Tempted by the Billionaire(22)

“What is it, Jane?” He asked impatiently.

“I’m sorry to bother you sir, but there’s a woman here to see you.”

“Tell him my name,” he heard the disembodied insistence through the handset. And he knew the voice. He placed his handset down and strode across his palatial office. He pulled the door inwards, and stared across the ostentatious reception area.

And there she was.

Willow.

In a black dress, her face pale, her hair swept into a high bun. His gut clenched with desire and fierce, undeniable need.

But when her eyes met his, he knew something was terribly wrong. She didn’t smile at him. She looked at him as though he was an exam she had to pass. With pure dread and reluctance.

He wanted to run across the tiles and pull her into his arms, but the air of coldness she was communicating subdued him. It reminded him of that first day they’d met, when she’d been so beautifully untouchable.

“Willow?” With a monumental effort, he got himself under control. “What are you doing here?”

Willow stared at him as though she were drowning and he was her life raft. In the week since she’d last seen him, he’d shed his relaxed, outdoorsy appeal. Oh, he was still impossibly attractive. But now, he wore a suit that screamed ‘corporate’. Dark grey, it moulded to his muscular frame like a second skin. His blonde hair was shorter, and any hint of stubble had been removed from his face, leaving just a square jaw and a tan that hinted of a summer spent under the sun.

“I need to speak to you. It won’t take long. Do you have a moment?”

Something was different about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she seemed frail. Weak. His gut turned over as he wondered, briefly, if his actions had caused her to feel that way.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Jane, clear my afternoon. I need to speak to Miss St Clare urgently.”

He put an arm around Willow’s waist and guided her away from his office, towards the bank of elevators. Once they were out of the surprised assistant’s line of sight, Willow stepped out of the circle of his arms.

She couldn’t let him touch her. The pain was too much to bear.

Matt took the hint, but he felt a spike of annoyance. Damn it, what did she want? Surely she’d come to Manhattan because she’d reconsidered. Because she wanted to be with him.

The elevator doors opened into an underground car park.

“Matt, where are we?”

“In the basement,” he muttered, pressing a button in his pocket. A car made a muted beeping sound and the headlights flicked to life. This was a far cry from the Dodge he’d driven in Haymarket Bay. The Aston Martin was black, with darkly tinted windows. He held the door open for her and stepped backwards, waiting for her to slide into the car.

“I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to talk to you,” he said firmly. “But not here. Get in.”

She eased herself into the car. It smelled of him, and the hint of his fragrance overpowered the last vestige of hesitation she had.

Being back in his world was heaven, and though she knew it wouldn’t last, she was going to enjoy it for a few moments.

He drove this car through the streets of Manhattan as expertly as he’d negotiated the enormous Dodge through the deserted country tracks of Haymarket.

Willow sat beside him, silent. But her tension seemed to escalate with every wordless moment that passed. “Matt, where are we going?” She asked with an anguished cry, finally, when she thought her nerves were going to snap.

He swerved the car out of traffic, into yet another undercover basement. “My place.”

“I thought your wife got your apartment,” she said quietly.

“I bought another.” He cut the engine, and came around to Willow’s door. He opened it before she could, and when she stepped out, he put his hands on her waist. His pale blue eyes sought hers, the question in them impossible to miss. “I have been dreaming of seeing you for so long.”

She closed her eyes. Whatever he felt for her was about to be seriously shaken to the core. “I’m not here to reignite our relationship,” she whispered huskily.

A frown flickered across Matt’s face. “Come upstairs and you can tell me exactly why you are here then.”

She nodded, and felt fear and anxiety bubble through her.

Matt’s apartment, though obviously new to his ownership, was unmistakably expensive and prestigious. Though she’d managed to amass a fair income from her popular books, she could never dream of aspiring to the kind of wealth that made upper East side penthouses a reality. “Just a simple place to hang your hat?”

He drew his brows together. “You’re angry with me.”

Willow took in a deep breath, and placed her handbag down by the door. “No. Not really.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

She laughed. What she wouldn’t do for a coffee or wine. But she’d gone cold turkey off both since the day she’d discovered her pregnancy. Though the coffee had more to do with a sudden inability to stomach caffeine without being sick.

“No, thank you.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t plan on staying long.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said thickly. Whatever was making her face pinch like that, he wanted to erase. “I’ve missed you.”

She put a hand on the back of a chair for support. “You shouldn’t have left, then.”

He nodded. “You must understand I had to. I have always owed this to my father.”

“You said that, yes.” She couldn’t look at him. It was so hard.

“But those two weeks with you were the happiest I’ve ever been.”

She turned to stare at the view. “I see.” Of course it was a lie. How could they be his happiest weeks when he had just clicked his fingers and moved on?

Something was wrong. Matt switched his business brain into gear, notching up his analytical skills. “You’re not here to talk about the past though, are you?”

She shook her head. Courage. She needed strength. She thought of their little baby, and the fact that she would be a mom in less than a year. She needed to get used to being strong. To being a role model. A single mom. Her future wasn’t going to be paved with easy choices and roses. She pulled from a well of inner strength and turned to face him. She forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were inquisitive and yet without emotion. Her stomach churned.

“I’m pregnant.”

Several things ran through his mind.

The possibility that she was lying. He instantly discounted it. She was the most truthful person he’d ever met.

The possibility that the baby wasn’t his. He likewise discounted it, though it left a tang of jealousy in his mouth.

The notion that she might want to get rid of their baby. He dismissed the idea because he couldn’t handle it.

“I see,” he said, crossing the room and putting an arm around her back. He guided her towards his living room, and helped her settle into the deep, white leather sofa. She was shaking, he realised, and he felt a bolt of responsibility. A need to ease whatever pain she faced.

Willow stared up at him, and her eyes showed her total sense of emotional heartache. “I found out a few days ago. I came as soon as I could. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be involved, Matt, but I thought you should at least know.”

“I see,” he said again, his eyes scanning her face.

“I don’t need money. I mean, financially, I’m able to afford to do this on my own. You’ve made it clear that your life is here, and I will understand if you choose not to be involved.”

Rage made his head swim. “I see.” His voice was quiet and cold.

“Obviously it was an accident. I presume it happened…”

“That first night,” he interjected with a nod.

“Yes,” she agreed jerkily. “That’s what I thought.”

“So it’s still very early.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Why? Are you hoping I’ll lose it?”

Matt swore, his face pale.

“I’m sorry,” Willow whispered, ducking her head down and blinking away tears. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I hope not, Willow. You know I wouldn’t wish that on you. On anyone.”

“I don’t know what to feel.” She sobbed. “I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t be emotional. But it turns out there’s no textbook way to handle something like this.”

He nodded. And a plan came to him, fully formed. “Marry me, Willow.”

CHAPTER NINE

Willow laughed, but she was far from amused. “I’m not going to marry you. Are you kidding me? You just walked away from me. I wouldn’t marry you if… if… I just wouldn’t.”

But Matt wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. Not after what they’d shared. Not with a baby in the picture.

“Yes, you are, Willow. Whatever you think now, I promise you this: we will marry.”

She glared at him. “Why? What for?”

His stomach clenched. “Because you’re carrying my baby, and family means the world to me.”

“That’s not a good enough reason,” she responded, her voice numb. If he’d only said those three words she was aching to hear. The three words she’d spent weeks not saying to him. “This is the twenty first century. People don’t get married just because they’re having a baby together.”