He would soon have a daughter who’d need him to protect and provide for her. This baby was his family.
His only family.
Gripping his hands at his sides, Leonidas went toward the building. He gave a sharp shake of his head to his driver, waiting with the Rolls-Royce at the curb, and went forward alone into the apartment building. He opened the door, going into the contemporary glass-and-steel lobby, with modern, sparse furniture. He headed straight for the elevator, until he found his way blocked.
“Can I help you, sir?” the doorman demanded.
“Daisy Cassidy,” he barked in reply. “I know the apartment number.”
“You must wait,” the man replied. Going to the reception desk, the man picked up his phone. “Your name, sir?”
“Leonidas Niarxos.”
The doorman spoke quietly into the phone, then looked up. “I’m sorry, Miss Cassidy says she has nothing to say to you. She asks you to leave the building immediately.”
A curse went through his mind. “Tell her she can talk to me now or talk to an army of lawyers in an hour.”
The doorman raised his eyebrows, then again spoke quietly. With a sigh, he hung up the phone. “She says to go up, Mr. Niarxos.”
“Yes,” he bit out. He stalked to the elevator, feeling the doorman’s silently accusing eyes on his back. But Leonidas didn’t give a damn. His fury sustained him as he pushed the elevator button for the fifth floor.
He straightened, his jaw tight. He was no longer a helpless five-year-old. No longer a heartsick fourteen-year-old. He was a man now. A man with power and wealth. A man who could take what he wanted.
And he wasn’t going to let Daisy steal his child away.
The elevator gave a cheerful ding as the door slid open. He grimly stalked down the hall to apartment 502. Lifting his hand, he gave a single hard knock.
The door opened, and he saw Daisy’s furious, tear-stained face.
In spite of everything, his heart twisted at the sight. Her pale green eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, were luminous against her skin, with a few adorable freckles scattered across her nose. Her lips were pink and full, as she chewed on her lower lip, as if trying to bite back angry words.
Her body, in the fullness of pregnancy, was lush and feminine. She’d taken off her long puffy coat, and was dressed simply, in a long-sleeved white shirt over black leggings. But she was somehow even more alluring to him than the night of the cocktail party, when she’d been wearing that low-cut green dress, with her breasts overflowing. He’d thought the dress was simply tight, but now he realized her breasts had already been swollen by pregnancy. Pregnant. With his baby.
A baby she was trying to keep from Leonidas, who was here and ready to take responsibility. Who wanted to be a father!
Interesting. He blinked. He hadn’t realized it until now. He’d always thought he had no interest in fatherhood, no interest in settling down. What did he know about being a good parent?
But now he wanted it more than anything.
Daisy tossed her head with an angry, shuddering breath. “How dare you threaten me with lawyers?”
“How dare you try to steal my child?” he retorted, pushing into the apartment without touching her.
It was the first time he’d been back here since their days as lovers. The apartment looked just as he remembered, modern and new, with a gas fireplace and an extraordinary view of the bridge and Manhattan skyline. The only new changes were a slapdash Van Gogh pastiche now hanging in the foyer, and the large dog bed sitting near the fire, where a long-limbed, floppy yellow dog drowsed.
Leonidas took a deep breath, dizzy with the memory of how happy he’d been here, in those stolen hours when he’d been simply Leo, nothing more. This was enemy territory—Daisy’s home—but it somehow still felt warm. Far more than his own multimillion-dollar homes around the world.
He felt suddenly insecure.
“You said this is Franck Bain’s apartment,” he said slowly.
“So?”
“Why has he let you stay so long? Are you lovers?”
Closing the door behind him, Daisy said coldly, “It’s none of your business, but no. He was my father’s friend, and he is trying to help me. That’s all.”
“Why would I believe that?”
“Why would you even care?” She looked at him challengingly. “I’m sure you’ve had lovers by the score since you tossed me out of your house.”
But he hadn’t. He hadn’t had sex in five months—not since their last time together. But that was the last