Surprise Baby for the Billionaire

by Charlotte Hawkes

  Suddenly he saw unease lance through her.

  ‘Or is it that you don’t find me appealing like this?’ she asked.

  * * *

  ‘Say that again?’ he said.

  His expression darkened but she didn’t know what that meant. Had she been reading him incorrectly all this time? Had he made himself absent these last two weeks not because he didn’t want to give in to the attraction they’d once shared, but because he no longer found her attractive?

  Saskia hated herself. She didn’t consider herself catwalk-model-esque, but nor had she ever needed to be flattered or constantly built up. She had always prided herself on being self-assured—she was who she was, and it was entirely up to other people whether they decided to take it or leave it.

  Yet now, suddenly, with Malachi, she found herself wondering how she measured up. What had his past lovers been like? How would her swelling body compare?

  ‘You’re not compelled to,’ she rambled on, unable to stop herself. But this wasn’t her. At least it wasn’t who she wanted to be. All needy and timid.

  ‘You can’t seriously be asking me that question?’

  He sounded...angry? Somehow—and Saskia had no idea how—she managed to tilt her head up and look him in the eye, to move away from this mousy stranger who inhabited her body.

  ‘I would rather know.’ She was going for confident, but she just sounded sharp.

  Malachi cursed. Low, almost under his breath, but she heard it nonetheless.

  ‘Strip,’ he commanded.

  Had she heard that right?

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Strip.’

  His voice rasped over her, abrading her from the inside out. In an instant the fire smouldering within her kicked back into life.

  ‘And then I shall demonstrate exactly how beautiful I think you are. Even more so now.’

  It was all the reassurance Saskia needed. The hunger in his tone ignited her, like a match to petrol. Without taking another step towards him she locked her gaze with his, the blood pounding through her veins as she slid off her jumper. Taking her time, she began unbuttoning her shirt, and as Malachi inhaled sharply, heat spiralled through her. A corkscrew of desire headed straight for her core. His eyes gleamed and she allowed it to slide down her shoulders before letting it fall to a puddle at her feet.

  But if she’d thought he would fall at her feet, too, she’d been sorely mistaken. The truth hit her as if she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. His eyes had stopped at her middle. Right where the obvious swell of her abdomen was showing.

  And his hard gaze wasn’t one of pride or tenderness.

  ‘Malachi—’ she began, not knowing what to say.

  ‘You were right,’ he cut in harshly. ‘This isn’t a good idea.’

  Pain sliced through her. He was rejecting her—but, more than that, he was rejecting her baby.

  Their baby.

  Even though she’d known all along what kind of a man Malachi was—a businessman, not a family man—it didn’t just hurt. It constricted her heart. As if he’d just thrust his fist inside her chest and was squeezing it.

  She couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. They both stood immobile, staring at each other, and the earth might as well have been splintering apart, fracturing, as a whole chasm opened up between them.

  Abruptly, without a word, Malachi turned and strode out of the room.

  And the soft closing of the door behind him echoed in Saskia’s head, louder and with more finality than the last time he’d walked out on her, back at his penthouse a few months earlier.

  * * *

  Malachi had no idea where he was going. He’d marched around the castello before his brain had even registered where his body was taking him.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Somehow she had imprinted on him when he hadn’t been looking. So much for his assertion that marriage to Saskia was the right and proper thing to do, given the circumstances.

  Deep down, he knew that was if not a lie, then surely only the half of it.

  Deep down, he recognised that it wasn’t completely honourable, the reason why he wanted Saskia as his bride; the truth was far worse.

  Deep down, he understood that Saskia felt it, too.

  Which made it all the more dangerous for them to be here in this castello in the middle of winter, together.

  He couldn’t risk staying. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself around her.

  The only thing he had to give her was his honour, his integrity. He couldn’t give her the grand love she wanted but he had promised to protect her.

  And their baby.

  And so far he had failed at both things.

  If anything had happened to his unborn baby because he had given in to this dark, intense...thing that twisted inside him, that craved her so desperately, he would never have forgiven himself.

  It was a mistake to have married her, and it was a mistake to have brought her here.

  She’d told him that ages ago, but he’d thought he knew better.

  Turned out he wasn’t the man he’d thought he was.

  He certainly wasn’t the man Saskia—or his baby—deserved.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘WHAT HAVE YOU got for me, ladies?’ Saskia plastered a smile onto her face, as if that could convince the world that she was feeling happy inside.

  Maybe one day she would finally be over Malachi Gunn enough to convince herself of the fact, too.

  ‘Here she is—Moorlands General’s little trooper.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Babette,’ she forced out, despite knowing perfectly well it hadn’t been a compliment.

  It never was. And it had been a long enough shift as it was, but Babette’s constant sniping hadn’t made things any easier. At least she would be out of here in less than an hour. Or should be, anyway.

  ‘What have we got, Maggie?’ She turned to the other nurse instead.

  ‘Stella Jones, four years old, nasal foreign body. Previous intervention by parents and local GP, but his attempt to retrieve it only pushed the object further inside.’

  ‘You won’t be able to do anything,’ Babette commented disparagingly. ‘The family have been sent here for local anaesthetic before removal.’

  Saskia very nearly bit her tongue—literally.

  ‘I’ll take a look anyway.’

  ‘It’s a waste of time.’

  ‘Strangely enough, it’s my job,’ Saskia countered, taking a moment to peruse the notes in peace before heading towards the cubicle.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Jones. I’m Saskia, and you must be...wait...let me guess... Stella.’

  Stella cast her a woebegone look whilst her mother practically slumped with relief.

  ‘Stella stuck a bead up her nose a couple of days ago. I tried to get it out, and so did our doctor, but it just won’t come down.’

  ‘Stella, would you mind if I had a little look?’ Saskia used her softest voice.

  Stella wriggled up the bed until her back was wedged into the corner of the wall and shook her head mutinously.

  ‘I’m on her naughty list, too—for bringing her to all these doctors,’ the mother offered a weak smile.

  ‘It’s a thankless task being a parent, isn’t it?’ Saskia sympathised, before cranking her smile up a notch and turning back to Stella. ‘Has it been hurting a lot, sweetie?’

  She was rewarded with a vigorous nod.

  The notes said that the object wasn’t visible on an anterior rhinoscopy, but she would like to see for herself.

  ‘If I promise I won’t try to get it out, would you just let me have a little look? I could pinkie swear?’

  The little girl eyed her sceptically for what felt like an age.

  ‘Please let the doctor look, flower,’ Mrs Jones cajoled. �
�We can’t leave it up there—it will make you really ill.’

  Stella turned to her mother and shook her head again, but this time it was a little less emphatic. Then she edged across the bed for a cuddle.

  Not a bad sign, Saskia considered. It might take a little more careful treading and negotiation, but this might not take as long as she’d initially feared.

  ‘What happened with the GP?’ she asked the mother, making no move to approach Stella yet.

  ‘What happened? Well, he looked up her nose and at first he could see the bead, so he tried to get it out with tweezers, but he couldn’t. I think he might have pushed it up deeper, because afterwards he wasn’t sure he could see it any more, but Stella wouldn’t keep still so he couldn’t get a proper look.’

  ‘Okay, I see. So—what about this, sweetie?’ Saskia kept her back against her seat as she faced the little girl again. ‘I’ll have a little look—just a look, no trying to get the bead out—and then, if I can see it, maybe Mummy can give you a big kiss and that might help to get the bead out for you.’

  ‘A big kiss?’ Stella’s mother looked puzzled.

  ‘It’s called “the parent’s kiss”—basically, it’s something a trusted parent or adult can do for a young child, to help simulate the effect of a sneeze or a gentle nose-blow.’

  ‘Will it really work?’

  ‘It might. Especially with it being a small, smooth bead that Stella has put up there. It’s certainly worth trying before we move on to anything more invasive. But I have to know if I can even see the object first.’

  ‘Stella, flower, if you let the doctor check your nose, I think I might be able to get you that little puppy toy you liked.’

  Stella perked up, so Saskia tried a stage whisper.

  ‘I can definitely tell Mummy that you deserve a puppy toy if you’re so brave.’

  Within ten minutes, and after a little more cajoling, Saskia had the answer she needed, and now Stella was sitting upright on a chair, her back pressed against the fabric, and her mother was sitting, white-faced, in front of her.

  ‘So, Stella, you’re going to open your mouth just a little. Mum, you’ll need to use your own mouth to make a seal around your daughter’s. You’ll press your thumb against the unobstructed nostril and then you’ll exhale in a short, sharp puff.’

  ‘Just one?’

  ‘We can repeat the process up to five times, but just one at a time. When you’re ready, go ahead.’

  ‘How tightly do I press my thumb on her nostril?’

  ‘Tightly enough to stop the air escaping. The more air that shoots down the obstructed nostril, the more chance it has to dislodge the bead.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Mrs Jones nodded suddenly. ‘Okay. So... I just do it?’

  ‘When you’re ready.’

  As the mother adjusted her grip on her daughter, Stella squirmed.

  Saskia knelt down next to her. ‘Don’t worry sweetie,’ she soothed. ‘It’s just going to be like a big kiss from Mummy. And the stiller you can stay, the more chance the bead will come out. And I would love that, because I don’t want to have to try and get it with any of my instruments, and I don’t think you want that either, do you?’

  Another wild head-shake.

  ‘Good,’ encouraged Saskia. ‘So, shall we let Mummy have a go at trying to help?’

  A tentative nod.

  ‘Clever girl. Okay, be brave and think of that toy puppy. You can look at me, if you like. I do a great Donald Duck impression.’

  * * *

  ‘Good call, Saskia,’ Maggie commented as they finished discharging a much happier Stella. ‘Don’t you think, Babette?’

  Babette sniffed, and Saskia supressed a ripple of irritation. How long would she have to be practising as a doctor before she didn’t let Babette get to her? Why did she even care?

  ‘I guess...’ Babette shrugged, giving the impression that it was anything but good. ‘Hadn’t you better be leaving soon, anyway? You don’t want to turn up to the gala looking like that.’

  ‘What gala?’ Saskia regretted the question even as it was leaving her mouth.

  ‘The Valentine’s Day gala.’ Babette stopped, a gleam instantly chasing the dullness from her expression. ‘You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?’

  Saskia didn’t want to lie. But then, she didn’t want to give Babette the upper hand, either.

  ‘I know. I just forgot.’ She managed to remain impressively nonchalant. ‘I’ve got a prior engagement.’

  ‘With a tub of ice cream and your pyjamas?’ Babette snorted, clearly delighted with the turn of events. ‘What could be more important than supporting your husband—the father of your unborn baby—in his biggest charity dinner to date?’

  There was no pretending now. Not on either side. Babette was practically purring as she licked the proverbial cream from her whiskers, whilst Saskia felt so winded she was astonished she wasn’t on her back on the cold floor of the corridor, staring up at the stark white ceiling.

  ‘Andy has been reminding me about it for months. Making sure I’ve got everything I need. New dress, sexy heels, gorgeous jewellery...’

  The woman was really laying it on thickly now. Saskia bared her teeth and hoped it would pass for a cold smile.

  ‘He really does take care of me—but you know how that feels, don’t you, Saskia? Then again...maybe you don’t. I do hope I haven’t caused any offence.’

  Saskia had no idea how she managed to open her mouth, let alone speak. She certainly didn’t recognise the airy, almost amused voice that came out of it.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry about me, Babette. Now that I’m out of a toxic relationship and in a much more mature one I don’t take offence so easily. It’s amazing what a secure partnership does for a person.’

  ‘So secure that you didn’t even know about the Valentine’s gala the Gunn brothers are holding in order to raise money for their precious charity Careful Playing?’ Babette shot back.

  But Saskia noticed that the woman didn’t sound quite as confident as she had before.

  She ramped her smile up a notch. ‘Care to Play.’

  ‘Play what?’ Babette snapped, now clearly rattled. ‘I’m not playing at anything.’

  Oh, I think you are.

  ‘Malachi’s charity is called Care to Play. It provides a safe centre for young carers to just be kids for a few hours and forget their usual responsibilities. I’ve volunteered there several times, but Malachi wanted me to ease back until the baby is born.’

  That much, at least, was true.

  ‘Maybe he just doesn’t want you around,’ sneered Babette, having finally dispensed with any attempt at veiling her snipes. ‘Have you ever thought that perhaps he doesn’t want you sticking your nose into other areas of his life, and concern about your pregnancy is just a convenient excuse?’

  It was galling how closely her words seemed to mirror all of Saskia’s deepest fears. It just proved what a viper the woman was.

  But Saskia wasn’t about to let her know how acutely her words cut. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting that Malachi’s concern for our baby isn’t genuine?’ She shook her head, managing to appear genuinely bemused.

  ‘No. I was suggesting—’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s a relief,’ Saskia cut in swiftly, realising she’d just been handed a way to use Babette’s earlier words against her. ‘I could only imagine how offended he would be if he thought what I just did.’

  ‘What? No...’

  But Saskia was already striding down the corridor as fast as she could, head held deliberately high, before Babette could regain her footing and hit her with a typically cutting comeback.

  However, the reality was that any sense of victory she was feeling in that moment was fleeting. Any moment now Babette’s remarks were going to circle back in her head, echoing all the fe
ars she’d been trying to push aside for what felt like for ever.

  Malachi hadn’t invited her to the gala tonight. He hadn’t even told her about it. His life was so neat, so ordered, with each part of it separate from the others. His work life, his charity, his personal life...

  Not one seemed to cross the divide between one and another. Not even her.

  Especially not her.

  Sadness, and something else she couldn’t—wouldn’t?—put a name to, trickled through her.

  They lived together, they were husband and wife, and they were expecting a baby together. Yet in all other areas they might as well be complete strangers.

  Saskia didn’t know whether that was her fault or Malachi’s. She only knew that one of them was going to have to make the first move if they wanted to resolve it.

  So why not her?

  And why not tonight?

  * * *

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here?’

  He gripped her elbow tightly, manoeuvring her off the floor.

  It was all Saskia could do to hide her surprise and school her features into some semblance of a smile as he ushered her firmly through the throng.

  ‘I’m here to support you,’ she managed in a low voice, once they were out of the way of the main crowd. ‘To support your charity.’

  He expelled air slowly through his teeth, making a hissing sound.

  ‘You’re not needed, Saskia. Go home.’

  ‘On Valentine’s Day? At a ball for couples?’

  ‘You’re not needed, Saskia,’ he repeated, his teeth gritted.

  ‘But I want to be here.’

  She would have thought that his expression couldn’t darken any further, yet somehow it managed it.

  ‘You have no place here.’

  A closeness tightened around her. She tried to fight it.

  ‘I’m your wife...’ The whispered plea fell from her lips, but it didn’t seem to soften the granite-faced Malachi towards her at all. If anything, he appeared all the more impenetrable.

  ‘So stay in that part of my life. I don’t want you in this part.’