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‘There’s every reason to do it,’ he countered, standing too. ‘We made this child together. I have a responsibility.’
Even as he uttered the words he recognised their laughable hypocrisy, and by the sudden flare of colour in her eyes, Carrie did also.
‘Obviously I will require a DNA test at some point, to confirm paternity. But I’m aware there are sometimes safety issues involved with such tests, so that can wait until a point at which it doesn’t pose a risk to you or...’ His eyes dropped to her stomach and he was beset by the sudden desire to touch where his child grew, to splay his hand over her in some kind of paternal pride or possessiveness. ‘Or the baby.’
‘Fine. But whenever the test happens you should be prepared for a positive result. You’re the only man I’ve been with in a long time.’
She’d said as much the night they’d made love, but to hear it again pierced him afresh. It had felt like a proprietorial caveman stamp on her, as if he had claimed her, taken her, made her his. That out of all the men on the planet she could have selected from she had wanted him.
When he tried to speak again, his throat was thick. ‘Whatever you need in terms of doctors or accommodation, get in touch.’ He offered her a piece of paper. ‘This email address and phone number connects you directly to my executive assistant, Isobel. She will take care of anything you require.’
Carrie examined the scribble with a frighteningly blank expression. ‘Well, I came here to tell you I was pregnant, and I’ve done that, so I’ll let you get back to your day. Goodbye, Damon.’
She didn’t wait for him to return the pleasantry. She turned and with her head held high strode from his office, leaving her scent in the air, an unsettled feeling scratching at the skin of his chest and a sudden rushing impulse to run after her.
Carrie jabbed at the button to call for the elevator, fighting the burning tears that were attacking the backs of her eyes. She did not want to cry. She wanted to be strong for herself, and for the child she carried, but every inch of her was wounded and aching with a disappointment she had little reason to feel so acutely. Not when the meeting had played out exactly as she had feared it would.
Damon had been angry that she’d lied. Shocked that she was pregnant. Reviled by her DNA and unwilling to be an active parent to a baby with Randolph blood.
He had every right to be furious with her, but the way he had turned his feelings off so completely had left her cold with shock. She’d believed they had shared more than that. But the man she had faced today had been cool and unyielding. Emotionally unreachable. It brought ugly, unbidden memories to the centre of her mind...memories of other emotionally unavailable men, hard and selfish men, on whom she had wasted too many tears.
Her father, for one.
How many times has she stood in front of him, desperately trying to reach him, to make a connection, only to be regarded by a blank stare? And that awful day when Nate’s true intentions had become clear. She’d needed his support and his comfort but had been met only with his cold recrimination. She’d been crying, humiliated, her heart crushed, and he hadn’t even hugged her.
Her fingers curled into a fist, closing around the card Damon had given her with the contact information written on—contact information for his PA, not even for him!
Her upset coalesced and hardened into an anger that throbbed in every inch of her body. She wasn’t afraid of raising her child alone. Her mother had pretty much raised Carrie single-handedly, and she was a glowing example of what was possible. With the promised support of her mother and her grandparents, who were twin pillars in her life, she was in no doubt that she would successfully and happily raise her child in a secure and loving environment.
And yet Carrie was aware of the open wound left by not having a relationship with one’s father. She would prefer it if the same fate wasn’t inflicted on her child.
But Damon was making a decision that was all about him. He hadn’t given a single second’s consideration to the child they had made together and what was best for him or her. He was too consumed by the past to give any thought to the future, stuck in his uncompromisingly rigid position.
Just like her father, who had only ever seen the world though his own eyes, his own ambitions and greed. He had never donated a moment’s consideration to anyone else—not his sons, nor his wife or his daughter.
With a ping, the elevator announced its arrival and the doors slid open, but Carrie’s feet wouldn’t move. She had always been cowed by her father’s unyieldingness, never arguing with him. Because he was shockingly incapable of seeing another perspective from his entrenched position and because his favour was earned through silence. And more than anything she had longed for his favour. His love.
She had felt the same powerlessness in Damon’s office, faced with his animosity, and had retreated to her default position of silence and acquiescence, hoping that if she didn’t aggravate the situation further it would work out the way she hoped. But staying silent had only ever left her hurt and resentful. It hadn’t enabled any relationship with her father.
Carrie didn’t want to repeat that pattern with another person, and she didn’t want to make the same mistakes—especially not when her child would be adversely affected. It was past time she learned to use her voice, to advocate for what she wanted and needed and what was best for her child.
Turning on her heel, she marched back into his office.
Damon spun with a startled look as the door crashed against the wall. ‘Carrie, what—?’
‘No! You had your turn to speak and I listened. So now you’re going to listen to me.’
She drew in a fortifying breath, her courage wobbling as she felt the full force of his authoritative persona directed her way. He was clearly unused to being addressed so forcefully.
‘I’m not under any illusions about my father. What he did to your father was awful, and you have every right to hate him. But that has nothing to do with this baby,’ she said, her hands moving across her still-flat stomach. ‘And it shouldn’t have any influence on how you feel about this pregnancy.’
Pausing to draw a much-needed breath, she tried not to be diverted by the sheer magnificence of him, still and tall and straight-backed, polished eyes fixed on her. Their connection had been forged at first sight, and she felt its reigning power every time their gazes collided, making her shake and shiver all the way down to her toes.
‘If you don’t want to be involved, that’s fine. I have no problem doing this on my own. But if the only reason you don’t want to be involved is because one quarter of this child’s DNA comes from Sterling Randolph, then you’re acting like a fool and doing the child a huge disservice. Because you got one thing right—youdohave a responsibility. To be there. To love it. To help it become the greatest and happiest person it can be, living a life that makes it happy. You grew up without your father, Damon. You know what that feels like. The emptiness, the sorrow... And you blame my father for taking yours away from you. Do you really want to let him be the reason you don’t know your child too?’
The dark silence of his house greeted Damon when he arrived home from the charity ball. He tapped the control panel on the wall to bring up the lights before freeing himself from the tuxedo jacket, pulling apart the bowtie and ripping open the top buttons of his shirt.
Finally, he could draw a breath.
