Chapter Five #2
She supposed she couldn’t blame him for thinking there might be alternatives given she’d slept with him after a five-minute conversation.
For all he knew, she’d slept with a different stranger every other night since that flight.
He probably had. He liked to move fast. She was shockingly miserable at the thought.
‘There are no other possibilities?’ he added, twisting the knife.
‘Not that I can think of right now.’ Her words were strangled.
He was the only man she’d had sex with in the past five years.
He didn’t seem pleased about it. His eyes narrowed. ‘If you’ve had symptoms for a while, why haven’t you done a test? It’s weeks since that flight from Canada. Surely, you’ve checked?’
‘I’ve been busy. I thought…’ She’d been hiding from herself—burying in long workdays and late study, then sleeping like the dead.
She’d been trying everything not to think of him and those few hours they’d shared, trying to ignore the achy yearnings of her treacherous body.
And she’d been such a fool—because he’d clearly not been thinking of her at all.
Like her family didn’t think of her. Or her ex. Or anyone.
‘So we’re having a baby.’
She closed her eyes to buy herself some emotional distance and hurriedly reconstruct her spine. She desperately needed more defence.
‘Lily?’ He sounded so much closer.
She blinked and stepped back to the window.
Turned to look out it to hide her distress.
The lights were dazzling. Everything outside was slowly spinning, but inside her panic was increasing.
Her heart hammered off beat and too fast. She was unable to focus properly, because now he was near and her weak body just wanted.
Horrified by his apparent irresistibility, flippancy was her only self-protection.
‘I guess we burned through the rubber,’ she murmured. ‘Got a puncture. Lost control and spun out on turn one.’
She turned to read his expression and found him right in front of her. Icily serious. Right. It was hardly the time to be making weak P1 puns.
‘What’s your strategy here?’ he asked, not just cool, frigid.
She shivered, unwilling and unable to face the full implications of this mess.
She didn’t want to deal with it. She just wanted to forget everything, bury her head in bliss.
And here he was—her source of bliss. She tried to brake but her body was feeling everything too fast—melting in that inexorable slippery slide towards him.
Sexual magnetism at its most extreme. Hormones?
Not only those. She’d wanted nothing but him for weeks and now he was close enough to kiss her and she desperately, dreadfully wished he would.
‘Lily?’
They were toe to toe but she yearned for him to step closer still. She had to hold herself utterly still as inside, shooting sparks of attraction spiralled through to her core—to where she was hottest. Hungriest.
His impatience grew more visible the longer she remained silent. ‘What is it you think you’re going to win?’
In a vague corner of his stunned brain, Massimo knew he shouldn’t use his size to dominate her petite stature.
Nor should he feel this roaring satisfaction at having some small semblance of power over her, but he was too furious to give a damn.
He needed the advantage in this one wild second as proprietary—predatory—instinct flared.
Was she pregnant? Because if she was… If she was…
He couldn’t think.
But her silence, her superficial glibness, made him pause.
Why was she acting as if this was some kind of game?
Why let something so monumental just slip out and then joke about it?
He suppressed his possessive impulses and tried to analyse because it didn’t add up.
He knew she was hard-working, driven… Ambitious.
Of course.
Bitter disappointment roared. He’d thought she was different—that she truly didn’t want anything from him. But she did. Same old thing. Too bad. He wasn’t letting an innocent child be used in a shakedown for money.
He’d been such a fool. He’d actually organised this party as a self-torturous pretext to see her.
He’d been so disappointed when she’d not arrived that he’d had to pace away from everyone.
Then she’d appeared like an ethereal nymph, gliding towards the crowd in a long white dress with wafer-thin straps and bodice that cupped her breasts.
She looked stunningly sweet and sexy and he’d had to intercept her.
Except not only had she not seen him, she’d also smacked into him.
He’d gotten a hit of her fresh scent. He inhaled another now, just as he was trying to clear his head and regain his wits.
‘What do you mean win?’ she questioned thinly.
As rare as his sexual encounters were, he always paid relentless attention to contraception. It shouldn’t have failed. But then it had been an age since he’d needed contraception. The condom had probably been ancient—failure was entirely possible.
But how did he know there hadn’t been ten guys since him?
Any one could be the father. He shouldn’t take her word for it.
Only he didn’t want to think about her expression when he’d straight out asked her if there’d been someone else.
Her eyes had widened as if she’d been shocked.
But then—worse—she’d almost looked bereft.
He was angry that he’d hurt her with that question.
He shouldn’t have the power to hurt her.
She couldn’t—shouldn’t—care. There just couldn’t be any of this complication.
And what was with the wild impulse pushing him to pull her close and kiss her and tell her everything was going to be all right? He quelled it furiously.
He was used to making fast decisions. Responsibility for almost everything rested with him and he’d grown the shoulders for it.
He couldn’t just abandon an obviously emotional woman.
He needed to ensure she got back to her hotel safely and at least find out for certain if she was pregnant and then if it was his—
He gritted his teeth. He’d never wanted to marry, nor have a family, despite societal expectation.
He’d figured Emiliano would be his heir.
But now? With icy fury he knew exactly what he was going to do.
If she was pregnant, if it was his, then there was only one tolerable outcome.
Yet, in his gut he knew there were no ifs; both those things were true.
With a sinking feeling he wondered whether she would try to retract her claim when he informed her of their future.
‘What do you mean by strategy?’ she added, her fury becoming more audible.
‘Why you’ve held this news back. Why you’ve decided to make your move here and now.’ So publicly. So shockingly.
His doubts ought to destroy the desire thrumming through him, yet he found himself leaning closer to study her shadowed eyes. He remembered the silky softness of her skin, her warmth.
‘My move?’ Her head tilted as she studied him. ‘Do you think I planned this?’
‘Didn’t you? Not the pregnancy itself, but you’ve certainly taken time to consider your options. Have you been waiting for the perfect moment to spring it on me? Is that why you’re here?’
She gaped. ‘Are you so arrogant to think that you’re the only reason I want to stay working at Hearnshawe? Do you think that I didn’t mean it when I said we weren’t to talk again? I’m here. To work.’
He was barely thinking at all right now. He just needed to clutch. ‘Let’s go. We’ll make the arrangements,’ he said huskily.
‘Arrangements for…?’
‘Pregnancy test. Paternity. If they’re positive, we’ll get married.’
‘What?’
‘If you’re pregnant. If it’s mine. Then we’re getting married.’
He figured she’d either leap at the proposal or push for money. It was only a matter of which.
She glared up at him. ‘For all you know I might not even keep the baby.’
Rage ripped into every muscle, bunching them and making him lean closer still. If there was one thing he would do in the rest of his life, it was ensure this baby thrived. ‘No problem. I’d love full custody,’ he lied. ‘I’ll get my lawyer on a call and we’ll whip up a contract right now.’
She stood her ground. ‘You’re never having custody of my baby.’
Insulting yet oddly rewarding. Her fire partially eased the icy chunk within that had been so disappointed in her. Yet, he couldn’t stop testing her motives. ‘Why not? Do you want to keep it because of the money you think will come with it?’
Her nostrils flared. ‘You’re unbelievably insulting.’
‘Perhaps. But you need to understand that I’m not going to pay you off. You won’t get millions to live the high life. If this baby is mine, I’ll be a fully involved father and for that to happen, you’ll be my wife.’
He’d proposed in an impetuous fit of fury but now he rage-warmed to the idea. If she was going to throw a bomb in his life, he’d throw one right back. ‘You’ll be stuck with me. Illegitimacy is not an option.’
He’d endured the whisperings even after his parents had married. While he no longer cared what anyone thought of him, his child wasn’t facing that.
‘What is this, the nineteen-hundreds?’ she questioned scathingly. ‘You don’t need to save my reputation and certainly not the baby’s. The child can take your name but I don’t want to. And you certainly don’t need to feel as if you have to be fully involved.’
Had she heard his underlying discomfort at the prospect of paternity?
‘Don’t feel as if you have to do the right thing by me.’ Her caustic words confirmed his suspicion. ‘I can manage on my own just fine. I don’t want a cent of your money.’
‘Why? Is it somehow worth less than other money?’ he muttered, his anger easing the more hers was roused. ‘You have several million of your own hidden away? An offshore account?’
‘Don’t be facetious.’ She tossed her head up defiantly. ‘I don’t need it and I don’t want it.’