Seeing no way to avoid it without collapsing the agreement I’d struck, I nodded.

His hand dropped to my wrist. ‘We’ll discuss this further over lunch.’

Lunch was an extensive selection of meze fit for a small banquet—not the intimate setting for two laid out on one of the three sun-splashed terraces.

Axios must have spotted my surprise as he pulled out my chair because he shrugged. ‘I didn’t know your preferences so I instructed the chef to prepare a large selection.’

‘Oh...thank you.’

His gaze rested on me as he lowered himself into his own chair. ‘Again, you sound surprised. Believe it or not I want things to go as smoothly as possible for both of us.’

The knowledge that this included simple things such as what I ate widened the warm pool swelling inside me. Even cautioning myself that it was foolish to entertain such a sensation didn’t do anything to stem it as I helped myself to pitta bread and tzatziki, feta cheese and chickpea salad and succulent vine leaves stuffed with lamb and cucumber.

‘Where was Andreos born?’

His deep voice throbbed with one simple emotion—a hunger to know. And for the very first time since my decision to live life on my terms, twelve long months ago, I experienced a deep stirring of guilt.

But along with that came a timely warning not to divulge everything. Knowledge was power to men like Axios. Men like my father. And every precious uninterrupted moment with my son was as vital to me as the breath in my lungs.

Although in the past four days since my return, Axios had seemed a little more...malleable. While the man who’d laid down the law and walked away from me in Agistros still lurked in there somewhere, this Axios tended to ask more and command less.

But still I carefully selected the bits of information that wouldn’t connect too many dots for him and replied, ‘He was born in a small clinic in Kenya, where I was volunteering. He came a week early, but there were no complications and the birth was relatively easy.’

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. The glass of red wine he was drinking with his meal remained cradled in his hand and his expression reflective and almost...yearning as he stared into the middle distance.

‘I would’ve liked to be there,’ he rasped. ‘Very much.’

The warm pool inside me grew hotter, turning into a jet of feeling spiralling high with emotions I needed to wrestle under control before they got out of hand.

But even as the warning hit hard I was opening my mouth, uttering words I shouldn’t. ‘One of the nurses filmed the birth...if you’d like to see it?’

What are you doing sharing your most precious moments with him?

He’s Andreos’s father.

Axios inhaled sharply, the glass discarded as he stared fiercely at me. ‘You have a video?’

I jerked out a nod. ‘Yes. Would you—?’

‘Yes.’ The word was bullet-sharp, and the cadence of his breathing altered as his gaze bored into me. ‘Yes. Very much,’ he repeated.