Chapter Two #2
‘Yeah, well, we aren’t all born into squillion-dollar fortunes,’ she said, ignoring her baby’s claim on that fortune. Ignoring everything except her survival instinct. She closed the door gingerly, but stayed where she was—as far as she could possibly get from him.
He slammed his hands onto his hips, drawing attention to his slim waist, so her pulse became all thready and weak. She glowered at him rather than show any hint of attraction.
‘I just had a very interesting conversation with my mother,’ he said, voice measured, and yet she felt the emotion throbbing just beneath the surface and knew he was holding on by a thread.
‘Oh?’ she asked, still being careful, in the very faint hope that maybe, just maybe, something else might have brought him here in this enraged state.
‘Is it mine?’
Hope died a swift death. She closed her eyes on a wave of agony and desperation.
Deny it. Tell him it’s the fictional boyfriend’s. Save yourself this conversation.
She opened her mouth, half intending to do just that, but the words died inside her throat.
‘I should warn you, I will drag you to a doctor for a DNA test so fast your head will spin, if you even think of lying to me.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You can’t order me to take a damned test.’
‘Care to test that theory?’
She felt the colour drain from her face.
‘Is it mine?’ he ground out, each word carefully enunciated so she flinched.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, closing her eyes as she pressed her back to the door and let it take her weight, needing the support.
He swore curtly. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded.
‘My mother said you were seeing someone else around the same time.’
Her eyes blinked open to meet his. ‘I made that up.’
He arched a brow. ‘Or is it that you figure I’m worth more?’
It was such a vile thing to accuse her of that she could barely comprehend what he was suggesting.
‘If I wanted your money,’ she said slowly, with great dignity, ‘I would have told you about this myself. Honestly, my biggest hope was that you’d never find out.’
‘Hardly likely, all things considered.’
‘Well, I went four years without having to see you. I was pretty sure I could go at least four more.’
‘And then what, Rosemary? Introduce me to my son or daughter, a child almost old enough to be off to school?’
She tamped down on the panic his words brought.
‘Why would you lie about a relationship?’
‘Why do you think?’ she demanded, storming closer towards him, then regretting it instantly when she caught a hint of his aftershave and her stomach began to somersault. ‘I didn’t want them to suspect anything had happened between us.’
His eyes narrowed, as if appraising that for the likelihood of truth. ‘Why would they?’
‘Good question. I guess I was just covering the bases.’
‘So you’re pregnant.’
It was a statement rather than a question, but she nodded slowly.
‘And you’re keeping the baby?’
She blanched at that. Strangely, given how disastrous this was for her professionally, she hadn’t once considered not going through with it.
‘Yes—’ she tilted her chin defiantly ‘—but that doesn’t matter. To you, I mean.’
He was perfectly still—so still, the air around him almost seemed to vibrate. ‘I see. Tell me more.’
She felt a flicker of uncertainty. A presentiment of danger.
But she ignored it. Whatever else he was, this man was, ostensibly, her stepbrother.
She shuddered at that, though, because he wasn’t.
They were nothing like ‘family’. The fact that their parents had married didn’t make a single bit of difference to them.
‘Obviously, you don’t have to be involved at all. In fact, I’d prefer it that way. It’s better if your mother and my father don’t know that you’re the dad.’
He nodded calmly, but there was something in his eyes that might have served as a warning if she’d been paying more attention.
‘So you’re planning to raise our baby here?’ He gestured around the room, his arm only perhaps a metre or so from the wall at any given point. She followed his gesture with her gaze, then returned her attention to his face.
‘As I said, you don’t have to worry about that. This is my baby, not “our” baby. You’re off the hook.’
‘The facts would indicate otherwise.’
A frisson ran the length of her spine as she realised that this wasn’t going exactly as she’d planned.
‘You are pregnant with my child, yes?’
‘Well, yes, but I know how you feel about it. You don’t want children. You told me as much very, very clearly.’
‘And you told me you were on the pill. Evidently, we were both wrong.’
Her brain struggled to compute his statement. ‘I was on the pill,’ she contradicted fiercely. ‘It’s not one hundred per cent foolproof.’
Dark colour slashed his cheeks.
‘Are you saying that you were wrong about wanting children? That deep down you have some fantasy notion of being an amazing dad, or whatever?’ She didn’t give him a chance to answer.
‘Because if that’s true, fine. Go forth and breed.
Just don’t expect to be a part of our lives.
’ She pressed her palm to her stomach, drawing strength from the little lifeform.
But it was a mistake, because his eyes dropped to the gesture, landing on her stomach as his features lost the mask of cool control and showed, oh, so briefly, a surge of emotion.
‘I do not want children,’ he responded finally, drawing his gaze slowly back to her face and walking towards her with the same predatory stride. ‘But it is no longer an academic question. You are pregnant with my child. The choice has been taken away from me.’