Carrying Her Millionaire's Baby

by Sophie Pembroke

  ‘We’re going to be all right,’ she whispered in the vague direction of her navel. ‘I’m...well, I have no idea how yet, but we are. I’ve screwed up enough times that I have to start getting things right eventually, yeah?’

  Okay. So she knew nothing about babies. Or pregnancy. But she could find out. The Internet held all the secrets and one of the things she had managed to do in the last four weeks was find a flat with actual functioning Wi-Fi. And nightmare roommates, admittedly, but she could stay in her bedroom and Internet search.

  There would be websites and lists that she could read and take notes from. She could figure out everything she needed to do, then break it down into manageable chunks and just do it. One small baby step at a time, so it didn’t overwhelm her completely.

  Easy.

  Except...except the first thing on any list had to be telling the father, right?

  Ash.

  It could only be his. She and David hadn’t had sex for over six weeks before the wedding—and even then she’d still been on the Pill. This baby could only be the result of her one unplanned, irresponsible night of passion with Ash.

  She’d been avoiding him ever since they’d got back. No, not avoiding him. Just not going out of her way to see him. He was probably off jetting around the world as usual, anyway. He hadn’t used to travel so much for work, that she remembered. But, ever since Grace died, he’d seemed to enjoy the excuse to get away. He’d even sold the house they’d bought when they’d married, buying a soulless flat somewhere fancy along the river, where he hardly ever spent any time. More often he’d been in her flat instead, especially when David was out.

  But not since their return from paradise. She hadn’t even told him her new address.

  But she’d promised him she’d tell him if there were any...side-effects from their night together. And of course she would. Just not yet.

  She wasn’t ready. She needed more time to figure things out.

  Like how she was going to cope with a baby on her own.

  Zoey sank back down onto the toilet seat and tried to imagine telling him. Finding the actual words to let Ash know he was going to be a father, after all.

  Oh, God, it would break him, she realised suddenly.

  He’d had his true love, his chance at a family—and it had been cruelly taken from him. To offer him this now would be some poor substitute.

  But this was his baby too. One thing she couldn’t do alone, because she didn’t have the right to. She couldn’t cut him out of his own child’s life that way.

  She knew Ash, knew the way he thought, the codes he lived by. He’d do everything he could to support her and love their child, she had no doubt about that. And she wanted their baby to have him actively involved in his or her life. She’d never deny her child or her friend those things.

  But she had to protect herself too.

  If she was going to do this—have a baby with Ash Carmichael—she had to be very clear on what that meant and what it didn’t mean.

  But first she had to tell him.

  Taking a deep breath, Zoey grabbed her phone and tapped out a text.

  * * *

  Are you in town? It would be good to catch up...

  Ash smiled at the screen in front of him. Finally Zoey had got in touch. The message was just like the ones she normally sent when she fancied a night out, away from David usually. Obviously she’d meant what she’d said when she’d told him she wanted to pretend their time on the island had never happened.

  She’d probably been waiting, he realised, until she was sure there were no consequences to their night together. If there had been, she’d have been in touch before now. He’d had an anxious couple of nights a few weeks ago, after some date-counting on the calendar. He couldn’t know exactly when Zoey would be able to test if she was pregnant or not, but he’d done enough research on the subject to narrow it down. So he’d sat in his office, staring blankly at the computer screen, waiting to hear from her—but there had been nothing. Nothing except a strange sense of loss as the weeks passed—which Ash had tried to bury in work and ignore.

  The bottom line was, Zoey would have got in touch sooner if there was anything he needed to know, he was sure. She wouldn’t keep it from him. So she wasn’t pregnant. That was good. Right?

  Which meant they could just get back to being friends again. Perfect.

  Picking up his phone, Ash tapped out a reply.

  I am, as it happens. Want to get together tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven. What’s your new address?

  No point giving her a chance to opt out, now they’d got this far.

  He hadn’t seen his best friend in weeks and he missed her.

  Most of that was his fault, he knew. He could have got in touch with her as easily as she had with him. But it turned out that not travelling didn’t mean not being busy. His father had declared it time for a future planning meeting and dragged him, Moira and a variety of other essential staff off to the family manor house in Kent for several days of meetings and discussions about the direction the business should be taking next.

  And then Arthur had casually dumped the whole thing in Ash’s lap.

  ‘You’re the future of the company, not me. So this is your project. Stay here, or go and actually live in that fancy apartment on the Thames you bought. I don’t care. Just get on with it.’

  Then he’d left before Ash had even had a chance to object.

  Not that he really wanted to. Suddenly, for the first time in two years, he was excited to be working again. Really working—not just escaping from his real life, or his memories. He had a purpose again, and it felt good to be getting stuck in. Even being back in London had been bearable—he felt as if he’d moved on to a different world, a different life. Starting over, just like Zoey was.

  Suddenly, an unwelcome thought hit him. What if he was just replacing one sort of escape with another? He’d thrown himself into work and told himself that he was moving on, but he had to admit that the distraction it provided had been welcome too.

  Because when he wasn’t working, he was thinking about Zoey. Remembering that last moment they’d been alone on the beach together, before the boat had rescued them. Picturing her naked body beside him, sure, but more than that.

  He kept remembering that unreadable look he’d seen on her face. The one that told him he was missing something. That there was something wrong, something she wasn’t telling him.

  Something, he reluctantly admitted to himself, that he was too scared to ask about again.

  But maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe they could just go back to being friends.

  Starting tonight.

  Pulling up his web browser, Ash started searching for somewhere fun to take her. Something she would enjoy. Something that would show her she was still important to him—just in a friendly way.

  His phone pinged.

  Pick me up at work?

  The gallery. Ash frowned. Was that because she was still staying with her parents and didn’t want a scene, or because she didn’t think he’d approve of wherever she’d moved to next?

  He’d figure it out later. Everything would be easier once they were spending time together again, talking again.

  And her text had just helped him find the perfect place to take her too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ZOEY STARED AT the three dresses she’d brought to work at the gallery with her and tried to decide which one put across her message best. Of course, it would be helpful if her message was less confusing.

  Mother of your child, best friend and occasional lover, but that’s all stopping now and we’re just friends and co-parents from here on out was a lot of stress to put on any outfit.

  At least she wasn’t showing yet. Well, apart from being a bit more bloated than usual, but she doubted Ash would be looking closely enough to notice tha
t. He might spot her swollen breasts though... Zoey took down the lowest cut of the three dresses from the rail in the back office, discounting it from her decision-making process.

  If only all decisions were so easy. Like trying to figure out exactly how to tell Ash that she was pregnant.

  Sighing, Zoey closed her eyes, turned around once, then grabbed the first dress her hand hit—a navy blue tunic-style thing she’d bought in a sale and never worn, for some reason. Perfect. It would cover any bloat bump and her enhanced cleavage. He’d never notice a thing.

  Once the gallery was closed for the night, she changed and did her make-up in the washroom mirror, glad to have peace and quiet to get ready alone. As soon as she’d read Ash’s text about picking her up she’d known she couldn’t invite him back to her current flat share. If her roommates weren’t at each other’s throats, then the state of the place would be enough to make him turn up his nose. Zoey had tried to keep things clean, at least, but it was an ongoing battle, given the slobs she was living with.

  Another thing to fix before the baby came. She had to find somewhere better to live. Although how she was going to do that on her wages—especially once she was on maternity leave—she had no idea. The gallery’s HR policies were a little lacking in that area, she’d discovered during her lunch break. Statutory Maternity Pay was the best she could hope for after the first few months. And if she had to pay nursery fees as well as rent...

  One problem at a time, she reminded herself, as her breathing grew shallow and panicked. First, tell Ash. Then panic about everything else.

  One thing was becoming abundantly clear the more she read up and looked into her options—her plans to go it alone, to be solely responsible for her own life, were suddenly a hell of a lot harder. Like it or not, she was going to have to swallow her pride and ask Ash for help if she wanted to keep her head above water.

  And he’d give it, she had no doubt of that. She just worried what the cost would be to her heart.

  At precisely seven o’clock Zoey heard a light tap on the gallery’s glass door and, turning out the last of the lights and grabbing her bag and keys, she headed out to meet Ash, her chest tight and her shoulders tense.

  This was it. And no dress in the world could make it any easier.

  ‘Hey.’ With a broad smile, Ash ducked his head to brush a kiss against her cheek. ‘You look...lovely.’

  Zoey’s own smile stiffened. Had he noticed something? Or was he just awkward because the last time they’d been together she’d mostly been naked?

  She wished she could just blurt it out now and get it over with, but Ash deserved to hear the news of his impending fatherhood somewhere a little more salubrious than a darkened London backstreet.

  ‘Where’s the restaurant?’ she asked as he led her away from the gallery. She hoped it was close—if she’d known they’d be walking she’d have worn lower shoes.

  He flashed her a secretive grin. ‘No restaurant—well, not yet, anyway. We can grab dinner later. And there’s bound to be canapés at this thing if you’re really hungry.’

  ‘What thing?’ Zoey asked, her shoulders practically up around her ears with tension. They were supposed to be going to a restaurant. Preferably a quiet and discreet one where she could tell him her news in private. ‘Where are we going?’

  From his jacket pocket, Ash pulled out two tickets and waved them under her nose. ‘You know that exhibition at the Hemmingslea Gallery everyone’s been talking about? I got us tickets to the opening tonight.’

  He looked so pleased with himself, so sure he’d done a good thing, that there was no way Zoey could tell him that, actually, the thought of standing up and making polite conversation with art-lovers for the next couple of hours made her miserable. Besides, that opening had been sold out for weeks, and it was definitely something Ash must have pulled some serious strings to get—because he knew she’d enjoy it. He’d never cared what everyone was talking about anyway, and the art world wasn’t exactly his natural habitat.

  He’d done this for her. So Zoey plastered on a smile and said, ‘That’s brilliant! Thank you,’ as genuinely as she could manage.

  She just hoped she didn’t throw up over any priceless works of art.

  * * *

  Something was up with Zoey.

  It had taken him a while to notice; she’d seemed fine at the gallery earlier, and gratifyingly excited by the tickets he’d managed to procure. But his first clue should have been the dress. It was dark and boring, and totally un-Zoey-like.

  For a moment, he’d wondered if she’d gone out and bought something plain and loose cut to make sure he didn’t get any ideas about how the night would end. Then he’d reminded himself that tonight was about rebuilding their friendship—not rekindling whatever they’d shared that night on the island. It probably hadn’t even occurred to her. Maybe she was just going for a new look.

  Anyway, the point was, he’d dismissed the dress from his mind. And then he’d been so enjoying spending time with her again, filling her in on his latest project at the company, how exciting it was to be moving on finally, finding his feet in the world again—that it had taken longer than it should to notice that Zoey wasn’t her normal, sparkling self on their walk to the Hemmingslea Gallery.

  As they wandered around the exhibition opening night party, however, there was no denying it.

  Something’s wrong.

  As soon as he knew that, he could see the signs of it in every movement she made. The fixed smile on her pale face. The way she gripped onto a nearby chair too tightly, turning down a glass of champagne for the third time. The slightly green tinge she developed as another waiter brought round a tray of prawn canapés.

  ‘Are you feeling okay?’ he asked as she shook her head at the waiter.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. But her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  Maybe she was physically fine, Ash decided, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something else going on.

  She was avoiding alcohol—because she was afraid that if they got drunk together again they’d make the same mistake they had on the island? Was she looking so stiff and was the conversation so stilted and one-sided because she still felt awkward around him?

  Or was there something else?

  Whatever it was, they definitely needed to talk about it. And not surrounded by priceless art and hundreds of other people, preferably.

  ‘Where did you fancy for dinner?’ he asked casually, hoping to build up to leaving early.

  Zoey’s eyes widened and the green tinge got stronger. ‘Sorry. Be right back.’

  And she was gone, through the crowds, towards the cloakroom.

  Okay, she definitely wasn’t fine, whatever she said. And there was something, a niggling feeling at the back of his head, that told him he knew what the problem was.

  No. She’d have told me by now.

  Following at a slower pace, Ash made his way over to the cloakrooms, where the girl who’d welcomed them waited, guarding jackets and bags.

  ‘Did you see a beautiful woman in a navy dress come this way?’

  She smiled and nodded towards the ladies’ bathroom.

  That made sense. At least she hadn’t run out on him completely. That was always a risk with Zoey.

  Leaning against the wall, Ash waited until she emerged again, still pale but less green.

  ‘Want to try telling me you’re fine again?’ he asked, pushing away from the wall. ‘Or do you fancy trying the truth this time?’

  ‘Ash, really. I’m fine. Must have been something I ate disagreeing with me.’ Another person might have found her words and her smile convincing—someone who didn’t know Zoey as well as he did.

  But he’d seen that look in her eyes before, and recently. That haunted, hunted look, as if she was desperately searching for an escape route, a way to run.

 
It was the same look she’d had when he’d found her in a cupboard, trying to climb out of a window to avoid marrying David.

  The fact she now displayed the same look and feel in relation to him was a stab to Ash’s heart—and his pride.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Zoey,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I’m not some fiancé you’re running out on. I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I can’t do that if you won’t tell me the truth.’

  ‘You want to help...’ Zoey shook her head as she looked down at the floor, giving a low laugh. ‘And I know I need your help. I just... I was so determined to do it on my own. And the moment I tell you, that’s over. You’ll want to fix everything for me.’

  Fix everything. That meant there was something that needed fixing. Of course he was going to want to do that, then.

  ‘Zo. Please. Just talk to me.’

  Indecision flickered across her face. ‘Not here,’ she said finally. ‘I want to tell you—I’ve been trying to figure out how all night. But not here.’

  Grabbing his hand, she pulled him out of the main foyer and into a small side gallery he’d had no idea was even there.

  The room was mostly in darkness—the rest of the gallery was closed for the evening, and Ash was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be there. But there was just enough light from the foyer for him to see her face as she looked up at him, chewing her lower lip.

  ‘Just tell me,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever it is, Zo, we can fix it. Together.’

  Zoey took a breath so deep he could see her chest rising. And he knew in that moment exactly what was coming next. But somehow he still wasn’t prepared for it.

  ‘Ash, I’m pregnant.’

  And his whole world shifted again.

  * * *

  Relief settled over her the moment the words were out. She hadn’t wanted to tell him here, or like this. But, however it had happened, she was glad that he knew. Glad that she wasn’t keeping this secret alone any longer.