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‘Time for you to step up to the plate,’ Matt said, looking at his watch and mentally working out how long it would take for him to get to the UK. Private jet or commercial? ‘Don’t forget the size of the bonus coming your way in a month’s time. You can close this deal as efficiently as the next man. Just make sure you keep some of this lot in order and don’t let the celebrations run away with you. I expect you back in the UK by the end of the week.’

Commercial, he thought. No time to fuel up and get things in position. He could be back at his apartment in under ten hours and then he would see for himself just what was going on...

Violet stuffed her mobile under the cushion on the sofa. It had been pinging with messages from Matt. He had tried calling five times. Tough. She wasn’t going to answer. She would when her brain stopped whizzing round her head like a helicopter rotor. Just as soon as she started thinking in a straight line. But right now, all she could do was picture an over-the-top bunch of flowers being delivered to some poor, dispatched woman who probably didn’t have a clue that her charming billionaire escort was actually sleeping with another woman. Anotherwoman who just happened to be pregnant with his child.

How long had it been going on? Weeks? Months? Had he now decided, since they were getting along very well, that it was time to call off his outside affair? Had his conscience been kick-started because the baby was well on its way, no longer something that was going to happen, but something that was imminent?

She was tortured by questions and in no fit state to talk to him on the telephone.

Typically, he wouldn’t give up. Of course, she couldn’t bury her head in the sand like an ostrich for ever, but just for the moment, she needed time to think.

She wished she had a mum around. Or at least a good friend, someone she had shared the ups and downs of her life with, who could give her a pep talk, make her a cup of tea and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

No such luck.

A good night’s sleep, if she could get it, would have to do the trick. He was due back the following evening, and by then she would have to have found a way through the pain, the whirring head, the clammy hands and the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She hit the sack early and fell into a restless sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking. She would have to call quits on whatever relationship they had been trying to cultivate. She’d thought they’d been making progress but she’d obviously been mistaken becausebehind her back he’d been seeing someone. She reminded herself that she’d originally banked on going it alone. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. She would just have to power on—and wasn’t it great that at least she wasn’t financially dependent on him? Not that he would ever fail to contribute his fair share and beyond.

She thought she’d never fall asleep, but she must have nodded off because she didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening. She only realised that Matt had returned when a sliver of light penetrated the darkness, and she groggily surfaced in stages to see his shadowy outline framed by the door.

He was so still that he could have been a statue. Heart thumping, Violet propped herself up on her elbows, then clumsily turned to switch on the light by the bed.

Not for one second did she think that the unexpected appearance was anyone but Matt. Certainly, she could not have mistaken his dauntingly impressive frame for anyone else.

‘What’s going on?’ he demanded without preamble, stepping forward.

‘Huh?’

‘You haven’t been answering my calls.’

‘What are you doing here?’ Violet’s brain finally cranked into gear, but her heart was still beating like a drum and her mouth was dry. ‘Shouldn’t you be sealing the deal on the opposite side of the world?’

‘How could I do that when I was worried sick about you?’

‘Oh, please...’ She was beginning to think straight and the swirling, muddy waters of all the emotions with which she had gone to bed were right back with her, firing her with fury, disappointment and unhappiness.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘As if you don’t know, Matt,’ Violet muttered under her breath.

‘I don’t know.’

The silence stretched to a breaking point between them. She had planned to handle this situation in a very different way. For a start, she had decided that anything but an adult approach wasn’t going to do. She had pretty much determined that she wouldn’t mention the goodbye flowers at all. She would simply tell him that they had experimented with the concept of living together and she felt that she would not be able to continue it.

She toyed with the idea of telling him that she had feelings for him. That would certainly do the trick when it came to getting him to catapult himself off the starting block at great speed. But then she realised that she would have to live with him feeling sorry for her for ever, even if she moved on to find someone else.

Poor Violet... I warned her not to get emotionally involved but she just couldn’t help herself...

‘The flowers,’ she said quietly, and he frowned in puzzlement.

‘I need something to drink, Violet. Water. Then we can continue this conversation.’

He spun round on his heels and no sooner had he left the bedroom than she awkwardly heaved herself out of the bed, slung on her dressing gown, belting it securely round her tummy, and followed him into the kitchen.

She didn’t want a conversation in bed. She didn’t want him sitting on the edge looking at her or, worse, climbing into bed with her to continue their talk. She was realistic enough to know that a bed plus Matt Falconer was a lethal combination when it came to her defence system.

She padded out to find him gulping down a glass of water, his back to her.