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‘Don’t. You. Dare!’
Leila shivered as she heard James, the man who had once made her smile, now speak in ice. The man whose voice had once soothed her now made her stomach clench.
‘Don’t you dare try to exclude me from my child’s life. I’m not one of your servants that you can dismiss.’
‘Actually,’ Leila coolly said, and James’s mouth gaped, ‘you are.’
She got up and walked over to the table. She picked up the newspaper and tossed it to him, and then she opened a drawer and took out some magazines she’d spent a lot of time crying over and she tossed them at him too.
Then Leila picked up the phone and dialled three.
‘I would like James Chatsfield removed now.’
‘Tell them that I’m already leaving,’ James said, and stood. He was struggling to stay calm. She was like no one he had ever dealt with, but there was no way that he’d let her simply remove him from his own child’s life.
‘I will call you later, Leila,’ James said. ‘And I very much suggest that you pick up the phone.’
As he went to walk away, something shot past him and James watched as a stiletto met with the wall as Leila vented some of her fury towards the man who had walked out on her that morning. The man who had left her pregnant with his child.
‘Were they any good, James?’ Leila shouted. ‘Did even one of them come close to us?’
James said nothing. He wrenched open the door and was met with security. ‘Just in time,’ James quipped. ‘You can escort me down.’
He got back to his penthouse and paced, his mind racing.
‘Well, well.’ Muriel, his daily, who was busy unpacking James’s stuff from his trip to France, smiled.
‘Well, well,’ James said.
He liked Muriel. She was ancient and went about her business noisily, but was very possibly the one woman whose constant chatter didn’t annoy him.
He flicked through his post that had gathered while he was away as Muriel chatted on.
‘More money for me though,’ Muriel said as she fixed him a coffee. ‘Those sticky fingers...’
‘It won’t be living here.’ James grinned.
‘What, you won’t bring it here on your access visits?’ Muriel said, handing him coffee. ‘Are you going to walk it around the park for a few hours once a week?’ She gestured her head to the delicious view of Central Park. ‘It would be a bit cold in winter.’
He hadn’t thought that far; all he’d thought was that he didn’t want Leila leaving the country.
‘I’ll see it when I visit Leila,’ James said.
‘Oh, my ex used to think he could just pop around whenever he wanted,’ Muriel said. ‘I soon put him right.’
‘I bet you did.’ James laughed, but when Muriel had gone, he walked around his home, his absolute haven. A child? Here?
A baby!
He opened a spare bedroom that he was about to turn into a home theatre and he could not picture a baby in there, screaming its way through the night and wanting its mother.
He’d hire a nanny, James decided.
But Muriel had unsettled him. He was actually starting to think this through. By morning he had realised that she could leave at any moment, and with that thought he picked up the phone and was thankfully put straight through without The Harrington’s usual games.
‘I want you to move over to The Chatsfield,’ James said. It was the only thing he could think of—at least that way he’d know if she checked out or if her family arrived to collect her.
‘Why would I move there when I can stay here?’
‘Leila,’ James sighed. ‘You can’t afford to stay at The Harrington. And let me assure you Isabelle’s charity will come at a price—she’s not running a refuge for single moms. Don’t for a minute think her offer came from the goodness of her heart. She’s doing this to dirty my family’s name.’
‘You manage that by yourself,’ Leila responded. ‘I’m not leaving here.’
‘Leila, I’m not asking you to move into my home. I think this is an excellent idea. I’ll have a suite arranged for you and I’ll send a car to collect you at around lunchtime.’
‘I have plans for lunchtime.’
God, she tested his patience to the limit. ‘Tonight then,’ James said, refusing to budge on this. ‘I’ll send my driver to collect you at eight.’
‘I’m not moving out.’
‘Will you at least agree to discuss it over dinner?’
‘I don’t want to have dinner with you. I don’t want anything to do with you, James.’
‘You should have thought about that three months ago,’ James responded. ‘Like it or not we have to communicate. I can call my lawyer and get discussions started or you can meet me tonight and we can try to work things out ourselves.’
