Chapter Two #2
“So…” I can hardly breathe. “Is that a yes?”
He looks into my eyes. And then he looks away, across the bar.
I watch as he scans the crowd as if he’s searching for someone.
Aurelia? Then, for the first time, I remember what happened when he first walked up to me.
The way Marcus smirked and leaned forward to whisper something in his brother’s ear.
And how Caesar turned away and hastily fiddled with his shirt buttons.
It’s unlikely that he left his house with them done up the wrong way.
“Oh…” I realize what’s happened. “Did you meet someone here tonight?”
His gaze comes back to me, and he opens his mouth to say something. Then he gives a short laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Is it that obvious?”
Like a ship taking on water, my heart slowly sinks. “Who was she?”
“No idea.” He has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure that’s the exact opposite of what you wanted to hear from the potential father of your child.”
I give a short laugh. “It’s none of my business. But… you liked her, didn’t you?”
He leans back, picks up his whiskey glass, and swirls the amber liquid over the ice. “Yeah.”
Disappointment sits in my stomach, heavy as a stone.
I spent a long time making sure he wasn’t dating anyone.
I knew he’d be more unlikely to say yes to my proposal if he was seeing someone else.
Ultimately, most sperm donors play no practical part in the creation of a baby and have nothing to do with the child as they grow up.
So it shouldn’t matter if a woman’s partner says he’s going to donate. It doesn’t affect her at all.
But of course, in the real world, nobody wants their husband or partner to father another woman’s child.
If I was seeing a guy, it would feel weird to think some other woman was using his sperm to get pregnant.
Conception is such an intimate thing. It creates an unbreakable bond between the child’s mother and father.
When they’re strangers, with no contact, it’s probably easier to deal with, but if they know each other? That’s a whole different scenario.
I force myself to smile. “Are you going to try to track her down?”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He frowns. “I think she wore a wig.” Then he gives a wry smile as I giggle.
“You’re a bad boy,” I scold. “Having a one-night stand at a gala!”
He blows out a long breath. “Yeah, maybe.” His brows draw together as he looks at me. “I’m sorry.”
I give him a gentle smile. “It’s okay. I knew it was a long shot.”
He looks surprised again. “Oh, it doesn’t mean I’m saying no. Not if you’re still asking.”
My jaw drops. “Oh! Of course I’m still asking.”
“I just need to think about it. Would that be okay?”
“Of course.”
“There’s so much going on right now, that’s all. I know you’re not asking me to be involved, and I understand why. And I don’t know how I feel about that.”
I smile. “I expected you’d want some time. There’s no rush, not when it’s going to take two years at the clinic.”
“I guess. But I don’t want to keep you waiting. It must have taken a lot of courage for you to ask me.”
I think about the weeks I’ve spent thinking about it, telling myself I am brave enough to do this. “Nah,” I say airily. “I only thought about it yesterday.”
He chuckles. “I know you better than that, Miss I-plan-everything-to-the-last-detail.”
“Yeah, all right. Maybe it has been a bit longer than that.”
He smiles. “I really am very flattered.”
I roll my eyes. “I have no idea why. Look at you! Six-foot-something of muscular gorgeosity, more handsome than James Bond, and smarter than your average bear. I’m surprised single women aren’t breaking your door down more often to get you to father their babies.”
“Maybe I should open a business. Sperm-4-U.”
“Think of all the tissues you’d save.”
It’s a conversation we might have had in our uni days, and we both laugh. Then he sighs as he looks at the bar, and I glance over to see Aurelia standing there, her patient bodyguard close by. She taps her watch, and Caesar mouths, “All right.”
“I have to go,” he says, getting to his feet.
“Of course.” I rise as well. “Thank you so much for seeing me.”
He gives me a hug and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be in touch in the New Year. Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course. You’ve got my number.”
“Yeah. I hope you have a good Christmas.”
“You too.”
He gives me one last smile, then walks toward Aurelia, and the two of them head through the bar to the ballroom.
I sink slowly back into the chair, my smile fading. Now I have to wait. I expected it might happen, but I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t immediately say yes. Somehow, I thought he would.
I wonder who he met tonight. It sounds as if she was a stranger. How odd. I can’t imagine having a one-night stand with someone I’ve never met before. Let alone at a prominent event like this. I suppose they must have gone up to a hotel room.
Maybe it was the fact they were anonymous that made it so attractive to him.
He mentioned finding it difficult to weed out the fortune hunters.
But all the guys here are dressed the same, and they’re all wearing masks.
Even though I could spot the Ashford brothers from a mile away, if you didn’t know them, it would be much harder.
The sun has set now, and the evening breeze blows across me, making me shiver.
I pull the jacket closer, and Marcus’s cologne rises to ensnare me.
Carefully, I slip my hands into the arms of the jacket and pull it on.
Wow, I hadn’t realized how much bigger than me he is.
Even though he’s only a few inches taller, the jacket hangs loose on my slender frame.
I lift the collar and bury my nose in it, inhaling, remembering how he noticed I was cold and gave me the jacket without a second thought.
For the first time, I wonder if I’ve asked the wrong brother.
Would Marcus have said yes? I know he finds me attractive, he’s made that quite clear, but that doesn’t mean he’d be happy to donate for me.
I sigh. It doesn’t matter. Marcus is dangerous.
I don’t mean violent. I’d never be physically scared with him, despite his threat of getting someone to take Cory out with a sniper rifle.
But he’s like dark chocolate—rich and luxurious.
Enticing. Addictive. Maybe he would donate, but I don’t even want to have that discussion with him.
I don’t want to talk to him about sex and sperm, thank you very much.
Lord knows where that conversation would end up.
The music seems to have gotten louder, and I yawn behind my hand, pick up my book, and slide it into my purse. I’m going to head off. The auction’s done and dusted, and nobody will notice if I slip away.
I get up, hesitate, then walk into the bar. I go up to the bartender, slip Marcus’s jacket off my shoulders, and hold it out to him.
“Can you return this to Mr. Ashford?” I ask. “Marcus Ashford, I mean.”
He takes it. “Of course, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” I decide not to go back into the ballroom, and instead turn and head back to the terrace, where a set of stairs leads down to the street.
Now, I just have to wait.