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‘Jenny...’ he’d breathed, as if he’d been waiting all his life for me, and then...
I shoved the rest of the thoughts away. I didn’t want to think about what had happened after that, the explosion of passion that had resulted in the small life growing inside me now.
My other hand dropped to my stomach, curling protectively over it.
I should have told him about the baby. I knew that. But discovering that I was pregnant by the man who’d ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped it into a bloody pulp had been shattering. Which wasn’t a good enough reason not to inform him, but I’d told myself that keeping it a secret until at least the three-month mark was a good idea. Until, of course, I’d realised that I hadn’t wanted to tell him at all.
He was engaged, and had made his feelings about me very clear, and I hadn’t wanted to upend his carefully ordered life with the news that he was going to be a father. He had Olivia, and marriage plans, and it didn’t seem fair to derail everything just because he and I had made a mistake.
I’d planned to tell him eventually, but not until my heart felt a little less raw.
My mother, on the other hand, would be thrilled if she knew—‘Nothing like a child to keep a man at your side’ she’d tell me, even though it hadn’t worked with my father, and would likely advise me to take him for everything he had.
But I wasn’t like her. I’d never be like her. I didn’t want to rely on a man to keep me fed and clothed. I didn’t want to end up cynical and bitter. What I wanted was stability and security, two things I’d never had growing up. Oh, yes, and love. I hadn’t had that growing up either.
You won’t get it with him.
I glanced over at the door.
I’d always thought Con cared for me, but that had been before he’d cut me off for four years without any reason. He’d never explained, so why would I expect anything from him now? And how was that supposed to make me feel stable and secure?
There had been no love in my childhood, no stability and no security, with my mother going from place to place and dragging me with her, looking for men to look after her. She’d never loved any of the men she’d taken up with, she’d only used them. And when she’d got sick of one, she’d found another.
I didn’t want that for myself, and I didn’t want that for my child. I wanted permanence, a secure home, a job that fulfilled me and a partner who loved me.
I wanted a happy-ever-after, and I knew that wasn’t on the table with Con.
Which meant I was going to have to leave.
I’d wait for our child to be born and then, once I’d adjusted to being a mother, I’d contact him again and we would discuss access. But not until then.
In the meantime, I’d get out of here and get back to my hotel, find something to eat and then sleep. My flight back to England the next morning was very early, and I was exhausted.
I moved over to the door and opened it, peering down the corridor.
Silence reigned.
I stepped out of the room and walked towards the stairs, my cheap heels tapping on the unforgiving marble.
At the stairs, another security man in a black uniform appeared. ‘Miss Grey?’ He glanced down the corridor to the room I’d been in and then back at me. His expression didn’t change but it was clear he found my failure to follow orders displeasing. ‘Follow me, please.’
I didn’t like to be rude, but my anger was still bubbling away inside me, so I gave him a very direct look. ‘No, thank you. I was just leaving.’
‘Señor Silvera’s orders, I’m afraid. There is a volatile situation happening downstairs and I am required to protect you.’
A small, cold shock rippled through me. A ‘volatile situation’? What on earth did that mean?
‘What kind of—?’
A firm hand gripped my elbow. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, Miss Grey,’ the man said. ‘But for your own safety, please follow me.’
Before I knew what was happening I was being hustled down the sweeping marble stairs and towards not the front door, but the back. There appeared to be a large quantity of people milling about in the entranceway, all of them talking loudly.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked, my gut twisting in sudden anxiety. Because it was clear from the looks on the faces of the people that something unexpected and maybe scary had happened. ‘Where are we going?’
At the bottom of the stairs, the uniformed staff member urged me down a corridor that led to the back of the house. ‘Señor Silvera wants me to tell you that he will be flying you back to England at his own expense.’
Surprise had me almost stumbling over my feet. He was flying me home? That didn’t make a lot of sense—not when he’d said something about marrying me. ‘But why?’ I asked. ‘I have a flight booked tomorrow already and a hotel for tonight.’
