Chapter Eight #2
Not exactly what I’d truly like, but at least she’s being honest with me. That must count for something. “Why the rush to have a baby?” I ask gently, hoping to understand what she really wants and give it to her.
She presses her lips together for a moment, her eyes not meeting mine as she takes her time. A great internal debate seems to rage inside her.
“Olivia, I’m on your side.”
Finally, she heaves a sigh. Stubborn drive and a tinge of regret burn in her eyes as she faces me.
“Hugh Desmond has been leeching off my mother’s trust for the last twenty years.
And he’s been using that money not just to support himself, but his former-mistress-turned-wife and their illegitimate child. ”
“Brielle?”
Olivia nods curtly. “Yeah. Brielle.” She takes a moment.
“Anyway… I want to cut them off. To do that, I need to get married…and produce a child. Then the entire Whitmore Trust comes under my control, and Hugh and his family will be out on the streets. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier, because…
well, because it changes things. I’ll understand if you don’t want to proceed.
Just, please…keep everything confidential, for my sake. ”
Underneath her dispassionate tone lie old pain and rage.
I recall Brielle’s entitled and obnoxious attitude from college, and then more recently at Kingswood Stones & Designs.
What Olivia must have lived through has to be much, much worse than what little I’ve witnessed.
“Thanks for telling me. I’d want to do the same in your place.
” I take a moment to mull things over. “But at the same time, I wouldn’t want our baby to just be…
used, either. Kids require a commitment—and stability, and love… everything.”
She blinks, then flushes. “I wouldn’t just use and discard our child like a tool.”
“There’s more to this than just them not being a tool.
I want them to be loved unconditionally, regardless of their role in you securing your family trust.” I briefly drop my eyes to my hands.
My children should never know the aching emptiness of realizing that their parents didn’t really value them, especially when they’re Olivia’s children too.
Every time I look at them, I’ll see her in them—and that alone will make them more precious than anything else in the world.
I raise my eyes, looking straight at her.
She pales a little, her lashes fluttering.
Her head dips, although she doesn’t avoid my gaze.
“You’re right. I…” A soft sigh. “Guess I didn’t really think it through.
I’m not even positive I can be a great mom.
” Her lower lip quivers. “So, um… Do you…not want to have children with me?” Her voice grows impossibly small.
I want to put my arm around her and kiss her on the temple. Even if I disagree with how she’s going about family planning, she shouldn’t beat herself up over it. Plus, the fact that she’s thinking about whether she could be a good mother shows she isn’t as detached as she appears.
And I’m not giving up a chance to have a baby with the woman I’ve loved for twelve years.
“Are you kidding? Of course, I do.” She doesn’t love me, but I’ll take this chance to change her mind. “As for the end of the marriage—”
“It’s non-negotiable.”
Her firm tone cuts me.
“I don’t want to trap you, Liam. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” She gazes up at me with clear, expectant eyes, like a person ready to open a door to a cage for the bird to gladly fly away.
“What if it isn’t a trap for me?”
“It’s better this way.” Her gaze is unwavering, but she’s paler than moments ago. “You’re going to get hurt if you stick around for too long.”
Her innocent expression is like poison that isn’t strong enough to rob me of life but painful enough to leave me breathless. “If it’s about the marriage not being about love, I know. I’m not going to get hurt—”
She shakes her head. “It isn’t about that. Can you trust me to keep you safe? At least insofar as I can?”
I want to argue, but trust goes both ways. If I want her to trust me, I need to do the same. I’ll use the time we have to change her mind. “Okay. Yes.”
The tension drains from her. She gives me a grateful smile. “As for where we live, I can move in with you, unless you prefer a new place, in which case I’ll be happy to contribute. I’m sure we can find something that works for both of us.”
I laugh. “Do you know what kind of house I have?”
She shakes her head and shrugs. So cute. She could vomit and I’d think she’s adorable.
God, I’m so in trouble. “My place is fine. It’s a beachfront property, nothing special, but it’s probably big enough for the two of us. And a child.” Wait until she sees it. I thread my fingers with hers. “So. Want to go back and have the lawyers hash out the details?”
She nods. We return to the room. Samantha checks her phone. “Longer than five minutes.”
“But every minute productive,” I say.
She shoots me a skeptical look, then turns to Olivia, one long index finger tapping the document. “Why the Whitmore name for your firstborn? The baby should bear the Kingswood name, or at least Kingswood-Whitmore. Although you’re really a Desmond.”
Olivia’s eyes cool. “I’m not a Desmond, and I’ll thank you not to refer to me that way. I only happen to have been fathered by one. I’m a Whitmore at heart, where it really counts.”
“And custody automatically goes to the wife with only visitation rights for the husband.” Samantha gives Olivia and me a meaningful look.
I freeze. I missed that while I skimmed the document—was too shocked about the baby and the marriage ending six months after the baby’s birth.
While I process, Samantha turns her sharp gaze to Prescott. “Joint custody. That’s what the court prefers, unless you want to demonstrate my client is unfit?”
“It’s a Whitmore child. At least the firstborn will be,” he points out.
She shrugs. “And? It’s my client’s blood flowing in the kids’ veins too.”
Prescott opens his mouth, but Olivia puts a hand on his sleeve. He turns to her. “Olivia, you need to protect yourself.”
His warning fills my heart with bitterness. I’m not the one who’s hurt her.
“It’s fine, Prescott.” She turns to me with an apologetic smile. “I think Liam will be a good father.”
I nod, then shoot a cold look at Prescott. He’s just doing his job, but I still hate it that people look at me and see a guy who could be as cruel to Olivia as Tyler and Brielle.
The lawyers jockey back and forth. I’m not paying much attention, my eyes on Olivia, who’s looking down at her hands, eyes hidden under the thick, long lashes. What is she thinking? Does she regret accepting my proposal?
Although the offer was impulsive, once it was made, I knew that it was what I wanted.
Her firm insistence on ending the marriage six months after the baby is born gnaws at me, but I shove the unease aside.
That’s at least fifteen months, even if she gets pregnant immediately—enough time for me to convince her I’m the man for her.
Finally, the meeting ends, and Samantha stays back to discuss a couple of things with Prescott.
I walk out with Olivia. I like how our steps are in sync, right legs forward, then left, like we’re marching to a shared goal.
Simon gets up from an armchair and follows closely behind her like a guard dog.
“Thank you,” Olivia murmurs inside the elevator.
“For what?”
“For being so understanding back there. I should’ve been more open and disclosed everything. It’s just…I’m not used to sharing my thoughts and plans.”
I feel Simon’s death glare from the side, but keep my eyes on her. “I understand.”
I reach out and warm her cool hand. I can guess why she keeps everything to herself—no point in saying anything unless you think it can make a difference. And apparently, nobody in her family has ever cared for her opinion.
She probably had it worse than me—at least I had my brothers.
The elevator dings as it hits the lobby. We walk out together.
“I have an appointment with a doctor, so I’ll be heading out on my own. See you later, Liam.” She gives her assistant a small nod. “Simon.”
She walks away, plunging a hand into her purse, probably looking for her fob. Watching her, Simon exhales a long and very audible breath. He turns to me. “Get tested for STDs.”
Is this little shit serious? I cock an eyebrow. “Is that from Olivia?”
Blatant contempt flashes in his eyes. “A guy born to parents like yours… Wouldn’t surprise me if you’re a walking Petri dish. Olivia shouldn’t have to suffer because of you.”
A non-answer. “Is she going to do the same?”
“Don’t be disgusting.” It’s practically a snarl. “She’s nothing like you.”
Oh, Lord. This bastard is in love with her, whether he’s aware of it or not.
He steps up and puts a finger on my chest. “Know your place, Liam Kingswood. You’re a means to an end—a tool that’s going to be discarded when it isn’t useful anymore. Try to change that, and you’ll only hurt yourself and inconvenience her.”
Intellectually, I understand he’s probably acting on his own. But his words still burn. Whistling softly, he turns and walks away, leaving me alone in the cold, vast lobby.