Christmas at the Castello(10)

That awful scene in the boardroom when they'd been allocating the  pieces from their life together as if their marriage was a board game  ran through her head. A bubble of hysterical laughter formed in her  throat. What would have happened if she'd thrown a baby into the mix?  Her husband had been halfway off the ledge without such a mind-numbing  complication as their flesh and blood being tied together for eternity.         

     



 

She sat on the bench as the bright midday sunshine faded to late  afternoon, trying to absorb the enormity of the news she'd been given.  The spontaneity, the freedom she'd craved to spread her wings, was about  to be taken from her by the little person growing inside her. Her life  as she knew it was about to change irrevocably.

Panic clawed at her throat, a terror she had never known before it  reached up to steal her breath. Was she supposed to tell Coburn and have  him insist she not go to Africa, which she knew he'd do? Or did she go,  knowing there was no medical reason why she shouldn't? First trimesters  were uneventful, as Joanne had said. She was perfectly healthy and  strong. She could scrap her plan to go for a year and simply execute her  initial contract.

Her thoughts slowed, her breathing calming as her decision cemented  itself. When she looked up to see the sky darkening over the park,  purple streaks lacing a hazy gray sky, she got up, tossed her cup into  the garbage can and flagged a cab. At home, she finished packing and  closed off all the loose ends of her life. Except for the biggest one of  them all.

Two days later, she stepped on a plane bound for London, where she  would stay overnight with a friend, then continue on to Africa. Her mind  was resolute and focused. She was grabbing her dream with both hands.  Then she would call Coburn when she was settled and give him the news  that would undoubtedly rock his world. She liked the idea of having a  continent between them when that happened. It seemed so much less  confrontational.





  CHAPTER FIVE

COBURN HAD JUST left a meeting in midtown and was standing on the  street, an espresso and his briefcase in one hand while he unlocked the  door of his Jaguar with the other, when his mobile rang.

It never stopped ringing these days. He had a newfound respect for  Harrison spending that many years under siege as CEO with every matter  of crisis or political ripple that seemed to run through the company at  regular intervals.

Cursing as the phone pealed again, he set his espresso down on the roof  of the car, dropped his briefcase and pulled his phone out of his  pocket. Dr. Joanne Gibson, said the caller ID. Who? He filed through his  brain. Diana's doctor. Why would she be calling him? He almost ignored  it, then remembered he was listed as an emergency contact for his wife.

"Coburn here."

"Coburn?" The voice sounded confused. "Oh, hi. Sorry, Mr. Grant,  Rebecca from Joanne Gibson's office here. I was trying to reach Diana.  Your number's listed right below hers."

"No worries. You might have trouble getting her, though. She's out of the country as of today."

"I thought I might catch her before she left. Has she left?"

"I wouldn't know," he said pleasantly.

A pause. "Oh. Okay. I have some test results I need to give to her. Do  you know if she took her usual mobile with her or if she's switching  over?"

"I wouldn't know that, either." He started to mutter a polite kiss-off,  then frowned and tucked the phone closer to his ear. "What test?"

"I can't really say. It's just a routine check with her preg-" The  woman broke off as someone said something to her in the background.  "Just a routine test," she repeated. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

His blood ran cold. "Just one second," he ordered. "Were you about to say pregnancy? Is my wife pregnant?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grant, I really can't tell you-"

"Put Dr. Gibson on the phone."

"What? I can't do that. She's with a patient."

"Then, unpatient her now or I will get in my car, drive over there and do it myself."

A pause. "Just one minute."

He drummed his fingers on the midnight blue paint of his car, a  complete sense of unreality enveloping him as he digested what he knew  the receptionist had been about to say. This could not be happening.  He'd worn a condom that night. He'd very definitely worn a condom that  night. But condoms weren't foolproof...         

     



 

Cars whizzed by him, the height of Manhattan rush-hour traffic jamming  itself onto the streets. The voice of an older female finally came on  the line. "Coburn?"

"Yes," he said tersely. "Your receptionist just called me by mistake,  as I'm sure she told you, and mentioned in passing my wife is pregnant.  My wife who is now on a plane bound for Africa. Could you confirm this  rather important piece of information?"

"Coburn..." He heard the hesitation in her voice. "Rebecca should not  have given that information out. It breaches doctor-patient  confidentiality laws."

"I understand that. But since the cat's out of the bag, I suggest you  confirm it right now so I don't have to spend all my money suing you for  the information."

Joanne sighed. "I am so sorry this happened. I truly am. But Diana really needs to be the one to tell you this."

He held the phone away from his ear and stared at it as if it was a toy  he would like to crush. Rage zigzagged through him, singeing his skin.  She had just told him everything he needed to know.

"You know what, Dr. Gibson?" he bit out, pulling the phone back to his ear. "Forget it."

He disconnected the call, picked up his briefcase, tossed it into the  car and headed uptown to Diana's parents' place. He was two blocks into  the journey before he remembered he'd left his espresso on the roof of  the car. An expletive flew from his lips. He wasn't a violent man, but  the urge to slowly strangle his wife was profound.

Traffic was filthy. He spent the first fifteen minutes crawling at a  snail's pace behind cabs that wove in and out of his lane, not helping  his temper. By the time he got stuck a few blocks from the Taylors'  penthouse, his head was in total disarray. He leaned back against the  seat and attempted to take it all in. Could Diana have been pregnant the  night she'd been with him? Was it someone else's baby? The shattered  look on her face after he'd taken her that night sliced through his  head. No way. There was no way she was dating someone else and had been  with him like that. He knew his wife. It wasn't in her DNA. Which left  him with the mind-numbing conclusion that this baby was his. He was  going to be a father.

And his wife was on her way to Africa. To an unstable city in the  interior that had just come out of a period of dangerous unrest. And she  had known she was pregnant. Known she was carrying his child.

By the time he'd crawled the last couple of blocks to the Taylors'  building, he knew one thing. He wasn't waiting around for Diana to deign  to tell him the news. She had taken a liberty with information,  information about his child. Action was required.

The doorman of the Taylors' building caught the keys he threw at him as  he swept past without breaking stride. Barking his name at the  concierge, he fixed the man with an unrelenting stare until he put the  phone down and waved him through. Be civil, he told himself while  stalking toward the elevator. This was not the Taylors' fault; it was  their daughter's. He was here only to get the information he needed.

The elevator stopped at the Taylors' tenth-floor penthouse. Wilbur Taylor opened the door seconds after he rapped on it, hard.

"Coburn," the other man murmured smoothly. "What an unexpected surprise."

"You can dispense with the pleasantries," Coburn suggested tersely,  walking past him into the foyer. "We all know how much you like me."

Wilbur blinked at the open aggression Coburn usually managed to hide  beneath a cloak of civility. Diana's father closed the door and faced  him, a light firing in his eyes at the opportunity to take the gloves  off. "I'd like you more if you gave my daughter the divorce she's asking  for."

"That might be wishful thinking, since she's pregnant with my child."

Wilbur's jaw dropped. Diana's mother, who had appeared behind her  husband, immaculately dressed in pants and a sweater, went chalk white.  "Pregnant?"

He was heartened to see it hadn't been a conspiracy against him. "You didn't know?"         

     



 

Her mother shook her head. "She wasn't well when she was here for  dinner on Sunday but we thought it was the flu." She shook her head, her  blue eyes flickering. "She left knowing that?"

"The height of stupidity, don't you think?"

"Now, listen," Wilbur interjected, "You can't talk-"

"I can," Coburn raged, pointing a finger at him. "Right now I am  capable of anything given what your daughter has done. But all I want  from you is the address where she's staying."