Chapter Five
Chapter Five
At ten the following morning, Alex had just emerged from the pool when he heard the roar of an engine somewhere in the vicinity. Irritated beyond belief by the potential intrusion into his privacy, he slung a towel round his neck, then flung open the front door and strode out into the wince-inducing sunshine. A nifty red convertible was zooming up the drive. He didn’t recognise the car but he sure as hell recognised its occupant, and the instant he did, the tension he’d worked off by ploughing up and down the pool for an hour returned with a bang.
He had not slept well. Yesterday afternoon, unable to concentrate on anything in the aftermath of Olympia’s life-altering news—and utterly drained of the adrenaline that had sustained him throughout their conversation—he’d had his driver bring him home. On arrival, he’d headed straight to his study and cracked open a bottle of tsipouro . Then he’d thrown himself into an armchair and had steadily worked his way through it while raking over the cataclysmic events of the day.
What on earth had just happened? was the question he’d asked himself repeatedly as he’d stared out of the window into the twilight, four glasses in. Could he have dreamed the whole thing? It hadn’t seemed real. Olympia’s ready acceptance of his marriage proposal, all the more remarkable for the absence of defiance, had certainly lent the encounter an air of fantasy.
But no. He hadn’t, of course. After years of studiously avoiding any sort of emotional tie, one misstep and he’d suddenly acquired a very real wife-and-child-to-be. What was he going to do with them? How was he going to be able to face the constant reminder of her mother and the damage she’d done? Would he ever get past it? Was there any chance—any chance at all—that this was all some catastrophic misunderstanding?
Unfortunately, the industrial strength alcohol had supplied no answer to these or any of the other questions rocketing around his brain. Nor had it granted him the oblivion he’d sought. All it had done was give him a pounding headache and nightmares that tangled the present with the past, then woke him up, drenched in a cold sweat, his heart thundering so hard it was in danger of cracking a rib.
As a result, he was exhausted and woolly-headed and very much not up to Olympia ambushing him on his doorstep. But it was way too late to pretend he wasn’t in, so once again, he’d just have to find out what she wanted and then send her on her way—a plan that today, unlike yesterday, would work.
‘Good morning, Alex,’ she said, briefly raking her gaze over him with a scorching intensity that made him wish he’d pulled on a shirt.
‘That’s debatable,’ he muttered, feeling as if he’d gone up in flames. She got out of the car and, with a slam of the door behind her, marched round to the back. ‘What the bloody hell is going on? How did you know where I live?’
‘Friends in low places.’
With growing alarm he watched her pop the boot and duck her head, then heave out a small suitcase and plonk it on the cobbles.
‘As for what’s going on, isn’t it obvious? I’m moving in.’
At that, his brows crashed together in a deep frown. His pulse skipped a beat and then began to pound. ‘What?’
‘I’m moving in.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes. Of course here. Where else?’
‘No,’ he said with a sharp shake of his head. ‘Absolutely not. This is not what we agreed.’
‘I don’t remember discussing it at all,’ she said dryly. ‘Or any of the practicalities of the arrangement, as a matter of fact. And I know you said you’d be in touch, but it occurred to me earlier that we didn’t even exchange phone numbers, which was why I couldn’t call ahead.’ She delved back into the car and extracted a holdall that she dropped next to the suitcase. ‘But we do need to hammer out how this thing is going to work. And get to know each other. I live in the city centre. You live out here. A forty-minute drive between us isn’t conducive to anything. You must agree cohabitation makes sense.’
Alex’s teeth clenched and his head began to throb again. ‘I do not have to agree to anything of the sort,’ he said, never regretting more that they hadn’t exchanged numbers. He did not have the wherewithal to cope with this level of face-to-face assault.
‘Well, I guess you could move in with me if you really object to me being here,’ she said with a thoughtful tilt of her head. ‘My apartment isn’t as big as this, naturally, but it would suit equally well.’
At that scenario, a shudder ripped through him. God, no. Willingly enter Stanhope territory? That would be even worse. What if her mother showed up? ‘It’s out of the question,’ he said, weak at the very thought of coming face to face with the selfish narcissistic socialite he held responsible for the detonation of his family. ‘All of it.’
‘There you go again with the diktats.’
‘It’s not happening.’
‘Why not?’ One fine dark eyebrow rose, yesterday’s compliance evidently a blip. ‘What’s the problem? Why would you not see this as an excellent idea, and one that should be implemented right away? I do. I’ve even taken the next two weeks off work for that very purpose. I admit this situation isn’t exactly ideal, but surely we have to make the best of it.’
Not ideal? That had to be the understatement of the century. And as for making the best of things, well, that wasn’t happening. At least, not right now. Because for one thing he hadn’t yet had the time or the headspace to work it all through. And for another, he couldn’t have her in his vicinity until he’d figured out how to get a grip on his response to her once and for all.
Despite his excellent intentions yesterday, he’d still wanted to spread her across his desk and divest her of her clothing. And today, it was bad enough she was standing on his drive in a short yellow sundress, which clung to her curves and revealed far too much sun-kissed skin over long toned limbs for his peace of mind. He didn’t dare imagine what might happen if they found themselves in close proximity to a bed. Sure, he could try and convince himself that he was particularly susceptible to her allure this morning because he wasn’t firing on all cylinders, but the inconvenient truth was that he was always susceptible to her allure, and handling it required a plan that he had not yet devised.
Besides, they did not need to get to know each other. This marriage was to be purely practical. There’d be logistics to consider, of course, but a heart-to-heart that would likely strip him of his armour and bare his soul? No, thanks. And as for learning her innermost secrets, that appealed even less than spilling his. Every fibre of his being recoiled in horror at the prospect of forming an emotional connection with anyone, let alone a Stanhope. No one but a fool would willingly put himself in a position that could lead to pain and suffering and destruction so cataclysmic it took years to pick up the pieces.
And anyway, where had all this urgency sprung from? Was he missing something? Had he been too quick to shelve his concerns about her trustworthiness? Could she have an ulterior motive that had nothing to do with money? If so, what could it be? This was all happening too fast, and he now felt a pressing urge to slow it down. ‘Perhaps I would like that paternity test, after all.’
‘Really?’ she said, sounding thoroughly unimpressed as she planted one hand on her hip and gave him a withering look. ‘I’m more than happy to arrange one if you insist, but I thought that was settled.’
‘You think a lot of things.’
‘Why on earth would I be here if I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure you are my baby’s father? I’m not a masochist.’
She had a point. And deep down he didn’t need a paternity test when the evidence was overwhelming. He was just desperate to regain some sort of control over a situation that had none. ‘So what’s the rush?’
‘What’s the point in delaying?’
‘The baby won’t be born for another seven months. Only then will we need to make a decision about the future. You should withdraw your request for leave.’
Her eyes narrowed and her chin came up. ‘So are you saying that we won’t be married right away?’
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and fought for calm. Quite honestly, he hadn’t a clue what he was saying. He needed some time, dammit. All he did know was that, right now, he was getting what he wanted, which was her off his property and out of his head.
‘What I mean,’ he said, injecting some ice into his voice, so she could be absolutely clear about who was in charge, ‘is that I will decide what is happening when. As you intimated yesterday, this situation is most likely my fault and it is therefore up to me to fix it. And when I have come up with a plan, believe me, you will be the first to know.’
‘How?’
‘Ring my phone.’ He gave her his number, watched her dial it and somewhere in the depths of the house he heard the device ring. ‘There. No more excuses to show up without invitation. Now go home.’
‘And do what?’ Olympia reached up to close the boot, her luggage still unfathomably on the ground.
‘I don’t care.’
‘I have a better suggestion. Why don’t you work on your plan while I settle in?’ she asked, her mollifying tone scraping across his nerve-endings as much as her complete disregard for his instruction to leave. ‘Better still, why don’t we work on it together? I appreciate your willingness to accept the blame for this but, don’t forget, I was there too. This is on both of us. There’s no need to be noble.’
‘I’m not being noble,’ he said through gritted teeth, torn between physically removing her and her luggage from his drive and wishing fervently that he could forget. He might have done an excellent job of wiping that night from his brain for the last two months, but seeing her again yesterday had brought it all flooding back, in vividly appalling detail. ‘There’s nothing noble about any of this.’
‘Marrying for the sake of a child is.’
‘I simply wish to guarantee my rights.’
‘Me too.’
‘You already have all the rights.’
‘You misunderstand,’ she said. ‘I want to guarantee your rights. I’m under no illusion that I won’t mess this baby thing up. I’m hardly the most responsible person on the planet. Not all that long ago I was out every night, partying hard and throwing as much alcohol down my throat as I could. I haven’t had a drink in a year, but people do relapse and I’m not so na?ve or arrogant as to believe I might not be one of them. This child deserves to have at least one functioning parent, which is why I agreed to the marriage you proposed. I can’t risk you disappearing the minute things get a bit tough.’
‘There is no danger of that,’ he said, thinking it was about the only thing he was sure of right now. ‘I am fully committed to the baby we’ve created.’
‘Prove it, then. Like I am, by being here, when in all honesty I’d rather be anywhere else. You do realise that I’m not the only one who’s going to have to make sacrifices, I hope.’
In response to that very valid observation, what remained of Alex’s weakened resistance collapsed. This wasn’t about him, he realised with a jolt. This was about their child, and ultimately nothing else mattered. He would never do anything to jeopardise its well-being, so he had to put his misgivings to one side and bury his unfortunate attraction to its mother. He had to do what was best for it . And she might think that meant finding out about each other, but he had different ideas.
First of all, while he was certain of his commitment to the situation, he couldn’t be certain of hers. She talked about sacrifice and prioritising their child, but from what he’d read she had a history of prioritising herself, and he’d witnessed her recklessness first-hand. What if she changed her mind about his involvement? What if she decided against the marriage and disappeared? He couldn’t risk that happening, so forget waiting. Whatever it took, however much it cost, he’d marry her the instant he could arrange it.
Secondly—and concurrently—he would take action to mitigate the vulnerabilities she’d revealed. It was admirable that she recognised her weaknesses, of course, but they were clearly still a cause for concern. So, in addition to preparing the paperwork required for their union, he would have a watertight prenuptial agreement drawn up that would grant him sole custody in the inevitable event she screwed up. His child would never know danger or uncertainty, he vowed. It would never suffer because of the selfish actions of a parent, and if he ever had cause to enforce such a clause he would relish the opportunity of denying Selene Stanhope access to her grandchild.
Thirdly, he’d be controlling the narrative from this moment on, so that he could not be sucker-punched again, starting with a phone call to her brother and his former friend to explain the situation before anyone else could, therefore minimising further Stanhope hassle.
And finally, he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that while all this was rumbling away in the background, despite the severe personal discomfort it was going to cause him, he was going to have to move Olympia in. As if her actions in Switzerland weren’t proof enough, showing up here unannounced further indicated she was a loose cannon, liable to go off without warning. Who knew what else she might get up to left to her own devices? Very soon they’d be married, and he wouldn’t have his reputation tarnished by hers.
And it would be fine, he assured himself, forcing himself to adjust to the idea of allowing the enemy into his lair for the sake of their child. He could keep a lid on the mad desire he had for her. He’d faced tougher challenges. He was sure of it, even if he couldn’t think of one at this precise minute. Once he’d given her a quick tour, he’d install her in a guest room as far from his own suite as it was possible to get. With any luck he would hardly notice she was there.
Already feeling more alert with the development of a strategy, and ignoring the myriad doubts still trying to barge their way into his head, Alex strode forward to pick up her bags. He stalked to the front door and turned when he reached it. With a tight smile, he gestured for her to go ahead and said, through teeth that were hardly gritted at all, ‘Welcome to my home.’