His Pregnant Mistress. Carol Marinelli
wasn’t quite so assured now. ‘If what you’re saying is true, why the hell didn’t Richard say anything? He never even implied you were anything more than friends…’
‘During one of your weekly phone calls?’ Mia retorted nastily, but she was beyond caring now, the implication that she was in this only for the money too abhorrent not to reciprocate with harsh words of her own. ‘Or perhaps he should have included it in one of the regular emails you fired to each other…’ Seeing the pain in his eyes, she realized she’d gone too far; the day of Richard’s funeral was hardly the time to point out the void between them, the tragedy of a relationship reduced to stilted birthday and Christmas cards. And, Mia thought reluctantly, given the rapidly unfolding circumstances, given the Carvelle name and all its implications, Ethan’s reaction was probably merited.
It wasn’t his fault that she loved him.
‘I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.’ After the longest pause she found her voice.
‘It’s the truth.’ Ethan shrugged.
‘But this really was a very much wanted baby.’
Maybe Mia’s gloves were off, but Ethan’s were still firmly tied on, every word a painful punch to her already fragile soul.
‘Please.’ His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he hit her while she was down. ‘So wanted that none of his family even knew about it, so wanted we didn’t even know he was dating you, so wanted that a baby wasn’t even on the agenda till he was dying…’
‘He wasn’t supposed to die!’ Agony rasped in every word, her strained voice overriding his powerful one on emotion alone, forcing a quiet, forcing him to stop his tirade to stand stock-still as Mia continued. ‘He wasn’t supposed to die,’ she said again, but Ethan remained unmoved.
‘He had cancer, Mia. The doctors gave him eighteen months, two years at most. So what the hell was he doing having children? What the hell was he doing bringing a child into the world he would surely never be there to watch grow up? It just doesn’t add up.’
‘We don’t all live by your rules, Ethan; we don’t all walk around with a mental calculator weighing up the pros and cons, checking for longevity and distant projections. Richard knew he might never see his child grow up and I knew it too, but it was a risk we were prepared to take…’
‘You really talked about it?’ His voice told her the preposterousness he felt in her actions. The incredulity in his eyes as he stared back at her only distanced him further, yet she ached to reach him, to drag him beside her, to reach an understanding while somehow avoiding the truth.
‘We talked about it for weeks, Ethan, for weeks.’
‘So it wasn’t an accident, a one-night stand…’
‘This was a wanted baby, Ethan.’
‘Oh, I bet it was,’ Ethan hissed. ‘It’s what you’ve been wanting for years, isn’t it, Mia?’
‘Ethan, please, you don’t understand…’
‘Don’t I?’ Ethan snapped, his face menacingly close as the doctor melted away. ‘Save the tears, Mia. You’ve got what you wanted, or most of it.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You couldn’t quite manage to hook the Carvelle surname for yourself, but you’d use a dying, confused man to ensure you snaked your way in somehow. But you’ve picked the wrong family, Mia. If you think for one second my parents are going to be the pushover Richard clearly was, then I’m about to burst your bubble, darling…’ His lips sneered around the word, no sentiment intended as he spat the endearment. ‘They’ll wrap you up so tightly in legal red tape you’ll be pulling your pension before you see a single cent for your efforts.’
‘You bastard.’
‘No.’ Ethan shook his head, his eyes glittering with rage, his face taut, his breath hot on her cheeks, his hand moving to her stomach and holding the swollen flesh for a moment, shuttering his eyes for a second as if it physically hurt to touch her, to feel the life within her. ‘That’s what this little one is; that’s the level you’d stoop to, to get what you want.’
‘This was never about money.’
‘Good,’ Ethan quipped, ‘because you’ll die waiting before my parents come around. No smiling, cooing baby will melt their cold hearts.’
‘I don’t need the Carvelles’ money,’ Mia hissed. ‘I have a life, a home, a career I’m proud of and I’ll do just fine on my own.’
She thought that was the end of it, almost thought she’d seen the last of him, that Ethan would walk off now, but still he stood, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her.
‘So what now?’
‘You get on with your life and I’ll get on with mine,’ Mia snapped, but even as the words came out she sensed their futility, knew that now Ethan knew it was Richard’s child she was carrying he couldn’t just walk away. ‘I don’t expect you to understand, Ethan,’ she said more softly. ‘I don’t expect you to understand what Richard and I shared, but all I ask is that you believe me when I say that this had nothing to do with money and everything to do with love. He wasn’t supposed to die…’ Tears brimmed in those aquamarine pools, and the colour was so vivid, so reminiscent of the beautiful land she inhabited, for a tiny second there he felt as if he had come home.
Home, not just to the tropical paradise of Cairns, where lush green trees reached for a sky that blended with the ocean, but home to the capricious, captivating spirit of Mia, and so alien was the feeling that welled inside him, so physical the pain that suddenly gripped him, it took a second for Ethan to register it as need. A need so pure he could feel it, a yearning almost for the balmy, safe haven he had found all those years ago, for the time spent in each other’s arms and minds, when the world had seemed at peace, when there was nothing he wouldn’t have done for her; and he ached, ached to reach over to catch the splash of tears that rolled down her cheeks, to pull her in his arms and make her world safe.
But he couldn’t.
Couldn’t allow himself to fall under her spell again, couldn’t go through it again and expect to come out the other side. He had to be strong here, had to remain impervious to her charms, hold onto his head and forget about his heart.
‘But he did die,’ Ethan said finally. ‘Richard did die, Mia, and if you’re telling the truth, if this is his child, then we’ve got a hell of a lot to talk about!’
She could feel the tiny hairs rising on the back of her neck, the chilling feeling that suddenly everything had become impossibly complicated, finally admitted to herself that today wasn’t going to bring closure, that things had, in fact, just started.
‘Wait here,’ he ordered, jangling her car keys in his pocket and pinning her with his eyes. ‘I’ll go and get your car, but don’t even think about discharging yourself and jumping in a taxi, Mia. Believe me, I’ll find you.’
CHAPTER THREE
SHE should go.
Every sensible thought told Mia to just demand the drip be taken down, pack up her few things, jump in a taxi and get the hell out of there.
Ethan Carvelle had no say here. He couldn’t demand she stay at the hospital; he had nothing to do with this.
Time and again she pushed down the cot side of the trolley, picked up a cotton swab, ready to pull the blessed drip out herself. It was her life, her choice if she walked out of the hospital this very moment; his idle threats bore no weight in the real world. Ethan Carvelle counted for nothing here.
But time and again she pulled the side of the trolley back up, leant against the pillows in utter defeat as the fluid dripped into her veins, knowing it was only herself she was kidding.
Ethan Carvelle counted for everything.
He