Page 14 of The Housekeeper's One-Night Baby
She drew in a deep breath. ‘You said your plane was leaving today.’
There was a pause and when he spoke his voice was silky. ‘What changed your mind?’
Lizzie stared out of the tiny attic window at the bare treetops silhouetted against the pewter sky. She didn’t want to tell him about the tiny ray of hope which had flickered into her heart in the middle of the night, because that was ill founded and sentimental and he wouldn’t want to hear it. It might even be enough to make him change his mind and, suddenly, that was a prospect she couldn’t bear to contemplate.
‘Well, I haven’t exactly been inundated with attractive offers,’ she confided, as carelessly as she could. ‘So it seemed a bit short-sighted to turn it down.’
‘Bene.’He didn’t bother to hide his satisfaction. ‘I will send a car for you.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘IDON’TUNDERSTAND.’ Her voice sounded bewildered. ‘Why are we in a hotel?’
Their whistlestop tour concluded, Niccolò watched the tiny redhead slowly circumnavigate the vast reception area of his suite of rooms. As she walked over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared at the skyscraper view outside, he thought how small she seemed in these vast surroundings, and how vulnerable. When she turned to face him her eyes were wide, as if she was having difficulty adjusting to her new reality. That made two of them, he thought grimly, wondering whether he had taken leave of his senses when he had blurted out his offer to her back in London. ‘Because this is where I live.’
As she shook her head, her pale red hair shimmered. ‘You live in a hotel? Whodoesthat?’
Words seemed to fail her as her gaze alighted on a glass coffee table on which stood a stack of rare books. She had removed her coat to reveal a dress which appeared to have been fashioned from a pair of old drapes and was slightly too small for her, so that it clung to her fecund curves. The new shape of her body was glaringly apparent in a way he hadn’t really noticed back in England. The heavy breasts. The slightly widened hips. When she did that unconscious thing of fluttering her fingers against her belly, she seemed the embodiment of fertility. She was pregnant. Lushly and terrifyingly pregnant.
And he had made her that way.
She stuck out like a sore thumb in the sleek bachelor world he inhabited. The crew on his private jet had been unable to conceal their surprise when she’d arrived at the airfield, emerging from the limousine carrying nothing but a battered suitcase and wearing that thin coat straining over her bump. The hotel staff clearly thought the same—though Niccolò had glowered when he’d noticed one of the bellboys staring at her askance, before sending the hapless individual away without a tip.
Yet, for a man who always travelled solo, Lizzie Bailey had proved to be an undemanding companion during the flight from London to New York. There had been no mindless chatter, at which women excelled. Even the barrage of questions which he assumed that she of all people had the right to ask hadn’t materialised. She had spotted one of the large bedrooms on board and—after establishing that, yes, of course she was allowed to use it—had shut herself away for much of the flight.
As they’d flown over the Atlantic, Niccolò kept glancing towards a door which had remained firmly closed. Like all powerful men, he was attracted to the things which seemed unavailable. Annoyingly, he’d found himself wondering whether she was sleeping naked and how that might look, then reminded himself that sex was a complication he definitely didn’t need.
She hadn’t emerged until shortly before landing, and despite his determination to subdue his desire, he had found himself focussing reluctantly on the bareness of her lips, fighting back a desire to take her in his arms and taste their honeyed softness again.
Yet now, seeing her rounded body silhouetted against the glittering Manhattan skyline, that desire had been replaced by incredulity, and yes, dread. Her presence was driving home the realisation that he had placed himself at the centre in a situation he’d always gone out of his way to avoid. His heart began to hammer painfully against his ribcage. Wouldn’t a new baby bring back all the memories he’d worked so hard to suppress, haunting him with guilt and grief all over again?
He must not let it. He must compartmentalise—which he was good at—and put things in perspective. He had offered Lizzie Bailey nothing but a temporary refuge and once she realised the true extent of the funds he was willing to put at her disposal she would doubtless wish to return to her own country and cash in on them. To make a fresh start for herself and find a husband who was capable of giving her the affection she undoubtedly craved. He gave a small nod of satisfaction. People lived complicated lives these days—why should theirs be any different? Every dilemma had a solution if you searched for it hard enough.
‘You don’t approve of the accommodation?’ he hazarded sarcastically. ‘It is a little too cramped perhaps?’
‘Ha-ha. Very funny. I can’t believe there are actually...’ she did a rapid calculation on her fingers ‘...six rooms! Six!’
Drawing in a deep breath, she redirected her verdant gaze at him and Niccolò was irritated by the corresponding ripple of pleasure that gave him.
‘You could probably live in a palace if you wanted to,’ she persisted. ‘So why here?’
He shrugged. His usual response to a question he’d been asked countless times was that he owned the hotel, which was true. But flippancy seemed inappropriate in Lizzie’s case and to talk about his many assets might be interpreted as boastful. She was pregnant with his child and somehow that uneasy realisation filled him with a responsibility to answer her questions honestly, and to expect the same honesty in return. Anything else would be a waste of his valuable time.
‘I like to keep my life simple and this allows me to do so,’ he explained. ‘I have all my needs catered to, with the minimum amount of involvement or effort on my part. Things are brought to me at the push of a button. There are constantly changing staff, whose names I never need bother learning.’ He shrugged as his gaze flickered over to the panoramic wall of windows. ‘As well as having one of the best views in the city—it suits me.’
‘Yes, I get all that,’ she said slowly. ‘It just doesn’t feel much like home, that’s all.’
‘That’s intentional. Because I’m not looking for a home, Lizzie. My life is nomadic. I travel a great deal. I have a plane on permanent standby. I don’t stay anywhere for very long. I don’t have any emotional connections to places, the way that other people do.’
‘Yet when you came to Ermecott Manor, you seemed to love it,’ she observed.
‘Let’s not go overboard. Love isn’t a word which tends to feature in my vocabulary.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I liked it well enough.’
Her gaze grew thoughtful, as if she was storing away this nugget of information for future use—which was exactly what he intended she do.
‘Yet you didn’t put in an offer, did you?’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I didn’t.’
