by Unknown
‘If he’s busy...’ Mary faltered.
‘He’s not busy for you, dear,’ the woman said, and led the way.
Dear...
Did she look like someone who needed TLC?
‘I bet she doesn’t address company moguls as dear,’ she muttered under her breath.
She should have dressed up more. She should have...turned corporate?
She was wearing her weddings and funerals suit. It was a bit old. She should have worn more make-up. She should have bought new shoes.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t belong here, no matter what she wore, and she wasn’t here for corporate reasons.
The lift stopped at the highest floor. The door slid open, and the woman put a gentle hand in the small of her back to guide her out.
Bet she didn’t do that to company moguls either.
But maybe she needed it. ‘I don’t...’ To say panic was setting in was an understatement. ‘I shouldn’t...’
‘Mr Logan’s waiting,’ the woman told her. She swung open the inner doors—and Ben was rising from a massive desk, walking forward to greet her.
Ben?
The last time she’d seen this man he’d been battered and wounded. He’d been in pain and he hadn’t been sure if his twin was dead or alive. She’d held him in the storm and they’d taken and given comfort to each other.
But now...
This guy was a suit plus. No one she’d ever met wore a suit like this. It was deepest black with a fine grey pinstripe, and it fitted him as if it was moulded onto his beautiful body. It screamed quality, as did his gorgeous blue tie and the crisp white linen beneath it. Even his shoes screamed quality.
He was clean-shaven. His dark hair was neatly cut and immaculately groomed.
His shadowed grey eyes surveyed her from the toes up and she was reminded suddenly of an eagle, his fierce, intelligent eyes capable of seeing things no man should see.
She was imagining things. He was scaring her.
She shouldn’t have come.
And then he smiled, striding towards her with his hands held out, and with his smile suddenly he was the Ben she’d held. The Ben she’d made love to.
‘Mary,’ he said, with all the welcome in the world. ‘Smash ’em Mary, here in my office. I’m honoured.’
He hugged her fiercely but briefly and then held her at arm’s length to look at her. Once more she got that sensation that he could see far more than she wished to tell him.
Ben.
She wanted a longer hug but after that one brief hold he was back under control.
How could she think she knew this man?
‘Thanks, Elspeth,’ Ben said.
And she thought, This guy really is a billionaire. Those two words had been a dismissal to his secretary, mild and brief, but the authority behind them had been absolute.
He was a man in command of his world—and what a world!
In the last weeks she’d looked him up on the internet—of course she had. His brother Jake the actor was famous. Ben seemed to fly under the radar but his business credentials were so impressive they’d made her gasp.
She thought of the cheque her father and stepmother had given her and what a difference it was making in her life.
This guy’s fortune was enough to make her eyes water.
How could she possibly tell him what she needed to tell him without him taking it the wrong way? And what was the wrong way anyway? She was in uncharted territory.
His secretary had disappeared. They were alone in his half-acre office, with the view that looked right out over the harbour to the Statue of Liberty. Mary had been in town for twenty-four hours, working up courage to come and see him. She’d queued to climb the Empire State Building to see all over New York.
She needn’t have bothered. The view from Logan House was almost the same.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ he said, and she struggled to get her words in order. She was here for a reason and she needed to get it right.
‘I need to thank you.’
‘I believe you’ve already thanked me,’ he said gravely. ‘Both through my lawyer and through the very nice card you sent me.’
‘You make me sound like a ten-year-old writing thank-you notes.’
‘I kept the card,’ he said. ‘I believe I’ll always keep the card.’
There was a statement to take her breath away.
He was still holding her hands. Just holding...
‘It’s me who thanks you, though,’ he said. ‘You saved my life. I’ll owe you forever.’
She gulped. The feel of his hands holding hers was doing strange things. She felt...she felt...
Stop it with the feeling, she told herself. Just say what she needed to say.
‘I can’t tell you how grateful I was to hear that Jake was safe,’ she managed.
‘You never doubted it.’
‘I never admitted to you that I doubted it.’
He smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was a smile that said there was trouble somewhere.
Trouble? What could be wrong in this man’s perfect world?
‘Is anything wrong?’ she asked. ‘With Jake, I mean?’
‘What should be wrong? He’s fine.’
‘It’s just...you look...’
‘He’s fine,’ he said, almost roughly. But she knew there was something.
How did she know this man so well, this man in his billionaire’s office with his billionaire’s suit? She thought, He has the hawklike, all-seeing eyes but two can play at that game. Reading minds.
She knew this guy. Inside he was just...Ben.
The thought settled her. It was okay. Underneath the glossy exterior he was still the man she’d held until the terror had faded.
She had been right to come.
‘How’s Heinz?’ he asked.
‘Probably bored. My next-door neighbour’s looking after him. How’s the knee?’
‘You came half a world to ask about my knee?’
‘No.’ It was time. She released his hands and took a step back. She wanted to watch his face when she said what she had to say.
She was here for a purpose. Do it.
‘Ben,’ she said, and then she paused.
‘Mary?’
Say it.
‘I came to tell you I’m pregnant.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE DIDN’T GET his face right fast enough.
He didn’t know how to.
Mary had stepped back so she was standing against the closed doors. She was pressing herself hard against the doors, her chin tilted, almost defiant.
That was an appalling suit she was wearing, he thought irrelevantly. She’d looked better in torn jeans.
Pregnant.
The word seemed to echo round and round the massive office. Deals were done in this room that affected the finances of the world. Yet nothing had ever been said in this office that seemed more important than this.
Pregnant.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, hurriedly now as if she needed to clear whatever it was she saw on his face. ‘I’m not here to sue you for half you own. I don’t even want acknowledgement if you’d rather not. I just thought...I needed to tell you.’
‘But I thought...’ He was having trouble getting his voice to work. ‘I thought...’ But he hadn’t thought. That was how it had happened—thought had been shelved. Their mating had been born of primeval need, with no thought of consequences.
The consequences now were blowing his mind.
‘Maybe you thought there are morning-after options,’ she said. ‘There are. I just...didn’t think of them until it was way after the morning after.’
An
d it was all there on her face. This wasn’t a discussion about whether or not to go ahead with a pregnancy.
This woman was having his child.
He should walk forward, take her in his arms, hold her close and tell her this was joyful news.
He couldn’t.
A baby.
Family.
His mother... The mess that was their family... He’d even messed it up with Jake. He couldn’t hold anything together. Could a baby be tough and self-reliant? Not in a million years. But for him to be needed... For a child to rely on him...
‘It’s okay,’ Mary said again, her tone gentling. ‘This was a shock to me, too, believe it or not. Sense was blown away with the storm. But now I’ve decided that I want this baby and, Ben, what you’ve done for me makes it possible. Thanks to your lawyer I have the cheque from my family and I have my job back. My baby and I will be fine. It’s just...I came here because I thought I owed you this much.’
‘You owe me?’
‘This is not a trap, Ben. I’m not here to ask you for anything. But for me, somehow this pregnancy seems right. I never imagined it but now it’s happened it’s wondrous. It seems amazing that something like this could come from...from what we had. So the more I thought about it, the more I decided I needed to tell you, face to face, in case for you this baby might help...’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘I mean this baby is bringing me joy, Ben,’ she said gently. ‘I know there’ll be problems. I know it’ll be tough, but the moment I realised I was pregnant all I felt was happiness. That something so wonderful could come from such a...’
‘Chance coupling?’ He said it harshly, cruelly even. She should flinch. Maybe she did, inside, but if she did she hid it well.
‘It might have been a chance coupling for you,’ she said, the chin tilting again, ‘but for me it was like a dividing line. Before and after. I know that doesn’t make sense to you but for me it’s huge. I went to the island feeling defeated. I came home thinking I could cope with anything the world threw at me. I have the strength and happiness to raise this baby alone. Ben, you have no need to do anything. If you like, I won’t even put your name on my baby’s birth certificate. But I thought...I just had to tell you.’
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.
‘I’ll go now,’ she said gently. ‘Ben, there’ll be no repercussions. For you it was a chance coupling, but for me it was magic. I believe our baby was conceived in love, and I’ll remember that forever. Thank you, Ben. Thank you for my baby. Thank you for everything.’
And she turned and walked out the door.
* * *
She’d sounded sure, but her certainty faded the moment she closed the door behind her. Why had she come?
Back in New Zealand it had seemed like the only honourable thing to do. She’d meet him face to face. She’d explain that he was going to be a father.
Okay, a tiny part of her had been hoping for joy, but that was a tiny part. A dumb part.
Mostly she’d thought the conversation would be brief and businesslike, with her assuring him she didn’t expect support. He needed to know he had a child but she didn’t want more help.
What she hadn’t expected was horror.
Maybe he had assumed she was here for a share in the Logan billions, but she didn’t think so. The look on Ben’s face had said this wasn’t about money.
Why wouldn’t the elevator come? She shoved the button again and thought maybe she’d hit the fire stairs.
She was a long way up.
She wanted to go home. Fiercely, she wanted to be home.
She never wanted to see that look on Ben’s face again. She never wanted her child to see it.
‘Mary...’
He was right behind her.
She jabbed the button again.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, but she didn’t turn around.
‘You don’t need to be sorry. I’ve said what I came to say. As far as you’re concerned, this is over.’
‘When did you arrive?’
‘Yesterday.’ Jab, jab.
‘And when are you going home?’
‘Monday.’ Jab, jab, jab.
He leaned forward and covered her hand with his, stopping her touching the buttons. His touch seemed to burn.
What was wrong with the stupid elevator? ‘You own this building,’ she snapped. ‘Put in more lifts.’
‘Let me take you to lunch.’
‘No.’
‘That’s not very gracious.’
‘No!’
‘Mary—’
‘I’ve said what I came to say. Let me go.’
‘Can I tell you why I reacted...as I did?’
And finally the elevator arrived. All she needed to do was step inside and head for the ground floor. Then catch a cab, collect her gear, head to the airport and go home.
‘There’s a reason,’ he said.
The elevator door closed again and it slid silently away. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her so she was facing him.
‘Tell me.’ She felt weary beyond belief. Jet-lag? Early pregnancy? She’d been feeling the effects of both these things but the look on Ben’s face had made them ten times worse.
‘I can’t...’ he said.
‘Tell me,’ she repeated, and she thought tears weren’t far off. But why should she cry now? She’d had this sorted, or she’d thought she had.
Until she’d seen the fear.
‘I don’t do families,’ he said.
This was a dumb place to have such a conversation, she thought inconsequentially. Outside the elevators. Public.
And then she glanced over Ben’s shoulder and realised the palatial reception area was designed for one secretary and Elsbeth was nowhere to be seen. This whole floor was Ben’s.
This was Ben’s world and she had no place here. But...was this his refuge as Hideaway Island had been hers?
A storm had destroyed her refuge. Was she threatening his?
She wasn’t. He didn’t do families? She wasn’t asking that of him.
But it seemed he intended to tell.
‘Mary, my father, his father and his father before him practically owned Manhattan,’ he said. ‘My father was a womanising megalomaniac. My mother was a talented, beautiful, fragile screen star. Rita Marlene. You may have heard of her. She needed support and love and appreciation to thrive and with my father she got nothing.
‘After Jake and I were born she retreated into her stage world, where her only reality was her acting. It reached the point where even when she was upset, we never knew what was real or make-believe. Ophelia, Lady Macbeth, Anna Karenina, Jake and I had them all. Plus isolation and nannies. The only time Jake and I were noticed by our parents was when we did something outrageous and, believe me, we made outrageous a life skill.
‘I don’t think we realised...how much worse it made everything. That every time we hit trouble our father blamed Rita. Rita.’ He gave a harsh, short laugh. ‘She was always Rita. Stage Rita. Never Mom. And my father was Sir.’
‘Ben—’
‘I know, this is self-indulgent history,’ he said harshly. ‘But hear me out. When we were fourteen Jake and I stole a car. Not just any car either,’ he said, and once again there was an attempt at a smile. ‘My father was trying to stitch up a deal with a spoiled brat son-of-a-sheikh. An oil magnate. He had him to stay in our family mansion and pulled out all stops to impress.
‘You can imagine the scene. Servants everywhere, my mother dressed up in the most beautiful ballgown, almost ethereal, playing the subservient wife to a T. I believe...’ He hesitated. ‘I think now she was heavily into drugs. All the signs were there only, of course, no one wanted to see.’
; ‘Oh, Ben...’
But he wasn’t stopping. He knew she’d seen the horror, and maybe he had to explain.
‘And so my father was barking orders, desperate to impress, bullying the servants, bullying Rita. And Jake and I were ordered to dress in suits we hated and present ourselves in the drawing room to be introduced as his sons. It did his street cred good,’ he added. ‘To have fine sons who obeyed every order.’
She didn’t know where this was going. She thought she didn’t want to.
‘Only then my mother spilled her drink,’ he said. ‘She was sitting right beside the son-of-sheikh. He was looking at her in a way Jake and I hated, and she spilled it. And my father walked over, wrenched her to her feet and told her to get out. Apologies, apologies, apologies. And then I called him a....’ And he said a word that made her cringe.
‘Ben...’
‘So that was it. We were propelled out, too. My father’s pride was to be protected at all costs. The last thing we heard was my father apologising for his stupid family, and the son-of-a-sheikh agreeing that women and children were an eternal problem.’
She could hardly breathe. She didn’t want to know, and yet... ‘And so?’ she managed.
‘So Jake and I went out and hot-wired the son-of-a-sheikh’s Lamborghini. Jake drove it all the way to Soho and then crashed it into the rear of a stationary bus. Jake swears the bus jumped out to greet us. Jake was concussed and taken to hospital and I spent the night in jail, not knowing if Jake was alive or dead. There was no way my father would bail me out that night. My father’s assistant finally came to get me. I returned home the next morning to find my father apoplectic and my mother with a black eye and hysterical.’
‘Oh, Ben...’
‘His pride had been hurt—of course it had—so he’d taken it out on her. And she kept crying and crying, and saying, “Sorry, Ben, sorry. My babies... Ben, you take care of Jake. He’s your responsibility now.” I thought she was talking about the crash, about Jake getting hurt. She was so melodramatic. To my never-ending regret I remember thinking, Who are you playing now?
‘The hysterics went on and on. It was so real it terrified me but finally there was silence. My father went out. Jake was still in hospital. I was scared for Rita, but I was still scared for Jake. I lay in bed that night and told myself of course she was acting. I was angry, too. Jail had been shocking. I’d been terrified. Why hadn’t Rita stood up to him? Why wasn’t she stronger? Why wouldn’t she tell me how Jake was? So I should have gone to her and I didn’t. But she wasn’t acting. She overdosed and was dead before morning.’