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Then Mack asks, “Is this about Huxley?”
I open my eyes. He’s not smiling.
“It’s nothing to do with us,” Titus says quickly, glancing at him. Clearly, they’ve been talking about us.
“It is when it impinges on our businesses,” Mack says. His gaze is direct. He’s annoyed. I know him well enough to suspect it’s nothing to do with business. He’s worried about Huxley’s feelings. Well, I’m not going to discuss that in front of Titus. He doesn’t need to know the ins and outs of my love life.
“When do they need to know by?” I ask briskly.
“There’s no rush,” Titus says, “I think we can take a few weeks to work it out. But obviously the sooner the better.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’ll have to give it some thought, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Titus pulls a folder toward him. “Alan gave me a few figures to go through. Shall we take a look at them?”
I nod, and he proceeds to read out the notes, and we take half an hour to discuss them.
“I’d better get going,” I tell them when we’re done. “I’ve got a bit of work to catch up on.”
“Yeah, me too,” Mack says.
Fuck. That means he wants to talk to me.
“I’ll call you,” I tell Titus, and Mack and I head out to the elevator. We wait for the doors to open, go inside, press the button for the ground floor, and the doors close.
Mack leans against the wall of the carriage, hands in his pockets.
“Don’t glare at me,” I say impatiently. “It’s not my fault.”
“Are you thinking of going?” he asks.
“Of course I’m thinking of going. It’s five hundred million dollars, Mack. That’s a significant amount of money, and this cause is very important to me.”
“Is it possible you’re pregnant?”
The elevator walls are made of mirrors, so I’m able to see my face turn completely scarlet.
“That’s none of your business,” I snap. How dare he ask me that?
Unrepentant, he says, “What would you do if you are?”
“They do have babies in England.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“Yes, I know,” he bites back. “Don’t be snarky. You know what I’m asking. You’d really think about going after the two of you finally get together?”
“We’re not together. I asked him if he’d donate his sperm for me. He said no, he’d only do it the old-fashioned way. It was his choice.”
The elevator stops, the doors slide open, and I march out. Walking at lightspeed, as usual, he moves in front of me, and I have to stop.
“So you had no intention of seeing him again?” he demands.
“He asked for one night, and that’s what I gave him.”
“Don’t be so naïve. You know he wants more. I assumed you were using it as a way to kickstart a relationship, and so did he.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“Elizabeth!” he yells.
