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‘No, I’m not saying that. But I do think that fate has played right into your hardworking little hands,’ he said slowly. ‘Don’t you?’
Her voice was shaking as she shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t.’ Pushing the duvet away, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, acutely conscious of her wobbly bottom as she bent down and started pulling on her discarded clothes with fingers which were trembling, telling herself she would manage. Somehow. Because she had always managed before, hadn’t she? Fully dressed now, Molly turned round, steeling herself not to react to his muscular olive body outlined so starkly against the snowy white bedding. ‘There’s nothing more to be said, is there?’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Oh, I think there’s plenty which needs to be said, but not tonight, not when emotions are running high. I need to think first before I come to any decision.’
Molly was tempted to tell him that maybe he should have done that before he had taken her to bed and then come out with a stream of unreasonable accusations, but what was the point in inflaming an already inflamed situation? And she couldn’t really blame him for the sex, could she? Not when she had been complicit every step of the way. Not when she had desperately wanted him to touch her.
And the awful thing was that she still did.
Tilting her chin upwards and adopting the most dignified stance possible—which wasn’t easy in the circumstances—she walked out of Salvio’s bedroom without another word.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A COLD BLUE light filtered into the tiny bedroom, startling Molly from the bewildering landscape of unsettled sleep—one haunted by Salvio and the memory of his hard, thrusting body. Disorientated, she sat up in bed, wondering if she’d dreamt it all. Until the delicious aching at her breasts and soft throb between her legs reminded her that it had happened. Her heart began to race. It had actually happened. At the end of an evening’s service she had informed her employer she was pregnant with his baby.
And had then been carried up the staircase and willingly had sex with him, despite all the things he’d accused her of.
Did he really believe it was his wealth which had attracted her to him, when she would have found him irresistible if he’d been covered in mud and sweat from working the fields?
Slowly, she got out of bed. She didn’t know what Salvio wanted. All she knew was what she wanted. Her hand crept down to cover the soft flesh of her belly. She wanted this baby.
And nothing Salvio did or said was going to change her mind.
She showered and washed her hair—pulling on clean jeans and a jumper the colour of a winter sky before going downstairs, to be greeted by the aroma of coffee. In the kitchen she found Salvio pouring himself an inky cupful, and although he looked up as she walked in, his face registered no emotion. He merely gestured to the pot.
‘Want some?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll make myself some tea.’ She was certain herbal tea was better for babies than super-strong coffee, but mainly she welcomed the opportunity of being able to busy herself with the kettle. Anything rather than having to confront the distracting vision of Salvio in faded jeans and a sweater as black as his hair. She could feel him watching her and she had to try very hard not to appear clumsy—no mean feat when that piercing gaze was trained on her like a bird of prey. But when she couldn’t dunk her peppermint teabag a moment longer, she was forced to turn around and face him, glad he was now silhouetted against the window and his features were mostly in shadow.
‘So,’ he said, without preamble. ‘We need to work out what we’re going to do about the astonishing piece of news you dropped into my lap last night. Any ideas, Molly?’
Molly had thought about this a lot during those long hours when sleep had eluded her. Be practical, she urged herself. Take the emotion out of it and think facts. She cleared her throat. ‘Obviously finding a job is paramount,’ she said cautiously. ‘A live-in job, of course.’
‘A live-in job,’ he repeated slowly. ‘And when the baby is born, what then?’
Molly hoped her shrug conveyed more confidence than she actually felt. ‘Lots of people don’t mind their staff having a baby around the place. Well, maybe not lots of people,’ she amended when she heard his faintly incredulous snort and acknowledged that he might have a point. ‘But houses which already have children tend to be more accommodating. Who knows? I might even switch my role from housekeeper to nanny.’
‘And that’s what you want, is it?’
Molly suppressed the frustration which had flared up inside her. Of course it wasn’t. But she couldn’t really tell him that none of this was what she wanted—not without betraying the child she carried. She hadn’t planned to get pregnant, but she would make the best of it. Just as she hadn’t planned for the father of her child to be a cold-hearted billionaire who right now felt so distant that he might as well have been on another planet, rather than standing on the other side of the kitchen. She wanted what most women wanted when they found themselves in this situation—a stable life and a man who adored them. ‘Life is all about adaptation,’ she said stolidly when, to her surprise, he nodded, walking away from the window and putting his coffee cup down on the table before pulling out a chair.
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Here. Sit down. We need to talk about this properly.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t sit down.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I still have to clear up the house, after the party.’
‘Leave it.’
‘I can’t leave it, it’s what you’re paying me—’
‘I said leave it, Molly,’ he snapped. ‘I can easily get people in to do that for me later. Just sit down, will you?’
Molly opened her mouth to refuse. To tell him that the walls felt as if they were closing in on her and his presence was making her jittery. But what else could she do? Flounce out into the snow, two days before Christmas Day—with nowhere to go and a child in her belly? Ignoring the chair he was holding out for her, she chose one at the opposite end of the table and sank down onto it, her mouth unsmiling as she looked at him questioningly.
‘I’ve given a lot of thought to what’s happened,’ he said, without preamble.
