A Scandal Made In London (Passion In Paradise Book 14)

by Lucy King

  So far, so fabulous.

  But now...

  Well...

  Who knew what happened now?

  Taking a sip of her tea to settle her churning stomach, Kate thought of the small pile of pink and white sticks on the vanity unit in the bathroom and felt her throat tighten and her head spin.

  She was pregnant.

  Not sick with a stomach bug as she’d assumed two days ago when she’d rung up and told her line manager she was too ill to come in.

  Pregnant.

  And there was no doubt about it. Because while one test might be faulty, all ten were unlikely to be, damn them and their over ninety-nine per cent accuracy.

  But how could it have happened? she wondered for the billionth time since the breakfast she’d thrown up, when her brain had finally connected the random dots of early morning nausea, a missed period and recent sex. It didn’t make any sense. She was no expert but she and Theo had only done it the once and he’d used protection. She’d even watched him rolling the condom on. They were supposed to be pretty infallible, weren’t they, so how? Had he done it wrong? Had he ripped it? Had it somehow been her?

  More importantly, more relevantly, since it was a little late to be worrying about the hows and the whys, what was she going to do? Because she couldn’t have a baby. Still riddled with issues despite her best efforts to get over them, she was a mess. She was not equipped to bring up a child. She had no support network. None of her friends had children and her sister wasn’t capable of understanding her situation. She had no mother to lean on and from whom to seek advice. She didn’t even have grandmothers or aunts. And what about the baby’s father? She couldn’t imagine Theo wanting to be involved. She couldn’t imagine what he’d think. She couldn’t even go there right now.

  And then there was the pregnancy itself. If she thought she was large and ungainly now, imagine how she’d look in nine months’ time. Whales and ships in full sail sprang to mind, and, oh, the comments she’d get, the looks... How would she stand it all?

  Yet the longing she felt... The yearning that filled every single inch of her to bursting... She’d only known about the baby for a handful of hours, but right down to her bones she wanted it. Desperately. Her heart and mind ached with it. She was so lonely and she had so much love to give. And an even greater capacity to receive it. A baby would never judge her and find her lacking. The love they’d share would be unconditional, and the mere thought of it was so intoxicating, so powerful that it shook her to the core.

  There’d already been such loss in her life, she thought, her chest squeezing as she glanced at the photo on the bookshelf, the one taken of her, her parents and her siblings at the beach twelve years ago, all beaming carefree smiles and simple happiness. Such sorrow and grief. Such heartbreak. Here was her chance to rebuild the family she’d lost. To rediscover that happiness. To love and be loved. How could she not take it?

  And so what if she did have issues? Who didn’t? She could do it. Of course she could. Thousands of women had children in challenging circumstances and, really, how challenging were hers? Now she was debt-free and Milly was taken care of she could build her resources back up. And as for help and advice, there was always the Internet. It wouldn’t be easy, but if she took things one step at a time and kept her head, surely she’d be able to muddle through.

  And who knew? Maybe she wouldn’t even have to do it on her own. There was only one way to find that out. Besides, Theo had the right to know about the baby, of that she was certain. And so while he’d had no reason whatsoever to contact her, she now had a very good one to contact him.

  * * *

  For the last four weeks Theo had found himself flat out, with a workload of Everest-like proportions.

  The acquisition of the company he’d been pursuing for months was not going according to plan. Despite putting the best brains he had on it, including his own, he still hadn’t come up with a way to clear the obstacles blocking the path.

  Unlike every other deal he’d done, where the other side put up the semblance of a fight but inevitably collapsed during the negotiations, this one was proving trickier. Unusually, money wasn’t the issue. The offer his corporate finance team had put together was the best on the table. The problem was that the current owner, a man with solidly traditional values and an extraordinary belief that ruthlessness wasn’t a necessary ingredient for success, had more than enough money and was instead primarily concerned with the personality and integrity of the potential new owner. Incredibly, he appeared to have doubts about him, Theo, in this role.

  Theo wanted to acquire Double X Enterprises with a hunger that gnawed away at him ceaselessly. It would be his biggest deal to date, the biggest the world had ever seen, and when he got it, it would be enough. He’d at last be satisfied. He’d have secured his place at the top, and the restlessness and the worthlessness that had dogged him for so long would be vanquished.

  So he was not going to let it slip through his fingers simply because Daniel Bridgeman had an issue with him personally. He might be ruthless when the situation called for it but his integrity was without question. As for his personality, the aloofness and steel that the business press attributed to him suited him just fine. He was more than comfortable with being described as an ice-cool automaton. It was entirely accurate. Emotions were dangerous. They put a person at risk in so many ways just the thought of what could happen, what had already happened, made him break out into a cold sweat. He’d kept a lid on his for so long he doubted he had any of the damn things left anyway.

  Regardless of the obstacles, though, he’d find a way to persuade Daniel Bridgeman to give him what he wanted. The man would fold eventually. Everyone did. He just had to identify his weak spot and drive a knife through it.

  And in truth, the immense workload was welcome, especially today, the anniversary of his mother’s death, which still hit him with the force of a sledgehammer no matter how major the distraction. He was no stranger to twenty-hour days. He’d been working all hours since he was fourteen, when he’d figured the only way he and his mother could escape his father’s brutality was by being financially independent. He’d wheeled and dealed, buying low, creating value and selling high, grafting every spare minute he had with the sole aim of making enough to set them free, his relentless drive and grim determination to succeed surging with every muffled thud, every desperate cry, every sickening silence.

  No one apart from himself had expected him to have such a knack for it. He’d shown little talent for anything at school apart from truancy and brawling. Yet he’d never forget the day he’d turned sixteen and told his mother that he’d amassed one hundred thousand pounds and that they should pack their bags.

  He’d never forget her reaction either. The profound relief and gratitude and the maternal pride he’d been expecting were nowhere to be seen. Instead, once she’d recovered from her shock, she’d been appalled. To his bewilderment she’d refused to leave, and no amount of pleading on his part had moved her. Stunned, unable to comprehend it and devastated by her rejection and betrayal, Theo had left alone and had barely looked back.

  It had been eight years since his mother died of a brain haemorrhage that he was convinced had been caused by his father although nothing could ever be proven, but the effects of how his sixteenth birthday had played out were deep-rooted and long-lasting. He’d never understand his mother’s reasons for choosing to stay with a man who hit her instead of fleeing with a son who needed her, and he doubted he’d ever be free of the irrational guilt that he’d left instead of staying and trying harder to protect her despite her rejection.

  And then there was the stomach-curdling knowledge that he bore his father’s genes. As a kid he’d picked fights. As a sixteen-year-old he’d swung one proper punch that had had a devastating impact. Patterns by definition repeated themselves, and the risk that he might turn out like his father was sickeningly r
eal.

  But at least the cycle of abuse ended with him. He’d vowed never to marry, never to have children, and to never ever let anyone close enough to tempt him to break those vows. Even if there was no pattern, he couldn’t be a part of anyone else’s life. At least, not anyone he might be foolish enough to allow himself to care about. The consequences were too severe. He couldn’t be relied upon. He let people down. And if he’d ever wished it could be any other way, well, he’d stamped out that kernel of hope and yearning many years ago before it had a chance to take root. Because in the long run everyone was better off if he remained alone.

  But God, he didn’t want to be alone right now, he thought, his jaw tight as he stared unseeingly at the city stretched out far below his penthouse, grey and wet beneath heavy clouds and relentless rain. Not with the darkness of his adolescence, the regrets and the guilt closing in on him on all sides. His entire body ached. His head throbbed. The emotions he preferred to deny he had were bubbling fiercely beneath an increasingly fragile surface, and the effort of suppressing them was pushing his formidable will to its limit.

  Right now, he wanted to forget who he was and what he could never have. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to lose himself in the oblivion of a warm body, long limbs and soft sighs. But not just anyone. He wanted Kate.

  For weeks he’d buried the memories of the evening she’d spent in his bed. He’d put her in that taxi, set his lawyers to work, and that had been that: funding in place, desire assuaged, problem solved, the details shoved away in a corner of his brain and left to gather dust.

  Today, however, with his iron-clad defences suffering a battering and the string of sleepless nights catching up with him, the memories were pushing through the cracks and invading his thoughts in scorching, vivid detail. He kept remembering the silk of her skin and the sounds she’d made. The taste of her mouth and the heat of her body. Her courage, her loyalty and her vulnerability and, most of all, the way that when they’d been talking she’d briefly made him forget who he was.

  And he wanted it all again. He wanted her again. With a clawing ache that had his body as hard as stone and was becoming increasingly unbearable.

  However, he was just going to have to bear it because while he could want all he liked, there was no way he was going to actually seek Kate out. He would not be that weak. One night was all he ever allowed himself. Two with the same woman represented the kind of risky behaviour he’d always spurned. He would not indulge it. Nor would he ever again put himself in a position that demolished his control, because without control, what was he? He didn’t want to know.

  The grim turmoil of today would pass. It always did. He just had to get through what was left of it. Tomorrow he’d be back on track and unassailable for another three hundred and sixty-four days. In the meantime, he’d find solace in work. While many who’d grown up in similar circumstances to his had found oblivion in drugs and alcohol, he’d always found it in the pursuit of success. It had worked for him for the past sixteen years. It would work for him now.

  Setting his jaw, Theo swivelled his chair round. In the drawer of his desk he found a packet of painkillers, popped the two that were left and made a mental note to buy more. He turned to one of the three screens on his desk, and was in the process of opening his inbox when his mobile rang.

  ‘Yes?’ he muttered, forcing his attention to the latest email from the head of his corporate finance team, which came with a stark lack of suggestions for how he might push through the Bridgeman deal.

  ‘I have a Miss Kate Cassidy in the lobby,’ said Bob, the concierge who manned the desk twenty-three floors below. ‘She wishes to see you.’

  As the information hit his brain, Theo froze. His heart slammed against his ribs and his gut clenched. His concerns about the deal evaporated and his head emptied of everything but the knowledge that Kate was downstairs, bulldozing the boundaries he’d established and breaching his space, as if in his dangerously febrile need he’d somehow conjured her up.

  But he could not see her. He was too on edge, his mood too dark. Her effect on him was too unpredictable, and the last thing he wanted was to be blindsided again. So he ought to instruct Bob to send her away and keep her away.

  Yet what if she was in trouble? What if he had her thrown out and something happened? Could his conscience bear any more guilt? No. It couldn’t. So he’d find out what she wanted, deal with it, and then get rid of her. And it would be fine. She was just one woman. He’d faced far worse. He might have once temporarily lost his mind with her, but he wouldn’t lose it again. Weakness of will led to unpredictability, which led to damage and destruction, and that was unacceptable. So this time he would be prepared. This time he would be resolute and unflinching. This time would be different.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said curtly. ‘Five minutes, then send her up.’

  * * *

  How much longer was she going to have to wait? Kate wondered as she perched on the edge of the sofa in the vast lobby of Theo’s apartment building and rubbed her damp palms against her jean-clad thighs. It had already been four minutes and fifteen seconds since the concierge had told her to wait, and her nerves were shredded. Deciding to confront Theo and tell him about the pregnancy was all well in theory, but in practice it was lip-bitingly, heart-thumpingly terrifying.

  How would he respond? What would he say? She’d had twenty-four hours to get used to the idea, but it was going to come as one massive shock to him. Would he be pleased? Would he be horrified? She didn’t have a clue, and it was impossibly tempting to get up, spin on her heel, go home and leave it for another day.

  But she wasn’t going to do that, she told herself, sitting on her hands to save her nails. It went wholly against her recent resolution to be bold and brave. Besides, she had to tell him at some point, and the sooner she got it over and done with, the better. She might even be pleasantly surprised. And who knew when she’d get another chance? Just because she’d struck lucky with him being home today—a Saturday—didn’t mean she would again, and it was hardly the sort of conversation she wanted to have with him at work.

  So she’d wait for however long it took and try to refrain from chewing on her already raw lip. She’d admire her lavish surroundings instead. The giant dazzling chandelier that hung from the ceiling cast sparkling light across the polished marble floor and mirrored walls. The furnishings were tastefully leather and quite possibly cost more than her flat. The difference between the worlds that she and Theo inhabited could not be more marked.

  What was he going to think?

  ‘Miss Cassidy?’ said the concierge a moment later, his voice bouncing off the walls and making her jump. ‘Mr Knox will see you now.’

  Finally.

  ‘The lift on the right will take you directly to the penthouse.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, mustering up a quick smile as she got to her feet and headed for said lift on legs that felt like jelly.

  The doors closed behind her and she used the smooth ten-second ascent to try and calm her fluttering stomach and slow her heart-rate. It would be fine. She and Theo were both civilised adults. They might be chalk and cheese, but they could handle this. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t as if she was expecting anything from him. She just had a message to deliver. It would be fine.

  But when the lift doors opened and she stepped out, all thoughts of civility and messages shot from her head because all she could focus on was Theo.

  He was standing at the far end of the wide hall, with his back to a huge floor-to-ceiling window, feet apart, arms crossed over his chest. The interminable rain of the morning had stopped and sunshine had broken through the thick cloud. It flooded in through the window, making a silhouette of him, emphasising his imposing height and the powerful breadth of the shoulders. Although clothed in jeans and a white shirt, he looked like some sort of god, in total control, master of all he surveyed,
and she couldn’t help thinking that if he’d been going for maximum impact, maximum intimidation, he’d nailed it.

  Swallowing down the nerves tangling in her throat, Kate started walking towards him, her hand tightening on the strap of her cross-body bag that she wore like a shield. His gaze was on her as she approached, his expression unreadable. He didn’t move a muscle. His jaw was set and he exuded chilly distance, which didn’t bode well for what was to come, but then nor did the heat suddenly shooting along her veins and the desire surging through her body. That kind of head-scrambling reaction she could do without. She didn’t need to remember how he’d made her feel when he’d held her, kissed her, been inside her. She needed to focus.

  ‘Hi,’ she said as she drew closer, his irresistible magnetism tugging her forwards even as she wanted to flee.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  The ice-cold tone of his voice stopped her in her tracks a couple of feet away, obliterating the heat, and she inwardly flinched. So that was the way this was going to go. No ‘How are you? Let me take your jacket. Would you like a drink?’ He wasn’t pleased to see her. He wasn’t pleased at all.

  Okay.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she said, beginning to regret her decision to deliver this information in person. With hindsight, maybe an email would have sufficed.

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

  ‘I’m afraid there is.’

  His dark brows snapped together. ‘Your sister?’

  ‘She’s fine,’ she said. ‘Thank you for what you did for her.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Did you get my note?’ Shortly after he’d fixed her finances she’d sent him a letter of thanks. It had seemed the least she could do. She hadn’t had a response.