When Christakos Meets His Match(64)
Growing even more incensed, Sidonie stabbed at his chest with her finger and tried to ignore how hard it felt.
‘It’s yours, you arrogant jerk,’ she hissed, mindful of Tante Josephine. ‘Cold-bloodedly seducing another billionaire hasn’t exactly been high on my priority list lately.’
* * *
Alexio looked down into that furious face and felt numb. He welcomed it. His solicitor had failed to mention the very poignant fact that Sidonie’s aunt had mild mental health issues.
And now...now the baby. His baby. Ever since Tante Josephine had excitedly informed him that Sidonie was expecting a baby, Alexio had felt as if he’d swallowed nails.
At first he’d told himself it couldn’t possibly be his: they’d used protection every time. He’d been fanatical about it. Except for when they’d come home from the club and made love in the car, unable even to walk the few steps into the villa. That night was almost sixteen weeks ago now. Sixteen weeks of living in a blur. And now suddenly everything was in focus again.
Disgust at the memory of his lack of control that night had curdled his insides as Sidonie’s aunt had chattered on, blithely unaware of the bomb she’d dropped. And then Sidonie had come in, looking panicked. Guilty.
The knowledge that she was telling the truth sank into him like a stone, casting huge ripples outward. He wanted to walk out through the door and keep walking. The sum of all his fears was manifesting itself right now in this room. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to contemplate bringing a child into the world. Not after the childhood he’d endured.
A child had perhaps existed in his future life—far in the distant future—along with his perfect blonde wife. He had vowed long ago to make sure that no child of his would see the ugly reality of marriage, because any union he would have would be a union of respect and affection—not one punctuated by cold silences, bitter rows, possessive jealousy and violence.
‘Well?’ Sidonie demanded, hands on hips. ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’
Alexio’s gaze narrowed on her and he realised he wanted to say plenty—but most of it involved his mouth being on Sidonie’s. And then his gaze travelled down and he saw the small proud bump evident under her light jacket and the black clingy top she wore. Something within him seemed to break apart. Crumble.
Her hand went there automatically, as if to protect the child, and Alexio felt incensed at that. He thought of the recent revelation of the existence of his oldest half-brother and how his mother had kept him a dirty secret. After abandoning him. Would Sidonie have kept this child from him?
Finally he found his voice, and it was accusing. ‘Why didn’t you come to me?’
* * *
Sidonie let out a small mirthless laugh and backed away a step. Standing this close to Alexio was hazardous to her mental health and to her libido, which had decided to come out of its ice-like state.
She’d been dreadfully sick for the first trimester of her pregnancy but thankfully that had stopped and she was finally beginning to feel human again. She did not welcome this resurgence of a desire she had no control over.
Alexio was looking increasingly explosive as the news sank in and Sidonie felt a twinge of conscience. She recalled her own shock at finding out about the pregnancy, four weeks after she’d come back to Paris and with no sign of her period.
She crossed her arms tightly. ‘You really think I would come to you with this news after you accused me of being a gold-digger? After you judged and tried me—after you had me investigated like a common criminal?’