with you again. If we can just be partners. Friends.”
Theo stared at her, his whole body thrumming with emotion. “You think I can’t be faithful?”
Avoiding his eyes, Emmie snorted, shaking her head. It was strange to see bitter cynicism on her young face, usually so earnest. “I’ve never seen you commit to anyone, Theo. Even before I started working for you, I knew you were a playboy. How could I possibly be the woman to tame you?” She looked down at her old sundress, her flip-flops, the chipped pink polish on her toes. “Look at me. And look,” she said as she lifted her chin, “at you.”
Theo shifted his motorcycle boots against the terrace. His black clothes, which had seemed so reasonable on his private jet that morning, were now far too hot in the sun.
Or maybe it was having Emmie so close.
He exhaled. He knew there was some truth to what she said. He’d never been interested in settling down. No, more than that—he’d actively avoided it, at all costs. He knew he was attractive to women, in a thuggish sort of way, just as he knew that he was good at driving and ruthless in business. He used what he had as a tool to get what he wanted, nothing more and nothing less. His face had been given to him by his parents—by the father he’d never known, and the mother he didn’t want to remember. He couldn’t take credit for his face, apart from the fight that had broken his nose at fifteen.
He could take some credit for his body, due to frequent exercise at boxing gyms. But that was to alleviate stress. A therapist had once told him exercise could help relax him and calm his mind. He’d never gone back to the therapist—he didn’t like how she’d tried to pry into things best left buried—but he’d taken her suggestion about exercise. It often helped to pound a punching bag or willing opponent until he was exhausted and covered with sweat. Drinking could also work, if he didn’t mind the hangover. And sex, though that often had unfortunate consequence of dealing with a woman begging for his love or attention afterward.
Work was the best distraction of all. Until that night in Rio, it had been the only thing he could always rely on, better than any drug, to help smooth the rough edges of the day and the hollow emptiness in his soul.
Then the night with Emmie had changed everything. For the only time in his life, he’d truly been able to forget everything he wanted to forget in an ecstasy so deep it was almost holy.
And now she wanted to refuse him? She wanted to live as his wife, in his home, raising his child—but deny him her body, pushing him into the cold, unappealing arms of other women?
“You’re wrong, Emmie,” he said in a low voice. He lifted his eyes to hers. “I can be faithful. I have been.”
She swallowed. “What are you saying?”
Coming closer, Theo pulled her into his arms beside the railing with all of Central Park and New York City at their feet.
“Since our night together, there’s been no one else. No one. And I swear to you now—” he searched her gaze fiercely “—if you marry me, for the rest of my life you’ll be the only one.”