Читать книгу The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress - Michelle Celmer, Michelle Celmer - Страница 7

“Benjamin, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to see you.”

Ben looked up from the computer screen to find Mrs. Smith standing in his office doorway. She opened the door wider and behind her stood Tess.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes bright. She was dressed in a denim skirt and a fuzzy olive sweater that was just tight enough to reveal her stomach was no longer flat. She looked good. In spite of himself, he smiled.

He couldn’t deny he was happy to see her. For reasons he probably shouldn’t be.

He rose from his seat. “You’re back.”

She nodded and flashed him a tentative smile. “I’m back.”

Mrs. Smith shot Ben a stern look. One that said she wasn’t crazy about this arrangement—which she’d made clear on more than one occasion in the past few days—and she still thought he was making a mistake. Then she stepped out and shut the door behind her.

“I take it you’ve made a decision?”

“I have,” she said. “I quit my job this morning. My bags are packed and I’m here to stay.”

The news was an enormous weight off his mind. Things were now under control. She and the baby were finally safe.

“I should probably warn you that my car committed suicide about a hundred feet down the driveway.”

“My condolences.”

She shrugged. “The carburetor was terminally ill. I don’t suppose you could spring for a new one. I’ll reimburse you.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He might have worried it was just another scam, but he’d learned an awful lot about Tess these past few days. Since one could never be too careful in a situation like this, he’d hired a private detective to check her out. He’d found nothing in her past to indicate foul play. She had no criminal record, no past deviant or questionable activity. Nothing to suggest she might be conning him. Tess was exactly who she appeared to be. A hardworking woman just doing her best to get by. She had never wanted more from him than a little financial help.

With that knowledge, something deep in his soul felt oddly settled.

Not that he expected this to be easy. Making love with Tess had made him feel alive for the first time in months—had given him hope that he had a chance for happiness again. But even if he’d asked her to stay that night, if he’d let himself fall for her, a child would have never been part of the deal. Seeing Tess’s growing belly would be a constant reminder of everything he’d lost.

He’d loved Jeanette, but she was gone. He’d accepted that. It was losing his son that still stung like a fresh wound. A slash through his heart that would never stop bleeding.

In some ways he felt ready to move on, in others he was still trapped in the past.

“So,” Tess asked, dropping into the chair across from his desk, “how exactly is this going to work?”

“It will be exactly as we discussed the other day. You’ll stay here with me until it’s born. Afterward I’ll set you and the baby up in a condo with a generous trust.”

She gazed intently at him, as if she were trying to see into his head, to be sure what he said was true.

The color of her sweater seemed to draw out the yellow in her irises. He remembered thinking that night in the bar how unusual they were. How bright and full of curiosity, and maybe a little sad.

He’d watched her for a while before approaching her, fascinated by her petite, striking features. By her warm, genuine smile as she chatted with the bartender. And when she looked his way, and their eyes met and locked, there had been enough sparks to melt the snow on the entire mountain. It hit him with such force that it had nearly knocked him out of his chair.

Even now there was something about the woman that messed with his head.

“Sounds almost too good to be true,” she said.

“Meaning…?”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but…”

“But you don’t trust me,” he said, and she gave him a sheepish shrug. “I’m not offended. Put in your position, I wouldn’t trust me, either.”

“Honestly, you seem like an okay guy. A little overbearing maybe…It’s just that I’m giving up an awful lot here. I’m watching my back, you know? I don’t really know anything about you.”

He understood completely. He would never enter into a business agreement on a handshake deal. “I’ve already spoken to my attorney about drawing up a contract.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And I’m supposed to trust this attorney?”

“You’re free to have the attorney of your choice look over the documents before you sign anything—at my expense of course.”

“I guess that sounds fair.”

“I should warn you that my lawyer has insisted on a confidentiality clause.”

“Confidentiality? Who am I going to tell?”

“This is as much for yours and the baby’s protection as mine. It was abhorrent the way the media exploited my wife’s death. For months after, they made my life a living hell. There was an unauthorized biography written about her life and a made-for-television movie. Neither was what you could consider flattering, or had barely an ounce of truth. Trust me when I say that you don’t ever want to know what that’s like.”

“When I found out from the girls at work who you were, I went to the library and did a little research.”

“What kind of research?”

“Old newspaper articles and magazines, Internet stuff.”

He wanted to feel indignant, but really he had done the same thing. “And what did you find?”

“There was a lot. So I get why you’re worried.”

“Things have finally died down. I don’t want to stir the pot. The fewer people who know about this the better.”

“I understand. I don’t want that, either.”

He didn’t want to alarm her, but it was only fair that he caution her about what she might be getting herself into. “I’m not suggesting you should break all ties and avoid your friends—”

“I don’t have any friends.” She smiled and added. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Like, oh poor me I have no friends. It’s just that I haven’t lived here long and I work so many hours I never really found the time to make too many friends. Not close ones, anyway.”

And now he was basically telling her not to make friends at all.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be careful.”

“Then I guess that just about covers it,” he said.

“Um, actually, there are a couple more things.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. I won’t live with an alcoholic. You have to stop drinking.”

Her words took him aback. What had given her the impression he had a problem with alcohol? Because he had an occasional drink? Who didn’t? Or had she read about him in the tabloids? Removing himself from the public eye, hiding away, had only served to fuel the media’s interest. God only knows what rumors they had been spreading lately. He’d stopped paying attention a long time ago.

He opened his mouth to deny the accusation, then realized that was exactly what an alcoholic would do. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

Instead he asked, “If I refuse?”

“The deal is off.”

Seeing as how he wasn’t an alcoholic, it was a small sacrifice to make.

“I’ll quit drinking,” he told her.

She gave him a wary look, her pixie features sharpening with suspicion. “You’ll quit drinking. Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He walked over to the minibar, picked up the decanter of scotch he kept there and poured its contents into the sink. He enjoyed an occasional drink, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t live without.

She narrowed her eyes, as though she wasn’t sure she could trust him. “You’ll put it in the contract?”

“Done. Anything else?”

“After the baby is born, I’d like you to loan me the money to go back to school. I got my GED last year and I really want to go to college.”

“I’ll set up a trust that will ensure you’ll never have to work another day in your life.”

“Sitting around eating bonbons and getting facials may appeal to the women in your inner circle, but I want to do something with my life. I want to be able to look back and feel that I’ve accomplished something.”

“I have nothing against working mothers. But I do believe a child should be raised by its parents, not a nanny or a babysitter.”

Tess wondered if his movie star wife had been planning to give up her career once their child had been born.

Somehow she doubted it.

If Ben wanted to take care of his child financially, that was one thing. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she said, “I agree completely with your values. I wouldn’t even consider going back to work until the baby is in school. So it might take time for me to pay you back.”

“I don’t want you to pay me back.”

“But I will anyway.”

He looked as though he might argue, then gave his head a shake, like he realized it was probably useless. “Is there anything else?”

“The other day you said I could keep my doctor.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Good. Then, I guess that covers it.”

One of those cute smiles curled his mouth and like a silly school girl she felt her knees go weak. The man was too good looking for his own good. He was wearing black again, as he had every single time she’d seen him—a good indication that he really didn’t own anything that wasn’t black. Maybe it was his trademark. She wondered if he wore black boxers, too. Or maybe bikinis.

Whatever his underwear preference, it was clear she’d made him happy, and for some reason that made her feel really good. The man had been through an awful lot. She’d tried to convince herself he was just some guy who happened to be the father of her baby. But when they were near each other she felt so…aware of him. Connected in a way that she didn’t think had anything to do with the child she was carrying.

Even worse, she was pretty sure he felt it, too.

“I’ll call my attorney and have him draw up the papers. Mrs. Smith will see you to your suite.”

“Before you do, there’s something about this that just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What’s that?”

“If you don’t want the baby, why are you doing this?”

He was quiet for a moment and when he looked at her, his eyes were so sad. “I take responsibility for my actions.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. If you didn’t care about this baby, it would have been a hell of a lot easier to pay me off and send me on my way.”

“I never said I didn’t care.”

If he did care, why couldn’t he be a part of the baby’s life?

And just like that, something clicked. Suddenly this whole thing made sense. Why he insisted she stay here. Honestly, she didn’t know why she hadn’t figured it out before.

He blamed himself for his son’s death. By keeping her here, he thought he was keeping her and the baby safe.

“Nothing is going to happen to me or the baby,” she said. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”

He gave her a look so full of pain and anguish she felt it straight through to her heart. “I didn’t protect my son and now he’s gone. That’s one mistake I won’t be making again.”

The malevolent Mrs. Smith led Tess up the wide marble staircase to her room. Tess followed her through the ornately carved double doors—didn’t they have any normal doors in this place—to what would be home for the next five months.

Her first impression was the sheer size of the room, but it mostly just looked dark and depressing. The scent of paint and new carpet lingered underneath the refreshing lilt of potpourri. She looked around for a light switch. “Don’t you people ever turn on lights?”

Casting her a dour look, Mrs. Smith marched across the room and yanked open the heavy drapes shading the windows, flooding the room with warm afternoon sunshine. The transformation of dark to light made Tess gasp.

Decorated in warm beiges and soft greens, the room blossomed around her like a budding spring garden. The overstuffed furniture looked comfortable and inviting. The kind you could sink deeply into, curl up with a good book and lose yourself for an entire afternoon. She kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into carpeting so thick and luxuriant it felt like walking on pillows.

It was fresh and warm and alive. The perfect place to nurture the new life growing inside her.

If she had all the rooms in the world to choose, this would be the one she would pick.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “And everything looks so new.”

“And let’s try to keep it that way,” Mrs. Smith said in that holier-than-thou tone. “Benjamin asked me to furnish you with whatever you need.”

Orders she would follow, but not happily. But Tess was determined to remain marginally polite. She had the sneaking suspicion she would be running into this woman an awful lot over the next five months. Meaning that if she were so inclined, she could make Tess’s life a living hell. “Thank you.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of removing anything of value.” She flashed Tess that condescending, distasteful look. As if Tess were not a houseguest, but something she’d scraped from the bottom of her shoe. Ben obviously hadn’t instructed her to be nice.

Tess wouldn’t give the old bird the satisfaction of knowing she’d bruised her pride. “Aw darn, my fence will be so disappointed.”

With the ferocity of a mother bear protecting her cubs, she all but growled at Tess, “After all that Benjamin has been through, he doesn’t deserve this. I won’t let you hurt him.”

Tess didn’t point out that it took two to tango, and if Ben didn’t want to be in this situation, maybe he should have become a monk. At the very least he shouldn’t have taken Tess up to his room.

But what good would it do to try to defend herself when she was sure the frigid woman believed Tess had gotten pregnant on purpose? And Tess couldn’t deny her own background. There was no escaping her social status. She’d been the last born in a long line of uneducated blue-collar workers. She hadn’t even gone to college.

At least with her child Tess would be breaking the cycle.

“Dinner is at seven in the dining room,” Mrs. Smith said in that cold, annoyed tone, then she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

Tess let out a long, tired sigh and looked around, deciding the sooner she got herself settled in, the better. But she didn’t see her bags. Across the room, through a second set of doors—ornate and gaudy of course—Tess found herself in an enormous bedroom. Not surprised that it was dark, she crossed the room and flung open the curtains, letting in a wash of golden sunshine. To her delight, the bedroom had been decorated in the same warm, earthy tones. She opened a set of French doors and stepped out onto the balcony, filling her lungs with fresh air. The view of the gardens below was breathtaking. Spring flowers exploded with color and rolling green grass seemed to stretch for miles. The white tips of the Scott Bar Mountains towered in the distance underneath a clear blue sky.

Wow.

This she could definitely live with.

She stepped back inside and found her bags waiting for her by the king-sized bed. She carried them to the cavernous walk-in closet, set them down then continued on into an enormous bathroom decorated in soft yellows with a Jacuzzi tub big enough for a family of four and an enclosed glass shower stall with two heads.

So this was how the other half lived. It was even more impressive than the presidential suite at the resort.

She rubbed her aching back and gazed longingly at the tub, then at her bags. Unpack first, bath later. But by the time she’d emptied her duffels and hung up all her things, she wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest.

Just a quick nap, she decided, then she would go exploring.

She stripped down to her birthday suit and pulled back the fluffy leaf patterned comforter and slipped beneath the cool, silky-soft vanilla-white sheets. She felt herself sinking as the mattress conformed to her body.

It was like curling up in a bowl of whipped cream. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

Ben pushed aside the drapes covering his office window and stood in a column of bright light, gazing out across acres of pristine rolling green grass and gardens blooming with vibrant shades of deep orange, sunny yellow and royal purple.

Jeanette would have loved this. It was exactly what she had envisioned when they bought this house. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her out there, playing with their son. He would have been nearly a year old now. Maybe even walking. Saying his first words. In his imagination his little boy always had Ben’s dark hair and his mother’s pale blue eyes and bright smile. He was always happy and laughing.

The door opened and he turned to see Mrs. Smith standing there, saving him from a landslide of painful memories. He let the curtain drop.

“Your guest is all settled in,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No, nothing—oh wait, yes there is. I need you to go through the house and get rid of anything alcoholic.”

She frowned. “Whatever for?”

“A condition of her staying here was that I stop drinking. She thinks I’m an alcoholic.”

“And you let her believe—”

“It doesn’t matter what she believes, I want her to feel comfortable here. Just do it please.”

Mrs. Smith didn’t look happy, but she didn’t argue. “I’m going to say, again, that I don’t like this arrangement.”

“I know you don’t.” She hadn’t liked Jeanette, either, but they had learned to coexist. She was so protective of him, the truth was, she would never think anyone was good enough.

“I know you still feel guilty, Ben, but it wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. She had never said it to his face, but he knew she blamed his wife for his son’s death. She’d always considered Jeanette spoiled and self-centered.

Her career had just been taking off when she found out she was pregnant. She’d been more annoyed than excited at the prospect of becoming a parent, by the physical limitations of her pregnancy. Afraid it would affect her career negatively—God forbid she get a stretch mark or two—she’d even talked briefly about terminating, but thankfully he’d managed to talk her out of it. He had been sure that given time to adjust, she would have enjoyed motherhood. At least, that had been his hope.

In the end, none of it had mattered.

“Have you called your parents?” Mrs. Smith asked.

His parents.

Having to explain this to his family was another problem altogether. They had never been overbearing or judgmental—quite the opposite in fact. He hadn’t seen or heard from either of them since last Thanksgiving. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t be difficult for them to understand. In so many ways, they barely knew him. “Not yet.”

“Don’t you think you should?”

“Why? There’s no point in getting them excited about a grandchild they’re never going to see.”