The Heir From Nowhere (9 page)

And, not for the first time today, anticipation changed direction and changed into a spinning ball of nerves. Surely not anywhere this grand? And then he slowed to
enter a driveway blocked by a massive set of gates that must have stood at least ten feet tall in order to match the whitewashed walls either side.

‘This is it,’ he said. He turned off the radio and hit a button somewhere and the gates swung slowly open, her jaw also automatically swinging open, though much quicker than the gates.

This wasn’t a house, she could tell as he drove inside and the full splendour of the home was revealed. At least two levels. Probably three, all facing out to sea with what looked like a pool she could glimpse behind a bougainvillea-covered fence and with the sea lapping the rock-strewn shore below.

Definitely not a mere house. It was a mansion. Where was the unit or apartment she’d half expected—the place where he could easily keep an eye on her and monitor his baby’s progress—without her getting in anyone’s way?

‘But surely this is your home.’

‘It is.’ He cast an eye down to her belly. ‘And that’s my child. Where else should it be?’

She swallowed, thinking she might as well have shifted planets rather than suburbs, because to live here, in a place like this, was beyond her wildest imaginings. It was beyond … anything. But when she’d contemplated having this couple’s child, she’d always imagined remaining at arm’s length. She would have the baby and hand it over to its rightful parents after it was born. The last thing she’d expected was to move in with them for the duration. It wasn’t as if she was family, after all …

He opened her door for her and retrieved her bag from the back seat and still she hadn’t moved, but what else was new? Ever since that phone call she’d made yesterday—was it only yesterday?—things had been happening too fast for her to keep up.

‘Are you coming?’ Impatience threaded through his words and she realised he’d spent his entire afternoon chasing after her. No doubt he couldn’t wait to be rid of her and get back to making his millions. She’d probably cost him a fortune already.

‘Look,’ she said, unclicking her seat belt and stepping out reluctantly, but only so he didn’t appear so large beside her and so she didn’t appear like some recalcitrant child throwing a tantrum. What she really needed most was her own space, somewhere she felt comfortable—even if it was only a hovel compared to this palace—not to live cheek by jowl with the parents of her child. But refusing to come out of the car was hardly any way to convince him.

‘I don’t want to appear ungrateful, but I’m not convinced this is a good idea. I mean, how’s it going to look to everyone if you move some random pregnant woman into your family home? People are going to talk. I really think it would be better for everyone if I went somewhere else.’

He stiffened alongside her, the man becoming mountain again, his eyes darkly intense, his jaw as stiff as if it had been chiselled from stone. ‘There’s something you obviously don’t understand about me, Mrs Cameron. I don’t actually give a damn how things look or what people say or think.’

Least of all her. She knew for a fact he didn’t give a damn what she thought. But that didn’t mean she’d stop trying to make him see sense. ‘I realise you have little reason to care about my needs and wants—you have different priorities—but have you thought for one moment about what your wife might think of this plan? Surely you must realise this arrangement will make things awkward for her?’

He took a deep breath and looked skywards, running one hand through his dark hair before he whipped off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of the other. With the sun on his face, she could make out the strain lines etched around his eyes and the sudden tight line of his mouth. ‘I assumed you would have known,’ he said, his deep voice coarse like a dry riverbed. ‘It’s not exactly a secret, after all.’

‘Known what?’ she asked, confused, her mind clicking over before seizing on the obvious answer—an answer she should have considered before now, given her own pathetic circumstances. But why should hers be the only marriage to fail? She cursed herself for never considering that very real possibility but instead choosing to believe some kind of fairy tale ending for the child with a mother and a father who both wanted it and would both cherish and love it together. And now she didn’t know if the mother even knew about the baby’s existence. Or was the father, by bringing her to his place, making a de facto claim for custody?

It was all going so wrong! She should have insisted on meeting the mother. She should never have let her fantasies get in the way of reality. She sighed. ‘You’re telling me you’re divorced?’

‘Not divorced!’ His words ground their way through the morass of her mind. ‘My wife is dead.’

H
IS
wife was dead? The mother of the baby she was carrying was dead?

Angie was stunned. Sickened beyond belief.

Poor baby,
she thought, the palm of one hand instinctively going to her belly. Poor, poor baby to grow up with no mother.

And then right on the heels of that thought, poor Dominic. His wife was dead and then some stranger turns up on his doorstep pregnant with their child. No wonder he’d been so angry when she’d called! No wonder he’d been so quick to judge—so openly resentful—denied his own wife, only for Angie to turn up claiming to be carrying their baby.

Tears pricked her eyes. Tears of sadness. Tears of loss. Tears for a baby that would be born in circumstances surrounded by so much tragedy. It was as if the weight of the world was pressing down on the shoulders of this child and it wasn’t even born.

And she’d been so wrong. All the while she’d imagined he was protecting his wife by not bringing her to their meeting! She’d half resented him for wanting to check her out first, knowing he’d found her wanting, even wondering if he’d even bothered to tell his wife. But how was he supposed to tell his wife? How could he?

Oh, God, what a mess!

She looked up at him now, at this dark mountain of a man, his eyes black with resentment for her, his hands curled into fists by his sides and she wanted to weep for him, weep at the unfairness that had resulted in her being the one to bear his child, weep for the trauma instead of the joy that should have accompanied this child’s existence.

The sting of tears became too much and moisture soon dewed her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. She’d been so quick to judge him without knowing all the facts.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, reaching out a hand to his arm.

‘No!’ He yanked his arm away before she’d barely brushed it with her fingertips. ‘I don’t want your pity!’

She reeled away. She should have known he’d take anything she said the wrong way. She seemed to bring out the worst in him. She seemed unable to stop herself. ‘What would you prefer me to admit? That I’m actually relieved to learn you’re not making some kind of underhanded custody bid by locking me away here?’

His eyes narrowed, lit by the kind of heat that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with raw anger. ‘You think me capable of that?’

She swallowed, blue eyes meeting black. ‘It did cross my mind.’

‘You think so little of me, I’m surprised you would even trust me with my own child. Does it gall you now to go through with this?’

She turned her head away. ‘That’s not up to me.’

‘No, it’s not. But still you judge. You think I care more for money than I do for this child. I fall short of expectations because I don’t make nuts and bolts. Instead, I
make money, which is what every damn person making nuts and bolts is trying to make. And yet somehow my success lowers me in your eyes.’

She shook her head. ‘And you don’t think you judge me? You haven’t stopped judging me since the moment we met. Judging me and damning me and now locking me away in some gilded bloody cage.’

‘It’s hardly a cage!’

‘And you don’t consider my feelings. I’m not sure I should stay here. Not under the circumstances. Not with your wife gone. It doesn’t feel right.’

‘What?’ He slammed one hand down on the car roof alongside her, sending her skywards. ‘First you didn’t want to stay here because my wife might object. Now you won’t stay because she can’t. What are you really worried about, Mrs Cameron—that I might try to jump your skinny bones while you’re under my roof?’

‘No!’ Her face was burning up with indignation. Burning up with the stinging barb contained within his words. Jump her skinny bones? No way in the world. ‘You think I’d let you if you tried?’

‘Or that after a taste of the high life, you won’t want to go home?’ His skin was drawn tight, tendons cording in his neck while a savage pulse beat at his temple.

‘Fat chance. A person would have to be some kind of masochist to want to stay with you. I promise you, if I stay—and that’s a big if—it’s only until this child is born, and then you won’t see me for dust.’

‘Good.’ He sniffed and pushed himself away from the car. ‘So we understand each other perfectly, then. You have my assurance I won’t be tempted to take advantage of you and I have your assurance we’re not going to have separation issues in six months’ time. Seems we have the perfect arrangement.’

Perfect arrangement?

Or perfect hell?

And suddenly six months under the same roof with this man didn’t sound like any sort of holiday at all. And still they remained there, glaring at each other, and there was no way she was going to break eye contact first lest he took that as some sort of victory.

‘Dominic, you’re here.’ The quietly spoken voice came from behind. He broke eye contact first and Angie rubbed her arms, grateful for the interruption. She turned to see an older woman, slim and smartly dressed. She smiled. ‘And you must be Angelina Cameron. Such a pretty name,’ the woman said, taking both her hands in her own, her smile wide though her eyes looked troubled as they flicked from one arrival to the other. ‘Come in, dear. I’ve been expecting you.’

‘Angelina, this is Rosa, my housekeeper,’ said Dominic coarsely, performing the formalities. ‘Although, as you will no doubt learn, she is much more than a mere housekeeper.’

Rosa’s smile widened at that, her eyes creasing with love that still held more than a hint of concern. Angie followed stiffly as Rosa led them along a covered walkway leading to the house, wondering how long it was since she’d been called by her full name. Probably the last time she’d renewed her driver’s licence. She decided she liked Rosa. Her welcome had been genuine, her warm hands squeezing hers almost as if saying
I understand.
She liked the way her name had sounded on Dominic’s lips even more. What was it about the way his deep voice could sound her name?

Rosa glanced over her shoulder, smiling as she caught Angie’s eyes. What had Dominic told her? Did she know why she was here? Or was she merely in the habit of
welcoming Dominic’s women? She didn’t know the circumstances of his wife’s death or how long ago it had occurred, but she couldn’t imagine a man like him staying single for long.

It simply wasn’t possible. He was much too good-looking. Entirely too masculine. Power radiated from him, almost a tangible thing, or was that just his heat she could feel as he walked at her shoulder? She glanced back, pretending to take in the view. No, she thought. Not just heat, but power oozed from him.

With all he had going for him—his looks, his wealth, his beautiful home—he no doubt had women lining up to become the next Mrs Pirelli. With a small baby to look after, he’d be utterly irresistible.

If you were into the kind of man who judged a woman by her looks and where she came from.

And then Rosa led them beyond the manicured gardens and into the house proper and Angie momentarily forgot about the man beside her. For if the outside of the house was palatial, the inside beggared belief. To the right of the entrance hallway one massive room ran along the length of the house, arched windows over the French windows leading onto a terrace overlooking the sea with glittering chandeliers hanging from the impossibly high ceiling. She gaped. This was like something from a fairy tale. Cinderella had probably danced here.

‘I’ve prepared the guest suite for you,’ Rosa said, jerking her attention back. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable there.’

Angie couldn’t respond. She was still having trouble believing this palace was someone’s home. Maybe even hers for the next six months.

Her suite turned out to be in its own wing. Rosa beamed as she led the way into rooms decorated in tones
of lemon and white with blue accents. Late afternoon sunshine slanted through curtains fluttering in the sea breeze. It was too much for Angie to take in. Beyond the sitting room there was a massive bedroom, the bed a king-sized masterpiece with its own dressing room and a window that looked out over the cliffs and the sea. The en suite bathroom beyond was unbelievably decadent in white marble with a sunken spa and double-sized shower.

For something referred to casually as a suite, she realised, it was bigger than her entire house in Sherwill. And one hell of a lot more luxurious.

‘Will it do?’ Dominic asked after the tour had concluded, depositing her bag on the blanket box at the end of the bed. ‘Do you think you’ll be comfortable here?’ And for the first time she sensed a hint of insecurity. Was he so worried she’d take his baby away? But his
Will it do?
—who was he trying to kid?

‘You’ve seen where I come from. What do you think?’

‘Then I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said. ‘I have work to catch up on. The rest of your things will be here tomorrow. Let Rosa know if you need anything else in the meantime and she’ll take care of it. I’ll see you at dinner.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate it,’ she said, meaning every word, looking around at the plush fittings and decor and secretly relishing the idea of this suite being hers for the next six months. Hardly some kind of jail sentence. Unless she thought about who she was being locked up with. Thank God he had an office to go to. With any luck, he’d work long hours and she’d never see him.

And then she sensed movement and turned and found
he’d gone, with just a hint of his tantalising woody masculine scent remaining on the air.