The thought popped out of nowhere, making the ripple sink into her sex and start to glow.
‘Good to know,’ she murmured, trying to sound as nonchalant as he did. And to remember she didn’t want to sleep with him, because this whole situation was already disturbing enough.
His lips twisted in that disconcerting smile, but his gaze only sharpened. And she had the awful feeling he could see right through her show of indifference.
‘Although on the evidence of this afternoon’s kiss and the one in my office a month ago,’ he continued, the relaxed tone comprehensively contradicted by that focussed gaze, which was making sensation rush over her skin like wildfire, ‘I doubt we’ll be able to keep our hands off each other for very long.’
‘I know,’ she said.
He chuckled, but the sound was as raw as she felt.
‘Good to know you know that,’ he said, echoing her earlier statement.
She let out an unsteady breath, the bustier so tight around her ribs she was surprised she didn’t pass out. Clearly, pretending she could resist the insistent pull between them hadn’t been such a smart move, because it felt as if he held all the power now that she’d been forced to admit the truth.
‘So why aren’t we having a wedding night?’ she challenged, trying to grab some of that power back.
His eyes widened at the direct question and she felt the instant rush of adrenaline at the realisation she’d disconcerted him. For once. Instead of the other way round.
‘Is it because of the baby?’ she added, when he didn’t reply.
He stared, then turned away. ‘No,’ he said.
On the one hand, she believed him. After all, he wouldn’t have kissed her with such hunger if the pregnancy had been a turn-off. But she had touched a nerve without intending to. And the questions that had been burning in the back of her mind, the ones she’d been determined not even to think about, pushed to the front.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked.
‘Talk about what?’ he asked, turning back, but the confident smile had flatlined.
No, he definitely did not want to talk about the pregnancy. But somehow his stubborn refusal only made her more determined to press him on it, despite her own misgivings.
They’d both been knocked off-kilter by the pregnancy. She got that. But why hadn’t she questioned the hasty arrangements that he had insisted upon, and which had unnerved her so much? The speed of her relocation to London, the lavishness of today’s event, the opulence of the house he’d bought for her to live in, the attentiveness with which he had treated her during the ceremony and the reception and even the mysteriously opaque motives for insisting on this marriage in the first place. Because every one of those things had disturbed her in the last month. Had he rushed her into this commitment as an elaborate way to avoid having this conversation? Maybe even to avoid thinking about it?
And, if he had, why had she fallen for it so easily? She’d told him she’d decided to have the baby, and he’d accepted it without question. But she had no idea how he felt about it because she hadn’t asked.
‘Do you want to talk about becoming a father?’ she asked patiently, aware she was tiptoeing through a minefield but not able to deny her curiosity any longer. No, this wasn’t just curiosity about him and the kind of father he would make. It was much more fundamental than that. She needed to know if he would ever be able to think of their child as anything other than a mistake to be rectified, a debt to be paid. And, if not, why not?
‘Do I want to talk about it?’ he mused. ‘No, not particularly.’
‘Why not?’ she pressed, refusing to be put off again.
His gaze locked on hers, the scar on his cheek flexing. ‘Because I do not intend to be a part of its life.’
The dismissive answer and the brutal, brittle tone in which he delivered it had her heart contracting in her chest. It felt like a crushing blow. Which was ridiculous, really. After all, his response only confirmed what she had already suspected.
He was being honest with her. She didn’t know him well, but what she did know—that he was ruthless, driven, and uncompromising enough to buy her cooperation to further his own business ends—probably meant it was a good thing he did not want to be involved in her child’s life. After all, her own father had been physically present but emotionally absent throughout her childhood, and that had somehow been worse. Surely it was better not to have a relationship with your father than to have one that was so dysfunctional it made you feel unworthy, unwanted?
But, when his gaze flicked away again, she got the sense he wasn’t telling her the whole truth.
The car glided to a stop outside the Mayfair townhouse, and he remained seated while the chauffeur got out and opened her door. As she slipped out of the vehicle, she couldn’t help asking, ‘Are you coming inside?’
‘Do you wish to consummate the marriage tonight?’ he countered, the ruthless demand in his voice shaking her to the core. And putting the power firmly back in his hands, as she was sure he had intended.
‘Yes... I mean, no.’ She scrambled to regain the ground she’d lost. ‘Oh, I have no idea.’
His harsh laugh only made her feel more confused. And more powerless. A part of her wanted to lose herself in the sex, to take the physical pleasure he offered so she could forget about all the things this marriage would never offer her—security, companionship, maybe even love with a man who might one day come to care for her as well as her child.
But, with her emotions so raw, she knew giving in to that urge tonight would be a very bad idea. Because she wasn’t sure she could avoid the intimacy with anything like the efficiency he clearly could.
‘Which is it, Mrs Wolfe?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she said with all the conviction she could muster.
‘Then I think it’s best if I return to the penthouse,’ he said, but he reached forward and ran his thumb down her cheek with a possessiveness that stopped her breath. ‘You know where to find me, when you’re ready to stop running,’ he added.
She drew her head back.
He signalled the driver. After she had stepped out of the car, she watched it pull away, the traitorous desire still pulsing in her core.
As she lay in bed half an hour later, her hand curled around her stomach. She felt weary to her bones, the odd feeling of dissatisfaction joined by the terrifying thought her life had just taken an even bigger leap into the unknown.