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‘The staff,’ he said, then glanced pointedly at his watch. ‘How about we stop wasting time discussing this, and start discussing why we’re actually here?’
She quashed the wave of sympathy towards him at the surly tone, the blunt statement revealing more than he had probably intended. ‘All right.’ She propped her elbow on the armrest of the chair. So he’d had a crummy childhood—that still didn’t make his intentions towards her child any more honourable. ‘Why don’t we kick off with why I’m really here? And what this so-called “settlement”—’ she did air-quotes with her fingers ‘—is supposed to achieve.’
‘No problem, but first you tell me whether you’re pregnant or not.’
She shifted away, the guilty blush warming her cheeks.
He stiffened and then swore softly, running his hand through his hair. ‘I knew it.’
He snagged her wrist and held on. ‘Is it mine?’ he asked, his voice frigid.
She shook her head, but the denial refused to come out of her mouth. One lie was enough.
His fingers t
ightened. ‘Tell the truth for once.’
She wrestled her hand out of his grip. ‘What do you mean, for once? I told you the truth weeks ago. And you didn’t believe me. Remember?’
‘So it is mine. You’re sure?’
She ducked her head, rubbed her wrist where his fingers had dug in.
If only she could lie again. It would be the easy way out. But she couldn’t, because it would be another betrayal of the life growing inside her, and the baby didn’t deserve that.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she murmured, the sudden wave of hopelessness washing over her.
Nathaniel Graystone was her child’s father. She would always have a connection to this cynical, controlled stranger, because her child would share his DNA.
‘And you’re going to keep it?’
She met his gaze, determined to weather the storm she knew was coming. ‘Yes. And nothing you can say or do is going to make me get rid of it.’
His brows flattened, the line across his forehead deepening, but he looked stunned, not angry. ‘What?’
‘Oh, come on, how dumb do you think I am?’ she countered, scepticism dripping from every syllable. ‘What was the settlement supposed to pay for?’
‘Not that.’ The expletive came out on a low murmur of fury. ‘What kind of a jerk do you think I am?’
She flinched, but didn’t back down, the tiny slither of uncertainty, Eva’s words of caution, quickly quashed by the memory of how he’d humiliated her when she’d come to see him. ‘The kind of jerk who refused to admit this child might be his when I first told him I was pregnant. That kind.’
‘My reaction that day has nothing to do with this.’
‘What does it have to do with, then? Because if I recall correctly that man didn’t seem too keen on even acknowledging his responsibilities, let alone paying for them.’
He lurched out of his chair, paced across the silk carpet. When he finally turned back to her, she saw frustration instead of fury. ‘I didn’t ask you here to pay you to have an abortion. I realise I didn’t react too well when you first told me. But I thought...’ He trailed off, the rigid set of his shoulders matching the granite set of his features.
‘You thought what?’ she prompted. When he didn’t reply she answered for him. ‘That I was lying about the pregnancy, or your paternity, or both? Isn’t that what you thought? And then you have the cheek to be surprised that I would lie to you about being pregnant. Of course I lied. Why wouldn’t I?’
She could hear the strain in his voice when he replied. ‘What I said that day had nothing to do with the child. I got you confused with someone else.’
The churning sensation in her stomach finally settled a little. He hadn’t been planning to bully her into an abortion. ‘Who?’
‘It’s not important.’
‘It is to me.’
* * *
