Читать книгу The Santina Crown Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Пенни Джордан - Страница 33

WITH his bodyguards sitting grim-faced in two waiting cars, Hassan rang the doorbell, briefly wondering if he’d got the wrong address. He frowned. This neighbourhood was like no other he’d ever seen and Ella’s house was in a row of other small houses which looked directly onto a busy main road.

He didn’t know anyone who lived in a place like this—the kind of place you lived in when you didn’t have a lot of money to splash around. And yet Ella Jackson had blended in perfectly at the royal engagement party in her sparkling silver dress, her sky-high heels and those gleaming scarlet lips. He’d thought she’d be living somewhere trashy and flashy, displaying the complete lack of taste which had been on show in her office today. Not in this rather ordinary little house which was situated on the wrong side of town.

The door opened and Ella stood there, confounding yet another of his preconceptions. Gone was the silk and the gloss. With her shiny hair tugged into a ponytail, she was wearing a plain white T-shirt and faded blue jeans which emphasised the blueness of her eyes. He frowned. Gone too was that shiny red lipstick which drew attention to the luscious mouth which made a man have sinful thoughts, no matter how hard he tried not to. She was scarcely recognisable from the slick party girl he’d met, and for a moment, he felt disorientated, as if she had suddenly produced some low-key twin sister.

‘This is where you live?’ he questioned slowly.

‘No, I thought I’d rent the place out in order to impress you, but I can see that I’ve failed.’ She pulled the door open and ushered him in, stupidly unprepared for the tingling response of her body as she looked up at him. ‘Yes, it’s where I live, Hassan. Why, did you think I’d be living in some over-the-top boudoir, all gilt and ceiling mirrors and shaggy fur rugs lying all over the place?’

Actually, this was so close to what he had been thinking that for a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he stepped into the small hallway, shutting the door behind him. From there he followed the blue-jeaned sway of her bottom into what should have been the sitting room.

Except that this wasn’t what it seemed either. The surprisingly large space contained a sofa and a couple of chairs, but these were all bunched up at one end, as if they were nothing but an afterthought. Pride of place had been given instead to an easel, on which stood a half-finished painting of a naked man. It looked pretty good from where Hassan stood but his critical judgment was suspended as he made the inevitable comparison. He emerged from that with his ego satisfied but his morals outraged by the thought that she must have spent time studying another man’s genitals.

‘Who is this?’ he demanded furiously.

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘On the contrary.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You carry the child of the sheikh and that makes it my business! Who is he?’

Ella heard the control-freak quality in his voice and it set off more warning bells in her head. She’d been wondering how this meeting was going to proceed and now she had her first indication. Was he going to play high-handed and possessive with all that ‘child of the sheikh’ stuff? Her first instinct was to tell him to go to hell but some deep-rooted protectiveness told her not to inflame him. That he was not a man to make an enemy of, especially in these circumstances.

‘He’s an architectural student who poses in my life-drawing class.’

‘You have had sex with him?’

‘Of course I haven’t had sex with him! I hardly know—’ Too late she stopped herself as she realised the irony of her words, but not before a look of bitter triumph had filled his empty eyes with a dark light.

‘You hardly know him?’ he finished acidly. ‘You hardly knew me either, but that didn’t stop you opening up your milky-pale thighs for me, did it, Ella?’

Ella bit back the angry retort which hovered on her lips, telling herself that it didn’t matter. He was here to talk about the baby and that was the only thing which mattered.

‘We could waste a lot of time insulting each other, but I’m too tired to want to. And that’s not why you’re here, is it?’ She flashed him a polite smile. ‘So in the spirit of trying to conduct this conversation in a civilised way, perhaps you’d like to sit down?’

‘No, I’ll stand, thanks.’ For the first time in a long while, he realised that he had no game plan to follow, and no idea of how to get what he wanted from this woman. Although ironically, he still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted.

Restlessly, he went to look out of the window, just as a large red bus lumbered to a halt and discharged a group of teenagers who stood in noisy conversation right outside. When he turned back to face her, his expression was as perplexed as the grim faces of his waiting bodyguards. ‘Why do you live in a place like this, Ella?’

‘Why do you think? Because I like the sound of the traffic?’ She met his grim expression and shrugged. ‘It’s what I can afford, Hassan, that’s why. Any available money I have goes straight back into the business, rather than being wasted on paying a high rent.’

‘Your father doesn’t give you an allowance?’

Ella almost laughed out loud, wondering what kind of planet he was on. Or maybe it was a mark of her father’s chameleon-like qualities that he could still manage to convince the world that there was money in the family.

‘No. I don’t get anything from my father.’

He heard the acid note which had tinged her voice and for the second time that day he noticed the faint blue shadows beneath her eyes. Didn’t pregnant women suffer excessively from fatigue? A sudden pang of guilt washed over him. ‘Perhaps we will sit after all,’ he said unexpectedly, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her towards one of the chairs. ‘You look a little tired.’

Ella didn’t have the energy to object, but the small act of kindness left her feeling dangerously vulnerable. And she was tired. All the emotions which had accumulated over the past few weeks had left her so wrung out that it was as much as she could do not to put her head in her hands and weep.

She thought about all the plans she’d made for the future. All her strategies for exploiting a gap in the market and making a success of herself. Her determination that she should earn a decent living for herself and never have to rely on a faithless man, the way her mother had done.

Where were all those plans now?

Up in the air, that’s where. Because every woman knew that a baby meant a major career juggle, whether you were single or not. And now she had to deal with a powerful and dauntingly sexy man who she suspected was going to try to outwit her. And she still didn’t know what it was he wanted.

He waited until she was settled before he sat on the sofa opposite her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his black eyes enigmatic and watchful.

‘So when is the baby due?’

‘Well, it’s been fourteen weeks since the party, which means the baby’s due in January.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘January 8, to be precise.’

Hassan tensed, because having an actual date to focus on changed everything. It transformed her pregnancy from a dark and unknown spectre into something real. Something which was happening. To her and to him. For a moment there was silence while he tried to make sense of her words. That early in the new year, as the snows were falling onto the highest peaks of the Samaltyn Mountains, he would become a father.

‘This is momentous news,’ he said slowly.

‘Yes.’

‘Who else have you told?’

She hesitated. ‘Only my brother, Ben.’

‘He is discreet?’

She heard the doubt in his voice and bristled. ‘Actually, there’s nobody as discreet as Ben, though you probably find that difficult to believe as he happens to be a dreaded Jackson.’

‘Actually, I happen to know that in the business world your brother has a formidable reputation,’ conceded Hassan drily. ‘But this is something very different.’

The nod to Ben’s undoubted talent should have pleased her but Ella was too concerned with the implication behind Hassan’s question to do anything but stare at him in growing horror. ‘Why are you so concerned who knows about this? You think … you think …’ She sucked in a deep and unsteady breath and expelled it again on a horrified shudder. ‘Listen to me, Hassan Al Abbas. I am having this baby, no matter what. And nothing you can ever say will change my mind.’

The fierce look on her face was unmistakable and for a moment he admired her passion and integrity before indignation reared its head and his face darkened. ‘You think that I am suggesting—’

‘Don’t even say it!’ she warned.

Hassan gave an impatient wave of his hand. ‘I am not used to being interrupted.’

‘Well, I’m not used to having insults hurled at me. So if you can manage to keep a civil tongue in your head, I promise I won’t interrupt you and then we should be fine, shouldn’t we?’

His eyes narrowed as he remembered her determination to remove him from her office so that she could continue working and suddenly a solution came to him. Suddenly, he realised exactly how he should handle this. ‘We need to decide what we’re going to do,’ he said.

The use of the word we made Ella faintly uneasy. ‘I told you, the decision has already been made. I’m having the baby, and I’m perfectly prepared to bring her or him up on my own.’

‘But you can’t make decisions like that because it isn’t just your baby,’ he said softly. ‘This child has royal blood in its veins. Do you have any idea what that means, Ella?’

‘How can I? The world of sheikhdom is a mystery to me. Actually, come to think of it, so are you.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ His voice dipped as he ran his eyes over her body. ‘I think there are plenty of things about me which are no mystery whatsoever.’

The sensual allusion was obvious and, she suspected, intentional. To Ella’s fury, she felt her face grow hot, despite all her best intentions. She’d vowed not to react to him in any way other than a strictly business-like one, and now here she was, colouring up like a naive schoolgirl. ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’

A mixture of emotions he didn’t even want to acknowledge made him want to hurt her. To make her pay for having trapped him, because wasn’t that easier than admitting that he had walked right into it? ‘What, the sex you couldn’t get enough of?’

‘But it was the same for you!’ she flashed back. ‘Wasn’t it?’

He met the challenge in her eyes and had to fight down an urgent desire to kiss her. He had been wondering just what it was about her which had made him lose his head—and his body—so completely. Her own amazing body coupled with his own frustration had been obvious contenders, but he realised that her fearlessness was a turn-on too. He’d seen it in the way she’d turned on him in the darkened corridor of the palace at Santina and faced him down. And she was demonstrating it now—her clear blue eyes wide and unafraid, despite the enormity of her situation. ‘Yes,’ he admitted harshly. ‘It was the same for me.’

His words ignited memories she was trying her best to forget. The feeling of being in his arms. The crush of his mouth on hers and the instant flaring of her body in response. Ella tried to ignore the sudden yearning to have him make love to her all over again. Concentrate on what is real, she thought as she forced herself to confront her greatest fear and most foolish hope. ‘Are you saying you want a hands-on role as father?’

For a moment, Hassan didn’t answer. ‘I’m saying that’s a possibility. But I think it’s important that we discuss your needs first.’

Ella blinked in surprise. Was that genuine concern she heard in his voice? ‘My needs?’ she echoed.

‘Well, you have your own business, don’t you? I don’t know very much about party-planning, but I imagine it must require a lot of hard work and dedication, especially as you’re the boss.’

Cautiously, Ella nodded. ‘Yes, it does.’

‘And some pretty unsociable hours?’

‘That’s one of the drawbacks,’ she agreed, softening in spite of herself, because she would never have believed that he could be quite so understanding.

‘And a baby might get in the way of that?’

‘Well, ye—’ The words died on her lips as she looked into his face and saw that it wasn’t concern but calculation she saw in his black eyes. And suddenly, she realised just where this was leading. Suddenly, she realised what a sucker she was for just a few kind words. Was that what her mother had done, over and over again? Fallen under the spell of a man who had treated her like dirt just because he’d uttered a few sweet nothings along the way? The shock of realising that she had very nearly done the same thing made the blood drain from her face.

‘My God,’ she breathed. ‘You are completely and utterly ruthless! I see exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to admit that I won’t be able to cope with this baby, aren’t you?’

‘And isn’t that the truth?’ he challenged, his vow to tread carefully forgotten in his determination to get his own way. ‘Have you actually stopped to think about it, about what it might mean to you?’

‘Are you crazy? I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks!’

‘But you’re planning to carry on working?’

‘Of course I am!’ Did he have no idea how real people lived their lives? She supposed he didn’t. ‘It’s how I earn my living, Hassan. We weren’t all born in palaces and given trust funds while we lay around like pampered princes!’

He gave a short laugh. Oh, the famous myth that all princes were pampered simply because they were princes. If he told her what the reality was, she would never believe it. Instead he leaned forward to emphasise his point, slamming his forefinger into the palm of his hand. ‘And while you’re “working,” Ella, while you’re dealing with all the mindless Z-list celebrities and their attendant problems, what will you be doing with our baby? Farming it out to some underqualified child-minder who has no vested interest in its future?’

Heart racing, Ella stared at him. ‘That’s such an ignorant comment, it doesn’t even deserve the dignity of a reply.’

‘You think so? Well, how about coming up with an answer to this one? How about when the baby is ill. Who’s going to cover for you then? Or are you planning to bring a carrycot into that cramped excuse for a room which you call an office?’

His words were crowding into her mind like a flock of dark birds flapping their demented wings and Ella shook her head as she tried to shake them off. ‘I’m not the first woman in the history of the world to contemplate bringing up a child on my own! These are things which can all be worked out.’

‘How?’ he shot back.

The question caught her off-guard because in truth she hadn’t sat down to work out the day-to-day practicalities. ‘Okay, so what’s the alternative?’ she questioned hotly. ‘Are you saying you want to take the child off to your desert palace and bring it up as a baby sheikh or whatever it is they call the girl version?’

‘It’s a sheika, and yes, I can bring up a baby,’ he said. ‘The way my father brought me up. A child doesn’t need a mother in order to survive.’

Ella heard the strange bitterness which had distorted his words and suddenly she realised just where this was leading. She could read the ruthless intent which had darkened his face just as easily as if he’d said the words out loud.

He would take her baby away without a qualm. Take it away to live in some remote desert kingdom and she would never see it again.

Her stomach lurched and pinpricks of sweat broke out on her forehead. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she croaked.