His pregnant mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  'Well, here's one woman that regrets it, Ethan. You're now looking at a woman who wishes more than ever that she hadn't been one of your ships that passed in the night, who would love to turn back the clock and wipe out every last piece of memory of the time we shared.'

  'Liar.' One finger slowly razored her cheek, work­ing its way past her ear, down the hollows of her neck till it met the flickering pulse in her neck. Transfixed, filled with loathing and lust, she stared back at him, stared back at the man who seemed to read her in­nermost thoughts, the man whom she had physically pushed aside in ever y waking moment but who had, for seven long years, slipped into her dreams every long, lonely night. She wished she could lie better.

  Relentlessly he continued. 'You live to re­member it, Mia. I was there, remember; I felt you writhing in my arms, heard you calling out my name, so don't stand there and tell me you wish it had never happened. Don't try and pretend I'm not the best damn lover you ever had...'

  'Is everything okay?' The doctor was back, staring nervously at the two of them, and Mia wrestled to stay calm, certain that if they took her blood pressure now there was no way on earth they'd let her out.

  'Everything's fine,' Ethan said coolly, picking up her frozen hand and wrapping it possessively in his. 'In fact, I'm just about to take Ms Stewart home.'

  The cool night air on her flaming cheeks was bliss, a gentle breeze around her bare legs as she clipped along beside him, feeling the sizzling hatred emanat­ing from her. Even though she was confused, and though the day had spun irretrievably out of control, there was some solace to be had from being with Ethan now.

  That finally after all these years she had faced him.

  Stood up to him even.

  And maybe, maybe an end to her agony was in sight, when whatever had to be said was finally over, when questions that had hung in the air had actually been answered, she could finally walk away.

  Emotionally bruised perhaps.

  Still loving him, probably.

  But seven years of being left in the dark, of never fully understanding why, with no explanation, he had walked away from all they'd had, had d rained every last vestige of inner reserve. Surely the truth, however unpalatable, however much it cheapened their time together, was better than the darkness through which she had stumbled these past years.

  She would let him drive her home, Mia had already decided on that. The two-hour drive was surely enough time to glean the answers she craved, and then she'd call him a taxi.

  Ethan Carvelle could afford it!

  'Where's my car?' Staring at the luxury sports model bleeping as the doors unlocked, Mia shook her head. 'You said you'd collect my car.'

  'Which I did.' Ethan shrugged.

  'So where is it?'

  'Scaring the neighbours in my driveway,' he re­sponded easily. 'You didn't think I was going to let you drive home, after what the doctor said?'

  'Of course not. I thought that you were taking me home.'

  'Which I am,' Ethan clipped.

  'I mean my home...' her voice trailed off as Ethan let out a mirthless lau gh.

  'What? You really thought I was going to take you to your little love shack in the hills? Sorry, darling, I'm simply not up to a two-hour drive. I, for one, need a stiff drink and a marble bathroom with hot running water, none of which, I'm quite sure, you can provide’

  ‘Elderberry wine and heated water really aren't my thing...'

  Staring hard at her, his eyes narrowed, his lips set in such grim determination Mia knew that any argument would be wasted, that Ethan had long ago made up his mind about her and the life she led.

  'Let's get one thing straight, Mia. You can risk your own health, hell, once this baby's born you can jump out of a plane without a parachute for all I care, but if you think for one moment that I'm going to let you head off to the mountains to lead your so-called bohemian lifestyle while you wait for the inheritance to flood in, then you've got another think coming. This child deserves a damn sight more than you can give and I'm going to make damn sure it gets it. Now get in the car’

  Despite the burning anger at his presumption, despite her fury at his appalling arrogance, as she clipped on her seat belt, and though she'd never in a million years admit it, somewhere deep down inside Mia was relieved.

  A two-hour drive, even if it was in a luxury sports car, wasn't exactly at the top o f her list. The day seemed to have caught up with her all of a sudden. Exhaustion saturated every pore, over­riding even the need for answers from Ethan, quelling slightly the utter force of his presence as they drove along the foreshore. But when they pulled up outside his ' 'property'', as her feet crunched on the smooth white stones beneath her feet the wealth and power that were Ethan Carvelle were rammed home yet again.

  Why had she been naive enough to think they would be heading for so me small luxury apartment in a nameless high-rise building? The residence they were entering now mocked that image a thousand times over. A massive white single-level home, chis­elled so closely into the cliff edge she felt as if she could almost reach out and touch the pounding ocean that thundered below.

  'I'll show you around...' Ethan started, but Mia shook her head. ‘I don't need a guided tour, Ethan. I just want to know where I'm sleeping and tomorrow I'll go back to the hospital to have my blood pressure checked, then I'm out of here.'

  As he opened his mouth to argue she spoke over him. ‘I know we need to talk, I know that's why I'm here after all, but I'm afraid it will have to wait till the morning.'

  'What if it can't wait?' Ethan countered. 'What if I need some answers now?'

  'Then you'll just have to exert some patience,' Mia responded firmly. ' My only priority at the moment is the baby, and, given I've spent the after noon at a funeral and in hospital attached to a drip and moni­tors, I think it can be safely said that it's had quite enough drama for one day.'

  The fire seemed to die in her then, but she stood endearingly proud, in the mas­sive lounge room, the wary defiance leaving her eyes as her shoulders slipped. She let out a long, weary sigh, fatigue literally overwhelming her, each word a feat in itself, weariness seeping into her bones, her eyes so heavy she just wanted to close them on this exhausting day, to start afresh tomorrow, to face Ethan for the last time with a clear mind and hope­fully a less emotional heart. ‘I just can't do this tonight, Ethan.'

  'Fair enough.' His voice was the softest she'd heard it that day. 'But before you go to bed you should at least have something to eat.'

  'I just want to sleep...'

  'What have you eaten today?' he asked, watching as her forehead puckered into a tiny frown and, as much as it galled Mia to admit it, even to herself, Ethan had a point. The toast she'd listlessly made this morning had been thrown into the bin uneaten and she hadn't even thought about lunch as she'd driven into Cairns for the funeral, her mind too full of the events ahead to even contemplate eating.

  'They gave me some sandwiches at the hospital.'

  'Which were still sitting in their Cellophane when we left,' Ethan pointed out. 'If your priority really is the baby, then the very least you can do is go and sit down for half an hour and have something to eat and drink.'

  She gave a small reluctant nod as Ethan slid open a massive glass door and walked out onto the bal­cony. After a moment's hesitation she followed him. chewing on her bottom lip as she stepped outside. The delicious view that greeted her tired eyes was so close to the first they had witnessed together it was almost painful just to look. A vast pool glittered before them, jutting out of the cliff to p and in a clever architectural feat it seemed to merge in with the water, to kiss the ocean below. As exhausted as she was, if it had been anyone other than Ethan with her now she'd have been sorely tempted to peel off her clothes and float a while in the cool, clear water.

  He led her to a table, pulled out a heavy wrought-iron chair and waited while she sat.

  ‘Try and relax. I won't be long.'

  Which was surely a joke!

>   How the hell was she supposed to relax even in this gorgeous setting while Ethan worked in the kitchen, when the man she both loved and loathe d was, after all this time, a mere few feet away?

  The darkness of the balcony gave her a chance to watch him unseen, to watch in breathless silence as he peeled off his black jacket, impatiently pulled off his tie, then rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, dark muscular forearms pulling open cupboards and working the massive stainless steel hob that would be any budding chef's dream. But from the occasional bang and cuss that broke the air, this luxury kitchen wasn't where Ethan spent much of his time and cooking clearly wasn't his forte.

  Placing a plate of scrambled eggs and a massive glass of juice in front of her, he sat on the other side of the table, the silence deafening as he gazed broodily at the pool, before finally turning his headlights to her, her two minutes of down time clearly over as the interrogation recommenced.

  'You're too thin,' he said for starters, as if his opinion mattered, as if he had every right to make such a per­sonal observation. ‘I suppose you're a vegetarian now!'

  'Pardon?'

  'Or a vegan perhaps,' Ethan sneered.

  'You're amazing, Ethan.' Mia sighed. 'And, for the record, that wasn't a compliment. You really think you know me, don't you? You really think that be­cause I'm an artist, because I've chosen to be a single mother, you can pigeon-hole me. Well, for your in­formation, I'm neither a vegan nor a vegetarian, I don't attend peace rallies, I don't smoke dope...'

  'I don't want your resume Mia,' Ethan snapped, clearly irritated. 'I'm merely pointing out that you're way too thin.'

  'I know,' Mia admitted, pushing her eggs around the plate with a fork. 'But aside from what happened today, normally I eat very well. It's just that...'

  'Just that what?' Ethan pushed as her voice trailed off.

  'I guess I've been living on my nerves a bit the past few weeks.' Mia shrugged. 'Trying to hold my business together and visiting Richard every day.'

  'How is business?' His shrewd eyes narrowed as he watched her closely.

  'Good.' Mia looked up briefly, grateful for the safety of apparent small talk. 'I've been commis­sioned to do a series of pieces for a Japanese client and, as well as that, the gallery's really taken off.'

  'You don't work from...there any more?' She heard the deviation in his voice, the slight hesitancy before the word. 'The studio, I mean.'

  'It got too small.' She fiddled with her fork, took a mouthful of rather burnt egg before carrying on talk­ing. 'That's why I moved out of Cairns. I couldn't afford a massive studio anywhere nearby so I bought a rather dilapidated house with stables and turned them into my work area. I've got heaps of space now.'

  She didn't add that the studio had held too many memories, how work had grown increasingly impossible as her mind had constantly wandered. How hard it ha d been to create magic with her hands as over and over the magic Ethan h ad created in that very space had taunted her mind. 'I kept the old place, though.'

  'Why?'

  'Sentimental reasons.'

  'Which were?' In the darkness she couldn't be sure, but Mia was positive his cheeks darkened momentar­ily, and she felt a strange surge of triumph that Ethan Carvelle actually looked uncomfortable.

  'It was just too hard to part with it in the end, given that my father had bought it for me.' It wasn't a lie, that had been the reason she hadn't sold it, the reason she'd practically begged the bank to let her hold onto it, dug in her heels and insisted she could afford both properties. But it was a lie by omission.

  The time they had spent there, their first night to­gether and the breathless nights and days that had followed, had been a huge factor in her desire to keep the place, the lingering memories devastating to keep but too precious to let go; though she certainly wasn't going to tell Ethan that, wasn't going to let his jumped-up ego inflate even a breath further.

  'For ages it just stood there, had more than a few stones thrown through the window, but eventually the area picked up, a few cafe's opened at first, followed by some up­market shops, and finally after all this time I now own a "gallery" to display my work in, which means the tourists assume I'm fabulously tal­ented, when in fact I've just been fabulously lucky.'

  'You are talented.' It was a statement, spoken in Ethan's usual clipped shorthand. No superfluous ad­jectives to dress it up, but the honesty behind his words, the mere fact he had said it, meant more to Mia than any review in the paper, any gushing appreciation of her work.

  'You don't work there, though?' He registered her frown and gave a rather too casual shrug. ‘I passed by it a few weeks ago and wandered in to have a look. I was greeted by a rather earnest young man with a beard that would have been more in place in biblical times—his sandals too. He said that he worked there and that the artist came in every now and then.'

  Mia nodded, absolutely refusing to jump to his thinly veiled taunts. 'I employ a few art students from the uni; they share the roster between them.

  'Cheap labour.'

  It was Mia's eyes narrowing now. 'We're not all just out to make money, Ethan. The reason I employ art students is because I'd rather have someone selling my work who actually understands the thought pro­cess behind it, and if they don't then at the very least they can, for the most part, accurately describe to clients the materials and methods used.'

  'Sorry.' He grinned most annoyingly at her out­burst, infuriating her even more.

  'And for your information I pay them full wages. Furthermore, they have an area to display their own work, so, not only are they learning about the busi­ness side of things, they also have a chance to make some money and to showcase their talent.'

  'Fantastic'

  Her fork paused midway to her mouth. She couldn't be positive, but she thought he was laughing at her, yet his eyes were earnest. He nodded at her to continue, and, after a moment's hesitation, Mia put down her fork and against her better judgment de­cided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  'It's hard for new artists to get a foot in the door. This way, not only do they have a chance to be spot­ted, but the tourists can pick up some beautiful, orig­inal, local pieces for a relatively cheap price. It's a win, win situation."

  'Talent and a social conscience too.'

  'You can have both,' Mia retorted, but she knew it was wasted, knew that in his infuriating way he had goaded her into this, that by pretending t o be inter­ested he had made a fool of her, had already won, that whatever she said now would just sound affected.

  'I'm going to bed.' Pushing her plate away, she flung down her napkin and stood up.

  'But you haven't finished your dinner.'

  'Dinner!' Mia gave an incredulous snort. 'You call that dinner?' She knew she was being childish, knew that there were absolutely no points to be scored here, but she was past caring. 'You, Ethan Carvelle, can't even boil an egg.'

  'They were scrambled.'

  'Can't scramble an egg, then!'

  'I have other talents!' Almost imperceptibly his lips twitched and Mia's eyes screwed closed, a furious blush scorching her cheeks. 'Still, if you look in the fridge I'm sure you'll find ajar of hollandaise sauce lurking there. A container too, perhaps. Maybe you could do a repair job on the eggs and take it down to your poor hungry students in the morning. Give them a teasing taste of the finer things in life to motivate them a touch more.'

  'You're insufferable,' Mia snarled. 'Impossible and insufferable. I'm going to bed.'

  'Second room on your left,' Ethan responded, com­pletely unmoved, but as she made to go he caught her wrist, turning her around to face him and the teasing, superior look had left his eyes now, replaced instead with his harsh black stare, his fingers searing into her flesh as held her wrist in a vice-like grip. 'We'll talk tomorrow.'

  'Fine.' She pulled at her arm but still he held her wrist.

  'This is my brother's baby?'

  She gave a frozen nod, then, as his free hand came up, as an unvoiced qu
estion darted in his eyes, she gave him reluctant permission to feel the child within her, closing her eyes as she felt his hot hand on her stomach, the baby swooping beneath his touch, and loneliness drowned her then.

  Missing at that moment all she could never have, a partner to be there for her, to guide her through this emotional time, to share in the milestones surely to come. And she felt a piercing sadness for the baby too, for all it would never now know.

  The full white moon was shining down on her, the stars in the sky that now included Richard, and she missed him, not just for his friendship and love, but for her baby's sake, for the father it would never now see.

  'Look after it, Mia.'

  ‘I will.'

  'I mean, look after yourself.'