Page 31 of The Housekeeper's One-Night Baby
‘You’re making it sound like a character flaw.’
‘Because sometimes I think it is!’ she snapped back.
‘I will buy you somewhere to live—be assured of that,’ he continued coolly. ‘A house, or an apartment. Big or small. Whatever you like. It’s yours. Just let my office know.’
‘Yeah. Thanks.’
But her words sounded automatic. As if she was saying them because she had no choice, rather than acting like a woman who had just hit the jackpot. But the way shefeltabout his offer was nothing to do with him, he reminded himself grimly. He just needed to get his old life back. The welcome solitude of domestic isolation and the complete absence of emotional disruption. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ He walked across the room to the jacket he’d slung on a chair and fished something out of the pocket. ‘Lois asked me to give you this.’
She surveyed the frayed piece of fabric in his hand. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s Blanche’s favourite blanket,’ he explained. ‘Apparently, the dog originally belonged to Lois’s neighbour, and she knitted it. And when the old lady died...’ He shrugged and, infuriatingly, his voice had a slight crack to it. ‘Lois took the animal in.’
This story, told to him by his obviously emotional assistant, had been yet another thing he hadn’t needed to hear, and he blamed Lizzie for that, too. He didn’twantthat kind of interaction with members of his staff. He wanted his world to go back to normal. A world where Lois organised his meetings and fielded phone calls, not where she started fumbling for a crumpled-up tissue, her eyes filling with tears while she told him some sob-story about a dog. A world where he could start dating other women again who wouldn’t niggle and get underneath his skin.
‘You said you wanted something particular belonging to the animal to enhance your portrait, and this is it,’ he finished on a growl as he dropped the ragged piece of fabric on the bed. ‘I’ll ask my office to arrange your flight back to England.’
She nodded, like a reluctant father of the bride, forced to make an unwanted speech at a wedding. ‘You know, despite everything you’ve said, you can always change your mind, Niccolò.’
‘About us?’
‘No, not about us. Don’t worry—I’m getting that particular message loud and clear. About the baby. I will make it as easy as I can for you, if you decide that fatherhood is something you want to embrace. Even if...’ She swallowed and assumed a bright smile. ‘No matter who you bring with you,’ she amended quickly. ‘You will always be welcome in our child’s life.’
Niccolò winced because, in a way, her quiet dignity made him feel even worse, if that were possible. But he wasn’t going to promise something he could never deliver, so he just nodded his head.
‘Oh, and I’ve left the drawing I did of you in your office.’
His eyes narrowed. She hadn’t mentioned it again and he’d assumed she’d forgotten all about it. ‘But I didn’t give you any photographs to work from,’ he objected.
‘I know you didn’t. I did it from...well, for once I did it from memory. I’ve wrapped it up in brown paper because I didn’t think you’d want the staff gawping at it.’
Silently, he nodded, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the rumpled bedclothes, which bore all the hallmarks of their incredible lovemaking, and then to retreat from his own room, as if Lizzie Bailey’s pale green gaze and freckled proximity had the power to contaminate him. The power to make him feel stuff he just wanted to forget.
CHAPTER TEN
LIZZIESTAREDOUTof the bus window, lost in thought as she waited for the stubborn sheep to stop blocking the mud-splattered country lane. It was strange really. She hugged her arms across her chest as raindrops trickled down the windows. When you were broke—particularly if you were going through a slightly dodgy time—you thought that having loads of money would be the silver bullet to solve all your problems.
She sighed.
How wrong could she have been?
Because it didn’t feel like that at all.
She was no longerpoorLizzie, scrimping and saving with the ever-constant worry that her boss might not be able to cope with the sound of a crying baby and throw her out on the streets. She had been back in England for nearly a month and it seemed she was now rich Lizzie. Her bank manager had called to request a private meeting and she had been summoned into his office and offered a cup of teaanda biscuit, while the man had talked to her in almost reverential tones about her new ‘portfolio’.
And that was the power of money, she guessed. After a lifetime of terse communications about the state of her overdraft and wondering if she should cut up her credit card, she was now flavour of the month. Because while she’d been on the flight back from America, Niccolò Macario had deposited a vast sum of money into her account, his brief email informing her that if there were insufficient funds for her needs, she should speak to his office and ask for more.
Insufficient funds? Was he insane? Maybe if she was planning on putting in an offer on Windsor Castle, or if she fancied acquiring a fleet of expensive racehorses, then she might feel a tad stretched. But despite the ridiculous amount he had given her, Lizzie had been bitterly disappointed by the way he’d gone about it. It had all been so cold-blooded and compartmentalised. So hands-off and distant.
The stubborn sheep trundled into a nearby field and the bus began to move again. What had she expected? It seemed a bit churlish to rail against the billionaire’s generosity, but it did feel as if he was paying her off. As if he was throwing a lot of money at her to keep her quiet.
But that was the kind of man he was.
He had told her there was no future for them, just before she’d made that ill-advised trip to his bedroom, and no amount of wishing otherwise was going to change that simple fact. Had she imagined that the amazing sex which had followed would be enough to change his mind? That he might miss her as much as she missed him? Because she did. She missed him with a pain which was almost physical.
She closed her eyes.
But he didn’t want to be involved in her life in any way. That was the whole point of giving her a lump sum. She was free to do as she pleased. Free as a bird. Free from any involvement with the father of her child. And if that state of affairs wasn’t to her liking, well, she would have to get used to it and, eventually, move on. She bit her lip, praying it happened sooner rather than later, because surely this constant aching in her heart was unsustainable.
