And that meant that she’d have to—at least partly—answer his question.
‘When I turn thirty-two,’ she said, looking him in the eye just as she always did during business negotiations, ‘my mother will relinquish her position as Chief Executive Officer of Molyneux Mining to me. It’s the same age she was when my grandfather died and left her the company, and this has been planned literally from when I was born.’ She paused. ‘I turn thirty-two in July next year. Based on some useful internet calculators—pending me seeing a doctor—our baby will arrive approximately one week before that date.’
Our baby. A slip of the tongue, but Angus displayed no reaction.
‘Although the succession plan was determined before my birth, I can assure you that I want this too. I’m very different from my mother in many ways.’ A huge understatement. ‘But in this way, we are in sync. We both live for Molyneux Mining. This is incredibly important to me.’
It is everything to me, she almost added. But somehow she didn’t think that would help.
It was near impossible to read Angus’s expression, but he nodded. ‘I get that you love your job. I get that you don’t want to give that up. What has this got to do with marrying me?’
‘About ten years ago just under half of Molyneux Mining was listed on the Australian Stock Exchange. We’re still majority family owned, but I report to a board of executives, as well as to our shareholders. We also have a number of significant projects in progress, including a joint venture to mine manganese in the Pilbara, which is reaching final negotiations. It is also widely known that I will take over Molyneux Mining next year, and that we are already in a period of comprehensive change management.’
‘So you’re worried that a baby will impact your share price?’
Ivy’s eyes narrowed. ‘No, not the baby. No one had better think that a baby will impact my professional performance.’
Oh, how she hoped that was true. She ignored Angus’s mildly incredulous raised eyebrows.
‘It’s all about how the baby came to be here, that’s the problem. My whole career has led to my next birthday. Everything I have done, every decision I have made, has been with this succession in the front of my mind. I am known for being meticulous in my planning. For never making a snap decision, for never being reactive in my actions. Even my boyfriends have been chosen with some consideration for my career—I always do background checks. I never take anything or anyone on face value.’
Except she’d never done a background check on Angus. The only thing she’d cared about that night was how good Angus had made her feel.
‘So a baby is okay. But hot, crazy sex on a beach with a stranger isn’t.’
Ivy recoiled a little, and felt her cheeks grow warm.
Now her gaze dipped to her fingers. With some effort she untangled them, laying her palms flat on the table to force them still.
‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,’ she said. ‘But yes. Ivy Molyneux would never be that reckless.’
There was that word again. Reckless.
This time it triggered a remembered snatch of conversation, the echo of her mother’s voice from a time for ever ago: How could you, Ivy? How could you be so reckless?
‘But you were,’ Angus said. ‘We both were. I was there.’
His low words snapped Ivy’s attention back from a better-forgotten memory. And something flickered in his eyes. Despite all this, despite this situation, despite this conversation, she recognised it.
Heat. Not like in Bali, but still there. Despite everything.
She knew her already warm cheeks were now scarlet, but all she could do was ignore that. And, as she should’ve at the wedding, ignore this thing between them.
Or at least try to.
‘I know,’ she said, very softly. ‘That’s what I’m trying to fix.’
The shocking warmth of his hand covering hers drew her attention downwards again, and she realised belatedly she must’ve been wringing her hands.
She’d trained herself out of all her fidgeting and step counting years ago, but right now this unexpected regression managed barely a blip amongst everything else that whirled inside her.
As in Bali, his touch impacted everything. She knew her heart had accelerated, and her whole body now seemed focused on where their fingers overlapped. Completely inappropriate warmth pooled low in her belly, and for long seconds Ivy wished like anything that this were a very real date.
But then Angus spoke.
‘I get what you’re trying to do, Ivy,’ he said.
Instantly hope began to blossom inside her, delicate and beautiful. But then his fingers tightened gently on hers, and Ivy knew.
‘My answer is still no.’
And for the second time today awful, unwelcome tears filled her vision.
Ivy never cried.
But then, Ivy never did a lot of things she’d been doing lately.
* * *
She snatched her hands away from beneath his, and for the briefest moment Angus reconsidered his decision.
He’d never be this close again to the fortune she’d offered him. Would he regret it some day? Was living a lie for twelve months really all that bad given such a massive payday?
And a second consideration snuck into his subconscious.
Or maybe he should just do this for Ivy?
Angus straightened in his chair, subtly putting further distance between them.
No. He wouldn’t regret passing on the money. His parents had taught him the value of hard work and, in every aspect of his life, he’d never been one to take shortcuts.
And for Ivy?
No. That was a slippery slope he did not want to get on. When he was deployed, he never allowed himself to clutter his mind with those he left behind. It was why he would never marry, and it was why he had never meant to have children. It wasn’t fair to anyone to be shoved aside in that manner. But it was what he did. It was, quite simply, who he was.
So no, he wasn’t going to do this for Ivy.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t feel like eating,’ Ivy said, breaking the silence. She pushed her chair backwards a little quickly, and steadied it with one hand as she stood.
Angus followed her lead and pulled himself to his feet, more than keen to get out of the bar. Around them, other couples and small groups appeared to be enjoying their meals. A man reached out to stroke the cheek of his date. Four well-dressed young women suddenly cackled with laughter and clinked their wine glasses together.
Everyone else’s lives appeared to be carrying on beautifully, and normally, and yet Angus’s life had just irrevocably changed for ever.
It still didn’t seem possible. Didn’t seem real.
Ivy was already negotiating all the happy diners, and Angus needed to take several large strides to catch up with her. Automatically, he reached out and rested his hand in the small of her back.
At his touch, she went still, her chin shooting up as she met his gaze.
She’d done a poor job hiding the sheen to her eyes back at the table, and she was far less successful now. Again her gaze was more than wobbly, and he was reminded that he wasn’t alone in his shock and disbelief.
He felt he should say something. Something reassuring and supportive.
But he didn’t have any experience in this kind of thing. Hell, his ex-girlfriends had made it clear he was a complete failure at even the most simple of relationships—let