Читать книгу Nine Month Countdown - Leah Ashton - Страница 11

THREE

Pregnant?

All the stupid, obvious questions were on the tip of his tongue.

Are you sure?

How...?

Is it mine?

But he knew all the answers:

Of course she was. That she wanted to be anywhere but here was clear in everything about her. She was one hundred per cent sure or she wouldn’t be putting either of them through this.

The how hardly needed explaining. He’d been there, too.

And was it his?

Well, that was only a faint hope that this was all a terrible mistake, rather than a genuine question.

And he was grateful that a small smidgen of his brain told him to swallow the words before they leapt from his mouth.

Because of course it was his. He had known what he’d been doing in Bali—known he’d pushed her out of her comfort zone, known he’d pursued the electric attraction between them to what he’d felt was the only logical conclusion...

But that she didn’t normally have random sex with a practical stranger on a beach had been abundantly clear.

So yes, it was his.

With the basics covered, he dropped his head, gripping his skull with his hands.

He swore harshly.

That was about the sum of it.

‘Angus?’

He kept his head down, but he nodded.

‘I know this is a shock. I know this is the wrong place to tell you. When I called I hadn’t planned this...but...’

It didn’t matter. Who cared where she told him?

His thoughts leapt all over the place, as if his brain was incapable of being still, or of grasping onto anything at all.

He’d never felt like this.

He’d been in combat many more times than once.

He’d been in the most stressful situations that most people could imagine. Real stress. Real life-and-death stress, not running-late-for-work stress.

And yet this had thrown him. This had sent his ability to think, and apparently to talk, skittering off the rails.

‘Um, the thing is, Angus, I have a plan.’

His gaze shot up, linking with hers in almost desperation. ‘A plan?’

Ivy nodded slowly. And then she seemed to realise what he was thinking.

She looked down, studying her untouched champagne glass again.

‘No,’ she said, so softly he had to lean closer. ‘Not that.’ Her gaze darted back to his, and she looked at him steadfastly now. With that directness, that realness he’d liked so much in Bali. ‘I’m thirty-one, and I have money and every resource I could wish for at my disposal. In every possible way this is the last thing I want. But a termination isn’t an option for me.’

She barely blinked as she studied him. Long, long moments passed.

Angus cleared his throat. ‘I’m thirty-four with a career I love that takes me away from home for months at a time and could one day kill me. I don’t want this. I don’t want children.’ Ivy’s gaze wobbled a little now as Angus swallowed. ‘But for no reason I can fathom, I’m glad you’ve made that decision.’

Now he glanced away. He didn’t know why he’d said that, or why he felt that way. The logical part of him—which was basically all of him—didn’t understand it.

It made no sense. But it was the truth. His truth.

When he looked back at Ivy she was again studying her champagne glass.

‘Well, it’s good we’re on the same page, then,’ she said, her tone now brisk and verging on businesslike. ‘So, here’s my actual plan.’ By the time she met his gaze again, she was all business. Ivy Molyneux of Molyneux Mining—not Ivy the girl from the beach. ‘I’ll get straight to the crux of it: I’d like us to get married.’

Straight after the pregnancy news, Angus would’ve thought it would take a hell of a lot to shock him.

That did it.

‘What?’

She held up a hand. ‘Just hear me out,’ she said. ‘What I’m proposing is a business arrangement.’ A pause, and then a half-smile. ‘And, yes, marriage.’

Ivy might find this funny, but Angus sure as hell didn’t.

He remained stonily silent.

‘The term of the agreement would be twelve months from today,’ Ivy continued, clearly warming to her topic. ‘As soon as possible we would reveal our—until now—several months’ long secret relationship to family and friends, and, shortly after, our engagement. Then, of course, our—’ now she stumbled a little ‘—our, um, situation would mean that we’d bring our wedding forward. I thought that we could make that work in our favour. A Christmas Eve wedding would be perfect, I felt.’

A Christmas Eve wedding would be perfect?

Angus’s brain was still requiring most of its synapses to deal with his impending parenthood. But what little remained was functioning well enough to realise that this was completely and utterly nuts.

‘Is this a pregnancy hormone thing?’ he asked, quite seriously. ‘Can they send you loopy?’

Ivy’s gaze hardened. ‘I can assure you I am not crazy.’

More than anything, Angus wished he’d had time to order a drink. For want of another option, he gestured at Ivy’s champagne. It wasn’t as if she could have it, after all.

She nodded impatiently, and then carried on with her outrageous proposal as he downed half the drink in one gulp.

‘After the wedding we’d need to continue the illusion that we’re a couple, but given the nature of your work that shouldn’t be too hard. My house is huge, so we could live quite separate lives when you are home. Not being seen in public together will help, anyway, for when we separate a few months after the baby is born.’

She blinked when she said baby, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was true.

‘After the separation you’re free to do whatever you like, and then, as soon as legally allowable, we’ll divorce, and carry on with our lives.’

‘Except for the fact that we’re parents of a child we had together.’

A reluctant nod. ‘Well, yes.’

Angus took a second long swig to finish the champagne he’d barely tasted. He plonked the glass down with little care, and then leant forward, watching Ivy’s eyes widen.

‘Why?’ he asked.

Ivy actually shrugged. ‘Does it matter? I can assure you that the remuneration you’ll receive for this will be a life-changing amount. Millions of dollars.’

Pocket change to her.

‘And a house, too, if you like,’ she added, as if an afterthought.

‘Before tonight, Ivy, I never wanted children, and I never wanted to get married,’ he said. ‘Now I’m having a child, but, I can assure you, absolutely nothing has changed on the marriage front. I wouldn’t have picked you to be the old-fashioned sort, Ivy, but I’m not. Even with a diamond-encrusted solid-gold carrot.’

Ivy shook her head, as if she couldn’t comprehend his rapid refusal. ‘I promise you that this will cause you minimal impact, I—’

‘It’s marriage, Ivy. Nothing minimal impact about that.’

She gave a little huff of frustration. ‘Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as signing a contract, nothing more.’

‘Signing a contract of marriage, Ivy. And you still haven’t told me why.’

Now that he had her glass, Ivy had transferred her fidgeting to her fingers—tangling and twining them together.

Had she really thought he’d agree, just like that? An offer of a crazy amount of money and all sorted? Even if her proposal made no sense on any level?

He studied her. Was she was so detached and separate from reality in her billionaire’s turret that she truly believed that money could buy her anything? It was his immediate and rather angry conclusion.

He could feel every sinew in his body tense in frustration at the thought of the level of entitlement, of arrogance that would lead to such an assumption...

But now as he looked at Ivy, it didn’t fit. He hadn’t seen it in her in Bali, and he still didn’t recognise it now.

Sure, she was still some distance from normal, but he knew it wasn’t entitlement, or arrogance, that had triggered her plan.

It was something he could understand. That he could recognise.

It was desperation.

* * *

Ivy didn’t know what to do now.

Maybe he was right. Maybe pregnancy hormones had sent her loopy, because, honestly—had she really thought he’d just agree?

In her experience some people could be bought for the right price. Actually, make that many, many people. But nothing about Angus had indicated to her that he was one of those people. In fact, if she’d spent even a minute properly considering her plan, she would’ve seen this fatal flaw.

Which of course was the problem. She hadn’t spent any time thinking about it, at least not thinking about such pesky details like: what if he doesn’t agree? Because she’d been clinging to this plan as if it were a rope suspended over the abyss that was her pregnancy, and she just couldn’t, could not, let it go.

But, the thing was, if this plan had something to do with mineral exploration or extraction, she certainly wouldn’t give up this early in the fight.

And that meant that she’d have to—at least partly—answer his question.

‘When I turn thirty-two,’ she said, looking him in the eye just as she always did during business negotiations, ‘my mother will relinquish her position as Chief Executive Officer of Molyneux Mining to me. It’s the same age she was when my grandfather died and left her the company, and this has been planned literally from when I was born.’ She paused. ‘I turn thirty-two in July next year. Based on some useful internet calculators—pending me seeing a doctor—our baby will arrive approximately one week before that date.’

Our baby. A slip of the tongue, but Angus displayed no reaction.

‘Although the succession plan was determined before my birth, I can assure you that I want this too. I’m very different from my mother in many ways.’ A huge understatement. ‘But in this way, we are in sync. We both live for Molyneux Mining. This is incredibly important to me.’

It is everything to me, she almost added. But somehow she didn’t think that would help.

It was near impossible to read Angus’s expression, but he nodded. ‘I get that you love your job. I get that you don’t want to give that up. What has this got to do with marrying me?’

‘About ten years ago just under half of Molyneux Mining was listed on the Australian Stock Exchange. We’re still majority family owned, but I report to a board of executives, as well as to our shareholders. We also have a number of significant projects in progress, including a joint venture to mine manganese in the Pilbara, which is reaching final negotiations. It is also widely known that I will take over Molyneux Mining next year, and that we are already in a period of comprehensive change management.’

‘So you’re worried that a baby will impact your share price?’

Ivy’s eyes narrowed. ‘No, not the baby. No one had better think that a baby will impact my professional performance.’

Oh, how she hoped that was true. She ignored Angus’s mildly incredulous raised eyebrows.

‘It’s all about how the baby came to be here, that’s the problem. My whole career has led to my next birthday. Everything I have done, every decision I have made, has been with this succession in the front of my mind. I am known for being meticulous in my planning. For never making a snap decision, for never being reactive in my actions. Even my boyfriends have been chosen with some consideration for my career—I always do background checks. I never take anything or anyone on face value.’

Except she’d never done a background check on Angus. The only thing she’d cared about that night was how good Angus had made her feel.

‘So a baby is okay. But hot, crazy sex on a beach with a stranger isn’t.’

Ivy recoiled a little, and felt her cheeks grow warm.

Now her gaze dipped to her fingers. With some effort she untangled them, laying her palms flat on the table to force them still.

‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,’ she said. ‘But yes. Ivy Molyneux would never be that reckless.’

There was that word again. Reckless.

This time it triggered a remembered snatch of conversation, the echo of her mother’s voice from a time for ever ago: How could you, Ivy? How could you be so reckless?

‘But you were,’ Angus said. ‘We both were. I was there.’

His low words snapped Ivy’s attention back from a better-forgotten memory. And something flickered in his eyes. Despite all this, despite this situation, despite this conversation, she recognised it.

Heat. Not like in Bali, but still there. Despite everything.

She knew her already warm cheeks were now scarlet, but all she could do was ignore that. And, as she should’ve at the wedding, ignore this thing between them.

Or at least try to.

‘I know,’ she said, very softly. ‘That’s what I’m trying to fix.’

The shocking warmth of his hand covering hers drew her attention downwards again, and she realised belatedly she must’ve been wringing her hands.

She’d trained herself out of all her fidgeting and step counting years ago, but right now this unexpected regression managed barely a blip amongst everything else that whirled inside her.

As in Bali, his touch impacted everything. She knew her heart had accelerated, and her whole body now seemed focused on where their fingers overlapped. Completely inappropriate warmth pooled low in her belly, and for long seconds Ivy wished like anything that this were a very real date.

But then Angus spoke.

‘I get what you’re trying to do, Ivy,’ he said.

Instantly hope began to blossom inside her, delicate and beautiful. But then his fingers tightened gently on hers, and Ivy knew.

‘My answer is still no.’

And for the second time today awful, unwelcome tears filled her vision.

Ivy never cried.

But then, Ivy never did a lot of things she’d been doing lately.

* * *

She snatched her hands away from beneath his, and for the briefest moment Angus reconsidered his decision.

He’d never be this close again to the fortune she’d offered him. Would he regret it some day? Was living a lie for twelve months really all that bad given such a massive payday?

And a second consideration snuck into his subconscious.

Or maybe he should just do this for Ivy?

Angus straightened in his chair, subtly putting further distance between them.

No. He wouldn’t regret passing on the money. His parents had taught him the value of hard work and, in every aspect of his life, he’d never been one to take shortcuts.

And for Ivy?

No. That was a slippery slope he did not want to get on. When he was deployed, he never allowed himself to clutter his mind with those he left behind. It was why he would never marry, and it was why he had never meant to have children. It wasn’t fair to anyone to be shoved aside in that manner. But it was what he did. It was, quite simply, who he was.

So no, he wasn’t going to do this for Ivy.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t feel like eating,’ Ivy said, breaking the silence. She pushed her chair backwards a little quickly, and steadied it with one hand as she stood.

Angus followed her lead and pulled himself to his feet, more than keen to get out of the bar. Around them, other couples and small groups appeared to be enjoying their meals. A man reached out to stroke the cheek of his date. Four well-dressed young women suddenly cackled with laughter and clinked their wine glasses together.

Everyone else’s lives appeared to be carrying on beautifully, and normally, and yet Angus’s life had just irrevocably changed for ever.

It still didn’t seem possible. Didn’t seem real.

Ivy was already negotiating all the happy diners, and Angus needed to take several large strides to catch up with her. Automatically, he reached out and rested his hand in the small of her back.

At his touch, she went still, her chin shooting up as she met his gaze.

She’d done a poor job hiding the sheen to her eyes back at the table, and she was far less successful now. Again her gaze was more than wobbly, and he was reminded that he wasn’t alone in his shock and disbelief.

He felt he should say something. Something reassuring and supportive.

But he didn’t have any experience in this kind of thing. Hell, his ex-girlfriends had made it clear he was a complete failure at even the most simple of relationships—let alone what to say to the woman who had just announced she was carrying his child.

So he said nothing at all, and Ivy’s gaze just kept on wobbling.

‘Ivy!’

Against his palm, Angus felt Ivy tense.

At the bar, only a few metres away, sat a seriously glamorous blonde. Her hair tumbled in generous waves over one shoulder, and beside her was a significantly less glamorous man.

Ivy appeared struck dumb, and didn’t move a millimetre as the pair approached them.

‘It’s been months!’ the blonde exclaimed. ‘How are you?’

‘I—uh—’ Ivy began, and then went silent, simply sending him a panicky glance. Her body was moving now. She was trembling.

Immediately Angus slid his hand from her back to her waist, and tugged her gently against him. Even now, when he shouldn’t, he noticed how naturally she fitted against him. And how soft and warm her body felt.

‘I’m Angus Barlow,’ he said to the couple, offering his free hand.

Then for the next three minutes he scrounged every last ounce of charm he possessed to conduct the most trivial of conversations, while Ivy managed the occasional nod and single-word response. And then he politely excused them, and escorted Ivy outside as quickly as their legs would carry them.

Outside, the night was cool against his skin. His arm was still around Ivy, and in the cold it seemed illogical to remove it, given the flimsiness of her dress.

He was still walking briskly, keen to put as much space between himself and the bar, when Ivy came to an abrupt stop and disentangled herself from him.

‘Where are you going?’ she said.

Angus paused. His car was parked in the opposite direction.

‘I have no idea,’ he said.

And amongst all that had happened tonight, those four little words were suddenly hilarious, and he burst into a harsh bark of laughter.

A moment later, Ivy joined in, and they both stood together on the footpath, cackling away just like those women having dinner.

When they both fell silent, Ivy looked up at him again.

No wobbles this time, just direct, real Ivy.

‘Thank you,’ she said.