Surprise Baby For The Billionaire

For a moment Saskia had been worried that it had been code for, I can tell you’re pregnant and it’s beginning to show. Even though Saskia knew she wasn’t showing at all. There wasn’t a hint of any swell over her abdomen yet, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was this lack of physical manifestation of her pregnancy which had stalled her in seeking Malachi out at MIG International when he hadn’t shown up at Care to Play.

As if a part of her believed he might doubt what she was saying if he couldn’t see it for himself.

‘I think I look like a Christmas tree.’ Saskia made herself laugh again, with a wave of her hand towards the glorious eighteen-foot work of art which dominated the entrance of the venue. ‘Although if I looked that amazing I’d be happy.’

‘You look even better and you know it.’ Anouk replied instantly. ‘You’ve only just walked in and you’ve turned a dozen heads.’

And yet there was only one head she wanted to turn. Supposed rebound or not.

‘They’re probably looking at you—and, either way, I don’t care. Tonight, Anouk, we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves.’

‘We are?’

‘We are,’ Saskia said firmly, hoping she was convincing her friend even if she wasn’t convincing herself.

She snagged a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter, for something to do with her hands, before realising she couldn’t drink it and passing it straight to Anouk. ‘Starting with this.’

‘You still feeling sick?’ Anouk frowned, eying her with a little too much intensity.

‘Yeah,’ she lied, and another stab of guilt shot through her as she tried to suppress the heat flooding her cheeks.

Anouk didn’t look convinced. If anything, her friend seemed to tense, as though she knew.

The guilt pressed in harder. They’d never deceived each other in over twenty-five years. As soon as she’d told Malachi she would tell Anouk. Why hadn’t she told her before? Was it because she’d always known that, much as her best friend had never encouraged her to leave her ex-fiancé, Anouk had never really taken to Andy?

Ironically, Anouk had even apologised on the one occasion when Saskia had pressed her for an opinion, only for her friend to tell her that whenever she looked at Andy all she saw was another playboy—just like Anouk’s mother’s lovers.

‘Relax.’ Saskia nudged her gently now. ‘Enjoy your drink.’

‘I don’t really like...’ Anouk began, but her friend shushed her.

‘You do tonight.’

Anouk balked, and Saskia knew that all Anouk could see was her mother, downing glasses of wine and popping pills.

‘One glass doesn’t make you your mother.’ Saskia linked her arm through Anouk’s, reading her mind.

It was Anouk’s turn to offer a rueful smile. ‘That obvious, huh?’

‘Only to me. Now, come on, forget about your mother and enjoy this evening. You and I both deserve a bit of time off—and, anyway, we’re supporting a good cause.’

‘We are, aren’t we?’ Anouk nodded, dipping her head and taking a tentative sip.

Saskia told herself to stop scanning the room for Malachi, like some meerkat on watch duty. If it was meant to happen tonight, then it would. Otherwise she would go to his offices in the morning and she would finally tell him.

He had a right to know. And he had a right not to want to be involved.

She wouldn’t force him.

He would have to want her. And their child.

‘A word.’

Every inch of her skin prickled into goosebumps at the rich, deep sound of Malachi’s voice in her ear. As lethally silky as the hand sliding around her elbow even now.

And something about the tone sent a warning whisper coiling its way through her body.

He couldn’t know about the baby, could he?

Unless he’d spoken to Babette.

Saskia cursed inwardly. She was an idiot for letting that woman get to her enough to tell her a single thing, let alone for Babette to be the first person to find out that she was pregnant.

She couldn’t shake the idea that Malachi knew and, worse, that he’d found out from her ex-fiancé’s new fiancée instead of straight from her. It was little wonder that the air between them positively hummed with barely restrained tension.

Saskia wasn’t sure why she allowed him to lead her across the ballroom at the charity gala without even a word of objection.

She’d only managed to slip away from Anouk by taking advantage of Sol’s unexpected appearance to pretend she was going to check the seating plan. Just so that she could see if she could find Malachi.

And now he’d found her.

If he’d come to say what she feared then she had only herself to blame. She should have told him herself. The unspoken accusations already bombarding her were her own fault for being such a coward. And the longer the silence the more forcefully they hurtled into her, leaving her edgy and agitated and full of apprehension—and something else which she didn’t care to examine too closely at all.

As if Malachi knew that the uncertainty was unsettling her, he seemed to be prolonging it, by not speaking another word until they were near the now deserted entrance, well away from the beautiful, well-heeled crowd bustling inside the ballroom, each jostling to set themselves ahead of the pack. Too many of them would be competing with each other to write the biggest cheques just to prove who was higher up the food chain.

It was disheartening to see just how few of them were actually there because they cared about the charity. About the kids.

Like Malachi does?

Abruptly Saskia pulled her head back to the present just as Malachi stopped, turning her to face him before he released her. The fierce, furious expression on his face was one she hadn’t ever seen before, but she feared she could read it in an instant.

‘It’s mine.’

So that answered that question, at least.

Malachi knew she was pregnant, and whether Babette had told him, or someone else had, it hardly seemed to matter now.

Saskia fought to breathe. It was as though someone was sitting on her chest, squashing her lungs, stealing her air. Perhaps it was at the sight of the utterly masculine, foreboding figure in front of her. Or maybe it was because he was suddenly watching her with a cold, hostile expression in those eyes, when up until now she’d only ever known them to be kind and friendly—the colour of the richest, warmest cognac in his enviable drinks cabinet.

Every thought fell from her head, and everything tumbled around her. Her heart accelerated so fast she could barely even feel it. Or maybe it simply stopped.

And then suddenly a sense of calm overtook her and she knew she couldn’t deny it. There was only one thing she could say.

‘Yes.’

He tilted his head sharply.

‘I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t make this any more complicated than it already is by lying.’

Then, taking her elbow again, he steered her outside, neither of them speaking a word, and into the back of his waiting car. When he slid in beside her, filling up every last bit of space, Saskia was sure she was going to suffocate from the sheer pressure of the moment.

And all the heat she remembered from their time together—the heat which had been simmering again the other day at the hospital—flooded around her, almost drowning her in its intensity.

Lord, how was she to survive being in such proximity to him when a traitorous part of her wanted to revisit every inch of that hewn, addictive body which the tuxedo did nothing to temper?

‘May I ask where we are going?’ she asked primly, surprised at how even her voice sounded when she might have expected it to be shaking.

The unexpected truth was that it was almost a relief.

‘My place.’

His tone was grim but he didn’t even look at her. His gaze was trained out of the window, as if he couldn’t bear to.

It hurt. More than it had any right to.

‘Why?’

Her voice was sharper than she’d intended, but the idea of being back in his penthouse was daunting. Every room would surely trigger X-rated memories of their weekend together—and she already had enough of them in her own brain, without returning to the scene of the crime.

His head swivelled slowly to face her and abruptly she decided she preferred him staring out of the window after all.

‘To discuss how we proceed from here.’

His low, controlled voice didn’t fool Saskia for a second. And there was a carefully restrained fury in the cognac depths of his eyes—though whether that was because she was pregnant or because she had concealed it from him, she couldn’t quite be certain.

Either way, he sounded ominous. Especially when she already knew what kind of a force of will Malachi Gunn was.

There was something else in those depths, too—and it was infinitely more dangerous than his anger.

Desire.

Still.

She could feel it rolling over her body as sure as if it were his hands themselves.

A low ache began building right there. Right between her legs, deep and insistent, and only Malachi had ever made her feel it.

Good grief, she couldn’t trust herself around him for a moment.

The realisation was like a blow to the gut. If she went back to his apartment it would only amplify her haywire emotions that much more. Until they were completely out of control. Until she was.

Panic clutched at Saskia.

‘Stop the car,’ she muttered abruptly.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, stop the car.’ She raised her voice, tapping on the glass between them and the driver. ‘I need some air.’

She was vaguely aware of Malachi dipping his head in confirmation before the car slowed. Stopped.

Saskia was out in an instant—but not fast enough to beat Malachi, who had materialised right by her side. He took their coats from his driver, who must have retrieved them from the cloakroom before they’d left the gala.

Why was she even surprised? Of course Malachi hadn’t left the event on a whim. The man never did anything on a whim. Except that long weekend with her, that was.

And now this baby.

Taking her arm, Malachi steered her to the riverside. The bracing air walloped her, mercifully knocking her out of her panic.

‘Not exactly the balmiest evening for a walk along the promenade.’ His tone was clipped. ‘But at least the wind has dropped.’

‘It’s invigorating,’ she lied, turning away from him and beginning to walk.

Anything was better than being pressed up to him within the confines of that car. Remembering the feel of his hands as they had explored every last millimetre of her body with such reverence. The heat from his breath as he had tracked down the column of her neck, leaving her shivering with desire and desperate for more. And the way he had moved between her legs, holding himself up and locking his eyes with hers before he surged into her, making her whole world explode in a riot of colours she’d never known before.

Had that first time been the moment the die had been cast? The moment her journey to pregnancy had begun? Or had that been later, in his apartment? On the couch or on the rug? In the swimming pool or in the bedroom? In his shower or in his bed?

He had claimed her over and over and over again, as if she were his.

She had actually felt like she was. For that one incredible weekend.

And then it had been over.

She’d made herself leave, sneaking out when he hadn’t been able to postpone a conference call for a fourth time, because she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to walk out through the door if he was watching her.

Over the last three months she’d told herself that she’d imagined the way it had been between them. That her memories had been blown out of proportion to all reality.

Now, with her body reacting in ways it had no business doing, Saskia was beginning to fear that her memories hadn’t even done reality justice.

‘Is this really where you want to talk?’

Malachi’s rich voice cut through her thoughts. She toyed with telling him that a part of her didn’t want to talk at all. But she knew that would be unwise. Either way, it was better here...where her body wasn’t so assaulted by memories.

‘There’s no one around.’ She shrugged, even as a faint shiver entered her voice.

She wouldn’t last long in this cold, wearing only what she had on. He would use that to his advantage.

‘So be it.’

They managed about fifty metres in silence, but if she’d been hoping the location might put him off then clearly she’d been mistaken.

‘Were you planning on telling me?’ he demanded, without preamble.

When she didn’t answer it appeared that he couldn’t stop himself from goading her—just a little.

‘Or was there some doubt in your head that it was mine?’

She lifted her eyes up to his dark, blazing ones. A sense of belated dignity was apparently struggling to make itself known.

‘Is yours.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Is,’ she repeated clearly. ‘Not was.’

‘My apologies.’ He didn’t look in the slightest bit apologetic.

‘And, for the record, I don’t make a habit of one-night stands,’ she managed stiffly, compelled to make the point even though it didn’t remotely answer his actual question. ‘I’ve slept with two people in my life. Andy was my first. You were my second.’

Another flash she couldn’t recognise went through his eyes, and another thread of taut silence wove its way around them, as if binding them tighter together even in the expanse of the promenade.

‘Is that so?’

She licked her lips.

‘It is. And I know I told you that already. Three months ago.’

He still didn’t answer, and she had to wonder whether her pedantry made her more of an idiot in his eyes or less. Either way, his intense glower did funny things to her insides. The way it had three months ago. And the way it had every time she’d thought of him since then.

Except that this was so much more...real. So much more potent.

‘You should have told me,’ he growled.

Yes, she should have. No matter how she ran events through her head, that simple fact was unmistakable.

Saskia paused. She wasn’t used to feeling so cautious, as though she was on the back foot. She prided herself on being confident, strong and bold. Ordinarily she would have brazened it out. But then ordinarily she wouldn’t have been facing off against Malachi.

Still, she tilted her head up boldly.

‘I know that it was a one-night stand. I understand that. And that this is an unforeseen consequence. But I want to keep my baby, and that’s my choice. It doesn’t have to be yours. Right here, right now, I’m officially releasing you from any responsibility.’

‘Is that so?’

His eyes glittered furiously, and it was all Saskia could do to hold her ground.

Not that she thought she was in any danger from Malachi—at least not physically. But emotionally...? That was a whole different concept.

It made her choose her next words very, very carefully. ‘I’m trying to be reasonable here,’ she offered at last, trying surreptitiously to take a step back.

He took a step closer to her. Just one, single step. But his stride was longer than hers anyway, and it was enough to force her to tip her head back to look up at him.

Enough for her entire traitorous body to leap in thrilled anticipation. Her hands actually itched to reach up and grab the material of his dark wool coat which had no business clinging to every ridge and muscle which she already knew lay beneath.

‘Reasonable?’ he echoed quietly. Too quietly. ‘Is that what you call it, zvyozdochka?’

‘It is.’

Her voice was altogether too raspy for her own liking. And the name he’d called her that first night coursed through her as though it somehow made her his.

She took another step back before she realised how it might look to him. ‘You don’t agree?’

‘Damned right I don’t,’ he growled, taking them both another step backwards, until she felt the cold sea wall against her back and realised she had no further to go, and his arms locked down either side of her, effectively to cage her.

What was wrong with her that she found the whole thing so utterly arousing?

He wasn’t some knight, claiming her. And she certainly wasn’t a damsel in distress.

‘That’s my baby you’re carrying. You don’t have the right to “release” me from it as though I have no say in the matter. As though the baby has no right to a father.’

‘That wasn’t...’ She shook her head. ‘That isn’t what I’m doing.’

‘That’s exactly what you’re doing.’

‘No. I was just...’ She took a breath, trying to get her thoughts straight in her head before attempting to articulate them. ‘You said that I should have told you, and you’re right—I should have. I was all geared up for it the first couple of times I went to Care to Play, only you weren’t there.’

She stopped, giving him a chance to respond. Almost hoping that he would say something to explain it, but he didn’t. Yet his expression had altered and her heart tumbled.

She was right. He had been avoiding her.

‘You were always there before we had that weekend together,’ Saskia whispered, with no idea how she managed to stay upright, to seem confident, when inside she was crumbling like a sandcastle on the beach under the onslaught of the incoming tide. ‘But after that weekend you were never there. At least not when you knew I would be. As though you were avoiding me...’

And still he didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. If she hadn’t known better she might have thought he’d turned to stone.

She didn’t want to hear the answer—she didn’t need to hear it. She already knew the truth. Still, she couldn’t stop the question from slipping off her lips.

‘Were you avoiding me, Malachi? Were you so concerned that if I saw you at the centre again I’d take it as some sort of sign that we were in a relationship?’

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