Their Baby Surprise

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 time or interest in relationships.’

‘Good, so a working marriage will suit you perfectly.’

‘A working marriage?’

‘Think of it as a business relationship. We’ll both be clear that the only reason we’re married is for the welfare of our baby. Our mission will be to nurture and protect our child by working closely together and supporting each other in parenting him or her. It will be a team effort.’

He made it all sound so simple and logical. She shook her head and walked away, towards the kitchen counter, muttering, ‘I think I’m in a nightmare.’

‘This is the best solution. Our baby will have both parents in its life, you get to stay in London, stay working in the job you obviously love.’

Why was he doing this? There had to be more reasons than just because he felt responsible. Why would a player, a man known to live for his work, be willing to change his life so much when he didn’t have to? A horrible thought took hold. Was this proposal nothing more than appeasing his board and protecting his reputation? It wouldn’t look too good for a CEO to have got an employee pregnant. Even if he was the majority shareholder in the company. With a bitter taste in her mouth, she asked, ‘Do you want to marry so as not to damage your reputation?’

He considered her with amusement, a faint smile on his lips. ‘My reputation! Je m’en fiche complètement! I couldn’t care less. I’ll happily tell people that it was an accidental pregnancy and we decided to marry in order to raise our baby together. There is no shame in either. We’re simply being responsible and mature parents.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘You’ll do no such thing.’

‘Why?’

‘My parents are elderly and conservative...they believe in the sanctity of marriage. They would be deeply upset if they knew I didn’t marry for love.’

Lucien threw his eyes upwards.

She eyed him angrily. ‘My parents have the most wonderful, loving marriage imaginable. Just because you’re totally lacking in any romance doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist for other people.’

‘Don’t tell me that you were waiting to be swept off your feet.’

She fixed him with her iciest stare. ‘Hardly.’

He looked at her warily. ‘Do you want romance, love...all of that fairy-tale stuff?’

She folded her arms and threw him an unimpressed look. ‘And here I was thinking all Frenchmen were romantics.’

‘A lot of us are grounded in reality.’

‘You’re so grounded I can practically see roots emerging from your shoes. To answer your question, no, I don’t want romance. Thanks to a few too many run-ins with men like you, I’ve been cured of all such desires... What my parents have is unique, but certainly not for me.’

‘Good, so there’s no reason why we shouldn’t marry. My PA has set up a meeting for us at the marriage registrar’s office tomorrow morning to give notice. You will need to bring your passport and proof of address. She also provisionally booked a slot for us to marry there in a month’s time.’

She swallowed the yelp of disbelief that barrelled up inside her. And fixed him with a deadly stare. ‘Wasn’t that a tad presumptuous on your part?’

‘Simply forward planning in the knowledge that your logical legal brain would see the sense of this plan. We have only seven months to get to know one another, to establish an effective working marriage. I want any potential issues resolved before the baby arrives.’

His words should have brought comfort; what he was proposing could, just maybe, work...on paper. Her baby would benefit from having another person in his or her life.

But what if Lucien proved to be unreliable?

And what of her attraction to him, how vulnerable she already felt around him? How she was always waylaid by her attraction to him, abandoning logic and self-preservation to the sound of his voice, the sight of his rugged face, powerful body, the pull of his clean, masculine scent.

She paced the room.

Dizzy, overwhelmed, giddy.

She had to think of her baby. And one thought kept snaking around her brain, around her heart. What if her depression returned? Who would take care of her child then?

She went to the kitchen counter and poured a glass of water.

The cold liquid calmed the nausea swishing around in her belly. ‘Do you mean it when you say that it will be a business relationship and nothing more?’

‘Let’s call it a team effort—we will raise our baby together and support one another at home and in our careers.’

His voice was calm, conciliatory, at peace with the decisions he had taken. A red rag to all of the fears coursing through her. ‘But will we be a team...or are you expecting me to make all of the changes? It’s me who has to leave my home, my independence. The plans I had already made for our future, the baby and me. Will you accept my desire to have a career of my own? Will you accommodate my friends, my parents, my interests? Or will I have to flex to your way of life? Will you change the way you work, your socialising? Will you welcome me and the baby into your life or will you always begrudge us?’

She had spoken angrily, her fear sitting at the base of her throat. She expected him to respond just as angrily but instead he walked towards her. He held her gaze while gently fixing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I will never make our child feel unwanted.’

His expression grew even gentler; concerned eyes swallowed her up. Just as they had the night they made love. ‘Don’t be so afraid.’

‘I’m not afraid.’

His smile told her she wasn’t kidding anyone. So she added, ‘It’s just that this is the craziest idea ever. We don’t know each other.’

‘We’ll get to know one another. You don’t have to do everything in life by the book.’ He lowered his head closer to her and whispered, ‘We can make this work, trust me.’

Her heart dipped and then soared in her chest.

He spoke with such strength, determination, even kindness, she forgot every reason why this could never work and said with a gulp, ‘Can we?’

His hand reached out and for a moment rested just above her hip. She stopped breathing. She fought the urge to move in closer. Longing to feel his arms wrapped around her, his body pushed against hers.

His gaze moved to her tummy and then back up to hers.

He lowered his head, his lips not far away from hers.

She fell into the green burning depths of his eyes.

His breath whispered across her lips.

She swayed closer.

His eyes burnt even brighter. And then his lips brushed against her cheek until he reached her ear. In a low voice he whispered, ‘We’ll make this work.’ His hand cupped her hip even more. ‘I’ll make sure it does.’

And then he was moving to the door. ‘Our appointment is at nine-thirty tomorrow. I will collect you at nine-fifteen.’

Dazed, she stared after him.

A gut-wrenching thought hit her.

Had she just witnessed a master manipulator at work?

She followed him to the front door, resolute that she was going to say no to everything he was proposing. There was no way she was agreeing to marrying this expert schemer...player...heartbreaker.

But before she could speak he turned and, with a quiet, intent dignity, he said, ‘I will be the best father and husband that I can. I’ll change my way of working, my socialising. I will be faithful to all of my marriage vows.’ He paused and his hand moved close to where her belly lay beneath her sweater top, his fingers tipping against the navy cotton. ‘Why wouldn’t I, when I have something so special waiting for me at home?’

CHAPTER THREE

Wednesday 20th April, 10:45 p.m.

This is my private number. Contact me any time you need me.

LATER THAT EVENING Lucien pressed ‘send’ on his text and went back to the never-ending stream of emails awaiting his attention. His stomach growled. He needed food. He had missed the gala dinner he had been scheduled to attend tonight in Palais Brongniart in favour of returning to London.

Knowing that decisive action was needed.

Knowing that he had to cut off any ideas Charlotte had of excluding him from their lives before that idea became entrenched.

And if that took marrying her, so be it.

He was doing the right thing.

He had a duty to his unborn child.

Unlike his own parents, he would be a responsible parent.

But that did not stop the whispers of doubts that were creeping into his bloodstream. Could he make this work? Would he mess up as a father, as a husband? He had failed as a husband once before. Would he do so again?

His phone pinged and the screen glowed in the low light of his home office. He grabbed it impatiently, annoyed to admit to himself that he had been waiting for her response.

I understand why you want to be part of my child’s life. But why do you want us to marry? C

After his first marriage had failed he had sworn never to marry again. Hurt and angry at the endless arguments, sick in his heart at his own weaknesses that led to the marriage imploding. Sick at the knowledge that he was no better than his own spineless father. He had been repulsed the day he had found his father in the act of betraying his mother with another woman.

But not repulsed enough to fight the weak nature he had obviously inherited from him. For Lucien had gone on to betray his first wife, Gabrielle. A betrayal driven by anger and jealousy and hurt and pain. He had found Gabrielle semi-naked in the arms of another man and in pathetic revenge had gone out and slept with another woman. Frantic to ease the panic and loneliness that had threatened to crush him, knowing that there was no one in this world he could trust.

But now an unexpected need to protect his own was hammering through him and it pushed even his fears of marriage, of how it would expose the coward at the heart of him, to the side. He stabbed out his response.

I don’t want our child to have any doubt about how much he’s wanted, or about our commitment to raising him together. This is a public commitment to our baby.

After ten minutes of waiting for a response, he gave in to his hunger and was cooking fresh spinach and ricotta ravioli he had found in his fridge when her response finally came.

It might be a girl. C

Puzzled, he checked back on his previous text and saw he had unwittingly referred to the baby as a boy.

He popped a white grape from a bunch he had also taken from the fridge into his mouth. And then crunched down on another. And another. The sweet but sharp juice easing the dryness in his throat. His heart did a funny little shiver. He was going to be the father of a boy. How he knew he had no idea. But he knew. The knot of tension eating into his neck all day tightened even more.

He texted back.

It’s a boy.

He was plating his pasta when his phone lit up again.

Do you really want to do this? I know you are impulsive in work, in the decisions you take, but this is about a baby, not a business deal you can walk away from if it doesn’t work out. C.

He dropped the bottle of olive oil he was holding onto the smooth concrete of the kitchen counter. He could still back out of this. See the baby at weekends. And at other agreed times.

He wouldn’t have the same opportunity to mess up his son’s life when he wasn’t a constant presence in his life.

He wouldn’t have the constant fear of his marriage descending into a toxic mess.

He wouldn’t have to deal with the fire that burned between him and Charlotte whenever they were in the same room. A fire that could easily derail their plans to raise their child together if expectations and emotions became confused.

But he owed it to his son to make him feel the most wanted child in this world. And he would do anything to ensure that his son never doubted his father’s love.

He punched in his response.

I will never walk away from my son.

He ate his pasta in silence. What was Charlotte thinking? Was she getting cold feet? He typed in another text.

Will collect you at nine-fifteen tomorrow. I’m travelling to Rome after the register office and then on to Asia and the US but I’ll keep in contact.

Again silence. He tossed his now empty plate into the dishwasher and grabbed his phone.

I will curtail my travel when the baby is born.

* * *

Sitting on her sofa in her pyjamas, Charlotte laid her hand on her stomach. Was it slightly more rounded than usual?

Was there really a life growing inside there?

She sighed in confusion at the conflicting thoughts looping through her brain: why would she want to lose her independence?

But then why would she choose to face being a parent on her own?

Why would she choose to marry a maverick heartbreaker?

But then why would she deny her child the right to have her father in her life on a daily basis?

And what of her career? She would struggle to get a job as challenging and rewarding and with so much potential for progression outside London.

But would Lucien be a feckless father?

Or could he love his child as much as her own father loved her?

A large lump swelled in her throat. She adored her father, his old-fashioned gentlemanly ways, his sense of fairness, his love for her mum, his dry sense of humour. The way his eyes lit up whenever he saw her.

But against all of this constant jabber and these conflicting thoughts, one solid feeling pumped in her heart.

She had to do everything to protect her child’s future.

Which had to include taking steps now to protect her baby should anything ever happen to her. She inhaled a deep breath and with trembling fingers managed to type.

The only reason I’m agreeing to this marriage is so that my baby has a hands-on, loving and attentive father in her life. If you aren’t those things, if work and your social life interferes, we are walking away. C

After pressing ‘send’ she switched off the phone and threw it into the far corner of the couch. Instead of resigning tomorrow she would be registering to marry her CEO. She stood and walked towards her bedroom. Praying she knew what she was doing.

Thursday 21st April, 11:10 p.m.

Why aren’t you answering my calls?

Sorry. Was busy. Had to work late to catch up after our appointment at the registrar’s office this morning. What do you want? C

To check how you are.

I’m fine. Thanks. Night. C

Friday 22nd April, 4:54 p.m.

Still busy, I take it? Or is it just my calls you aren’t taking?

I’m at work. Personal calls aren’t allowed. C

Funny. Ring me. I want to speak to you about the Poole project. It’s almost midnight here in Singapore so call within the next half-hour.

Sorry can’t. In a meeting. C

How are you?

Great. Got to go. C

Saturday 23rd April, 12:30 p.m.

Just arrived into Tokyo. What are your plans for the weekend?

Going to visit my parents. Will tell them about baby and our wedding. C

How will they react?

I don’t know. C

Wait for me to return to London. I’ll be back on 30th.

Why? C

I want to support you. And I’m guessing they’ll want to meet me.

I need to do this by myself. C

Why?

It’s easier to pretend to be in love with you when you’re not standing in the same room. C

Tuesday 26th April, 10:30 p.m.

How’s Tokyo? C

In Las Vegas now.

Mixing with lots of pretty showgirls? C

I’m on a construction site.

I told my mum and dad. They’re thrilled about the baby. Shocked but happy about the wedding. C

Good.

Wednesday 27th April, 9:14 p.m.

Won your fortune in Las Vegas yet? C

Moved on to New York last night.

Lucky you. Love New York. C

How are you?

I’m okay. Morning sickness still here. C

You didn’t tell me.

It’s not important—most women suffer when pregnant. C

Take time off work. You should have told me.

You didn’t tell me that you had been married before. C

You’re annoyed?

I’d have preferred not to have found out when we were in the register office. C

It was a long time ago. Have you seen a doctor about your sickness?

Yes. She assured me it’s completely normal. C

You have to take care of yourself and the baby.

We haven’t spoken about telling people at work yet. C

I have a plan that I’ll discuss with you when I’m back in London on Saturday. Come to my house for dinner.

There’s a new restaurant in Soho I’ve been wanting to try. Let’s meet there. I’ll book and send you the details. We also need to talk about a pre-nuptial agreement. I don’t want anything from you. C

We’ll have more privacy to talk in my house.

Somebody at the door. Have to go. C

* * *

Charlotte grimaced at the gingernut biscuit crumbs that had landed on her desk. And in her keyboard! Just—yuck.

Now she remembered why she had quickly given up eating at her desk as a young intern.

She twisted the keyboard upside down and shook vigorously. A woman in an online pregnancy forum swore that ginger biscuits kept her nausea at bay.

Charlotte wasn’t convinced but at least the biscuits might give her a temporary sugar high to beat the tiredness that sat heavy in her bones.

She wasn’t sleeping well.

In a matter of days she had gone from avoiding calls and texts from Lucien to being addicted to checking her phone to see if he had left a message.

In the first few days when he had gone, she had been unable to handle talking to him. Too overwhelmed with how her life had changed. And shocked to know that he had been married before. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it left her feeling more vulnerable. It brought home how little she knew him.

She had needed space and time away from him. Away from how she seemed to lose her ability to think logically when in his presence, even if that was an electronic one. So she hadn’t answered his calls and kept her texts brief, immersing herself instead in finalising the new mentoring programme she was introducing into the department for their new interns.

But when he had stopped texting over the weekend, she realised how much she missed hearing from him, missed knowing that he was thinking about her, even if it was only because she was carrying his child.

But last night when he had suggested that they meet at his house on Saturday to talk it had hit home just how difficult it would be to live under the same roof as him, especially in a house full of memories and reminders of their night together.

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