Page 13 of The Housekeeper's One-Night Baby
Over the last few months, she had thought of this baby as hers and hers alone. She had become territorial about the new life growing inside her, which had allowed her to feel as if she was in control. If she accepted Niccolò’s offer, surely that control would slip away. He was already talking about their child as an acquisition—an heir to inherit some of his vast fortune. Where would that leave her? Penniless Lizzie Bailey, without a qualification to her name? Would he try to edge her out—to dazzle their offspring with all the things she could never provide?
She wanted to push back the chair and run out of the café and pretend this conversation had never happened. But that would be the action of a coward and something her conscience wouldn’t allow.
Stop thinking about yourself.
Could she honestly deny their child this golden opportunity, just because her pride had been hurt and the man who had made her pregnant didn’t want her?
She couldn’t keep the stab of hope from her voice. ‘Are you saying you want to be a proper father to this baby?’
‘No, I’m not.’ There was a pause. ‘That’s the last thing I want,’ he said. ‘Neither you nor this child deserve a man like me in your life, Lizzie. But I’m prepared to finance your future and give you time to think about what that future might be.’
‘Why are you being so kind to me?’
‘Not kind,’ he corrected. ‘I don’t do kind. Let’s just say it’s a kind of thank you, for not having gone to the papers telling them how I’d deserted you. Possibly armed with a few naked photos you might have taken while I was asleep. It would have made a juicy story, don’t you think?Niccolò Macario dumps his baby-mama!’
‘Are you always this cynical?’
‘Always,’ he agreed acidly. ‘I find that experience has made me that way.’
Lizzie stared into the hard glitter of his eyes. He was painting a harsh picture of what sort of a man he really was. He’d told her with brutal honesty that he didn’t want a baby, but would support her financially. So far, so fair. But there was one thing he hadn’t mentioned. The thing which had got them into this situation in the first place. The old Lizzie wouldn’t have dreamed of bringing up such an intimate subject, but that innocent creature was part of the past. For her sake, and for her baby’s sake—there was nothing to be gained from being coy.
‘What about...sex?’ she questioned.
‘Sex?’ he repeated, elevating his brows. ‘Surely you’re notpropositioningme, Lizzie?’
‘Of course I’m not!’ she declared furiously. ‘I just thought...’
‘What? That I’m trying to lure you to the States because I want to pick up where we left off that crazy afternoon?’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Then let me assure you that your fears are unfounded,cara. I’m not that desperate.’
‘Desperate?’ she repeated furiously.
‘You think I am turned on by a woman who looks at me as if I am the devil incarnate, even though she might be right? Believe me when I tell you that I have no intention of installing you in my bedroom, Lizzie. I prefer my women a little less prickly and a little less pregnant.’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘You will be quite safe from me.’
Safe? Suddenly, Lizzie didn’t feel in the least bit safe, because even when he was being angry he was devastatingly attractive. He still made her want to sidle up close to him and present her lips to be kissed. Her breasts still ached to be touched by him. He represented danger on so many levels, yet she couldn’t deny being tempted by his offer. The constant nag of worry about not having enough money would be removed in a stroke—and what was the worst that could happen? She could come back to England any time she liked—he was hardly going to keep her prisoner in New York, was he? But he needed to understand that the impetuous creature who had fallen into his arms that day hadn’t been the real Lizzie Bailey. The real Lizzie was careful and responsible and weighed things up. She was decent and honest and didn’t let people down.
‘I’d like some time to think about it,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can’t just leave my boss in the lurch. I’ll need to give her notice.’
He shrugged, seemingly unimpressed by this demonstration of conscientiousness, withdrawing a thick cream card from his wallet and sliding it across the table. ‘Suit yourself. Here are my details. My plane leaves tomorrow. Let me know if you’re going to be on it. Do you want a lift somewhere now?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll walk.’
It was a relief to get away from the distracting gleam of his eyes and walk back across the park, even though the cold wind was biting viciously into her cheeks and penetrating her inadequate coat. She had intended to speak to her boss when she returned from her bridge lesson, but Lady Cameron cut her short by demanding Lizzie bone and cook three chickens for an impromptu dinner party she was giving that evening.
Lizzie’s heart plummeted. ‘But I’m supposed to be off duty—’
‘And?’ A pointed glance swivelled to her belly. ‘Aren’t you lucky to have a job at all?’
Insecurity won out over any championing of employment rights and Lizzie nodded obediently, more out of habit than anything else. In the basement kitchen, she stood shivering with her hands deep in icy water and entrails, trying not to retch, and somehow managed to produce and serve a three-course supper, and tidy up afterwards. But despite a fatigue which seeped deep into her bones, her night was restless. As the pale gleam of the winter morning crept in through the thin curtains, she suddenly sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the attic room as if she were seeing it for the first time.
What was shedoing? First Sylvie and now Lady Cameron—both of them treating her like dirt. She had told herself she needed to be strong from here on in, mostly for her baby’s sake. So how many more times was she going to allow herself to be exploited by unscrupulous employers before she came to her senses?
After showering beneath a meagre trickle of water in the poky bathroom, she packed all her possessions into a single suitcase, took out her phone and punched out the number Niccolò had given her. The irony didn’t escape her when he answered. All those fruitless attempts to contact him in the early days of her pregnancy, when she had come up against an impenetrable wall of security. But now? Now he picked up on the second ring, his velvety tones making a complicated series of reactions sizzle over her skin.
‘Lizzie?’
‘I’d like to come to New York. If the offer’s still on.’
‘When?’
