Markos arched mocking brows. ‘I only had to mention that you lived in this particular apartment building and he knew exactly who you were, and how you take your coffee. So much for him not noticing you, hmm?’ he added teasingly as Eva tacitly invited him into her apartment by opening the door wider and stepping aside.
Her apartment seemed much smaller once Markos was inside, Eva noted—his very presence, in faded denims and a casual black shirt unbuttoned at the throat, with the sleeves turned up to just below his elbows, seemed to dominate even the air she breathed in so shallowly as she entered the sitting room behind him.
‘This is beautiful.’ Markos placed the
cardboard tray down on the coffee table as he looked about the comfort of Eva’s sitting room. The décor was in autumn colours—reds, golds, oranges, and all shades in between—and a perfect foil for her dark-haired golden-eyed beauty. ‘It suits you.’
Eva’s face was a little pale this morning, but otherwise she looked as arrestingly beautiful as usual, in fitted black denims and a pale lemon T-shirt.
‘Here.’ Markos picked up the coffee he had brought for her and held it out to her. ‘You look as if you need it,’ he added.
Her hand shook slightly as she took the insulated cup from him. ‘And then we’ll talk?’ She smiled warily.
‘And then we’ll talk,’ Markos confirmed, frowning as he once again noted the fragility of Eva’s appearance.
He had spent a restless evening and a sleepless night after Eva had left his apartment the evening before, as he’d tried to accept that they were never going to see each other again. He had spent hours going over and over everything they had said during that last conversation, ultimately coming to the conclusion that none of it was of the least consequence when all he wanted was to see Eva again. To be with her. Once Markos had accepted that truth, everything else had become unimportant.
Convincing Eva to feel the same way about him might take a little longer!
‘Markos…?’ Eva had no idea what thoughts were currently going through Markos’s head—when had she ever known what this enigmatic man was really thinking?—but whatever they were, they were causing him to frown darkly.
He shook off that darkness as he straightened. ‘You said you wanted to speak to me this morning…?’
She moistened her lips before speaking. ‘I believe we admitted we wanted to speak to each other?’
He gave a derisive smile. ‘I’m really not in the mood to play games today, Eva.’
‘Me either,’ she assured him.
This situation, the conversation they needed to have, was too important for that.
‘Which one of us should go first?’
Markos was tired—not only from his lack of sleep the night before, but by the way the two of them seemed to be skirting so warily around each other this morning.
‘Will you marry me, Eva?’
‘What?’ she managed to burst out, eyes wide and disbelieving, her cheeks paling even more before colouring with a deep flush.
Not the most encouraging reaction to his first marriage proposal—the only marriage proposal Markos intended ever making. If Eva didn’t accept him, then he couldn’t see himself ever wanting to be with anyone else.
‘I asked if you would become my wife,’ he replied. ‘Don’t turn it down without due consideration,’ he added quickly, when Eva seemed to be searching for the right words in answer to his proposal. No doubt a refusal that she hoped would cause the least embarrassment for both of them.
‘Are you serious?’ she finally managed to ask.
He nodded tersely. ‘Think about it, Eva. I’m very wealthy. Socially acceptable—’
‘I’ve already been married to someone with those particular attributes,’ she reminded him huskily. ‘It was a disaster!’
‘I have no reason to believe I’m infertile,’ Markos continued firmly. ‘Although I’m willing to have the necessary tests to prove it, if that is what it takes to convince you to marry me.’ He grimaced. ‘Once we are married you can have as many babies as you want. One a year if you want to— Eva…?’ he prompted sharply as she sat down abruptly in one of the armchairs and buried her face in her hands. ‘Eva!’ He went down on his haunches beside her chair. ‘Do not cry, my Eva,’ he pleaded. ‘I hate it when you cry.’
Eva didn’t doubt that for a moment. She could hear the distress in Markos’s voice, and the way his accent became more pronounced whenever he was disturbed or upset.
But what he had just said was so unexpected, so totally beyond the realms of what she had expected him to say, that she couldn’t quite take it in.
‘I’m not crying, Markos.’ She gave a firm shake of her head and took her hands from in front of her face to look up at him, crouching down only inches in front of her, his expression anxious. ‘I was laughing.’
‘Laughing?’ he repeated incredulously as he surged abruptly to his feet. ‘I propose marriage and you laugh!’ He scowled darkly. ‘Is the idea of marrying me so amusing, then?’