Page 42 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

But she was engulfed in another yawn and the last of her energy evaporated.

‘Make your own decisions in the morning. Make all the decisions you like. But right now I’m in charge. Let’s go.’

He scooped her up, and just that—the sensation of his body around hers and his fierce directive—had her lost in the waves of her own fight. She caved, allowed him to hold her close, didn’t fight the warm glove of his hand on her head. Didn’t fight the steady beat of his heart on her cheek or the warm male scent of his chest. She didn’t lift her head to check where he was going, or worry or wonder how she was going to get home.

She let herself melt.

When he opened the door of a cabin she saw subtle lights and soft fabrics in creams and pinks and lacquered wood. And she didn’t resist.

He laid her down on the bed and she felt his hands peel down her zip and ease her out of her dress. And still she didn’t struggle. She let it happen. She rolled over in her underwear, felt sheets pulled back, and then she was enveloped in the softest satin and her path into dreams stretched out ahead.

And she knew, as she drifted under, that she was here again, with Matteo, and that the hole in her armour was getting wider and wider.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ON HIS EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY his father had given Matteo the fountain pen he now held in his hands. He ran his fingers along the onyx lacquer and tested the brass nib. The first time he’d used it was when he’d had to sign the lease for his flat at university. It had felt like a step into adulthood, symbolically marked by such a formal object. It was a lovely pen—now used for signing contracts and legal documents—but it wasn’t what he needed right now.

He put the lid on it and tucked it away.

Right now he needed something much more current. Something with no trace of the past. Something he could use to write out his future. Because it was right there, in front of him, fast asleep on the bed.

He stretched out his legs and rolled his shoulders. The chair was comfortable enough for short people who wanted to take a load off their feet for a few minutes, but it was totally useless for a six-foot-three ex-rugby-player who’d been folded into it for the past five hours.

But where else would he be with all the chattering in his mind, the constant conversations he’d been having with himself since he’d closed the door on the Arturos, watched them roll off down the drive and then turned to see that vision in red at the window.

She had his mind—every corner of it.

He’d better get it back—and fast.

He opened his black notebook and took another fresh page. Lifted a sleek rollerball, made two lists. Things he was going to jettison and things he was going to adopt.

Booze. That had to go. Not because he had a problem with it, but because it was always there at the back of his mind that he might one day. His single Friday beer was his way of showing that he had it under control. But he’d still had too many nights on the tiles he’d regretted, and his father had seemed to have it all under control. Except he hadn’t. And it’d killed him.

He looked at Ruby’s face, soft in sleep. There was no way he was going to have anything around him that might do harm to her or their baby.

Next to go—gambling. That wasn’t going to be hard. He couldn’t care less if he never saw the inside of a casino again. But it was the boys he’d miss. He needed his friends. He needed the camaraderie, the bluster and fun.

And more than that he needed to feel that physical force, that competition. It was rugby he really needed—he still missed it every day. But this wasn’t about him. This was about doing the right thing. This was the future, not the past.

Ruby moaned in her sleep and he sat up straight in the chair. She was dreaming, mumbling softly, and he leaned closer, watching. Her ebony hair was fanned out on the pillow, her bare arm as pale as the sheet it rested on. He saw the faint scar of a needle jab and a series of pale brown moles, but they weren’t imperfections. All they did was made her look even more beautiful.

He had never felt such responsibility in his life.

He had to keep her safe, keep her healthy and keep her onside at all costs.

He went back to his list, made another column. Wrote down, in slow, bold strokes Marriage.

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