His hands spread in a manner that suggested a truce. ‘Neither do I, Calypso.’

As milestones went, this was another sizeable one in an evening filled with small earthquakes of surprise. My breath caught. Andreos whimpered. I looked down to find eyes so much his father’s wide and curious upon me. Reading my every expression just as intently as his father probed beneath my skin.

‘Maybe we should discuss this further later?’

‘I agree,’ Ax responded, then proceeded to watch me with hawk-like intensity all through the feed.

When I transferred Andreos to my other breast Ax’s gaze tracked my blush after dropping once to my nipple. But this time my self-consciousness was reduced. The natural act of providing sustenance for my baby was one I realised I didn’t mind sharing with his father.

Just as abruptly as he’d wrapped his sweet limbs around my arm Andreos dropped his legs and he detached with a loud plop.

Ax rose and sauntered over, wordlessly securing my dress as I sat Andreos on my lap and rubbed his back. I was rewarded with a loud burp three minutes later.

With a gentle caress of his son’s head, Ax stepped away. ‘I have a few phone calls to make. I’ll meet you in my suite when you’re done here.’

The reminder that our suites were interconnecting and the memory of what had happened in his sent a pulse of electricity through me as I watched him walk away.

His icy indifference had receded. Something had happened on that balcony tonight. The realisation that Ax didn’t tar me with the same brush as my father had eased something in me.

I was pondering the new path this might lead to as I laid a sleepy Andreos back in his cot and then entered the suite forty-five minutes later.

Both the living room and bedroom in Ax’s suite were empty. Entering my own suite, I crossed to the dressing room, quickly undressed, then slid on my night slip before throwing a matching silk gown over it.

I was brushing my hair at my dressing table when Ax walked in, both hands in his pockets.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes holding a skin-tingling expression and resting on me for a long moment before he prowled forward. He stopped behind me and I waited, my breath locked in my throat as one hand reached out, tugged the brush from me and slowly dragged it through my hair.

For a full minute he said nothing, and the hypnotic sensation of his movements flooded my system with torrid lust.

‘You’ll be pleased to know our strategy worked,’ he drawled eventually. ‘My family and friends believe we are happily reunited. I expect my business partners to fall in line by morning.’

Something shook inside me. The easy way he laid his hand on me was a stronger warning that things were shifting. That the conversation on the balcony had indeed sparked much more than a rebellion and the need to answer it in both of us.