by Lucy King
Georgie blinked at the sudden change in subject and visibly shuddered. ‘It was all I could afford.’
‘What happened to your job?’
‘A couple of weeks after I was admitted to hospital I got an email from my company saying that as a result of restructuring my position no longer existed.’
He frowned. ‘A coincidence?’
‘I doubt it. But I was in no state to object. The pay-off was pathetic.’
Bastards. ‘What about your parents?’
She gave a wry smile. ‘Even if we were on speaking terms, a hippie commune is the very last place I would choose to raise a child. Believe me, I have first-hand experience and it wasn’t all that great.’
‘Friends?’
‘It’s all been too much for many of them and I was too far away. And I couldn’t ask any more of Carla. She’d already done so much...’ She paused for a second, swallowing hard as a quick frown creased her brow, seemingly lost in thought, but a second later she’d rallied. ‘Besides, she has her own life to lead. Her job is insane.’
‘Remind me to thank her some time,’ he muttered, not wanting to even think about how alone Georgie had been, how desperate she must have felt.
‘She’s going to be intrigued by this latest turn of events. If she wasn’t going away for work tomorrow I have no doubt she’d be banging on the door first thing.’
‘She’s welcome any time.’
For a moment she didn’t say anything, just looked at him, her eyes shimmering with gratitude that he did not deserve when his help had come so late. ‘You have no idea how glad I am to have found you.’
His pulse thudded heavily and something shifted in his chest. ‘Likewise.’
‘You may not think that when Josh is screaming the place down.’
‘The walls are soundproofed.’
‘That’s a relief.’ She gave him a faint smile. ‘So. Is there anything else you’d like to know?’
Probably. No doubt there were questions he hadn’t even thought of. But in all honesty he couldn’t take any more tonight. He was utterly drained. God only knew how she had the strength to smile after everything she’d just told him. But then, compared with what had come before, he supposed relaying an account of it would have been a walk in the park. Her courage was staggering. Her resilience was a thing of awe. He’d thought that he was pretty tough, but he had nothing on her. He had nothing at all. ‘We’ll talk more in the morning.’
CHAPTER FOUR
WHILE GEORGIE GOT ready for bed she reflected that, as she’d suspected, it hadn’t been easy telling Finn her story. In fact, reliving events even on the most superficial level had been horrible and exhausting. But it had also been cathartic. The weight and severity of what she’d been through had been overwhelming and now that she’d shared some of it she felt slightly lighter, as if a socking great rock was beginning to lift from her shoulders.
It had helped that Finn was such a good listener. He’d offered no opinion and no judgement. He’d just sat there letting her talk. Of course, it was entirely probable that there’d simply been too much to take in for him to be able to respond with anything more than the most basic of questions, but nevertheless she was grateful for his restraint. And his involvement. It was such a relief to know that she was no longer in this alone, but who exactly was she in it with?
Remembering his suggestion to look him up, Georgie fished her phone out of her bag, then climbed under the gorgeously soft covers of the enormous bed. She tapped his name—complete with surname—into a search engine and spent the next fifteen minutes clicking on links and reading articles.
But, instead of cementing the feeling of safety and security that had been burgeoning inside her, what she discovered blew it wide apart. Because, while she’d already guessed that Finn was successful—what with owning a hotel and a club, driving a top-of-the-range car and living in a penthouse—never in her wildest nightmares would she have imagined that he was one of the richest men in the world.
Yet he was.
His company owned hotels and bars and clubs and restaurants and he was worth billions. He’d worked his way up from virtually nothing to become a top player in his industry. His power was immense and his influence was wide-reaching, and it was suddenly terrifying because now she couldn’t help thinking that what if, once he’d had time to absorb the truth about where she’d been and what she’d been doing for the last six months and reflect on it, he considered her unfit to be a mother to his son? What if he tried to take Josh away from her in earnest? She wouldn’t stand a chance. If it came to a custody battle, a judge would take one look at her with her recent mental health record and another at Finn with his billions and that would be that. Case closed. She was sure of it.
She’d gone into so much detail, she thought, a wave of nausea rolling up from her stomach to her throat. About her behaviour. About her conflicted feelings towards Josh. She hadn’t told him the worst of what had happened, but it had been enough. More than enough.
Her vision blurred and a cold sweat broke out all over her skin at the thought of how much she’d revealed, how vulnerable she’d made herself. What had seemed such a relief a mere half an hour ago now felt like the biggest mistake of her life. What did he think about it all? What could he be plotting? How could she possibly sleep, not knowing what he intended to do next? Morning was too far away. She needed clarification now.
Throwing back the covers, Georgie leapt out of bed and crossed the hall. When she reached his room she didn’t think to knock; all she could focus on was protecting Josh and herself and fighting her corner. She opened the door and strode in. Finn was standing next to the bed, wearing a look of surprise on his face and nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.
‘I have one more thing to say,’ she said hoarsely, barely able to hear her own voice above the thundering of her heart, ‘and it can’t wait until morning.’
‘What is it?’
‘I am not perfect. I am still in recovery. But I can do this. And I am capable. I am not a risk to either myself or Josh and I never will be. I will not let you take my son away from me. I will never let you take him away from me.’ She stopped, breathing hard, the force of the emotion swirling through her nearly knocking her off her feet.
‘What are you talking about?’ he said with a frown. ‘I have no intention of taking him away from you.’
‘You did earlier,’ she fired back. ‘In the bedsit.’
‘Yet here you are.’
His dark, steady gaze was locked on hers and something in it, together with the very valid point he’d just made, calmed some of the wildness whipping about inside her. ‘How can I believe you?’
‘You have my word.’
‘I don’t know you well enough yet to know if that means anything.’
‘Then you’ll just have to trust me.’
‘How can I?’
‘My mother died when I was ten,’ he said, a shadow flitting across his face. ‘I know what it’s like to grow up without one. It is not something I’d ever wish to inflict on my own son. Josh will always know both his parents.’
His words sank in and she swallowed hard. ‘Do you really mean that?’
‘I do,’ he said with a brief nod.
‘OK, then,’ she said, letting out a breath as the tension and steam inside her eased. ‘Good. Thank you.’
‘Was there anything else?’
‘Ah, no. Sorry to barge in like that. I didn’t realise you were...’ What? What had he been doing? Her gaze, which had been fixed firmly to his, broke away to travel over the rest of him. His hair was damp. The exposed skin of his broad, muscled chest gleamed in the soft golden light of the room. He’d clearly just come out of the shower, and, now that she wasn’t all fired up with needing to say her piece, it hit her with the force of a freight train that she was standing in his bedroom and he w
as practically naked.
‘...In the middle of something,’ she finished lamely, feeling her cheeks burn as she dragged her eyes back up.
‘Obviously not.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Next time, knock.’
There wouldn’t be a next time. ‘Right. Yes.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Of course. Sorry. Again.’
His dark blue gaze glittered. ‘Goodnight, Georgie.’
‘Goodnight.’
* * *
When Georgie woke up the following morning, it was with great reluctance. Not only was she so warm and cosy she didn’t want to leave the cocoon she’d fashioned out of the duvet, but she was also still utterly wiped out.
It had taken her a long while to fall asleep. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about everything that had happened the evening before, starting with the moment Finn’s bouncer had told her to stop and wait. She could scarcely believe any of what had subsequently unfolded was real, yet here she was, safe and warm and no longer wretched and desperate and on her own.
And then there were the dreams she’d had once she had managed to drift off, dreams that seemed to involve her and Finn and what might have happened if, instead of fleeing his room, she’d walked up to him and rid him of his towel. Details of what followed were hazy and the whole idea of it was absurd, of course, but nevertheless, why she should be going there, even subconsciously, was a bit baffling.
As was the fact that light was streaming in through the blinds, which, seeing as how it was January, meant that it must be late.
Too late.
And too quiet.
And then mid-yawn, mid-stretch, it suddenly struck Georgie that she’d woken of her own accord and she froze, panic coursing through her. Why hadn’t Josh woken her as usual?
Something was wrong.
Icy cold and shaking, she threw back the duvet and leapt out of bed. She raced to his cot in the room next door, only to find it empty.
Where was he? Who had taken him? What had Finn done?
Terror gripped every inch of her. Her knees gave way and she had to cling to the rail of the cot to stop crumpling to the floor. Her heart was thundering and she felt as if she’d been cleaved in two. She couldn’t have lost her son, having only just found him. Fate couldn’t be that cruel. But where had he gone? What was she going to do?
And then a burst of sound pierced the fog of alarm and desperation, rooting her to the spot and pricking her ears.
A gurgle. A stream of giggles. A low masculine voice.
Slowly coming out of her daze, Georgie felt reason return and the terror subside. Josh was OK. Everything was all right.
Still trembling, her pulse still racing, she followed the sounds to the glossy kitchen, where she found Josh sitting in a brand-new pristine high chair, with Finn beside him, feeding him. Upon the black granite worktop that looked as if it had never met so much as a chopping board sat plastic bottles and tubs of milk powder, bibs and muslins, tiny plates and cutlery, all the paraphernalia an infant required and lots more besides.
Stunned into immobility, she watched Finn expertly spoon food into Josh’s waiting mouth, with hardly any of it splattering onto the tray or the floor, and to her shame she felt a surge of resentment. Where had all this stuff come from? How did Finn know in less than twenty-four hours what it had taken her months to figure out? She’d found feeding her son unbelievably fraught. She’d been riddled with anxiety and uncertainty, convinced she was somehow going to poison him by getting the proportions wrong. She still was on occasion. Yet Finn made it look so easy. Unfair didn’t begin to describe the situation.
‘Good morning,’ he said, shooting her a dark glance which he then raked over her, his jaw tightening minutely. ‘Did you sleep well?’
Ish... ‘Yes,’ she replied, ignoring his obvious, if unfathomable, objection to her pyjamas. ‘Did you?’
He muttered something non-committal and turned his attention back to Josh. ‘Help yourself to some breakfast.’
She looked in the direction in which he’d nodded, and at the sight of the array of pastries and fruit enticingly arranged on a great silver platter her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. God, it had been a long time since she’d come across anything so appetising. She filled a plate and then took a seat opposite him.
‘How long has Josh been up?’ she asked, pouring herself some coffee and taking a fortifying sip.
‘A couple of hours.’
She frowned. ‘I didn’t hear him.’
‘You were dead to the world.’
‘But you weren’t.’
‘No. I was doing some research.’
No need to ask into what.
‘And some thinking.’
‘Oh?’ she said, picking up a pain au chocolat. ‘About what?’
‘What happens next.’
‘Which is?’ She took a bite and nearly groaned with pleasure.
‘Firstly,’ he said, his gaze dipping to her mouth for a second and darkening, ‘I’ve hired a nanny.’
Georgie nearly choked on a flake of pastry. A nanny? Why would he do that? Didn’t he trust her? Didn’t he think she could cope? Just because she’d had a lie-in this morning didn’t mean she couldn’t. And what else had he unilaterally arranged? Lawyers? Psychiatrists? What? Her heart was beating too fast. Her breathing was too shallow. She had to calm down.
‘I said I could do this,’ she told him, her mouth dry and the pain au chocolat turning to lead in her stomach.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he replied, all steady calm and cool self-assurance.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes. However, you’ve been ill. You need rest.’
‘I need to be with Josh. We need to strengthen our bond.’
‘I suspect your bond is stronger than you realise.’
At that, hot anger flared into life inside her. How dared he be so patronising? What did he know about anything? One night of research and he was an expert? She didn’t think so.
‘Another stranger in his life will be confusing,’ she said, ignoring the tiny stab of guilt she felt when he visibly flinched. ‘I don’t want a nanny looking after my son. I don’t need that kind of help.’
‘Well, perhaps I do,’ he countered with a bluntness that whipped the wind from her sails.
This wasn’t just about her any more, she realised with a shock. She had to consider the situation from his point of view too. His life had irrevocably changed overnight. This was new territory for him. She had to give him a break. And maybe, on occasion, she did need the kind of help a nanny would provide.
‘When does she start?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’
‘Full-time?’
‘Days only.’
‘OK, fine,’ she said, a bit grudgingly nevertheless. ‘But you should have discussed it with me first.’
He gave her a long look and then gave a brief nod. ‘My mistake.’
‘From what I read last night, you don’t make mistakes.’
‘This isn’t business.’
‘No.’ Although quite what it was she had no idea. ‘And secondly?’
‘Secondly, I’m taking some time off work.’
Oh? At the thought of him being around to witness her struggles and her ineptitude, her skin prickled. But, seeing as how she’d requested his support and he’d supplied it, she could hardly protest. ‘I read you were a workaholic.’
‘That was before I became a father,’ he said, glancing at Josh, who was banging a spoon on the tray of his high chair, his expression softening a fraction. ‘I intend to get to know my son. Everything he is and everything he does. Nothing is more important.’
He meant it too, Georgie thought, her resentment morphing into wistfulness as she watched Finn watching his son with an intensity and interest she’d
never had from either of her parents. It was silly and slightly shameful to be jealous of a six-month-old, but there it was.
‘You’ll need to show me what to do,’ he added, sliding his gaze back to her, the lingering warmth in his eyes easing some of the numbness that filled so much of her.
‘You’re asking me for advice?’ she said with a quick glance at the extensive baby kit he’d somehow masterfully amassed.
‘You have a head start on me.’
‘Not much of one.’
‘Yes, well, I know nothing. Before last night I’d never been this close to a baby, let alone had to take care of one.’
Slightly taken aback by his frank admission, because in her experience rare was the man who confessed he needed help, although she supposed that, unlike many men of her acquaintance, Finn had nothing to prove, she asked, ‘So where did all this come from?’
‘My COO’s off on maternity leave. I called her and she sent me a list of essentials. And that’s it.’
It was strangely reassuring to know that she wasn’t the only one at sea. ‘Well, I’ll try.’
‘OK, then,’ he said, flashing her a sudden smile that lit up his whole face and momentarily dazzled her. ‘Let’s do this.’
* * *
An hour later, Finn found himself in Josh’s room, grappling with the concept of a wriggly, giggly child, a nappy that needed changing and not enough hands.
How could such a simple thing be so difficult? Georgie had told him what to do before heading off for a bath and it hadn’t seemed that complicated, yet he’d been at it for ten minutes now with no success. His company tax returns were easier to get a handle on than this.
Nevertheless, there was absolutely nothing he’d rather be doing. One of the many reasons it was taking so long and proving so tricky was because he kept being distracted by his son. He’d only just managed to lay him flat when he’d found himself transfixed by the curve of his right eyebrow for a good thirty seconds, by which point Josh had kicked several crucial pieces of equipment to the floor and they’d had to start all over again.