Page 41 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

He poured water into her glass, his eyes concentrating only on that, his face registering nothing other than patience. But it wasn’t patience that she wanted to see. She needed reassurance. She needed action.

‘I’m OK with that as long as you understand that I’m not here for dinner and dancing. I’m here for one reason only and that’s to discuss next steps.’

He put his glass down slowly. ‘All right. If that’s the way you want to play it I can’t force you. All I’m saying is that we’re asking a lot of each other if we don’t take our time here. I never get into talks cold. It’s a really dumb thing to do.’

‘You think forcing small-talk is really going to make a difference to the outcome?’

‘I wouldn’t dream of forcing my small-talk on anyone. It’s not that great. But I assume you’ll want to eat and that you’ll at least stay until morning. There’s loads of space here, and you’ll need to rest in...’

The steepled hands, the patient, soothing voice again.

Instantly her hackles rose.

‘Please don’t patronise me by saying in your condition. I’ve survived the past few weeks of this pregnancy being sick in toilets, without your help, so I think I’m well aware of what I do and don’t need.’

The silence with which he met her sharp words sat heavy and still.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said finally. ‘I should have realised. It’s not just coming to terms with being pregnant that you’ve had to cope with. It’s all the physical things too. I’ve got a lot to learn.’

She looked sharply at him. This was not what she had expected. At all.

‘Don’t worry—the physical things only relate to the woman. You’re quite safe.’

‘OK, Ruby,’ he said, obviously swallowing down on a chuckle. ‘I know that I’m not going to be the one who actually goes through the pregnancy. I was only trying to say that I want to be part of this with you, and to do that I need to find out more about it. That’s all.’

‘You want to be part of this?’

He was saying the right things. He was making eye contact and acting concerned. But still...

‘Yes, but, as I said, tomorrow is time enough for us to talk about all that. Why don’t you tuck in? You must be hungry. And I know how much you like to eat.’

She lifted the dome from her plate to reveal a platter of ice and lemon and six fat oysters glistening in their shells.

‘I can’t eat these,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I can’t drink wine or eat soft cheese or lots of other things. And cream makes me sick. And soy sauce. Anything like that.’ She pushed the plate away.

Matteo threw down his napkin, stood up and walked around the table. Startled, she tilted her head back to look at him.

‘You see—this is just the sort of thing I mean. I need to know how to look after you.’

He put his large hands out and she slid hers into them. Like some stupid marionette, she allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. She could feel the heat from his body, sense the strength from his core, the sure, solid presence that she’d once buried herself in, guard down and heart wide open.

‘Come on. Let me show you to your cabin and I’ll get some food that you can eat sent in to you. Food that’s not going to harm you or the baby.’

She could feel herself sinking towards him, the magnetic pull of his body offering and demanding in equal measure, natural as sunset and sunrise, just like the last time. But she couldn’t afford that luxury again. She had to keep herself apart, head clear and mind sharp as a tack.

He was using her weakness against her—making her dependent. She shook her head, ready to argue, but the waves of tiredness were huge now. She’d been on the go for hours, hadn’t slept well the night before, and stress and strain and emotion were all beginning to drag her under. She opened her mouth in a deep yawn.

‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘No arguments. I’m taking control here and you’re going to bed.’

‘I will not be ordered around,’ she muttered stubbornly. ‘I’ll make my own decisions and...’

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