Chapter Six #2
I look across at the sliding doors. Ben has now climbed onto Marcus’s lap, which is unusual in itself, as he’s normally very shy with strangers.
Marcus is holding the model, showing Ben where to put the next bit, and Ben is frowning and clipping it on.
As I watch, Marcus straightens Ben’s top, a tender, gentle gesture that makes me catch my breath.
Caesar is offering exactly what I asked for—a way to have my own child.
But Marcus is offering more than that. I’m not going to be a donor, he told me on Christmas Eve. I’ll be a husband until the deed is done, and then I’ll be a father.
I press a hand over my heart. It’s beating so hard I can feel it in my throat.
My own dad left when I was six. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. Is that what I want for my child?
I wanted a straightforward arrangement. I didn’t want romance or a relationship.
I still don’t. Mars Ashford has the potential to break my heart big time, and I need to avoid that at all costs.
I’m still not convinced that he doesn’t want me just because he wants to beat his brother to the finishing line.
But I have no doubt that if he gets me pregnant, even if we don’t stay together, he’ll be a great father to my child.
Oh God, I don’t want to choose the wrong billionaire.
My head spins. I can’t believe those words entered my head.
Caesar is safe. Marcus is a risk. Emotionally, anyway. But he made it clear he’s offering stability and security. Two things every child should have. His words.
I’ve made it very clear that I don’t want any of his money for myself. But I’m ashamed to admit that the thought of him making sure the child is financially secure is more appealing than I thought it would be.
I’d have to be very careful to keep my heart out of his hands. But for my baby, there’s really no choice.
The only thing is, there is one more factor I would need to discuss with Marcus, if I was to take his offer seriously.
Well, he’s here, and there’s no time like the present.
I think I know how to frame it so he still gets what he wants—a public wife and an heir—while making it clear there’s no way it’s going any further than that.
I focus back on Caesar. “It’s a very kind offer, and I’m really grateful. I just need a little time to think.”
*
Shortly after, I open the sliding doors and go inside.
“Can you count how many studs are on the instructions?” Marcus is asking Ben.
“One, two, three, four.”
“And how many on this piece?”
“Oh… there’s six! It’s the wrong bit. We need one of these.” Ben picks up the right piece, and Marcus nods.
“Slot it in here,” he says, and Ben follows his lead and finishes off the head. “That’s terrific,” Marcus says with a grin, “Well done!”
I glance at Clare, who winks at me. “Marcus,” I murmur, “I wonder if you’d like to go for a walk?”
“Aw…” Ben looks disappointed.
Marcus ruffles his hair. “You keep going, and Auntie Wren can take a photo of the finished product and send it to me.”
“All right.” Ben shifts off his lap and carries on with the next page.
“We won’t be long,” I tell Clare.
She picks up the wine bottle. “No rush.”
Marcus and I collect our shoes and sandals, and then I lead the way out of the back door. “It’s not far to the beach,” I tell him.
“Nice location.”
“Yeah, it’s quiet, and I love being close to the sea.” Oh, how polite we are. You’d never guess we’re about to discuss our whole future.
We walk along the road, then cut down the side road and emerge onto the beach.
As we walk, I lift my face to the sun. It’s a beautiful afternoon, warm and humid.
Lots of families are spending Boxing Day on the beach, playing cricket and rugby, and swimming in the sea.
Some of them have small Christmas trees planted in the sand—a very Kiwi tradition.
The smell of barbecued food fills the air, making my mouth water.
We walk down to the waterline. Marcus doesn’t say anything, and I look across at him, expecting to find him lost in thought, but when he lifts his sunglasses up onto his hair, I realize he was watching me.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, and swallow hard.
“Okay.”
I bend and take off my sandals, and he does the same with his shoes, and we walk in the shallows. The water here is warm as it washes over my feet.
I look over at him. The way he’s pushed his glasses up has made his hair stick up on end. He looks young, fit, healthy, and devastatingly gorgeous.
“You said that we both want the same thing,” I begin.
“And you’re right. You need an heir. And I also want a baby.
But you would also like to demonstrate responsibility to the board by being married.
I understand that. And I’m willing to agree to that, because you’ve explained how you’d like to be a father to the child, and you’re offering stability and security.
But I need to ask you again. Please, please, please… will you consider donating for me?”
“I’ve told you. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Yes, because you don’t want your child to be conceived with a syringe, I remember. But if you care for me at all, Mars, please rethink it.”
He frowns. “When I get married, I’m going to be faithful to my wife. I understand that relationships have their ups and downs. But I’m not going to agree up front to live without sex.”
I bite my bottom lip. That’s a fair comment.
“I don’t understand,” he continues. “I’ve never had any complaints in bed. Why are you so set against having sex with me?”
“Because letting someone in makes me vulnerable, and my heart has already been broken so many times, I’m not sure I’ll survive it happening again.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Wren. Not like that. Not ever.”
“You can’t say that,” I tell him heatedly. I stop walking as anxiety and frustration grip me and try to brush hair out of my eyes. “I mean, look at you.”
He glances down at himself. “What about me?”
“You’re gorgeous, Mars! And you’ve been with hundreds of women.”
“Well, not hundreds…”
“And you’re experienced in bed, I know you are. I know you’ll be great at sex. You’ll want… special things…”
His eyebrows rise. “Like what? Dancing ponies?”
“You know what I mean! Fancy techniques.”
“I do like candle wax…”
“See!”
“Wren, I’m kidding. I don’t have any shocking kinks, I swear.”
I’m too distressed to laugh. “You’ll get bored with me,” I whisper. “I’m not good in bed. And I’ll never be able to keep a guy like you.”
He stares at me, and then gradually his expression softens. “Ohhh…”
We stand there like that for a moment, my chest heaving as I try to get my emotions under control. He looks around, then takes my hand and leads me away from the waterline to an outcrop of rocks.
“Sit,” he instructs, gesturing at one of the larger, flatter ones. I lower onto it and watch him sit on another opposite me. Our knees are almost touching.
“Okay,” he says. “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Do you really think your boyfriends cheated on you because you weren’t good in bed?”
A tear spills over my lashes, and I wipe it away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper.
“Well, you have to. Because that’s what couples do.
They talk. And no, don’t shake your head.
We’re going to be a couple, Wren. You’re going to marry me, and we’re going to have amazing sex, and then we’re going to have a baby.
Hopefully more than one. So I need you to tell me what the problem is.
Because solving problems is my job. And I don’t walk away from things that matter to me. ”