“Because we had sex?”
He leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Because we have once again established an area of our relationship that is nothing but beautiful.”
“I won’t let you seduce me into marriage,” she said vehemently.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his wandering hands now wreaking havoc with her breathing.
She didn’t answer and he laughed, pulling her from the bed toward the shower. “Come, we will bathe together and save time.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALEXANDRA had been worried Dimitri would try to make love to her in the shower again, but he was as good as his word. They were dressed in record time and Dimitri was on the phone to his assistant when a gentle rat-a-tat-tat sounded on the door.
“Mother,” she breathed.
Dimitri turned from the phone and gave her a sharp look. He cut the connection abruptly and crossed the room to open the door. Cecelia Dupree stood on the other side, looking fragile and quite lovely in her pale pink Moschino suit.
“You must be Xandra’s mother,” Dimitri said as he led Cecelia through the door.
Alexandra had to stifle a groan at his slip of the tongue. Her mother’s face pinched and she swung on Alexandra, for once forgetting the social niceties. “So, this is what you do when you’re living high as Xandra Fortune. Have you no sense of decorum at all? You’re in New York now, where you are known as Alexandra Dupree. What do you think New Orleans society will say when they discover you’ve spent the night with some foreigner in his hotel room?” she asked in an outraged voice. “Think of your sister. The scandal could adversely affect Hunter’s business dealings.”
“I sincerely doubt Hunter’s business associates care one way or the other about the behavior of Madeleine’s pregnant sister, as for New Orleans society…I’m not taking out an ad in the paper. Why should anyone back home know?” Or care, she asked herself silently. Her mother lived in such a rarified milieu, she didn’t know how ninety percent of the world thought and functioned.
“You are a Dupree,” her mother said as if that should explain it all. “Yet, by the look of this,” she said, waving a newspaper in Alexandra’s face, “you have completely forgotten that fact. How could you allow this sort of information to become public knowledge?”
Alexandra put her hand out toward Cecelia. “May I see, Mama? The accused has a right to know the charges.”
Cecelia flung the paper toward Alexandra with an absolutely surprising lack of restraint. When Alexandra saw the headline and pictures, she understood why. One picture was of her and Dimitri leaving the restaurant they’d had lunch in yesterday. The other was of her and Dimitri yelling at each other at Chez Renée. The headline read, “Greek Tycoon and Lover Reunite: Does Petronides Now Believe the Baby is His?”
With a sense of impending dread, Alexandra read the article. She was named as the famous French model Xandra Fortune and the quiet living Alexandra Dupree. The writer speculated as to the reason for her dual personas and the effect her pregnancy had had on Dimitri’s scuffed plans to marry Phoebe Leonides. Dimitri’s denial that he was the father was quoted, apparently having been overheard by the enterprising photographer or someone who’d been with him.
The writer went on to say it appeared Dimitri now accepted his role as father and ended the article with a pithy comment regarding a possible marriage between them.
Alexandra felt sick and she made a mad dash for the bathroom. When she finished retching, Dimitri was there with a cold wet washcloth for her face and a glass of water to rinse her mouth. When she was done, he swung her into his arms and carried her back into the main room of the suite. He set her gently on the cream colored sofa.
“I’m going to order some food, all right moro mou?”
She couldn’t take it in. She couldn’t even look at her mother, knowing how furious and disappointed in her Cecelia was bound to be. She’d spent years living two lives to protect her mother from embarrassment and possible scandal, only to have it all torn apart with one sleazy newspaper article. “Dimitri, they know…Everyone knows about us, about the baby, about Xandra Fortune.”
He laid his finger against her lips. “Shh. All will be well. You must trust me. Now what do you want to eat?”
“Dry toast and maybe a little fruit.”
He shook his head, his expression wry. “That is not sufficient sustenance for you and the baby. I will order your dry toast, fruit and some food besides, I think.”
“Why ask me if you plan to do what you want anyway?” she asked petulantly, glad to focus on something less volatile and damaging than the newspaper article.
He chuckled. “Perhaps because I like to hear your voice?”
Her mother gave a most unladylike snort, reminding both Dimitri and Alexandra she was there.
Dimitri turned to Cecelia. “I understand your concern and will do everything in my power to mitigate it, but I will not allow you to harangue your daughter. She is in too fragile a state right now.”
“How dare you?” her mother demanded.
“Can I order anything for you?” Dimitri asked, ignoring her mother’s outraged question.
Apparently realizing when she was faced with a will stronger than her own, Cecelia subsided. She took a seat in one of the armchairs opposite the couch, her expression dour. “Tea might settle my nerves.”
“Then I shall order you some without delay.”
He went to the phone to do so, but kept his body toward them as if he were watching her mother to make sure she said nothing to upset Alexandra. His concern felt nice and Alexandra had to admit she was glad she wasn’t alone to face her mother’s recriminations. When he finished making the order, Dimitri returned to sit next to Alexandra on the smallish sofa. He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly then turned the full force of his charm on her mother.
“Mrs. Dupree, allow me to introduce myself. I am Dimitri Petronides.” His smile would have melted stone. He stood and leaned toward Cecelia, extending his hand. “It is an honor to meet the mother of the woman I intend to marry.”
Alexandra sucked in air so fast she choked on it while her mother’s “just sucked on a lemon” look turned to calculated charm in the space of a single heartbeat. Cecelia patted her perfectly coiffed ash-blond hair and smiled at Dimitri.
“Please, you must call me Cecelia. Marriage will be just the thing to alleviate the scandal. I’m so glad you’d already thought of it. Alexandra’s been so impetuous these past six years and I declare the last three months have been the worst.”
Alexandra gritted her teeth at her mother’s digs. “I haven’t agreed to marry him.”
Cecilia dismissed Alexandra’s words with a wave of her hand. “Of course you will, dear. Now let’s start making plans. It will have to be a quiet affair if there’s any hope of avoiding more scandal.”
Alexandra hadn’t told her mother anything about Dimitri, including the details of their breakup. But she doubted it would have made any difference in the older woman’s current outlook. In Cecelia Dupree’s mind, babies came after marriage. Therefore, to preserve appearances, Alexandra had to be married.
“This isn’t the Middle Ages, Mother. You cannot give my hand in marriage to a man without my permission.” She turned her head to meet Dimitri’s eyes. “And you can’t take it.”
“Alexandra, is that reporter correct? Is this man the father of your child?”
Alexandra’s vocal chords froze. An affirmative answer would be her downfall with her mother.
“Yes,” Dimitri said when Alexandra refused to.
“Then there can be no question that you will marry him.”
“On the contrary.” Alexandra didn’t like the feeling of pressure emanating from both her mother and Dimitri. “I’m perfectly capable of having this baby alone. If that upsets you, I’m sorry.”
She was proud of her little speech until her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Wasn’t six years spent worried someone would discover my daughter’s lifestyle enough a cross to bear? Now everyone knows.” She sniffed and Alexandra felt a tug on her own emotions even though she suspected the tears were a tool as well used as her mother’s Southern charm. “Now you balk at making things right. Think of the baby,” was Cecelia last emotive appeal.
“You say lifestyle like my being a model was the same as selling my favors to the highest bidder.” Alexandra was more comfortable on the familiar ground of arguing her career choice rather than her current predicament.
Her mother shuddered. “How can you say such a thing? To even imply…” Clearly words failed her and two tears spilled over to trail down her powdered cheeks.
Alexandra felt the familiar sense of failure well up in her. “I’m sorry, Mother. I shouldn’t have said it.”