Surprise Baby for the Billionaire

by Charlotte Hawkes

  His lips pressed into a thin, vaguely appalled line. ‘Put your coat on,’ he commanded at last. ‘We’re leaving.’

  Then, once again, he exited the room, this time leaving her to scurry behind him.

  * * *

  ‘Are you serious?’

  Saskia stopped at the doors of the castello, staring down the steps to the horse-drawn sleigh below. The storms had abated and the late-afternoon winter sun was out, bouncing and shining off the snow. A true wonderland.

  ‘I thought a sleigh ride through the valley might be a nice way for you to get out and get some fresh air.’

  ‘A sleigh ride?’

  ‘Tonight is a celebration and they put on a fireworks display as part of Tuscany’s many winter fire festivals.’

  A sleigh ride and fireworks? Under other circumstances, it might have even sounded romantic. Still, it would be a glorious way for her to get out. Aside from the brief walks snatched in between blustery snowfalls, she felt as though she’d been cooped up indoors for ever.

  But with Malachi?

  Pressed up against him in the back of the sleigh, under that blanket she could see covering the back seat? Was that really a good idea?

  ‘With you?’

  ‘That was the idea.’ His mouth twitched upwards.

  Her head screamed No! Yet the thrill that rippled through her body cried Why not? And in the end it was her body that won out.

  Saskia descended the stone steps as gracefully as she could, pretending it didn’t sear right through her when she took his proffered hand and allowed him to help her into the sleigh. She feigned nonchalance when he climbed up behind her, settling down so closely that she was certain the emotions raging inside her were going to cause her entire body to implode with tension.

  And then he put his arm around her and drew her into him, and it was like a thousand tiny detonations going off inside her chest.

  ‘So, you told me you’ve always wanted to visit the Amiata?’ he said. ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘I know it’s an extinct volcano, and also one of the highest mountains in Tuscany. And I know it has lava domes rather than a volcanic crater.’

  ‘Did you know that its last recorded volcanic activity was between two hundred and three hundred thousand years ago?’ he asked, his voice rumbling low around her. ‘And that it also puts the hot into the hot springs of Tuscany?’

  And elsewhere, if she was being honest.

  ‘I did know that, actually. I understand that the water which filters deep down comes into contact with the magma and then trickles its way up through crevices in the Earth’s crust.’

  It was all she could do to keep her head focussed on the conversation and not the feel of Malachi’s body, all heat and steel, against hers.

  ‘Some of it trickles,’ he concurred. ‘But some of it gushes up at over five hundred litres per second, like the thermal baths at Saturnia.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to visit them!’ Saskia gasped, unable to stop herself.

  ‘Maybe we can. One day. When you aren’t pregnant.’

  One day?

  Something danced through her at the idea of Malachi thinking into the future, even as logic told her that she was a fool for reading too much into such a throwaway comment.

  ‘So,’ she forced a light, even merry note into her voice, ‘tell me more about these fire festivals you mentioned before.’

  ‘You’ve never heard about them?’

  ‘I haven’t, as it happens.’

  It was as though the moment of openness had created a spark of connection. A strange current seemed to weave around them, even as Saskia berated herself for her foolishness.

  ‘There are fire festivals throughout Tuscany all year round. There are torchlight—or Fiaccolata—festivals, bonfires, fireworks, and candlelight or paper lantern festivals where kids use peashooters to try to set fire to the coloured lanterns.’

  ‘So is that where we’re going now?’

  ‘Not tonight,’ he laughed, and it should surely worry her that the sound made her whole body heat up, like a shot of the strongest 192-proof Spirytus.

  ‘Rificolona is in September, in Florence,’ he explained. ‘Tonight is a traditional bonfire festival. A symbolic reminder of an ancient rivalry between two neighbourhoods in the village. There will be stalls, and games, and a small fireworks display and each side competes to have the biggest and best bonfire.’

  ‘And what does the winner receive?’

  She felt drawn in already. Something about the passion in Malachi’s voice made her realise that this was more than just a festival to him. This was where he loved to be. This was ‘home’.

  ‘The reward isn’t something you can touch, or take home to display on a mantelshelf.’ He smiled. ‘It’s far more than that. The winning neighbourhood will have the most successful year in terms of health, of happiness, of love.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Last year, the winners were the south side neighbourhood,’ Malachi said gruffly. ‘The following month two young couples who had each had failed IVF treatment, and who had both given up hope for babies of their own, fell pregnant within a week of each other. A couple of months ago the village welcomed healthy, happy Sofia Lombardi and Marco Alfonsi.’

  ‘Oh,’ Saskia managed, her throat suddenly inexplicably thick. Full. ‘It sounds...like something worth building the best bonfire for.’

  ‘Yes. I believe it does.’

  Perhaps it was the twilight that started to fall around them shortly after their journey began. Maybe it was the pretty swinging lanterns on the sleigh and the soft jingling of the bells. Possibly it was the magic of the horse-drawn ride itself. Whatever it was, Saskia found herself relaxing into the moment, letting her body ease against Malachi’s as he told her the names of each mountain in the range, how the nature reserve in the valley was one of over one hundred in the Tuscany area, and which of the buildings made up part of the Medici villas.

  He was knowledgeable and witty, sharing anecdotes and unusual facts with her to make the sleigh ride all the more interesting. She couldn’t help but wonder what marriage—real marriage—to this man might be like. He would certainly make learning fun for any child...

  For their child.

  By the time an hour was over her head was a jumble of conflicting emotions, and she barely realised they were heading back towards the local village, which she had longed to visit every time she’d looked out of her window and down the valley.

  The fireworks were starting, and she was just settling back to enjoy them when a scream and a shout went up. Before Saskia knew what was happening, Malachi had withdrawn his arm from around her and was vaulting down off the sleigh. She began to throw the blanket off herself.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.

  ‘Coming with you. If someone has been injured then I’m the best person to be there, don’t you think?’

  ‘No, I don’t think,’ he barked. ‘Stay where you are! That isn’t a request, Saskia. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Then he was gone, racing into the melee with all the speed and power of a hundred-metre sprinter.

  She hesitated, thought twice, then jumped down and followed him at an altogether slower pace.

  The reason for the shout became clear quite quickly. A young boy, wanting to get in on the thrill of the night, had tried to set off his own firework—only for it to go off when he had still been too close.

  There was someone running towards the young boy with a bucket of ice, and without thinking Saskia reacted. She grabbed a couple of bottles of water from a nearby food stand and started to run.

  ‘No, wait. Not ice. Um...non usare il ghiaccio.’ She hurried across the field, aware that Malachi had spun around and was now right beside her, translating in fast, possibly flawless, Italian.

  ‘I told yo
u to wait in the sleigh,’ he snapped.

  ‘And I told you that if there was a medical emergency then I was better off coming with you,’ she replied smoothly. ‘But I know you’re only concerned, so I’ll forgive you trying to boss me around.’

  He hauled off his coat and threw it around her shoulders, growling, but somehow it only made her smile, and she felt a warmth seeping through her despite the cold night air.

  ‘Tell them ice can damage tissues and increase the risk of infection. They’re better off with cool running water.’

  Malachi duly translated, and Saskia wasn’t sure if it was her instructions or merely his presence which had them instantly obeying.

  She reached the casualty—a young boy likely around ten years old.

  ‘Can I look?’ She smiled gently. ‘Posso...guardare?’

  The burn was on his forearm, quite large and already red and swelling, and she threw one bottle of water to Malachi to open whilst she opened the other and began pouring it over his wound. But it was the boy’s pale, cold skin and rapid, shallow breathing which concerned her.

  ‘Come ti chiami?’

  ‘Andreas,’ a young, worried-looking girl answered. ‘His name is Andreas. I am Giulia...sorella? Sister?’

  ‘His sister, yes,’ Saskia smiled. ‘Ciao, Giulia, I’m here to take care of your brother.’

  ‘Grazie.’

  ‘E...tuoi...your parents...are they here?’ She cast an apologetic glance at Malachi as she reverted to English, her limited grasp of Italian spent.

  He translated quickly, only for Giulia to shake her head and begin speaking in Italian too fast for Saskia even to begin to understand. Then the girl got up and pushed through the crowd.

  ‘There’s only their mother. She’s working in the town tonight—Giulia is going to try to get hold of her now.’

  ‘Andreas is showing signs of shock,’ she murmured to Malachi. ‘He really needs to get to hospital. Can you carry him into that house over there? We must keep his wound under running water, but we also need to get him on his back and elevate his legs, to increase blood flow to his head and heart.’

  Even as Malachi scooped the boy up, translating her instructions in that calm, firm way of his, Saskia began emptying another bottle of water over the boy’s arm, moving his clothing out of the way after ensuring nothing was stuck to the wound.

  The owner of the house ran ahead, flicking all the lights on and holding doors open, and a small crowd flanked them, murmuring with concern but apparently happy to follow Saskia’s instructions.

  Before long the boy was lying on the floor in the bathroom, his arm under the cool flow from a handheld showerhead, his legs elevated by a small upturned laundry basket, his body covered with a blanket.

  ‘How long does he need to stay like this?’ asked Malachi.

  ‘I’ll check it after ten minutes or so. I could probably use some cling film to cover the burn. Something that will keep it clear of infection but isn’t fluffy.’

  ‘So not cotton wool?’ He eyed the bag that had been handed to him by the homeowner.

  ‘No—exactly,’ Saskia confirmed. ‘But if it comes to it we can tip out the cotton balls and use the bag itself. I’d just prefer something off a roll, so I know it’s really clean.’

  ‘I’ll go and ask what they have. You’ll be okay?’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’ She turned to the little boy. ‘Bene, Andreas?’

  He nodded stiffly, already looking a little less clammy.

  She sat with him, keeping him under close observation even as the villagers, following her instructions as relayed via Malachi, kept talking to the young lad and soothing him.

  It felt like only seconds since he’d left for the supplies she’d suggested, but already he was back, and she had to admit that his improvisation of a fresh roll of freezer bags was well chosen.

  ‘I brought a variety of painkillers, too. I wasn’t sure what was best.’

  Saskia quickly sifted through them. ‘These or these,’ she confirmed. ‘Not those.’

  Malachi relayed the information to the homeowner before turning back to her.

  ‘The ambulance is nearly here. It will take him to the local clinic, eight miles away, so I think it’s best you do whatever you think needs doing before we transfer him.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Saskia nodded, his trust in her gloriously buoying. ‘Can you take this whilst I wrap his arm?’

  They worked well together, a surprisingly good team. Malachi seemed intuitive, anticipating what she would need next, and he chatted to the boy to keep him happy about what was going on.

  By the time they’d finished, and Andreas had been safely transferred to the ambulance, he looked much more comfortable and Saskia knew she had been accepted by the community.

  Then, as she slipped Malachi’s coat off her shoulders because he must be cold, she heard their gasps and realised they hadn’t known she was pregnant. Suddenly they were the centre of attention again, with everyone rushing to congratulate them—congratulate Malachi.

  A thrill ran through Saskia at the way he reacted—as though they were a real couple. So much so that she almost even fooled herself.

  For a moment she wondered why she was holding out for some great passion. Why she was pretending she believed in the shining Hollywood example of her parents’ great love affair. Especially when she knew the dark, cruel truth.

  Maybe Malachi was right. Maybe what they had—chemistry and sexual passion, with a healthy dose of mutual respect—was enough.

  Perhaps when they got back to the castle she ought to tell him.

  * * *

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered quietly, as he helped her down from the sleigh and walked with her over the grass to the castello.

  ‘What? For today?’

  ‘For today...’ She tilted her head. ‘And for the last few months. I know you’ve only been trying to help and I haven’t made things easier.’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ he agreed, but there was no heat to his words. ‘Why is that, Saskia?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I thought I wanted my child to have more than just two people who married because they thought it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘And there’s something wrong with doing the right thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think I wanted us to know love, and warmth, and family. The things the world believes I had. The things you never had. And, more than that, Malachi, I think I needed to have that. I wanted more than just a marriage of convenience. I guess I’d had enough of my parents, or Andy, or whoever and I just wanted to have someone who really wanted to be with me.’

  She stopped, her chest aching as she thought about her parents.

  ‘Actually, scratch that. I want someone who has to be with me. Who can’t breathe without me. Who can’t breathe without our baby. Who doesn’t want to breathe without us.’

  ‘I told you—that’s a movie screen fantasy,’ he bit out. ‘That doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Maybe it doesn’t. But, then again, maybe you’re wrong and it does exist,’ she countered softly, glancing down at her belly as she laid one protective hand over it. ‘I think it might do, even if it isn’t what I’ve been pretending to myself it is. Even if what my parents had wasn’t it after all.’

  * * *

  He wasn’t sure what he was doing. One moment he was trying to clench his fingers, just so that he didn’t give in to the itch to reach for her again. The next he was kissing her.

  His hands cupped her face as he practically drank her in, as if she was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever tasted.

  Perhaps she was. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want to stop.

  He might have kissed her for hours. Days. Exploring her, reacquainting himself with her and delighting in her. Even when they finally surfaced he found he couldn’t let her
go, and she sighed a deep shuddery breath, her lips still brushing his cheek.

  ‘What are you doing, Malachi?’

  He wasn’t sure he even knew. ‘You accused me of being controlled, reserved, and you told me you didn’t want that.’

  ‘So...’ She paused. ‘This is you being...impulsive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He dropped another kiss on her shoulder and felt another quiver cascade through her.

  ‘You being reckless?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Another kiss. Another tremor.

  ‘You being...unsuppressed?’

  ‘It was,’ he growled wryly. And he lamented the loss of the kiss even as his voice vibrated through her. ‘Until you decided to overanalyse it.’

  ‘I apologise!’ Saskia chuckled softly. ‘I just—’

  ‘That’s enough. Stop talking.’ He cut her off, ruthlessly and effectively, his mouth claiming hers. Stamping his authority all over her.

  And he found that Saskia didn’t seem to mind a bit.

  She gave herself up to his touch. She matched it greedy stroke for greedy stroke. She tasted magnificent, better even than he remembered, and he revelled in every second of it. She slid her arms around his neck and he wasn’t sure whether he hauled her closer or whether she pressed herself to him.

  Possibly both.

  And then he slid one hard, lean thigh between her legs, pressing against her core, making her rock against him. But when she did he found he couldn’t get close enough. Her burgeoning bump was in the way.

  And judging by the small sound of surprise she made, Saskia had felt it, too.

  Instantly, Malachi set her away.

  ‘No, I’m fine—I’m fine,’ she protested, moving closer.

  ‘Are you?’

  He looked at her with concern until she defused the situation with a laugh.

  ‘I’m not that big. It was just unexpected, that’s all. I’m not used to it.’

  ‘Really?’

  Resisting her attempt to step closer again, he kept his hands on her hips, holding her away.