by C. C. Gibbs
And yet it was in his office, greedy fuck. Although that might make things easier. Dominic took his phone from his suit jacket pocket, quickly brought up a few screens and, leaning forward, turned the phone to the doctor. ‘Have you seen this Canaletto? Doge’s Palace. It’s equally good.’
‘I have.’ The avaricious light in the doctor’s eyes was bright as a beacon. ‘The Hamilton Gallery has had it for sale since March.’
‘Why don’t I buy it?’ Dominic said smoothly. ‘What’s your address here?’ He knew the address. He just wanted a commitment from the doctor.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen.
Dominic leaned back, tapped the screen a few times. ‘There. I can always use another Canaletto if you don’t want it.’ He looked up and smiled at the doctor. Then he stared at the screen for a second more before he chuckled. ‘Douglas said he’d open his reserve whisky for me. I’ve bought a few things from him over the years. Where should I tell him to send it?’
Dr Clifton struggled with his conscience for only a few seconds more. Then he gave Dominic his address.
Dominic keyed in the doctor’s address, turned off his phone, and slipped it back in his pocket. ‘They’ll deliver it tomorrow at two. I hope you enjoy it. Now then.’ He needed confirmation, not secondhand information.
‘You understand my responsibility to my patients?’ Dr Clifton said, looking Dominic in the eye like any good horse trader who never gives anything away.
Dominic smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘So I can neither confirm nor deny that Miss Hart is twelve weeks pregnant. Nor can I confirm or deny that she is in excellent health.’
Dominic sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the quick shot of happiness. Then he came to his feet. ‘Thank you, Dr Clifton.’ He dipped his head. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’
Dominic left the office, a million thoughts tumbling through his brain, a continuous flicker of a smile twisting his mouth as he got in his car and was driven to Eaton Place. According to the doctor, Katherine was three months pregnant. Which meant he should have used a condom the night she’d had the shot. He smiled faintly. As if any man alive could have refused her huge, pleading eyes when she’d said softly, Just don’t. Please?
But fond memories aside, he had a problem on his hands.
Because he was still in hock to Gora for two more weeks, or slightly more, depending on the birth of his son.
An inflexible interval. On the other hand, he expected it would take at least that much time for any woman to plan her wedding. So he only had to say, Let’s get married in three weeks, and no further explanation was required. Although the timing was the least of his problems. Getting Katherine to talk to him was the dilemma. He hadn’t had much luck in the past ten weeks.
Hours later, when Max called to tell him that Katherine was home, Dominic was still indecisive about how to approach her.
With no firm conviction yet, his emotions strange, happy, fearful, his entire world in flux, Dominic found himself standing on Katherine’s doorstep, the sun a faint golden glow behind him, the horizon streaked with the brilliant magenta of sunset.
He knocked on the door, saw a curtain twitch on one of the street windows.
He knocked again, louder this time, using the brass knocker.
‘Go away!’
Katherine’s voice, sharp, clear, hostile. And on the other side of the door now, not near the window. ‘I’m not going away,’ he said, raising his voice just enough to make his point, but not enough to draw attention. ‘Open the door.’
‘No!’
She heard a key turn in the lock, wondered if she could hold the door shut, but even before the thought was fully formed, Dominic had shoved the door open and was standing on her threshold. Looking breathtakingly handsome, casually dressed in a blue blazer and jeans, every hair neatly in place, tall and dark and treacherously beautiful. Oh, God … do not respond to all that irresistible maleness.‘Where did you get that key?’ she snapped instead.
He ignored her question, gave her an almost invisible raking glance, taking in her loose-fitting T-shirt and sweats. ‘How have you been?’
‘Fine. Perfectly fine. You?’ She held out her hand for the key.
‘Shitty. Really shitty.’ He put the key in her hand because he could have more made. ‘May I come in?’
‘No.’
‘We should talk.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
He glanced up and down the street still lively with people out enjoying the May evening. ‘We can talk about you having my child out here on the steps or we can talk about it where the tabloids won’t be taking pictures.’
‘How do you know about that?’
He ignored her glare. ‘Contacts.’
‘Meaning?’ she said, her voice even more pissy.
‘Max told me.’
‘How did he know?’
‘You’d have to ask him.’
‘Are you still stalking me?’ she hissed, the term spitting bullets appropriate to the occasion.
‘Not personally, no,’ he said, immune to imaginary bullets and glares and hisses and anything else that stood in the way of his mission. ‘Now, may I come in?’
She didn’t move.
‘Did Nana tell you I visited her a few weeks ago? She might enjoy the tabloid pictures. Or CX Capital. The gossip rags always have the smuttiest headlines.’
She almost stopped breathing. ‘You went to see Nana?’
‘She didn’t tell you? We had a nice visit.’ He dipped his head. ‘I’m not going away until we talk about this. So we can do it in private or in the tabloids. Your call.’
She stepped back.
‘I appreciate you giving me some of your time,’ he said softly, following her in and shutting the door.
She faced him, her jaw firm, her eyes cold. ‘Say what you want to say, then get out. Go back to your wife.’
He took a small breath, intent on avoiding the fight she wanted. ‘My wife’s a technicality,’ he said carefully. ‘I’ll be divorced in two weeks.’
‘Well, then, go back to her for two weeks. Have you had your baby yet?’
He looked startled. ‘Baby?’
‘Yes, the one you didn’t tell me about, the one you just confirmed with that revealing little twitch,’ she said snidely. ‘You’re not always completely expressionless after all.’ She’d always suspected it would be the only reason someone could force Dominic into a shotgun marriage.
‘It’s not my child.’
‘That’s what they all say.’
‘I’m not saying that about you.’
‘Maybe you should. We didn’t spend that much time together. What, a grand total of three weeks? Although that’s probably a record for you. One-night stands. That’s more your style, isn’t it?’
Jesus, he didn’t like scenes. He’d done a lot of keeping his mouth shut and waiting in his life. And this wasn’t an argument he wanted to have. ‘I don’t have a style, Katherine,’ he said quietly. ‘What I’d like to talk to you about is our child. As a matter of fact, it pleases me that you’re having our baby.’
She raised her hand to shut him up. ‘Fuck you, Dominic. You can stop that bullshit right now. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’m not interested in whether you’re pleased or not.’ Her voice was taut with indignation. ‘You walked out on me twice. That’s twice too often, ‘she snapped, the fury in her eyes a hostile glow. ‘So this is my baby, not yours. Mine. Do you understand? You have nothing to fucking do with it.’ Her voice was rising. ‘So I really don’t want to hear a goddamn word from you! Now or ever!’ She was screaming now. ‘Get your ass out of here!’
Feeling a wave of relief that she wanted the baby, he said, very softly, ‘Calm down for a minute. Let’s—’
‘Don’t tell me to calm down, you sonofabitch!’ she shrieked. ‘I’m not calming down! I may never calm down! If you think you can walk back in like nothing happened and pick up where y
ou left off, you’re crazy!’ Her fists were clenched at her sides, her face was flushed. ‘Now get the fuck out!’
For a fleeting second Dominic considered picking her up, taking her to bed and screwing her until neither of them could move. That usually worked with her. But she was really pissing him off; it probably wouldn’t be wise. She wasn’t the only one with a quick temper. Dragging in a breath of restraint, he forced himself to speak in a conciliatory tone. ‘Could we please talk about this like adults, Katherine? This baby involves me even if you don’t want it to. I’m the father. I can prove it with a paternity test if necessary. Although I’d prefer coming to some reasonable agreement.’
‘About what, Dominic? About you fucking whoever you want? What the hell, marrying anyone you want, and I get to sit at home, having your baby? Tell you what,’ she snarled, ‘how about you knock up someone else and go talk to them. I’m not in the talking mood. So fuck off or I’ll call the bloody police!’
He leaned in close, his gaze blue flame, his jaw clenched so tight he could feel it in his shoulders. ‘This discussion isn’t over,’ he said in a low, grating rasp. ‘Not on your fucking life. You’ll be hearing from me.’ Then he spun round, pulled the door open and stormed out.
He didn’t even hear the door slam behind him as he strode down the steps, more angry than he could ever remember.
Even more angry than he’d been in high school when he’d beat the shit out of a whole lot of bruisers and bullies.
Although Dominic and Kate could have contested peak anger levels.
Kate was so close to blowing a fuse, she actually flopped into a sprawl on the sofa, started some deep breathing and turned on the TV in an effort to distract herself. Mother. Fucker. Did he have a gigantic set of balls or what? Just knock on the door, ask to come in and proceed to take over as father to her child like he had any fucking right when he was married to someone else. Jesus!
She flicked to the weather channel that was always capable of zoning her out and, sure enough, by the time the weatherman began droning on about the weather patterns over Africa she was breathing normally again. She really did have to be more considerate of her health now, turn over a new leaf in terms of healthy lifestyle. Learn to relax. She’d have to eat three meals a day too – like, seriously, no messing around. The mental prompt brought her to her feet and she walked into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, she stared at her semi-empty fridge. Except for the champagne she hadn’t drunk because it reminded her too much of Dominic, the entire contents consisted of a bag of two, nearly three-month-old apples, some shrivelled lemons … Jeez, that lettuce was gross. She’d need disposable gloves to touch it. Christ, everything was gross. She shut the door, ordered a pizza and went online to see if she could find a grocery store that delivered.
She was eating for two and she didn’t want an unhealthy child because she was too stupid or lazy to put good food in her mouth. Yes! Grocery delivery! She ordered everything she liked and set up a delivery time for the following day after work.
But when she arrived home the next day, her refrigerator was already stocked with wholesome food, and dozens of prepared dishes like those Patty had packed in San Francisco, with the same kind of directions for cooking or heating or not heating. She could have killed Dominic for breaking and entering. But she smiled a little too. He was thinking of the baby. Damn him. Then everything went crazy in her head like it always did when Dominic was super nice and super kind and caring.
But she got herself under control a few seconds later when she thought of his wife.
Faithless prick.
His agenda, his entire life, was always purely selfish; damn the rules and norms and common courtesies. If he wanted something, he took it. Not this time, though, not with her. A faithless prick wasn’t good father material. No more than Dominic had been good Prince Charming material.
But his numerous shortcomings didn’t mean she wasn’t going to eat all that really great food stacked in her fridge. She had to think of the baby, not just her own bitter, woman-scorned resentments.
Dominic had talked himself into a more reasonable frame of mind shortly after he’d returned home and put his Plan B into operation. Smother her with kindness, show her he could be whatever she wanted him to be, take care of her and the baby. No way he was giving up after he’d been waiting three months to have her in his life again. Although, now with a baby in the picture, they were past any kind of casual arrangement. They’d have to marry – quickly. Which meant he was going to have to grovel big time.
But, hey, whatever it took.
He half smiled. A woman who didn’t want him, though. That was new. Different.
He’d have to rethink his game plan.
*
Very late that night when Kate was almost asleep – sedated as she was from a wonderful dinner and two servings of rice pudding – Dominic texted her.
Did you enjoy the food? My chef was asking. And if you have any menu requests, just let me know. I had rice pudding for dinner. How about you? Sleep well, baby.
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t text Don’t either.
Dominic noticed, but waited another hour just in case.
Then he smiled and poured out the rest of the whisky he’d been drinking.
He had to stop overimbibing. He was going to be a father. And he refused to be a fucking asshole like his father. So temperance and sobriety were on the docket. No more bottle or two every night, no more hot-headed anger, no more temper tantrums.
And since he only had two weeks to change Katherine’s mind about taking him back, doing it completely sober would set a better tone. He wanted her to be happy with him again, maybe even a little in love again because she really should be a willing participant when he married her the second his divorce was final.
Because their wedding was inked in on his calendar whether she was willing or not.
CHAPTER 30
Dominic’s campaign to win back Kate’s affections was of Napoleonic proportions, but then he had both the resources and intensity of a revolutionary general. He had two weeks to secure his objective and failure wasn’t even a consideration.
Max had men monitoring the doctor’s activities in Rome, the attorney in Paris was on call, and a judge was ready to sign the divorce decree. Gora was in Rome as well, awaiting the birth of his son. All the outside actors were under scrutiny and on pause, biding their time as events unravelled.
Dominic had talked to Melanie last night and asked a favour of her. That morning he’d just finished speaking to a wedding planner recommended by Liv, stipulating at the onset that their discussion was to be kept strictly private. He’d received a haughty glance, as if he’d accosted the elderly woman, and, barely concealing her affront, she’d said, ‘Everything we do, Mr Knight, is done in complete confidentiality. Our clients demand it.’
‘Perfect,’ Dominic had said, not sure he dared smile when she had her nose in the air like that. But he chanced it anyway and added as insurance, ‘I may not have mentioned, but I’m more than willing to pay a premium for your advice when our time frame is so limited.’ That brought a smile to her face and confirmed the age-old principle: money talks.
His wedding plans en train – all final decisions Katherine’s, of course – he waited for his next appointment. The matter with the jeweller was quickly settled. The man was to assemble an assortment of his best diamond rings and have them ready to show to Katherine. ‘I apologize for the short notice,’ Dominic said. ‘I hope it’s not a problem.’
For the price Dominic was paying, problems were nonexistent. And the jeweller expressed that sentiment with affable warmth. After the man was shown out, Dominic had his car brought round and set off on an unprecedented errand.
*
While Dominic was managing the initial details of his reconciliation and marriage, Kate was lying in bed eating chocolate cake because dessert after a completely nutritional breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and fruit was certainly allo
wed even under her new health regime. And she’d skipped coffee and had only chocolate milk this morning. So whether it was her sizeable intake of chocolate that gave rise to her euphoria or the fact that Dominic’s staff had cleaned her entire flat yesterday, she was sleeping on freshly ironed sheets, had showered in her bathroom that now contained stacks of washed towels instead of piles of dirty ones, or simply the fact that being taken care of was like … well, really sweet, she wasn’t as angry with Dominic as she’d been.
Stupid, she knew. The man was Svengali after all.
Still – and it nearly killed her to think it – she missed him.
*
A short time later, when Kate was moving through the revolving doors into the vast lobby of CX Capital, Dominic was standing outside a shop on Marylebone High Street waiting for the shop girl to get her key to work in the door. He’d depended on Liv for all his recommendations, including this very small store selling children’s clothes. He was about to impatiently say, Good Lord, let me do that, when the girl finally managed to turn the key in the lock. He didn’t know, but she was completely flustered by the presence of the stunningly beautiful man who’d been waiting for her when she arrived. If only she’d worn a nicer dress, she was thinking wistfully, spent more time on her hair, put on more dramatic make-up.
Although once inside the shop, it was Dominic’s turn to be befuddled. He’d never stepped foot in a children’s clothing store. His gifts for Melanie’s children had always been toys. So he stood just inside the door surveying the minimal space, the glass case in the middle of the room filled with tiny, colourful, handmade shoes, wondering what and how to ask for the things he needed. Cautious as well of revealing his identity. The tabloids would have a field day with this photo.
He came awake from his daze at the sound of a throat being cleared and a timid, ‘May I help you, sir?’
‘I need baby clothes,’ he said gruffly. ‘If you could show me some,’ he added more graciously, ‘I’d appreciate it.’
What a lovely deep voice. ‘Do you have anything special in mind?’ she asked, hoping he’d smile and say, You.