A Material Gift (D'Arth Series Book 2)

by Camille Oster

Shanna had been pleased with the meeting and the girl, ‘She’ll do’, she’d said as soon as the girl had gone. He hadn’t expected a girl from New Zealand. He knew her type; he’d dabbled with girls like her—out for experiences and fun, before returning back to where they came from to settle down with real jobs, on the hunt for a husband. He wasn’t sure where Mrs Muir had uncovered her, but she seemed willing and that was all that mattered after all.

  “How did it go?” Mrs Muir asked, walking into his office with a stack of folders.

  “Fine,” he said, smiling to the woman who’d been his secretary for years. Mrs Muir was the only person he knew who still referred to herself as a secretary, forgoing the Personal Assistant or Executive Assistant title that others went for. Then again, Mrs Muir was around when they were all secretaries and she saw no reason to change now, even though he sometimes felt like a douche asking people to call his secretary. She and Shanna were the only people he indulged. Everyone else did it his way, except maybe his mother, whom no-one could control.

  “She seemed nice on the phone.”

  “Shanna liked her.”

  “Good.” He knew Mrs Muir wasn’t Shanna’s greatest fan, but she had softened substantially when the topic of a baby had been raised.

  Sebastian looked back at the photo of Shanna in an exquisite silver frame. She was utterly gorgeous, and he knew the photo was completely staged, but the effect was amazing. Shanna always had her industry friends to call in for small favours, such as giving her the latest clothes, stunning photos and invites to wherever she wanted to go.

  When he’d met her, he’d stolen her away from some German banker, but he’d known from the moment he saw her that he wanted her, and she knew it. She’d made him chase her for a while, proving impossible to pin down as she darted all over the world. Shanna wasn’t reachable unless she wanted to be, and she didn’t make her time available unless she wanted to. She always had a choice of other things to do at any moment.

  She wasn’t the absolute first woman to coax him into a relationship, but she was the first one he’d taken seriously. Shanna was perfect—gorgeous, feisty and suitably independent. He liked that she had her own friends and her own career—a career she took very seriously. It was a tough business being a model, and Shanna did it well; she knew all the right people and went to the right events to remain relevant in an industry that brutally used and spat out. Shanna’s star would never fade; she would ensure it. He respected her ambition and single-minded focus on success—just like how she’d approached the limitations of her infertility.

  “So the girl agreed?” Mrs Muir asked.

  “She seemed to.”

  “Did you discuss terms?”

  “No.”

  “Sebastian,” Mrs Muir chided with exasperation.

  “She’s a backpacker; it wouldn’t take much to convince her, I’m sure.”

  “Mr Petersen is concerned about it.”

  “Mr Petersen is always concerned. He’s a lawyer—that’s what I pay him for.”

  “The laws around surrogacy are tricky.”

  “Just have him draw up an agreement. I am sure you can come up with reasonable terms.”

  Mrs Muir sniffed. “Now, the engineers sent through these reports on the Marcham site.”

  Sebastian took the report from her and flicked through it. “They’re clearing the concept?”

  “It looks like they are.”

  He felt excitement and adrenalin suffuse his blood. The Marcham site was a big project, and he took it as a personal challenge to get it from concept to a built structure with people moving in. The plans he had for the Marcham site included a complex of high-end residential with retail and entertainment space. It would be a substantial project for Monaco, one that would be very tricky and tough to get approval for. Only someone with excellent contacts could pull this off. It was one of the things that made Monaco interesting: it was a difficult environment to work in. He liked the idea that he could get a yes when everyone else got a no.

  “Good, ask John to come and see me.” Mrs Muir turned to leave. “And send some flowers to Shanna.”

  She sniffed her disapproval again, as was her habit when the topic of his girlfriend came up. “She is in New York, I believe. Oh and have Petersen send through the contract to the girl.”

  “My understanding is that she needs to be approved by a psychologist to ensure she is of the right state of mind.”

  “She seemed sane enough. You know they have that gleam in their eye when they’re not right.” He loved teasing her about his exploits and games with women, receiving her disapproval and condemnation in return. In truth, Mrs Muir was more motherly than his own mother, who preferred the ancient family seat in Lichtenstein. Mrs Muir chided him on his ways with women, telling him he’d get his come-uppance some time, when a woman would knock his world for six, as she would say in her British way. Although, these day, she chided him more on his choice of girlfriends. He dreaded to think what kind of girl she would choose for him if he gave her the opportunity—probably some librarian type, surrounded by primness. There definitely was a lure to the idea of a prim librarian type girl, but not likely in the way Mrs Muir anticipated. “I am sure you can organise it, with the girl.”

  “As I always do,” she said. Sebastian watched as Mrs Muir retreated and closed the door behind her, leaving him to the silence of his office. He smiled. Nothing got Mrs Muir’s disapproval as when he asked her to be a bit liberal with the truth when it came to girls. That was one thing he missed about his now gone single status.

  His thoughts travelled back to the girl he’d met earlier in the day. She was a pretty thing, with black jeans, a simple top and shoes made of white canvas covered with red cherries. On the whole, a creature so different from Shanna, there was no comparison. She’d looked like a sweet girl and much younger than he’d expected. In truth, he hadn’t been sure what he’d expected in a surrogate, but it hadn’t been sweet, young Samantha D’Arth, with rosy cheeks and wild blond hair.

  *

  Sam arrived home to an empty house. She actually missed Carli and all her madness. Now she wished she had someone she could talk to about the strange day she’d had, where she’d just tentatively agreed to have the baby of Shanna Maya and Sebastian Luc. It was the strangest thing and she couldn’t get her mind around it, both the idea of a baby and the strange couple she’d just met.

  Shanna the Stunningly Gorgeous, had been very nice and talkative, thanking her profusely for agreeing to do this. She’d gone on at lengths about how badly she wanted a baby and how excited she was. Sebastian Luc had been more quiet, but he wasn’t unfriendly as such, more reserved. They seemed like a nice couple. In person, they seemed like real people, with real hopes, dreams and fears. Shanna had taken Sebastian’s hand at one point and they’d looked like they were very much in love. It was strange seeing them, as due to their appearance in magazines for years, there was a sense that she knew where they’d come from and the fact that they’d fallen in love was endearing. The idea that she could complete their happiness was both compelling and rewarding.

  Now that she’d actually met them, she felt less nervous about the whole concept. She could see it all unfold in front of her—she would carry the baby, enjoy her time here in the meantime, hand the baby over to the overjoyed couple she’d met today, and maybe at that point, it was time for her to move on to the next thing. She felt quietly excited about the whole idea; it would be an adventure on many levels, and an act of generosity she could pride herself on later.

  Chapter 5

  Sam twisted the napkin between her fingers as she said goodbye to the awkward meeting she’d had with a psychologist from the Brenner Institute. He’d been a nice man, sent to establish her mental state. He asked awkward questions, but in the end, he’d seemed happy with her answers—disconcertingly noting down her responses as she talked. Still, she was glad to see the end of that meeting. She seemed to have had uncomfortable meetings of late.


  A contract had been sent through for her to sign. She’d read it carefully, and luckily, it was in English. She couldn’t exactly afford a lawyer, but there was nothing in there that seemed out of the ordinary. If it had been anything else, she would have asked her mother to have a look over it, but that would just open up a barrel of trouble. She wanted to tell her mother when it was already a done deal. She was of legal age to make decisions for herself and this was no exception, but if she told her mother now, she could well imagine her mother hopping on a plane there to try to dissuade her. Or she could be quite supportive, but Sam wanted to deal with that later.

  Looking down at the cane and glass coffee table in her flat, she saw the contract document, where the expenses sum was. It was more than generous and she could afford a really nice flat with that—better than this one. She could also quit the job at the Yacht Club, which would be bliss.

  Before she thought further on it, she picked up her pen and signed the document, feeling adrenalin wash through her veins as she did. This wasn’t a big deal, she told herself; she even knew some girls from school who’d had babies—people did it all the time. People had been doing it since the beginning of time, literally.

  She had to go for a walk to get rid of the adrenalin in her system; actually, she felt like running, but a brisk walk would do. Striding through the centre of town, she stopped at a few shop windows, but she wasn’t really taking anything in. When she’d worn herself out, she returned to her flat. The contract sitting in exactly the same spot she’d left it, drawing her attention.

  *

  Chewing her lip, Sam lay back on the doctor’s table staring up at the white ceiling. The walls of the place were covered with pictures of nondescript landscapes from places that weren’t from the south of France or Monaco. The equipment in the room was new and sparkling, and a large window looked out on a wall of greenery. This was private medicine—a whole different story from the clinic she’d gone to when she’d refilled her prescription for the pill last time.

  Things had moved very quickly and now she was here, waiting for the procedure to start. She’d sent the contract off earlier in the previous week, holding onto the envelope a second too long before dropping it in the mail. She’d done it and it had deserved a celebration. She actually had the money to eat in a restaurant now that she had a generous allowance; she had the money for a lot of things. She could go travelling; perhaps spend a few days in Barcelona—in a hotel, not just a hostel. But first, the business end needed to be sorted.

  She’d met Dr Halmonde earlier in the week—a man in a crisp lab-coat, who’d spoken to her in his large office with thick carpet and new furniture. He’d explained the procedure she was now waiting for—that the embryo would be implanted in her uterus. She actually could have done without the details, but he insisted on telling her, in detail, what would happen.

  Sam was growing impatient and she was throwing looks at the nurse to see if there was any indication things were going to start. Apparently, in private medicine, there was no rush at all.

  Finally the doctor entered the room, followed by Sebastian Luc. It was still a shock to see him; his stunning good looks surprising her again. He seemed to be just golden, all round. She watched for Shanna Maya, but they closed the door behind them.

  Sebastian looked over at her awkwardly, then nodded his greeting. “Shanna can’t make it; her flight was delayed,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, with perfect English. She hadn’t quite remembered his voice from when they’d met last time. “It will just be us.”

  “Should we delay to another day?” Sam asked, feeling both relief and dread at the thought of not going through with it now, and having to wait through more days.

  “No, she said to go ahead,” he said, sitting down in a chair along the wall. He was dressed in a light grey suit with a slight shimmer to it when the material stretched; it looked more expensive than her entire wardrobe put together, probably by a long shot. He looked uncomfortable; although not half as much as she was, lying there with her legs in stirrups—naked bottom under a sheet, making it an extremely awkward moment.

  Her mouth went dry with nervousness as the doctor sat down on a stool at the end of the table.

  “Shall we proceed?” he asked brightly while pulling latex gloves on with a distinct snap. She nodded jerkily; made difficult by the position she was lying in, then looked over at Sebastian, who gave a small nod with his otherwise expressionless face. Sam brought her eyes back to the ceiling and swallowed the nervousness she felt. She felt the doctor lift the sheet higher, giving him access. Closing her eyes, she couldn’t believe she was doing this. The awkwardness made her wonder what she’d been thinking getting involved with this whole thing. She jumped slightly as she felt the doctor insert instruments. He moved them around slightly and then said, “Alright then, done.” Sam looked up, confused. Was that it? “You should stay here a little while, just to give it a chance to take. Marie here will let you know when you should get up and dress. She will also give you a list of the supplements you should take throughout the pregnancy.”

  *

  Sebastian nodded slightly to the doctor as the man left the room. Personally he found the man annoying, but that might be the mood he was in. He was annoyed with Shanna, who’d left a message on his phone saying she couldn’t make it and would he take care of it. Some assistant had answered her phone when he’d called back, saying she was unavailable. Her schedule could change at a moment’s notice, but this was a time he’d expected her to be there. In fact, he’d hoped he would have been able to skip it all together. He would have come if Shanna had wanted him to, but he’d expected that it wouldn’t be necessary. He had been here a day before, to do his bit. It had been uncomfortable, but necessary. But then Shanna wasn’t coming and he wasn’t quite careless enough to just leave the girl on her own.

  He looked at the girl, whose eyes were intently watching the ceiling. Her skin was perfect; a few freckles on her nose made her look fresh and young in a way that make-up and gloss couldn’t achieve. He smiled slightly. His primary concern used to be to not get a girl like her pregnant, and now, here he was, paying a doctor to ensure it happened. Things surely had changed in his life.

  The doctor had told him she was an excellent choice of surrogate. Her youth and health would make her very fertile. It was surreal talking about fertility; talking in medical terms about getting this girl in front of him knocked up—a concept that in his mind was associated with pleasure and sensuality had been distilled into something completely clinical. On an emotional level, he couldn’t reconcile the two. His primitive mind couldn’t quite understand that his seed was now inside that girl, circumventing the normal ways such things happened.

  Every little noise was amplified in the quiet of the room. Shanna should be here. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t managed to get herself here.

  “You don’t have to wait,” she said without looking at him.

  He did want to go—escape the discomfort inherent in the whole situation. “Do you have a way of getting home?” he asked, sitting forward within his chair.

  “I was going to take a taxi.”

  “I’ll drive you. Where do you live?”

  “Beausoleil.”

  “I will drive you,” he repeated and stood up, stretching his legs, which were tense from sitting still in the hard chair. He studied the awful art on the walls. She lived quite far away, but he would take her. As uncomfortable as the day had been, he was grateful for what she was doing for them. He couldn’t quite understand why she would give such a generous gift. He was paying her as much as the law would allow, which didn’t compare to what she was doing for them.

  Once the nurse returned, he left the room so the girl could dress in privacy. He paced around the reception area, where the receptionist was giving him encouraging looks. He ignored her, but he was aware of the message she was trying to convey. Just because he wasn’t single, didn’t mean it stopped—there were still women who of
fered themselves in subtle and sometimes not so subtle ways. Loyal to Shanna had been important to him, though it’d taken some willpower at times, but he’d endured. He wanted to be loyal to his woman. Lots of men who weren’t, but he’d never wanted to be in a relationship what wasn’t on the level—probably the reason he’d taken so long to actually settle down. There was nothing out there he hadn’t seen before, so the idea of monogamy had been the novel and interesting idea. He was very proud of himself in having achieved it.

  The girl appeared from the room and he invited her through gesture towards the door. The elevator went straight to the car park at the bottom of the building, where his Maserati waited. Clicking it open, he got in and waited for the girl to get in as well. Anger at Shanna unfolded in him again—she should be sitting in that seat right now, gushing about how special this moment was.

  He drove a little more sedately than he normally would; he did have a potentially pregnant girl in his care. Although he didn’t know much about pregnancy, he understood that there was nausea and spewing involved. Looking over at her, he check her colouring, but she looked fine. She had the window down slightly, enjoying the wind on her face.

  “How long have you lived in Beausoleil?” he asked.

  “About six months. I was travelling through and happened to get a job at the Yacht Club down on the waterfront. Do you know it?”

  “I do. You are a... ?”

  “Waitress, or bar tender, depending on the time of day,” she filled in. Her tone was lilted in the way that people from her region spoke.

  “Will you keep working there?”

  “No, I thought I would use this time to explore the area, perhaps see more of the country, beyond the joyous place that is the Monte Carlo Yacht Club.” He noted the sarcasm in her voice.

  “You don’t like working there?”

  “Not particularly. It isn’t bad, as such, I guess, but there’s a lot of grinning and bearing it that goes with the job—a bit of groping, too.”