Surprise Baby for the Billionaire

by Charlotte Hawkes

  ‘Maybe another time.’

  Sol narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and Malachi pretended to ignore him.

  ‘Yeah, then,’ Sol admitted. ‘Anouk.’

  It was enough to finally get his attention. If Sol, the perennial playboy, could be falling for a woman, it had to say something.

  ‘Something’s going on between you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  Malachi knew he should back away, but he couldn’t. It was too coincidental.

  ‘Serious?’

  Sol hesitated. ‘Maybe. She’s the reason I came here today, at least.’

  His brother studied him, cool and perceptive. ‘What do you need?’ Malachi asked at length.

  ‘You have people who can track stuff down for you, right?’

  Malachi inclined his head.

  ‘I want you to track down all you can on this man.’ Sol flicked though his phone and found the notepad before spinning it across the desk to him. ‘He died thirteen years ago, but he used to live there.’

  Wordlessly Malachi read the screen and made a note of the information. He didn’t even question it. If Sol needed it that was his business. Besides, if he kept his nose out of his brother’s life maybe Sol would return the favour.

  ‘Do you think you can do this without hurting her, Sol?’ Malachi heard himself saying the words.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Settling down with Anouk. Do you think you can do that?’

  He knew it came across as a challenge, but he hadn’t intended it to. All he wanted was to understand. To be sure it wasn’t just himself making a mistake.

  ‘I’m not settling down,’ Sol denied.

  ‘Then why do you care? I mean, I get that you care about your patients, and the kids at the centre. But I’ve never known you to care about a woman enough to ask for my help.’

  ‘She’s...different.’

  Malachi knew his brother was choosing his words carefully. Almost too carefully.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean there’s anything serious between us.’

  ‘Right...’

  Malachi pushed his chair back abruptly and stood up, moving to the window to look out. Not at anything in particular—just as a way to escape the confines of the room, which suddenly felt a little stifling.

  Not that it made any difference. Wherever he looked Saskia was back, plaguing his every thought.

  Still, it caught him out when Sol suddenly spoke.

  ‘Who is she, Mal?’

  Malachi swung around but said nothing. He had no idea what he could say. He didn’t even know what he thought.

  Still, he didn’t like the way his brother was watching him a little too shrewdly. As if he knew what was going on.

  ‘I think I prefer the Sol who just beds women and moves on,’ Malachi bit out. ‘You’re acting like a lost puppy—Anouk’s lost puppy, to be exact.’

  ‘Sod off,’ Sol said casually, before standing up and sauntering over to the sideboard for more pastries. ‘I’m no one’s puppy.’

  ‘Not usually, no.’ Malachi shrugged. ‘You’re usually fending them off with a stick.’

  ‘What? Puppies?’ Sol quipped.

  ‘Puppies, women, little old ladies...’ Malachi folded his arms over his chest and shrugged. ‘But I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way I saw you look at that one the night of the gala.’

  ‘Her name’s Anouk,’ Sol corrected instinctively, realising too late that he’d been baited.

  Interesting, Malachi considered.

  ‘And I didn’t look at her in any particularly special way.’

  Malachi said nothing.

  ‘No clever quip?’ Sol demanded, when he clearly couldn’t stand the heavy silence any longer.

  ‘I told you—not this time.’

  He could hardly batter his kid brother about Anouk when he had left Saskia at his castello, four months pregnant, in Imelda’s care.

  What the hell was he even doing here in the UK?

  ‘What’s going on, Mal?’ Sol asked suddenly.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’re being cagey.’

  ‘Not really,’ Mal dismissed casually. Arguably a little too casually. ‘No more so than you, anyway.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ Sol shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘Fine.’ Leaning back on the sideboard, Sol eyed his brother. ‘Time to tell me something I don’t know, Mal. If you’ve got the balls for it.’

  And just like that they were two kids again, and Sol was pressing him about where he’d been that first time he’d done a job for the Mullen brothers.

  It was so random, and yet it felt so appropriate. And before he knew it Mal heard himself reply.

  ‘I always thought a wife, a family, wasn’t for us. Not after everything with her.’

  Sol didn’t answer, but Mal knew they both understood he was talking about their mother.

  ‘I always thought I’d done that bit. I’d endured that responsibility. I never wanted to do it again.’

  ‘But now...?’ Sol prompted.

  ‘Lately... I don’t know.’ Malachi swung around from the window almost angrily. ‘Forget it. I’m just... Forget I said anything.’

  In over two decades they hadn’t talked about any of this. About feelings. The Gunn brothers had never bought into the caring/sharing thing. Now Malachi wondered if they’d been wrong to bottle things up.

  ‘Are we capable of it, do you think, Mal?’ asked Sol.

  He frowned. ‘Of what?’

  ‘Of...love.’

  It was so out of the blue that Mal couldn’t even begin to order his thoughts.

  ‘You love Anouk?’

  Sol scoffed, but there was an expression in his eyes that had him convinced his brother wasn’t just kidding around.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Sol said. ‘I’m not saying that. It’s just hypothetical.’

  He didn’t believe his brother—but that wasn’t his main issue.

  ‘Hypothetically, I don’t even know if we have that capacity,’ Malachi gritted out unexpectedly. ‘But maybe the question should be, do we deserve it? More pertinently, does any woman deserve to be subjected to our love, bratik? Whatever that is.’

  Sol stared at him blankly for an age.

  ‘So...you and Saskia?’

  ‘I don’t wish to discuss it.’ Malachi cut him off harshly.

  And then Sol shocked him by placing his hands on Malachi’s desk and addressing him urgently.

  ‘But you need to. Right here, right now. Our mother ruined our childhood. It’s time we both decided whether we’re going to let her ruin our futures, too.’

  * * *

  Saskia knew he was back in Italy the moment she walked through the gym door the next morning. It was something in the air. The way the hairs on her arms lifted as if in anticipation.

  She wondered when he’d returned from the UK. And why. The last few nights had been horrendous, tossing and turning and wondering if Malachi was even going to bother coming back.

  Her stomach still churned with the idea that he might not. She’d have been trapped with no way out.

  So why was it that she didn’t feel remotely hemmed-in when Mal was around?

  He was the one who had insisted on this sham marriage, on her moving into his apartment, on them forging some kind of relationship, if only for the sake of their unborn baby.

  But you didn’t have to agree, pointed out a calm, rational voice which sounded altogether too much like her best friend, Anouk.

  Shoving it aside, Saskia threw open the door to the gym and marched boldly inside.

  She stopped.

  Swallowed.

  Tried not to stare.

  Knowing Malachi was in here
all hours, running, swimming, keeping out of her way, had been one thing. The sight of him now, training with a Mu ren Zhuang—all graceful power, his body in complete control of each perfectly landed strike, his bare chest glistening with a sheen of sweat—was enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

  He didn’t appear to have spotted her, and she knew she should probably alert him to her presence, but all she could do was stand and watch. Mesmerised.

  Time passed, but Saskia wasn’t even aware of it. Only of the rhythmic, elegant pace of his movements. The hypnotic nature of his training.

  And then he placed a plastic water bottle on the top of the training post, kicked the post with one leg to catapult the bottle into the air, then spun around and kicked it with the other foot.

  It came thundering through the air towards her, and before she could stop herself Saskia let out a surprised squeak and launched herself sideways.

  Malachi was across the room in an instant. ‘What are you doing in here?’

  ‘Looking for you,’ she retorted, tilting her chin up in defiance at his vaguely accusatory tone. ‘You’re back, then.’

  ‘Evidence would support that observation,’ he returned.

  Any other woman might have balked at the dangerous edge to his voice. Saskia decided that she didn’t care. Or, at least, what did she have to lose?

  ‘I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d left me here. In the capable hands of Imelda, of course.’

  For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. So she wasn’t prepared when that dark, impenetrable expression eased and he nodded at her.

  ‘Perhaps I was going to. But I thought better of it.’

  For a split second she faltered, but then caught herself. If she didn’t take advantage of this moment she would be a fool. Because he could shut her out at any moment and then where would she be?

  Her heart thundered.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘You once asked me to tell you something about myself. Something that wasn’t carefully crafted by MIG International’s PR machine.’

  The roaring in her ears, which had started slowly the moment she’d walked into the gym, became almost deafening. He couldn’t be opening up to her—that would be too much to hope for.

  ‘You refused,’ she managed instead.

  ‘So now I’m telling you.’

  He shrugged, but the dismissive gesture didn’t fool her for a moment.

  ‘My parents had a similar sort of ridiculous grand love affair to what your parents had. Passion and drama with a sprinkling of volatility, just like your parents—though it ended rather differently. The first few years of my life were fine. Better than fine. We didn’t have much money, but we were a family.’

  Her heart was already twisting painfully, folding in on itself even before he’d finished.

  ‘And then my father died. He was a prize fighter, and one night he sustained a head injury. A bleed on the brain.’

  ‘How old were you?’ she asked, shocked.

  ‘I was five and Sol was two.’

  Her brain began to turn. ‘Is that why your brother chose neurosurgery?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He lifted his shoulders again. ‘Anyway, the same night my mother began her descent into drugs. It was slow at first, but it gathered momentum quickly. By the time I was eight I was caring for her and for my brother full-time.’

  ‘You were a young carer?’ she realised, wondering why she hadn’t seen it before. How had she been so blind? ‘That’s why you set up Care to Play?’

  And it was why he was insisting on taking responsibility for her and for their baby. It was in Malachi’s make-up. It was who he was. The fact that it was her carrying his baby had no bearing on it whatsoever. She was nothing special to him. She never would be. She was just the woman who had fallen pregnant with his baby.

  It was all finally beginning to make sense.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEY WERE MARRIED a few days later, in the quaint chapel in the grounds of the castello. Saskia wore a luxurious cashmere dress of whisper-grey, her hair coiled artfully on her head and a handpicked bouquet of calla lilies in her hands, and her heart beat a tattoo on the inside of her chest.

  She recited her vows in front of him, trying not to think too much about the words themselves, or how they related to her. And certainly trying not to listen too closely to the promises Malachi was making, in a voice so deep and clear that it had every hair on her body standing to attention.

  What would it feel like to have this man standing in front of her and saying those words because he truly loved her and wanted to be with her? And not just because she was the mother of his unborn child?

  She could imagine that if she listened, if she’d imagined those words truly were for her, then she would be swept up in the magic of it. She already very nearly had been.

  Malachi had a way of looking at her that made her feel cherished. Wanted. Loved. She had to keep reminding herself that it was the baby he felt all those emotions for. Not her.

  It wasn’t real.

  But she wanted it to be. Far more than she had any right to do.

  When it was time to kiss the bride she expected some brief peck on the cheek, in line with the way he’d kept away from her these last few weeks. So when he gathered her to him, his hand gently smoothing a stray lock of hair from her face, then pressed his lips to hers in a way which held such unspoken emotion and promise, she was sure she’d crack apart right then and there.

  She wanted him with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm her.

  She loved him.

  There was no other word for it. And it hurt beyond reason that he didn’t feel the same way. That he would never feel that way.

  No wonder she’d been setting herself impossible standards—it had protected her heart. Andy’s betrayal hadn’t even come close to causing her the pain she felt knowing that she loved the one man who could never love her back.

  And after they’d returned to the castello, and the meal that Imelda had prepared for them with such love, she was ready when Malachi withdrew some time later, closeting himself in his study to throw himself into work—and keep away from her.

  * * *

  Saskia was sitting in front of the fire in her favourite room in the castello. The library. She’d read so many books over the past few weeks and tried out every chair, every window seat, every couch in the room. Suddenly, Malachi strode through the doors, seeming to fill the room with white heat in an instant.

  She lowered the book onto her lap carefully and folded her hands, trying not to let them shake with the delicious surprise of it. He had been avoiding her for the last fortnight, holed up in his office, furiously working on some new business deal or other. She was certain that, had it not been for the snowstorms which had battered the region, he would have gone weeks ago, leaving her alone in the castello but for the kind and bustling Imelda.

  ‘The doctor has told me that you’re doing much better,’ he announced, without preamble.

  Saskia looked up at him. She’d been begging him for a month now to leave the castello, but he’d refused to provide a vehicle and told her the roads were too treacherous for her to go alone. He’d made his concern for her health and that of their baby clear.

  Which only made her wonder all the more about what Malachi wanted now.

  Was he suggesting that she would be able to return home to the UK? Back to London? Possibly even back to work at the hospital? They would surely welcome her. In all likelihood they’d be short of staff.

  ‘Much better. It seems this rest has been just what I needed. The baby is fine and developing well.’

  He dipped his head curtly. ‘I thought you might be tired of being cooped up indoors.’

  This was a surprise.

  ‘I am—as I’m sure I’ve told you many times,’ she ag
reed. ‘Very tired of it.’

  ‘Then make sure you have warm clothes and a decent coat. We’re heading out.’

  It took her a moment to gather her skittering thoughts. ‘Where?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Before she could ask any more questions he spun on his heel and marched straight back out of the library.

  For two weeks he had practically ignored her presence here in the castello. Did he really think that he could click his fingers now and she would go running?

  Well, he could just think again.

  She told herself that her racing heart was crossness, not anticipation.

  Ten minutes later, the door opened again.

  ‘Since you didn’t appear to be moving, I took the liberty of bringing you a thick jumper and your coat. You look warm enough otherwise.’

  Saskia stared at him. ‘You went into my room? You went through my clothes?’

  And her outrage had nothing to do with the fact that in those drawers lurked the laciest scraps of material, which she still didn’t even understand why she’d packed.

  It was as if a traitorous part of her had imagined a stay in Malachi’s castello would lead to more...intimate pursuits.

  ‘You appeared to need the assistance.’ He raised one eyebrow unapologetically. ‘Perhaps the doctor was mistaken when he thought you were better.’

  She had the vague impression that she was baring her teeth at him. But it was either that or crumple with shame. ‘You had no right,’ she breathed.

  ‘What kind of a husband would I be if I didn’t help the mother of my unborn baby?’

  ‘And here was I thinking that you’d been avoiding me these past couple of weeks—since our wedding that no one seems to know about. Are you hiding me away out of shame?’

  Shockingly, Malachi flinched, as if she had scored a direct hit. As though he felt guilty for it.

  He regrouped quickly. ‘I was trying to be considerate by affording you space.’

  ‘Is that really what you were doing, Malachi?’ she asked softly.

  And then she seemed to score an even heavier hit as his gaze locked with hers.