Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy / Redemption Of The Untamed Italian. Clare Connelly
my presence, she whirled around, those endless pools of green going wide at the sight of me.
‘Oh… I had no idea you’d returned.’
My lips tightened, and that percussive mix of anger and desolation threatened again. ‘I believe it’s your lack of awareness that has led us to this point.’
She had the audacity to look hurt. The surrealness of it nearly made me shake my head again—but enough. I was done with being confounded. The important thing was how to proceed from here.
Doctors. Specialists. Investigate one final time.
Every option left a trail of displeasure, and the prospect of having my dire circumstances prodded was even more unwelcome than the verdict I’d woken to after a three-week coma three years ago: the severity of my skiing accident meant that I couldn’t father children naturally. That my only hope of becoming a father rested on a sperm sample donated years ago, when I’d faced another crisis.
A seemingly miraculous turn of events that was now crushed to nothing.
Sadie Preston fidgeted where she stood, even as that pert little nose started to rise.
Christos, had no one ever taught this creature the concept of true contrition? But she wasn’t as calm as she attempted to look. Her chest rose and fell in gathering agitation, and her small feet were curling and uncurling within the cheap flat shoes she wore. The action highlighted the smooth definition of her calves, and against my will I dropped my gaze, the better to absorb it.
When that only prompted a sharp need to test their suppleness beneath my fingers, I turned, made a beeline for my drinks cabinet. A dash of Hine in the crystal tumbler clutched in my hand brought a little clarity.
At the delicate throat-clearing behind me, I squeezed my eyes shut for a control-gathering second. Before I turned, she was speaking.
‘I know you only need to look at me to remember why I’m here. What I’ve done. But I’ve been thinking… If you wouldn’t mind giving me a little information, maybe we can put our heads together and come up with a solution.’
Another urge to laugh this away in the hope that it was some extended acid dream hit me. ‘“Put our heads together”? Why would we want to do that? Are you a doctor?’
Rose-red lips compressed, drawing my attention to yet another tempting part of her body.
The body of your nemesis.
‘You know I’m not. I’m just trying to help—’
‘I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you? Imagine we are the last two people on earth. Then be assured that I would rather take my chances with whatever apocalypse I face than accept your help.’
Her translucent skin lost a shade of colour. ‘Do you need to be so cruel?’ she muttered.
Absurdly, that plaintive question sent an arrow of guilt through me. Theos mou. What the hell was going on? Was it Upside Down Day? I downed half my drink, hoping the alcohol would burn through the fog.
The hope was in vain. So I approached until we stood half a dozen feet apart. ‘Fine. Humour me. How would you propose we “put our heads together”?’
‘Well, I was thinking that if you wouldn’t mind telling me the circumstances behind your needing to use the Phoenix Clinic the first time around—’
‘No, I would not. Next scenario.’
She hesitated, the tip of her pink tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. This time the punch in my gut was purely carnal. Ravenous. Demanding. Lustful.
For this woman? Christos, the world had truly turned upside down!
‘Okay. If you’re in a position to deposit another sample, perhaps I could contribute financially towards the future storage?’
Bitterness and bleakness lanced me in equal spikes. ‘You don’t look as if you can afford decent attire, let alone the fees of a clinic that charges upward of six figures. Do you have secret access to a gold mine, Sadie Preston? Or clairvoyant insight to the next set of lottery numbers?’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Has anyone ever told you it’s a mistake to judge a book by its cover?’
‘If I am misjudging you, I’ll consider rendering you an apology. Am I?’
She managed to hold my gaze for all of three seconds before her eyes dropped. Against her smooth cheeks, her long, unadorned eyelashes fanned in a seductive curl, highlighting her delicate eyelids. The combination of delicate, defiant and alluring made me grip my glass harder. But, more than that, I wanted her to lift her gaze, to show me those hypnotic green pools once again.
When she did, my breath caught.
I was attracted to her.
This woman, who’d brought me news of an apocalyptic kind, had awakened a libido grown so jaded I’d set it on the back burner in favour of pursuing even more success in the challenging boardrooms of Xenakis Aeronautics.
Was it the heightened bleakness of it all triggering this? And why was I wasting time deciphering it when I had no intention of following through on it?
‘No, you’re not wrong. I can’t afford to foot the bill now. But perhaps we can come to an agreement?’
Here it comes. The age-old proposition.
The idea that she would offer herself to me on a platter drew deep disappointment. Enough to make me down the rest of my drink in abject resignation.
‘Enlighten me about this agreement.’
‘I’m two semesters away from completing a marketing degree. I’ve been top of my class every year. I can maybe work for your company from when I’m done? Pay you back that way?’
Surprise jolted me, followed by the familiar echo of wanting something because I’d been denied it. Had I wanted her on a platter? More specifically in my bed?
Yes!
I ignored the blaring affirmation, concentrated on what she’d said. So she wasn’t just a simple receptionist.
The determination stamped across her face almost made me believe her. Almost. For all I knew she was just spinning tales. Just as Anneka had spun lies around our relationship until an unguarded phone conversation had revealed the depths of her deplorable nature and the lengths she’d been prepared to go to ensure she received an unrivalled payday.
‘How old are you?’
The mutinous look that crossed her face said she was debating not answering. Perhaps suggesting I mind my own business. But she realised very quickly that the question pertained to the proposal she was making.
‘I’m twenty-five,’ she offered, with clear reluctance.
‘Most twenty-five-year-olds are done with their education.’
‘My circumstances are different. I had to interrupt my education for personal reasons.’
Reasons she clearly wasn’t about to disclose. I hid my disgruntlement. For now. ‘Why a receptionist? Why not a paid internship in your chosen field?’
Impatience crossed her face. ‘With respect, my reasons are private. But what I’ve said can easily be verified with my university professors.’
Enough. This had gone on long enough. ‘You walked in off the street to confess a crime. As admirable as you seem to think admitting your culpability should be, I have zero reason to trust you. Not with my personal property and certainly not with my business. Your offer is declined.’
She inhaled sharply, the action drawing my attention to her chest. To her parted lips. Christos.
‘So that’s it? You’re going to throw me to the wolves?’