Surprise Baby for the Billionaire

by Charlotte Hawkes

  He hadn’t stopped fighting since.

  Conquering. Annexing. Discarding.

  And people thanked him for it.

  Companies were all the better for it even when he stripped them down and walked away from them.

  Yes, it suited him just fine.

  But his baby? That was one thing on which he could never turn his back. He knew that now with a certainty that rocked him to his core. In an instant all the fears which had crowded his head—his heart—had simply...vanished.

  He didn’t feel resentment, or fear, or bitterness when he thought of the two of them in his life. He felt...odd.

  But not a bad odd.

  Malachi shoved the unfamiliar sensations aside roughly. They only brought with them a sense of confusion, and that was the last thing he wanted.

  ‘I don’t think you’re thinking straight, Malachi,’ she managed defiantly.

  ‘On the contrary. I’m thinking perfectly straight.’

  ‘You can’t really expect me to move in with you as though...as though...we’re going to be some kind of...happy family,’ she stuttered, flailing her arms around a little too much for someone who was trying to sound in control.

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ he drawled, as though there wasn’t a pounding so loud in his chest that it might as well have been a roll of thunder right overhead. ‘We’ve made a baby together, Saskia. In my book that makes us some kind of family—so why not make it a happy one?’

  ‘That’s...ludicrous.’

  ‘More ludicrous than you thinking you could cut me out of my own baby’s life?’

  She stopped, swallowed hard, but then looked him in the eye. ‘I apologise for that but, like I said, I intended to tell you until I realised you were avoiding me and I lost my nerve. But this...moving in together...it won’t work.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘I want my child to have stability in its life—people who will always be there, come what may. Not someone who decides after a few months or years that it isn’t for them after all.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  He could see her skin prickle at the unmistakably dangerous edge to his tone, but she continued anyway.

  ‘I want my baby to feel loved, and happy, and secure. Always. I know I can provide all of that for my child. I will never walk away or abandon it.’

  ‘And you believe I will?’ Barely restrained fury arced between them, virtually scorching her with its intensity. ‘I can assure you that will never happen.’

  ‘You say that now...’

  There was no rancour in her voice, and he could tell she was trying to project a quiet inner strength, but he could hear the faint quiver and see the slight tremor of her hands.

  ‘But however good your intentions are at this moment in time, Malachi, you never wanted any of this—you’re happy being a bachelor. What happens when you decide that being a father isn’t for you after all?’

  ‘That won’t happen,’ he gritted out.

  But she continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. ‘You’ll leave. Maybe it will happen slowly, maybe overnight, but either way my child will feel abandoned.’

  ‘Our child,’ he growled. ‘And I will not do that to our baby. I do not simply walk away from my commitments or my responsibilities.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t. You don’t build a business empire like MIG International unless you’re dedicated, single-minded. But this is a baby—not a business. It’s a very different prospect.’

  ‘Be very careful, Saskia, about what you think I do and don’t understand.’ His tone was well moderated, but he could feel the restrained emotion in every syllable.

  ‘Then tell me!’ she exploded unexpectedly. ‘Tell me something about Malachi Gunn that I don’t know. Because you never told me a single thing that weekend.’

  His jaw was locked so tight it was almost painful, but he couldn’t seem to loosen it however hard he tried. A storm was building inside him, silent but nonetheless lethal. And still Saskia pressed on.

  ‘Tell me something that isn’t some morsel of PR carefully crafted for the world at large.’ Her voice rose despite her obvious attempts to be calm. ‘I challenge you.’

  It was all so close to the bone that Malachi was sure she was scraping him, fracturing him, splintering him. Worse, he was almost tempted to answer her. To tell her something about his godawful childhood that no one but he and Sol knew. To make her understand this sudden, driving need to ensure that his child had the kind of family life he had never enjoyed.

  Only he wasn’t quite sure he entirely understood it himself.

  He struggled to maintain his composure. ‘The way you told me something personal about yourself?’ he countered. ‘We both have our reasons for keeping people at arm’s length. I recommend you don’t ask me questions you yourself wouldn’t be prepared to answer.’

  ‘That’s precisely my point, though...’ She lifted her hand, then dropped it. Confusion flooded through her gaze, as though she knew the tension was escalating but had no idea how to stop it. ‘We both like our privacy. How do you see us raising a child together? There’s nothing real between us.’

  He opened his mouth to reply and then his eyes caught sight of her hands, moving subconsciously to cradle her belly, her baby. Their baby. And they were sitting here arguing.

  How had things degenerated like this?

  Abruptly Malachi reached forward and poured out her water. The sound of it pouring from the bottle into her glass filled the room, and he concentrated on the noise the ice cubes made as they clinked and tinkled together. Anything to distract himself for even a moment.

  Then he reached out to hand her the glass and their fingers brushed. It was like a shot of pure adrenaline. He might as well have been dancing out of his own skin. And judging by the expression clouding Saskia’s face he wasn’t the only one.

  So much for nothing real between them.

  He moved back to his seat, took a moment to compose himself. When he spoke again his voice was low, firm. ‘I didn’t bring you here to row with you, Saskia. I brought you because I wanted somewhere private for us to discuss what happens next.’

  ‘Discuss?’ she asked.

  But he noted that her tone was softer now. His attempt to defuse the situation had clearly worked. At least to some degree.

  ‘Or for you to command and for me to listen?’ she went on.

  ‘That will very much depend on whether you accept what I say, zvyozdochka, or decide to argue against it.’

  Zvyozdochka. The endearment he had used that weekend slipped out before he could stop himself, causing Saskia to snap her head up.

  He cursed himself for giving too much away.

  ‘I didn’t think you accepted people arguing with you?’ she challenged softly.

  ‘I don’t,’ he bit out. ‘So allow me to tell you exactly what is going to happen, Saskia.’

  He watched her swallow. Hard. Then she folded her arms over her chest. Nonetheless, he didn’t miss the tremor that rippled through her body. Just as he noticed that she didn’t say anything to stop him.

  ‘You are carrying my child. Mine. Whatever you might think that idiot ex-fiancé of yours would have done, or wanted to do, is of no consequence to me. I don’t care about him, or the life you thought you were building with him. I don’t care about your broken heart or lack of trust. I care that my baby won’t suffer because of your hang-ups.’

  Or his own, if he were honest.

  Though Malachi chose not to voice that.

  ‘Good to know,’ she choked out. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, as it happens...’ He had no idea what he was saying, just knew that words were flowing from him as though they’d been there all along. ‘Forget just moving in with me. You will be my wife.’

  It hung there between them in the shocked sil
ence. For how long, he had no idea.

  And then Saskia gave an indelicate snort. ‘That’s even more preposterous than your first suggestion.’

  An hour ago he might have agreed. Half an hour ago. But now he’d begun to get used to the idea.

  Far more quickly than he might have expected to.

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘We’re not living in the last century. I don’t have to be married to have a child,’ she declared vehemently. And then, almost as an afterthought, added less emphatically, ‘Besides, I don’t want to be your wife.’

  As if she had belatedly realized that was something she ought to have thought, rather than something she actually had thought.

  ‘Marriage is not an institution that I thought I would ever enter,’ was all he could answer. ‘But for the sake of your baby, this will happen. Our child will know only a close family unit.’

  She sucked in a shocked breath. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Do I look like I am joking?’

  She opened her mouth, closed it again, then shot back at him. ‘And in this ridiculous scenario of yours, do you imagine we will be sleeping together, like we’re really a couple?’

  He could tell she regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth, and he knew precisely why.

  ‘How interesting that that’s where your mind went, Saskia,’ he purred. ‘Though I assume sleeping together is a euphemism for having sex, since I’ll remind you that we didn’t actually do much of the former.’

  She shifted in her seat and then glowered at him.

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She was moving restlessly again, clearly jumpy, and he knew in that moment that she was remembering how incredible it had been between them—because he was remembering it, too.

  It hummed and whispered through the air around them. The way her body had fitted to his as if she’d been crafted just for him. The way she’d responded to his touch. The way he’d burned with a fire which had never seemed to die down.

  ‘You’re mad if you think that’s going to happen again...’ The words finally tumbled out, sharp and jerky, as if even she didn’t quite believe what she was saying.

  ‘You protest too much, Saskia. Especially when your body betrays you. Or did you think I hadn’t noticed the way it reacts to me? Still.’

  He relished the expression which poured out of those rich nut-brown eyes, that tongue flicking over her lips, reminding him of the way it had slid over almost every inch of him a few months ago.

  Even the memory made him tighten as surely as if she’d been raking his body with her fingers, and he grabbed hold of it. Because if he held on to their physical attraction, their undeniable chemistry, then he wouldn’t have to consider that there might be more to the way he felt about her than merely the superficial.

  He was so caught up in his thoughts that it took a moment for him to realise she was still addressing him.

  ‘I won’t sleep with you again, Malachi.’ She punched her chin out for emphasis. ‘You can’t make me just because you’re insisting we marry as though we’re back in the fifties.’

  ‘I have no intention of making you do anything,’ he commented dryly. ‘You will want to, Saskia. More than that, you will beg me to take you.’

  ‘Because you know my body better than I do, I suppose?’ She lifted one nonchalant shoulder and shook her hair out.

  He felt it like a caress against the hardest part of himself.

  ‘I think we both know that your body longs right now,’ he growled. ‘Why you should go on denying it is a mystery.’

  ‘Because you’re such a prize, of course,’ Saskia bit back, a little of her former feistiness returning.

  His grin widened that little bit more, and she shivered as though she could actually feel those bared teeth against her skin. He found he rather liked the notion.

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘I imagine there are several million things informing that opinion,’ she managed pointedly.

  ‘No doubt,’ he agreed readily enough. ‘It’s the way of the world, is it not? Although I think we both know that it isn’t simply my multimillion-pound fortune alone which attracts women. It wasn’t what attracted you, after all. So, what did attract you, Saskia?’

  She shivered—a deep ripple of anticipation which he could read like other people could read a book. Despite her attempts to remain at arm’s length, she couldn’t deny their mutual attraction any more than he could.

  ‘You were just my rebound,’ she managed weakly. ‘I told you that the first night and you agreed.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He dipped his head. ‘Except now you’re carrying my baby, and I don’t intend to be kept out of its life.’

  Her gaze simmered. And yet somehow he knew that he was sliding under Saskia’s skin all the deeper, and that she was tempted. Just as he was. He felt her everywhere, and it didn’t help that he could see she was teetering over the precipice of agreeing.

  ‘So you’ve said. But...’

  ‘But...?’ he encouraged, when she didn’t continue.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean marriage is the solution. As though I’m just a problem for you to solve like one of your business deals. And marriage certainly shouldn’t be a business deal with benefits, as you’re suggesting.’

  ‘All right—so what, in your opinion, should marriage be, zvyozdochka?’

  ‘Forget it.’ She shook her head.

  ‘I don’t think I will,’ he told her lazily. ‘I find I’m almost on tenterhooks to hear your answer.’

  ‘You’re impossible.’

  ‘Quite probably. So, tell me what marriage should be.’

  It was insane. No one else could spar with him the way she could. Or, more to the point, no one else made him feel the way she did when she sparred with him, even when she wasn’t even trying. She made him feel almost...predatory.

  ‘You realise that the more you evade the question the more fascinated I become?’

  ‘Then you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment. I have no great revelation for you. Just my rather ordinary opinion.’

  ‘I would hardly call you rather ordinary,’ he countered, his gaze sweeping over her as though she’d laid down a fresh challenge.

  ‘For pity’s sake...’ She exhaled, but then she ducked her eyes from his and he knew he had her.

  He pressed his advantage home. ‘What is marriage to you, Saskia?’

  ‘Marriage is... Well, it’s love. True love.’

  ‘Like you had with that cheating ex-fiancé of yours?’

  It occurred to him, a fraction too late, that some part of him was jealous.

  Ridiculous. He didn’t do jealous. And yet...

  ‘No, not like Andy,’ Saskia refuted hotly. ‘He was an idiot for treating me the way he did, and I was even more of one for letting him.’

  It shouldn’t, yet her admission buoyed Malachi.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I... I don’t know.’

  ‘Something Hollywood, perhaps? Glittery and perfect? I hate to burst your bubble, Saskia, but that’s just for the movies—it doesn’t really exist.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that,’ she managed hotly. ‘My mother was big screen royalty, so I’ve lived it, remember?’

  ‘Then what?’ he pushed again. ‘Perhaps something more akin to the passionate, heady thing your parents had? That well-documented great romance?’

  He was deliberately needling her, but still Malachi wasn’t prepared for the bleak look which suddenly pierced her gaze. A split second of pain which he could read only too acutely, could recognise only too easily. It sliced through him, too, spiked and merciless, before Saskia yanked her features into a semblance of equilibrium.

  Malachi faltered. It was widely known that Saskia’s parents had been madly in love—the
Hollywood dream. Even their deaths had been considered the embodiment of romance: dying in each other’s arms at the side of a road.

  But it wouldn’t have been romantic for the young Saskia. What the hell had he been thinking, raking up memories which must be hurtful? And there was something about the expression in her eyes which warned him that the pain he’d seen ran even deeper than losing her parents.

  He’d experienced enough to know that there was something else. Something more. Something the rest of the world didn’t seem to know.

  He sought something to say, but nothing seemed right.

  ‘Passion is overrated,’ she managed, breaking the silence for herself. ‘We had passion, but it doesn’t mean anything. It was a one-night stand. It’s over. I don’t want you like that any more.’

  Something kicked hard in his chest. ‘I think we both know that’s a lie.’

  And then he was right there in front of her, unable to stop himself from reaching out and sliding one hand into those thick, glossy black curls that he imagined he could feel sweeping over his chest as they’d done every time she’d raked that wicked mouth of hers over his chest—and lower.

  He tilted his head to look up into her eyes. Their rich, expressive depths were spilling over with unspoken longing, confirming all his suspicions. And still he had to force the next words out.

  Testing her? Or himself?

  He couldn’t quite tell.

  ‘One word, Saskia,’ he rasped. ‘One word from you and I’ll let you go and never speak of it again. So I’d advise you to be sure that’s what you really want.’

  ‘I...’

  The sound was low, halting. It vibrated around his chest and echoed off the walls, affording him some sense of victory. Clearly she could no longer pretend that she didn’t ache for him, just as he wanted her with such intensity that he almost couldn’t think straight.

  His mind raced ahead before he could rein it in. Perhaps if they indulged this one last time it might sate the hunger which had been eating away inside him ever since this incomparable woman had left his bed three months ago.