They had reached the third floor and she paused on the stairwell and answered, not quite able to meet his eye. ‘I didn’t resign... I’ll do so tomorrow.’
‘Why?’
His now dispassionate tone, so in contrast to the heat of his gaze in the foyer, his lack of understanding of how her life was being turned upside down and his insistence on questioning everything she needed to do had her answer crossly. ‘Simon was busy, and frankly I couldn’t face it...not after this morning. I couldn’t take another difficult conversation today.’ She paused, and as the true realisation of what she was giving up hit home she grabbed her rucksack off him. ‘I love my job. I’ve worked so hard over the years to get to this position.’ A lump suddenly formed in her throat. She knew of her reputation as a tough negotiator within the wider organisation, but within her department, where she was one of the most senior staff members and often mentored the younger staff, she was more relaxed, more herself. ‘It’s going to be hard to say goodbye to everyone.’
She twisted around and stormed through the door into the corridor that led to her apartment. As she searched her rucksack for her keys he joined her at her front door and said, ‘You don’t have to resign.’
‘Yeah, that would work out just fine—me pregnant with the CEO’s baby and we can’t even bring ourselves to say hello in the corridors.’
‘That’s why I came back from Paris. We need to sort this out now.’
With tense fingers she opened the front door of her apartment, a heavy knot of anxious speculation landing in her stomach at his words, while simultaneously managing to worry about the trivial: what would he make of her minuscule apartment, especially in comparison to his vast five-storey Mayfair town house? But her love for her apartment’s bright open interior and pride that she had finally managed to get a foothold on the crazy London property market had her march in ahead of him.
In the open-plan lounge and kitchen she gestured to her grey velvet couch, silently inviting him to sit, and asked, ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
He didn’t sit but instead paced around the room. The room shrank around his restlessness, the power and strength of his body. Needing some oxygen against the tension in the room, she moved to the lounge window and opened it to the still-warm April air.
When she turned back to face him, he hit her with a non-compromising stare. ‘I want to be a part of this baby’s life on a daily basis.’
The knot of anxiety inside her twisted. ‘That’s not possible, you know that. I’m moving away from London.’
‘Don’t move away.’
She gestured around her apartment. ‘I need more space. I need to be near my parents. To have family close by.’
‘I agree, that’s why I believe you should move in with me...and, for that matter, why we should marry.’
She sank down onto the window seat below the open window. ‘Marry!’
‘Yes.’
A known serial dater was proposing marriage. This was crazy. He had the reputation for being impulsive and a maverick within the industry, but his decisions were always backed up with sound logic. And that quick-fire decision-making, some would even say recklessness, often gave him the edge over his more ponderous rivals. But he had called this one all wrong. She gave an incredulous laugh. ‘I bet you don’t even believe in marriage?’
He rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck hard, his expression growing darker before he answered, ‘It’s the responsible thing to do when a child becomes part of the equation.’
This was crazy. She lifted her hands to her face in shock and exasperation, her hot cheeks burning against the skin of her palms. ‘Have you really thought about what it takes to be a father? A child needs consistency, routine, to know that they are the centre of the parent’s life. Have you considered the sacrifices needed? Your work life, the constant travel, all of the partying—everything about the way you live now will be affected. Are you prepared to give up all of that?’
Standing in the centre of the room, he folded his arms on his wide imposing chest, his eyes firing with impatient resolve. ‘I don’t have a choice. This child is my responsibility and duty. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that it has a safe and happy childhood.’
‘I can give my baby all of that.’
‘You admitted this morning that you have limited support.’
‘I have my friends.’
‘Are they going to be there in the middle of the night when the baby is crying? Are they going to be there when you’re exhausted, when you’re sick, when you have work demands, when you need to be with your elderly parents?’
She flinched and lowered her head. Needing time to think.
Bitterly she accepted that he was right... She loved her two best friends, Tameka and Jill, both ex-colleagues from a previous employer, but she knew only too well the fragility of friendship.
When she’d had depression she had lost friends. Not wanting to be seen as being weak she had isolated herself, especially after Dan and Angie’s betrayal, but also their reaction when she had told them about feeling down and unable to cope. At first they had been understanding and supportive but as the weeks had passed she’d felt their impatience, their nervousness. Their eyes had said, Can’t you pull yourself together?
She stared down at the floorboards she had lovingly painted a pale pink last year, emotions sweeping through her.
Anger at those memories, anger at him for hitting so many raw nerves.
Frustration and guilt at being so daunted at the prospect of being the sole carer for a newborn, at the years that stretched out before her, knowing she was the only person protecting this precious life.
Fear about what would happen if her depression returned.
Anxiety about her parents’ slowly declining health.
Perplexity at how stupidly attracted she was to this heartbreaker.
Overloaded with all of those emotions, she rounded on him. ‘And are you going to be there in the middle of the night, when I’m exhausted, or are you going to be away travelling or out on a date?’
His expression tightened and he tilted his head back defiantly. ‘I will take my marriage vows seriously, including to be always faithful.’
The absolute resolution in his voice, the deceitful, guilt-inducing thrill in her heart at his words, blew her usual coolness even further out of the water. ‘Oh, please! You? Celibate? Are you kidding me?’
Heat entered his eyes, pinning her to the seat. ‘Who said anything about being celibate?’
She leapt up. ‘No way are we sleeping together again.’
He walked across the room and right up to her, inches separating them. He stared down at her, his eyes dangerously challenging her, daring her to lie about the attraction whistling through the air in the room. ‘Why?’
He spoke in a low whisper.
She swallowed hard, a shiver running through her. ‘Because you’re not my type.’
‘Which is?’
‘A serial dater who probably gets a kick out of breaking women’s hearts.’
A dangerous spark lit up in the corner of his eye. He moved even closer. She willed herself not to lean towards his heat, his gorgeous faint-inducing scent of leather and soap, his invisible pull that yanked on every cell in her body.
‘Afraid I might do the same to you?’
She stepped back. Away from his power. ‘No! Let me set you straight...my career and now my baby are all that matters to me. I don’t have