Secrets of a Ruthless Tycoon

by Cathy Williams

  ‘I’ll take my chances!’ Of course he would see no problem with her sleeping in his apartment, she thought with punishing reality. She meant nothing to him, so why on earth would he be affected by her presence? And, if that were the case, then wouldn’t it be the same for her? ‘And when I leave here I never, ever want to see you again.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘DIDN’T THIS OCCUR to you at all, Miss Sullivan?’

  Her doctor looked at her with the sort of expression that implied this was a conversation he had had many times before. Possibly, however, not with someone who was unmarried. Unmarried and pregnant in these parts was a rare occurrence.

  Her head was swimming. It had been over a month since she had walked out of Leo’s life for ever and in the interim she had heard not a word from him, although she had heard about him, thanks to Bridget, who emailed her regularly with updates on the joys of finding her long-lost son.

  Bridget had remained in London in his apartment, where she had all the benefits of round-the-clock care and help courtesy of a man who had limitless funds. She hadn’t even needed to fetch any of her clothes, as she was now the fortunate recipient of a brand-new wardrobe.

  On all fronts, he was the golden child she thought she had lost for ever.

  In between these golden tributes, Brianna never managed to get any answers to the questions she really wanted to ask, such as did he ever talk about her? Was he missing her? Was there someone else in his life?

  And now this.

  ‘No, not really.’ Brianna found that she could barely enunciate the words. Pregnant. They had been so careful. Aside from that one time... She resisted the temptation to put her hand on her still flat stomach. ‘I...I didn’t even notice that I’d skipped a period...’ Because she had been so wrapped up thinking about him, missing him, wishing he was still around. So busy functioning on autopilot that she had missed the really big, life-altering thing happening.

  ‘And what will you do now, Brianna?

  Brianna looked at the kindly old man who had delivered her and pretty much everyone her age in Ballybay and beyond.

  ‘I’m going to have this baby, Dr Fallow, and I shall be a very proud, single mother.’ She stuck her chin up defiantly and he smiled at her.

  ‘I would have expected nothing less from Annie Sullivan’s daughter. And the father?’

  And the father...?

  The question plagued her over the next few days. He deserved to know. Or did he? He had used her and then dispatched her once her usefulness was at an end. Did a man like that deserve to know that she was having his baby? He had been ultra-careful with precautions. How ironic that despite the best laid plans—because of a split condom, a one-in-a-million chance—here she was, the exception to the rule. And a cruel exception, because having a baby was not on his agenda, least of all with a woman he had used. So what would be his reaction should she show up on his doorstep with the happy news that he was going to be a daddy? She shuddered when she thought of it: horror, rage, shock. And, although there was no way he could blame her, he would still be upset and enraged that fate had dealt him a blow he couldn’t deal with.

  Yet, how could she not tell him? Especially given the circumstances of his adoption? Would he appreciate being left in the dark about his own flesh and blood? Perhaps finding out at some much later date down the road, and being destined forever to imagine that his son or daughter had grown up thinking of him as someone who had not taken enough interest to make contact? Being left in the awful position of wondering whether his own life story had been repeated, except without him even being aware of it?

  The pros and cons ran through her head like a constant refrain, although beneath that refrain the one consolation was that she was in no doubt that she was happy about the pregnancy, however much it would disrupt her way of life. In fact, she was ecstatic. She had not thought about babies, having had no guy in her life with whom to have them. And, although she couldn’t have chosen a less suitable candidate for the role of father, she was filled with a sense of joyous wonder at the life slowly growing inside her.

  A life which would soon become apparent; pregnancy was not a condition that could be kept secret. Within a month or two, she would be the talk of the town, and of course Bridget would know. How could she fail to?

  Which pretty much concluded her agonising. Leo would find out and she would have to be the one to tell him before he heard it second-hand.

  It seemed the sort of conversation to be held in the evening and, before the bustle of the pub could begin, sweeping her off her feet, she got on the phone and dialled his mobile.

  Around her, the pub lacked its usual shine and polish. She would have to start thinking about getting someone in to cover for her on a fairly permanent basis. There was no way she and Shannon could cope but there was also no way she could afford to close the pub, far less find a buyer for it.

  Money, she foresaw, was going to be a headache and she gritted her teeth together because she knew what Leo’s solution would be: fling money at the problem. Which would leave her continually indebted to him and that was not a situation that filled her with joy.

  But then, she would never, ever be able to break contact with him from here on in, would she?

  Even if he just paid the occasional visit in between running those companies of his, he would still be a permanent cloud on her horizon. She would have to look forward to seeing him moving on, finding other women, other women to whom he hadn’t fabricated a convoluted story about himself. Eventually, she would have to witness his happiness as he found his soul mate, married her, had children with her. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  His disembodied voice, deep, dark and lazy, jolted her out of her daydreaming and fired up every nerve in her body. All at once, she could picture him in every vivid, unsettling detail: the way he used to look at her, half-brooding, full of sexy promise; the way he used to laugh whenever she teased him; the way the muscles of his amazing body rippled and flexed when he moved...

  ‘It’s me,’ she said a little breathlessly, before clearing her throat and telling herself to get a grip.

  ‘I know who it is, Brianna,’ Leo drawled. He rose to shut his office door. She had caught him as he had been about to leave. Ever since his mother had arrived on the scene and was recuperating happily at his apartment, he had been leaving work earlier than normal. It was a change of pattern he could not have foreseen in a million years, but he was strangely energised by getting to know his mother a little better. She could never replace the couple who had adopted him, but she was a person in her own right, and one he found he wanted to get to know. It seemed that a genetic link was far more powerful a bond than he could ever have conceived possible.

  He thought back to that moment when he had sat next to her at her hospital bed and taken her hand in his. An awkward moment and one he had never envisaged but as she had lain there, frail and bewildered at her expensive private room, it had seemed right.

  And he had told her—haltingly at first, trying to find the words to span over thirty years. He had watched her eyes fill up and had felt the way her hand had trembled. He had never expected his journey to take him there and he had been shocked at how much it had changed his way of thinking, had made him see the shades of grey between the black and white. No one could ever replace the wonderful parents he had had, but a new road had opened up—not better, but different—and he had felt a soaring sense of fulfilment at what lay ahead. He had known that they both did.

  For a man who had always known the way ahead, he had discovered the wonder of finding himself on a path with no signposts, just his feelings to guide him, and as he had opened up to his mother, asked her questions, replied to the hundreds she had asked him in return, he had turned a corner. The unknown had become something to be embraced.

  ‘How’s Bridget?’

  ‘I thought you spoke and emailed daily?’ He sat back down at his desk and swivelled his chair so that it was facing the broad floor-to-c
eiling glass panes that overlooked the city.

  ‘Why are you calling?’ It had been more of a struggle putting her behind him than he could ever have believed possible. Was it because Bridget was staying with him? Because her presence kept alive memories he wanted to bury? He didn’t know. Whilst his head did all the right things and told him that she no longer had a place in his life—that what they’d had had been good but it had never been destined to last—some irrational part of him insisted on singing a different tune.

  He had found his concentration inexplicably flagging in the middle of meetings. On more than one occasion, he had awoken from a dream-filled sleep to find himself with an erection. Cold showers were becoming the rule rather than the exception. All told, he felt as though he was in unchartered territory. He was taking new steps with his mother and discovering that old ways of dealing with exes did not apply to Brianna.

  He knew that she and Bridget were in touch by phone daily and it took every ounce of willpower not to indulge his rampant curiosity and try to prise information out of his house guest. What was she up to? Had she found a replacement for him in her bed? There was no denying that she was hot; what man wouldn’t want to try his luck? And she was no longer cocooned within those glacial walls of celibacy. She had stepped out from behind them and released all the unbelievable passion he knew her to be capable of. There was no way that she could ever return to living life like a nun. And, however much she had or hadn’t been wrapped up in him, she was ripe for a rebound relationship.

  Was that what she was doing right now—engaging in wild sex with some loser from the town or another passing stranger?

  He had never considered himself someone who was prone to flights of fancy, but he was making up for lost time now.

  All of this introduced a level of coolness to his voice as he stared out of the window and waited for her to come up with an answer.

  She damn well wasn’t phoning for an update on Bridget, so why was she?

  Brianna picked up the unwelcoming indifference in his voice and it stung. Had he completely detached from her? How was that possible? And how was he going to greet what she had to tell him, were that the case?

  ‘I...I...need to talk to you.’

  ‘I’m listening. But make it quick. I was on my way out.’

  ‘I need to see you...to discuss what I have to say.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Can’t you be just a little more polite, Leo? I know you have no further use for me, but the least you can do is not treat me as though I’m something the cat dragged in.’

  ‘Is it money?’ His anger at himself for continuing to let her infiltrate his head and ambush his thoughts transferred into a healthy anger towards her and, although he knew he was being unfair, there was no way he was going to allow himself to be dragged down the apology route.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘You know how rich I am now. You must know the lifestyle Bridget’s enjoying—I’m sure she’s told you so. Have you decided that you’d like me to throw some money in your direction for old times’ sake?’ God, was this him? He barely recognised the person behind the words.

  Brianna clutched the phone so tightly that she thought she might break it in two. Did he know how insulting he was being right now? Did he care? How could she have misread someone so utterly? Was there some crazy missing connection in her head that allowed her to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, including people who were just bad for her health?

  ‘You mentioned more than once that the place needed updating: new bar stools, new paint job on the outside, less tatty sofas in front of the fire...’ The sofas had been damn near perfect, he seemed to recall. The sort of sofas a person could sink into and remain sunk in for hours, remain sunk in for a lifetime. ‘Consider it done. On me. Call it thanks for, well, everything’

  ‘How generous of you, Leo.’ She reined in her explosive rage and kept her voice as neutral as she possibly could. ‘And I suppose this might eventually have something to do with money. But I really need to see you face to face to talk about it.’

  Perversely, Leo was disappointed that he had hit the nail on the head. Other women played the money angle. Other women assessed his wealth and expected a good time at his expense. It had never bothered him because, after all, fair’s fair. But Brianna... She wasn’t like other women. Apparently, however, she was.

  ‘Name the figure,’ he said curtly.

  ‘I’d rather not. If you could just make an appointment to see me. I could come to London and take the opportunity to look in on Bridget as well...’

  ‘I have no free time during the day. I could see you tomorrow some time after six thirty, and I’m doing you a favour because that would involve cancelling a conference call.’

  ‘Er...’ Money she knew she didn’t have disappeared through the window at the prospect of finding somewhere to stay, because there was no way she would be staying at his apartment, especially after she had dropped her bombshell.

  ‘Take it or leave it.’ He cut into her indecisive silence. ‘I can meet you at seven at a bistro near my office.’ He named it and then, from nowhere, pictured her sitting there at one of the tables, waiting for him. He pictured her face, her startling prettiness; he pictured her body, which would doubtless be concealed underneath something truly unappealing—that waterproof coat of hers of indeterminate green which she seemed to wear everywhere.

  On cue, his body jerked into life, sourly reminding him of the way just thinking of her could manage to turn him on.

  Tomorrow, he resolved, he would rifle through his address book and see whether there wasn’t someone he could date, if only as a distraction. Bridget, oddly, had not referred back to that aborted conversation she had had with him at the pub, had made no mention of Brianna at all. She would think there was nothing amiss were he to start dating. In fact, she would think something was amiss if he didn’t.

  ‘Well?’ he said impatiently. ‘Will you be there? This is a going, going, gone situation.’

  ‘I’ll be there. See you tomorrow.’

  * * *

  Brianna barely slept through the night. She was having a baby! Unplanned, unexpected, but certainly not unwanted.

  She was on edge as she finally landed on English soil. The weather had taken a turn for the better but, to be on the safe side, she had still decided to wear her faithful old coat just in case. The deeper into the city she got, the more ridiculously out of place she felt in her clothing. Even at nearly seven in the evening, the streets were packed. Everyone appeared to be dressed in suits, carrying briefcases and in a massive rush.

  She had given the address of the bistro to the taxi driver but, when she was dropped off, she remained outside on the pavement, her battered pull-along in one hand, her other hand shoved into the capacious pocket of her coat. Nerves threatened to overwhelm her. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to hop into the nearest taxi and ask it to deliver her right back to the airport.

  There were people coming and going from the bistro. She stood to one side, shaking like a leaf, aware of the pathetic figure she cut, and then she took a deep breath and entered with all the trepidation of someone entering a lion’s den.

  The noise was deafening, exaggerated by the starkness of the surroundings and the wooden floor. It was teeming with people, all young, all beautiful. A young woman clacking along in her high heels, with a leather case clutched to her side, tripped over her pull-along and swore profusely before giving her the once-over with contempt.

  ‘Oh God, darling, are you lost? In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t the bus station. If you and your luggage take a left out of the door and keep walking, you both should hit the nearest bus stop and they can deliver you wherever you’re going.’

  Brianna backed away, speechless, and looked around desperately for Leo. Right now, he felt like the only safe port in a storm and she spotted him tucked away towards the back of the room, sitting at a table and nursing a drink. A wave of relief washed
over her as she began threading her way towards him, her pull-along bumping into ankles and calves and incurring a trail of oaths on the way.

  Leo watched her zig-zag approach with brooding intensity. Amongst the city folk, snappily dressed and all braying in loud voices that competed to be heard, she was as natural and as beautiful as a wild flower. He couldn’t fail to notice the sidelong looks she garnered from some of the men and he quickly knocked back the remainder of his whisky in one gulp.

  So she had come here on her begging mission. He would have to do a bit better than stare at her and make favourable comparisons between her and the rest of the over-paid, over-confident, over-arrogant crowd on show. He signalled to a waiter to bring him another drink. It was a perk of this bar that he was the only one to receive waiter service, but then again, had it not been for his injection of cash years previously, the place would have been run into the ground. Now he owned a stake in it and, as soon as he clicked his fingers, the staff jumped to attention. It certainly saved the tedium of queuing at the bar trying to vie for attention. It also secured him the best table in the house, marginally away from the crowds.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m a little late.’ Brianna found that she could barely look at him without her entire nervous system gathering pace and going into overdrive. How had she managed to forget the impact he had on her senses? The way those dark, dark eyes could make her head swim and scramble her thoughts until she could barely speak?

  ‘Sit.’ He motioned to the chair facing him with a curt nod and she sank onto it and pulled her little bag alongside her. ‘So...’ He leant back and folded his arms. She was pink and her hair, which had obviously started the trip as a single braid down her back, was in the process of unravelling.

  ‘I hadn’t expected so much noise.’ Her eyes skittered away from his face but then returned to look at him with resolve. She had to forget about being out of her depth. She had come here for one reason and one reason only and she wasn’t going to let an attack of nerves stand in her way. How much more could he hurt her?