a wistful smile. “Claudia—that’s my boss—said she didn’t need me to give notice. Turns out my job sitting at the cash register was not actually that useful, but she couldn’t fire a pregnant single mother.” She paused. “But now that I’ve got a billionaire baby daddy...”
Leonidas smiled. “You told her about me?”
She paused, then looked away. “Not everything.”
Silence fell as his driver took them out of Brooklyn, crossing back over the bridge into Manhattan.
Leonidas watched her, feeling strangely sad. He fought to push the emotion away. Work, he thought. Work could save them.
“So you haven’t heard of Vertigris or Helios,” he said finally. “What about Bandia?”
Still looking out the window, Daisy shook her head.
“It’s a small luxury brand that does only maternity clothing and baby clothing. We could go there to look for your coat.”
“Okay.” Her voice was flat.
“Or Astrara. Have you heard of that?”
Daisy finally looked at him, her face annoyed. “Of course I’ve heard of Astrara. I don’t live under a rock.”
Finally, she’d actually heard of one of his brands. He was slightly mollified. He maybe should have started with Astrara, as famous as Gucci or Chanel. “Which do you prefer to visit first? Bandia? Astrara? One of the others?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters,” he said. He waited.
Daisy sat back against the seat. “Bandia,” she sighed. “It sounds like it has the most reasonable prices.”
Leonidas was careful not to disabuse her of that notion as they arrived at the grand Fifth Avenue boutique. After pulling in front, the driver turned off the engine. Tourists passing on the sidewalk gawked at them.
“Even in Manhattan,” she grumbled. “Everyone stares at you.”
Hiding a smile, Leonidas turned to help Daisy out. “They’re looking at you.”
Biting her lip, she took his hand, but to his disappointment, dropped it as soon as she was out of the SUV. As they walked into the boutique, Bandia’s shop assistants audibly gasped.
“Mr. Niarxos!”
“You honor us!”
“Sir! We are so happy to...”
He cut them off with a gesture toward Daisy: “This is my—” future wife...baby mama...lover... “—dear friend, Miss Cassidy. She needs a new wardrobe. I trust you can help her find things to her taste.”
“Wardrobe!” Daisy gasped. She immediately corrected, “I just need a coat.”
The assistants turned huge, worshipful eyes to Daisy. “Welcome to Bandia!”
“Miss Cassidy, may I get you some sparkling water? Fruit?”
“This way, if you please, to the private dressing suite, madam.”
Perfect, Leonidas thought in approval. Just as he’d expected. He’d send the CEO of Bandia a note and let her know he approved of staff training levels.
“Madam, what type of clothes do you prefer?” The store’s manager hurried to pay her obeisance as well. “Our newest releases for the fall line? Or perhaps the latest for resort?”
Daisy stared at them like a deer in headlights. “I just...need a coat,” she croaked.
“Bring everything and anything in her size,” Leonidas answered. “So she can decide.”
They were both led to the VIP dressing suite, which had its own private lounge, where Leonidas could sit on a white leather sofa and drink champagne, as salesgirls brought rack after rack of expensive, gorgeous clothing for Daisy to try on in the adjacent changing room behind a thick white velvet curtain.
“I don’t need all these clothes,” she grumbled to Leonidas. “Why should I try them on, when I don’t need them?”
“Market research?”
“Fine,” she sighed.
Reluctantly, she tried on outfit after expensive outfit. Each time she stepped in front of the mirrors in the lounge, the salesgirls joyfully exclaimed over her.
“You look good in everything!”
“Beautiful!” another sighed.
“I hope when I’m pregnant someday I’ll look half as good as you!”
It was true, Leonidas thought. Daisy looked good in everything. As she stood in front of the mirrors in an elegant maternity pantsuit, he marveled at her chic beauty.
“Do you like it?” he called.
Glancing back at him, she shrugged. “It’s all right.”
“Just all right?”
“It’s not very... comfortable.”
He frowned. That wasn’t something he ever worried about. “Comfortable?”
“I prefer my T-shirts and stretch pants,” she said cheerfully.
“Keep looking.”
Rolling her eyes a little, Daisy continued to try on clothes for the next hour, as Leonidas sat on the leather sofa, sipping complimentary Vertigris champagne—one of Liontari’s other brands, from a two-hundred-year-old vineyard in France. His company was nothing if not vertically integrated.
Every time she stepped out of the changing room, to stand in front of the large mirrors in the lounge, Leonidas asked hopefully, “Do you like it?”
Always, the shrug. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?” A thousand-dollar maternity tunic was fine?
“Not as good as my usual T-shirts. Which, by the