She would never forgive him for delving into her private life, seeking out her most painful memory and then throwing it in her face as an accusation. He hadn’t been remotely interested in listening to her protest her innocence because he’d been all too ready to believe she was just as guilty as her mother. Although Sidonie winced slightly when she thought of the misfortune of him hearing that phone call when he had.
As Sidonie approached Tante Josephine’s apartment she saw a familiar low-slung vehicle parked outside. Clearly out of place in this run-down area of Paris.
Her heart thumped erratically. The car was empty. Sidonie looked up and could see the first-floor apartment’s lights blazing. Tante Josephine was usually in bed by now. Sidonie had a horrific image of her beloved Jojo being confronted by a tall, dark, intimidating Alexio and stumbled in her haste to get in.
When she almost fell in the front door she saw an idyllic scene of domesticity. Her Tante Josephine was perched on the edge of a chair, holding a cup of tea, and Alexio was seated opposite her on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee.
Tante Josephine put down her cup and stood up, her small matronly bosom quivering with obvious excitement. Her cheeks were bright pink. Sidonie could have rolled her eyes in disgust. The Alexio charm offensive had struck again.
Her aunt took her hands as she came in and Sidonie shot an accusing look at Alexio, whose face was unreadable. But something in his eyes made her heart jump. It was dark. Hard. As it had been on that day.
‘Oh, Sidonie, your friend called by earlier. I told him he could wait here for you and we’ve been having the most pleasant chat.’
Alexio stood up then and made the small apartment laughably smaller. He looked pointedly at her belly and said, in perfect accentless French, ‘I believe congratulations are in order?’
Sidonie went cold. No. Her aunt couldn’t have... But she was notoriously indiscreet—especially with strangers...
Sidonie looked at her with horrified eyes but Tante Josephine, having the nous to suspect that something had just gone very wrong, fluttered nervously and said, ‘Well, it’s past my bedtime. I’ll leave you young people to catch up.’
And then she was gone, leaving Sidonie facing her nemesis. The air was thick with tension.
Sidonie lifted her chin and waited. It didn’t take long.
‘You’re pregnant?’
She tried not to be intimidated by the murderous look on Alexio’s face. She’d never allowed herself the indulgence of daydreaming about this scenario, but for a man who didn’t even want a relationship, this was pretty close to what she might have imagined.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed starkly, reluctantly. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Alexio went pale under his olive skin. His voice sounded rough. ‘Whose is it?’
Sidonie gaped at him. She’d also never envisaged that he would doubt the baby was his. She started to speak but a flash of anger rendered her speechless again. Incensed, she stalked over to him and planted her hands on her hips, looked up into that remote hard-boned face.
‘Well,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘I did have a threesome shortly after you cast me out of your life like a piece of unwanted luggage, so it could be Tom, Dick or Harry’s baby. But we won’t know until it’s born and we can see who she or he looks like.’ She was breathing hard.
Alexio just looked at her.