Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘H I , HONEY , I’ M HOME ...’
Grace thought she was hallucinating when Carter appeared three days earlier than her vague expectations—completely unannounced, ever gorgeous in a suit, and wearing a Stetson.
‘What on earth...?’ She blinked, not just at his unexpected arrival, more at the fact that Carter didn’t do ‘cheery’. ‘I thought you weren’t back till Sunday?’
‘I got fed up, sitting around waiting. They can call me when they’ve finished debating. You have no idea how hard this hat was to find in the Middle East. Actually, Ms Hill had it sent to me.’ He took it off and placed it on her head. ‘For your mother. Though it suits you...’
‘Thanks,’ Grace said. ‘I think.’
He wasn’t looking at her, Grace noticed. He was talking, but not actually looking her way, and she had an awful sinking feeling.
He’d been out with Sahir.
And that wasn’t just her insecurity talking.
He didn’t love her.
He’d told her.
‘Also,’ he said as he threw off his jacket, ‘Jonathon’s coming in.’
‘When?’
‘He should be here soon.’
‘Now?’ she asked. She was pleased to see Carter, but unsettled by the surprise and the sudden changes. ‘I thought that wasn’t until Monday?’
‘That was the plan, but I might be called back to Janana at any time. It’s like waiting for the smoke at the Vatican. We’ll just get this marriage contract done...’
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’ He shrugged. ‘You have your questions ready?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why wait?’ he asked, tossing his passport into the safe. ‘I want this sorted.’
‘But why the sudden rush?’ she asked. ‘We can’t get married for another week, so it’s not as if we have a wedding date.’ And perhaps she’d been peeking into his scandalous life too much, because she couldn’t help but ask, ‘Is some scandal about to hit?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I don’t know...’
Something had changed, but Grace didn’t quite know what. And when he stripped off to shower she found herself looking at his back, his chest, telling herself she was being paranoid.
‘It’s to your advantage,’ he said as he dropped his trousers. ‘You get a quarter of a million on signing.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ she said, and smiled, though it faded as he headed off to the shower.
She felt ridiculous for being suspicious, and a bit teary too, and she couldn’t work out why. Oh, other than the fact that she was crazy about a playboy who was only marrying her to release some assets.
And today her period was due.
She pulled on her new knickers and bra, floral and lacy this time, and of her own selection. Then she put on a new dress—a gorgeous russet linen that was cinched in at the waist.
‘New stylist?’ he asked as he came into the bedroom.
‘Yes,’ Grace said as she glazed her lips orange. ‘Me.’
For the first time it was as if he’d actually noticed what she wore, and he ran his fingers through her curls as they were about to head out.
‘You look incredible.’
He looked at her, right into her eyes, held her cinched waist and looked at her glossy lips. ‘Slatternly...’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘I think...’
‘Come on, then,’ Carter said, and they walked together but apart to the elevator.
It was a different room from the one they’d sat in before, and displayed were different flowers—a huge vase of pink orchids was the centrepiece this time.
‘It’s a late start,’ Jonathon said, all polite smiles.
Carter watched as Grace took out her notepad, and he saw about twenty yellow tabs sticking out...
Of course Grace would be taking this seriously.
So too was he.
But he wanted her signature tonight. He wanted this document signed. He wanted them to exist on paper before he went into the jungle.
And if she was pregnant he’d be taking care of that too.
As well as his grandfather’s property and land.
Jonathon would be earning his keep tonight.
They went through the financial figures, and all were as arranged before.
‘Agreed,’ Carter said.
‘Grace?’ Jonathon checked.
‘Agreed.’
‘The wedding will take place in Sabah?’
‘Agreed,’ Carter said.
‘Agreed.’ Grace nodded. ‘However...’
Carter watched as she took a breath, looked at the notes she’d written.
‘If this is to appear real, then I’d like to have a small reception. At least let my mother see me.’
‘A reception in London?’ Jonathon glanced at his main client, who nodded. ‘It might help our case with Benedict.’
‘Agreed.’
Jonathon went through everything, point by endless point. Grace would receive a quarter of a million on signing the contract, a further sum after the solemnisation of their marriage, followed by serval payments through the year.
The words blurred on the page as Grace was taken through them, her heart pummelled and torn by seeing something that should be beautiful reduced to clauses and subclauses, but she gave nothing away.
Did that make her just as calculated and hard-hearted as Carter?
She hoped so.
She actually hoped that for the next year she would be able to place her emotions in deep freeze, tell herself she was agreeing to this only for the sake of her mum.
But she could think of no other man with whom she could even contemplate doing this.
She fiddled with the ring, just a little loose on her finger, as more intimate details were relayed.
‘Agreed,’ Carter said, accepting his responsibility for contraception.
‘Agreed,’ she repeated, and it felt as if they were ticking boxes, racing to get this over and done with.
‘Jewellery and gifts...’ Jonathon intoned, instructing her to turn the page.
On and on...
There was an offer to break for afternoon tea, and Grace was about to nod when Carter cut in.
‘I’d rather push on.’
She felt rushed, and she didn’t know why. She felt as if the man who had turned her world upside down a few weeks ago had walked in this morning and upended it all over again...
And then they were done, and a new contract would be drafted.
Only as much as she wanted things wrapped up, Grace wasn’t done. ‘I do have another question.’
‘Of course.’
‘What happens if I am pregnant?’
‘Have you had a positive test?’ Jonathon asked.
‘No.’
‘Well, let’s not deal in hypotheticals.’
‘Let’s,’ Grace said.
Carter closed his eyes. Because while he could sort out the financials, where the rest was concerned he had no answers.
He knew he had to sort out his head.
‘Excuse me.’
He stood and let his lawyer deal with that question—exactly the way he would have done three weeks ago, before everything had changed.
They were in there for a full forty minutes, and he saw her pale face when she came out.
‘Grace...’
She brushed past him. ‘I’m going to have tea up in the suite.’
She could barely look at him.
But it was nothing she didn’t already know.
Carter didn’t want a baby.
All decisions on a pregnancy would be hers. She’d be provided for financially. If she continued with the pregnancy the baby’s way in life would be paved with gold.
Everything he’d told her from the start.
Except she knew him now, and had thought he was better than that.
She couldn’t keep it in, turning back on her new heels at the last moment.
‘At least my father made some attempt.’
She took a breath, trying to get her head around Jonathon’s breakdown of the figures around Carter’s complete abdication of responsibility.
‘Not you, though. Not one piece of that black heart...’ She shook her head, her temper rising, and hit her fist into her palm. ‘Hit and run.’
‘Grace...’
He knew she was hurting, but he didn’t want to offer any solution, or tell her he was heading into the jungle and hoping to fix that black heart.
He honestly didn’t think there were any answers there, but he would try. He’d bury the teething ring, wish his family peace, or whatever, but he just didn’t see that going back to hell would work...
How many times and how many ways had he said it over the decades and years?
He. Did. Not. Want. Love.
Now it was staring him angrily in the face, and he was just a bit angry too.
‘Don’t compare me to your father, because I shall take care of my child, and you. But not—’
‘I get it.’ She put her hands up. ‘I don’t think I can do this...’
‘Your period is not even late.’ Carter would not let her end things here. ‘And we’re going for dinner,’ he told her.
‘With your lawyer and his wife?’
He didn’t correct her—didn’t tell her that it would only be Jonathon. He just nodded when she gave a bitter smile.
‘I might give it a miss, thanks.’