The Tycoon's Shock Heir

by Bella Frances

  He opened his black notebook and took another fresh page. Lifted a sleek rollerball, made two lists. Things he was going to jettison and things he was going to adopt.

  Booze. That had to go. Not because he had a problem with it, but because it was always there at the back of his mind that he might one day. His single Friday beer was his way of showing that he had it under control. But he’d still had too many nights on the tiles he’d regretted, and his father had seemed to have it all under control. Except he hadn’t. And it’d killed him.

  He looked at Ruby’s face, soft in sleep. There was no way he was going to have anything around him that might do harm to her or their baby.

  Next to go—gambling. That wasn’t going to be hard. He couldn’t care less if he never saw the inside of a casino again. But it was the boys he’d miss. He needed his friends. He needed the camaraderie, the bluster and fun.

  And more than that he needed to feel that physical force, that competition. It was rugby he really needed—he still missed it every day. But this wasn’t about him. This was about doing the right thing. This was the future, not the past.

  Ruby moaned in her sleep and he sat up straight in the chair. She was dreaming, mumbling softly, and he leaned closer, watching. Her ebony hair was fanned out on the pillow, her bare arm as pale as the sheet it rested on. He saw the faint scar of a needle jab and a series of pale brown moles, but they weren’t imperfections. All they did was made her look even more beautiful.

  He had never felt such responsibility in his life.

  He had to keep her safe, keep her healthy and keep her onside at all costs.

  He went back to his list, made another column. Wrote down, in slow, bold strokes Marriage.

  He stared at the word, at the letters and the shape they made. Even writing it made him feel that he’d aged ten years. It was a word of maturity, selflessness. It was weighted with responsibility and expectations. Those letters were both a mirror and a map—forcing him to see what a lightweight he’d been these past years. The playboy, playing fast and loose, the toast of all his friends because he would not let any woman tell him how to run his life.

  Sophie’s face flashed through his mind. The horror in her eyes through the steam of the shower. Those wounds had scarred him deeply, but it was time to acknowledge them and move on.

  Sophie was ten years ago. Ruby was now.

  And even though he didn’t want marriage, could he bear his child to be brought up hundreds of miles away? By another man. Because if he didn’t marry Ruby, someone else would.

  Beautiful Ruby.

  He checked his watch. She’d been asleep six hours. She was bound to wake up soon.

  He wrote down Home. The answer to that word was going to depend a lot on the answer to the one above it. He’d ask her to marry him, she’d say yes, and they’d live in—London? Was that the best place to bring up the bambino? If he didn’t ask her to marry him, could they live together? Where would that be? Would that work out better?

  If they didn’t live together the baby would be brought up in two homes. He’d need to stay more in London, or she’d need to come to Rome. He’d buy her a house, or move her into one of his. And what about her career? Didn’t ballet mean touring and travelling? What then?

  His own parents had led largely separate lives, he realised. But whatever his father’s demons had been they’d stayed together, married, all those years. For the sake of him? The bank? His mother had loved his father—he knew that much. She’d fought for him. But at the end of the day Claudio had won. Whatever way you looked at it, marriage was a fake but probably necessary institution.

  He put his head in his hands, ran his palm over his brow, felt the steady motion of the boat and the lure of sleep. The lure of sleeping beside Ruby. The thought of having her in his bed again—he’d tried hard to put it out of his mind, but who was he kidding? He hardened in response.

  God, his mind was rammed with this and he hadn’t even started to put the Arturo merger into the mix.

  ‘What time is it?’

  He looked up. She was propped up on her elbows, hair flopping all over her face, her cheeks pink and plump with rest and her eyes blinking awake in the soft light of morning. She looked sweet and vulnerable and his heart swelled.

  He looked away. ‘About six. Here,’ he said, ignoring the pain as he stretched his cramped legs. ‘I got you some tea and toast.’

  She looked at him, then at the tray that had been sitting beside her for the past ten minutes.

  ‘OK...thanks.’

  ‘It’s to prevent your morning sickness. I’ve been reading up about it. Have something bland first thing and it settles your stomach. So they say.’

  ‘You’ve been reading up about morning sickness?’

  ‘And other things.’

  ‘Is that right? Anything else you found out?’

  She sat up properly now, and as she moved the sheet dropped down, revealing her nakedness.

  ‘Your breasts. They’ll be tender. And getting bigger.’

  She glared at him. ‘That’s none of your business,’ she said, but she didn’t rush to cover herself and he didn’t rush to shift his gaze.

  ‘I’m just stating a fact,’ he said, taking in her softness, shaded in the morning light, as his voice deepened to a growl even to his own ears. ‘And they’re really pretty.’

  Nothing moved but the steady rock of the boat and the solid beat of his heart in his chest. But all around his body his senses sparked to life. The air became hot as desire bloomed between them. Her chest heaved and she looked utterly undone already, with messy tendrils of hair hanging loose above the rosy pink tips of her nipples which, before his very eyes, were tightening into hard little nubs.

  He hesitated. All he wanted was to grab her into his arms and fasten his mouth on hers. He wanted to mould her curves in his hands and tug them both into another sexual adventure. She was all he’d been dreaming about for weeks and she was right here, as ripe and ready for him as he was for her.

  Not yet, a voice told him. Not yet. Take it easy. She’s vulnerable, and look what happened the last time.

  He needed way more than sex now. He needed her here, by his side, working things out together. This family, this merger, this life.

  She reached for the sheet, pulled it up to her chest. ‘If you don’t mind...?’

  He stood. ‘Of course. Join me on deck for breakfast when you’re ready. The shower’s in there. David’s delivered a load of clothes—just take what you want.’

  He lifted his notebook, the pen. Took two steps and opened the door.

  ‘As soon as you’re ready we can talk.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘OVER HERE.’

  Ruby stepped out onto the deck into a brilliant blue-washed day, where sky met sea in strips of azure and indigo and shards of sunlight beamed like lasers all around. They were in the middle of nowhere. Literally not a speck of land was anywhere to be seen.

  She looked up to see Matteo. He too had showered and changed. A tight white T-shirt stretched over his broad chest and light blue jeans hung low on his hips. Her eyes dropped automatically to the waistline and the erotic trail of dark coarse hair that disappeared into his groin.

  He leaned over the railing, beckoned for her to join him at a table laid with breakfast things.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he said, reaching for her hand and helping her climb to the top of the ladder onto the deck.

  For a moment she felt lovely too. Stepping into silk underwear and trying on summer dresses had helped to quell her nausea and for ten glorious minutes she’d felt like a little girl at the dressing up box, lost in a froth of pretty clothes.

  ‘How was the toast? Did it work? Could you eat some more?’

  She climbed the short flight of steps to the next deck and there saw a table awash with fruit and yogurt and
baskets of bread. Hunger battled nausea and won. She was starving, but she wasn’t going to accept anything until they’d had a proper conversation.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Boats have a habit of moving when you untie them.’ He smiled. ‘Just a little bit of privacy, Ruby. I wasn’t going to hang around the Riviera to find myself the subject of any more gossip. This—’ he held out his hands ‘—is private. There’s too much at stake for me right now to have anything go wrong.’

  So she was right. He was keeping this under wraps. Alarm bells started to ring.

  ‘I’m not going to hide away, Matteo. You can’t keep me on a boat for the next seven months.’

  ‘I don’t plan to hide you anywhere. But staying back there wasn’t an option. You saw the press there last night—I don’t want anyone crawling around in my private life and I’m sure you don’t either.’

  ‘My private life is an open book,’ she said, as spiky hackles rose on her skin. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘This isn’t about hiding, Ruby,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s about getting time together away from everything else. This is big. Huge. We need to get our heads around it.’

  ‘It’s quite simple. We’re going to have a baby,’ she said, hearing the shrill note in her voice and hating how desperate she sounded. But she was desperate. If he didn’t play his part she was as lost at sea as if she’d fallen overboard.

  He sighed. He smiled. He put his hands on her arms and pulled her towards the chair.

  ‘Yes, we are. And from here on in we’re going to be adult about this. What’s the rush? We’ve got plenty of time to talk things through. And as soon as we’re both ready we’ll tell the world. Not before. I don’t want this to overshadow anything. I’ve got other stuff on the go and I want some time. That’s all. That’s not unreasonable, is it?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ she said reluctantly, calming at the lull of his voice and the gentle slosh of the boat on the water.

  There really was no rush, she told herself. He seemed to be accepting it. He hadn’t denied it or accused her of sleeping around. He hadn’t howled or beat his chest or simply disappeared. He’d sat by her bed through the night and he hadn’t made a move on her.

  She felt her shoulders slump and a slow breath ease out of her chest. The steady slap of water on the boat and the endless hazy day seemed to smooth her hackles, quiet her mind.

  ‘Come on. Breakfast.’

  The lure of glistening melon and hot rolls was too much, and she sat down and reached for some bread immediately.

  He nodded, poured water. Didn’t do anything else.

  She watched him as she buttered bread and popped it in her mouth. He watched her back. A bowl of berries appeared before her, topped with fresh yogurt and seeds. It looked so good she gave in and tucked in greedily, flicking her eyes up to him between bites.

  He sipped coffee.

  ‘Aren’t you going to have anything?’ she said, as she popped another piece of fruit in her mouth and buttered another roll.

  ‘I’ve eaten. And this is much more fun. It’s like watching locusts.’

  She made a face and looked around, still hungry. She helped herself to more yogurt, piling it high on her plate.

  ‘It was like this the last time too,’ he said.

  ‘Last time?’

  ‘At the Italian restaurant? Luigi’s? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our first date. It was an amazing night...’

  She sipped water and sat back as his words hung between them. Wisps of memory fluttered up into her mind—the fun, the camaraderie, the intimacy—tugging her back into that warm embrace. And he, right there opposite her, looked as if he was sharing exactly the same thoughts.

  ‘How do you think it happened?’ he asked quietly. ‘We took precautions.’

  She steeled herself to look up into his face.

  ‘Not every time. There was once...in the night...when we were both half asleep.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes. But something certainly woke us up.’

  She heard the slight tone of amusement in his voice and looked down at her plate.

  ‘Come on, Ruby. There’s no point in being coy about it. We had something special going on that night. And it feels to me as if that part of a relationship at least might work for us.’

  She felt the tug of that night, in those hours before dawn, the warmth of his body, the pleasure of her own melting into his arms. Those hours when she’d lost her head and everything she’d ever stood for. It was as if she’d paused her life when she’d gone into that apartment—as if she’d thought some other life might be possible instead of the one she’d been striving for.

  And being here with him now she could see how easy it would be to step into the honey-trap again, but this was far too important. She had to stay focused. He needed to understand that this was real. They were both in it for the long haul.

  ‘Matteo, no.’ She shook her head. ‘This isn’t about us.’ She laughed at her own stupid phrase. ‘What am I talking about? There is no us. There’s only a baby without a family. And I need to know what we’re going to do about it.’

  She stared at his face for the optimistic signs that she wanted to see. Signs that he wasn’t going anywhere...

  ‘You’re really in a hurry over this, aren’t you? The baby’s not even born yet. Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of things?’

  ‘You said last night that you’re going to accept your responsibilities,’ she said. ‘But what does that mean? I have a career. I can’t perform when I’m pregnant, so I’m going to have work in the school, and then, when I’m fit again, I’ll go back to dancing. But I can’t do it alone.’

  ‘You’ve had longer to think this through, Ruby. I don’t even know what you’ve got in mind. You live in London. I live in Rome and London. We both travel a lot. How is this going to work?’

  ‘Of course it can work. I want to get back to dancing as soon as I can. I can’t afford childcare on my own—I assumed you’d want to employ a nanny, no?’

  He frowned at that. ‘How soon do you mean?’

  ‘A few weeks after the birth. I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Weeks?’

  Something in that judgemental tone made her antennae twirl even faster. She’d already had a lifetime of being judged. Everyone had an opinion.

  ‘A few weeks after the birth?’ he repeated. ‘I can see you’re not impressed with my question, but it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to ask.’

  ‘I’m not going to justify my decision to you or anyone else.’

  He sat back in his chair, the only real sign that he was surprised. He touched his fingertips together and just that tiny movement caused the muscles in his arms to ripple and bulge. Arms that she’d trailed her lips all over, that had held her in the tightest embrace.

  Arms that would cradle a tiny baby in a few months.

  She could see it as clearly as if it had already happened—as if he really was lifting a crying infant to soothe and protect it. And she knew then that he was going to cherish it. He was going to be a real dad.

  It was just a single second’s realisation, but it was as intense and terrifying as standing on the edge of a cliff. Because she was terrified she wasn’t going to be able to do the same. Her heart started thundering in her chest again. Her own childhood had been a disaster. She had a broken relationship with her mother, felt nothing for her half-siblings. She’d never wanted a baby—and now it was really happening.

  ‘Ruby, we’re not at that stage of decision yet. We’re still at the stage of coming to terms with this. OK, I am still at the stage of coming to terms with it.’

  He lifted his phone.

  ‘I’m still fielding calls, trying to explain where I disappeared to last night. I have a bank to run that isn’t nine to five and I have all this—this other stu
ff going on. My head is rammed, Ruby. I don’t want to make any decisions until I’ve had a proper chance to think things through. Who knows how we’ll both feel later on?’

  As he spoke his phone vibrated on the table as if on cue. He glanced at it, sighed, put it down again and looked out past the deck, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe the mess he found himself in.

  Behind his head the long straight strips of sea and sky blended in a haze of blue. The creaking and whooshing sounds of the yacht’s gentle bounce through the waves were all she could hear. She looked at him, and for the first time saw the exhaustion on his face. He had sat up with her all night, squashed into a chair, and even though now he was clean-shaven and showered his features were drained and drawn.

  He had read up on pregnancy and morning sickness and brought her toast, and that was maybe one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. Because she didn’t let anyone do anything for her.

  He turned round to face her.

  ‘I know you’re looking at me, wondering what the hell I’m all about and if I’m going to stick around. All you’ve ever seen is the party side of me—at the ballet benefit and then last night. Or in the press. You’re wondering what kind of guy I am who has this trail of women behind him and won’t settle down. And I don’t blame you for thinking like that. I’d be exactly the same.’

  He leaned forward, his arms and shoulders and chest and everything about him telegraphing pure presence, pure strength. And she was right back there, in that Italian restaurant, gazing at him with a lust she’d never believed she could feel for anyone. The way he’d absorbed everything she’d told him and worked the room, the way they’d worked together, spinning the web of desire around one another until all her armour had melted away.

  At least he’d been straight down the line. Then and now.

  ‘You think I’m some kind of a flake who’s going to leave you high and dry with a baby to look after, all on your own, and you’re in a panic that maybe I won’t even pay my way and look after things. I get it.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am.’