by Maya Blake
Gael knew he’d been unable to hold back the bitterness ravaging him when her face clouded with something close to sympathy.
Goldie shook her head. ‘How do you...? I don’t understand.’
He gritted his teeth, tried to stem the words that seemed determined to spill. And failed. ‘You recall your little story about infidelity and alcoholism?’
‘Of course,’ she said.
‘The former has been the story of my life—what my building blocks are based on. I left Seville over ten years ago and thought I was free of it. Turns out I’m not.’
‘Your mother?’ she queried cautiously.
A vice tightened around his chest. ‘And Alejandro’s married father. Version two point zero.’
Anxiety darted across her face at his tone. Her fingers toyed with her water glass before she asked, ‘Does Alejandro know? Does his mother know?’
He laughed harshly. ‘Alejandro knows. He seems to have found a way to accept it, but I haven’t been so fortunate. As for his mother—yes, she knows. Most likely she enjoys the chaos associated with it. They all seem to thrive on it, in fact.’
Enlightenment whispered over her face. ‘That’s what you were talking about that night? What you meant when you referred to—?’
‘Toxic relationships? Sí, Goldie mia. When it comes to those types of relationships I am vastly knowledgeable.’
Her expressive eyes shadowed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Gael frowned, wondering why those two words sank deep inside him, attempted to soothe a place he’d believed was too mauled by past pain to be still alive. The sensation was so alien it robbed him of breath and speech.
Thankfully the butler arrived with their dessert course. Gael refused the sweet platter in favour of an espresso, hoping the caffeine would clear his head and put a stay on his runaway tongue.
Goldie’s cheesecake was set before her with a flourish that drew a small smile from her. He nodded his thanks when his drink was handed to him.
About to gulp down the hot beverage, he looked up, frowning, as Goldie turned green.
She bolted from the table before he could utter a single word. Gael rushed after her—only to hear the bathroom door slam shut before the sound of violent retching sounded from within.
His gut tightened in alarm. ‘Goldie?’
More retching, followed by a low, miserable moan. He knocked on the door, turned the handle. It was locked.
‘Open the door, Goldie.’
A grunt filled with discomfort, then a cough. ‘Um...no, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘You’re not fine. You’re vomiting.’
He absently wondered why that observation filled him with alarm, why the helplessness assailing him grew with each futile second.
A half-laugh sounded. ‘Yeah, I think I’m aware of that little fact—’ Speech ended and retching restarted.
He resisted the urge to ball his fist and pound the door open. ‘Dios, why did you lock the damned door?’
No answer. More vomiting.
He had to satisfy himself with waiting for her to finish emptying the contents of her stomach before she answered.
‘Because I didn’t want you to see me.’
‘Modesty is the last thing you should be concerned about if you’re sick. Can you open the door—por favor?’ He tried his most reasonable voice.
‘No. I... I’m feeling better. I’ll be out in a minute.’
Argumentative Goldie was back. Short of breaking down the door, Gael could only grit his teeth and resign himself to pacing the hallway until he heard the sound of the lavatory flushing and a running tap.
When she didn’t emerge for another five minutes his anxiety swelled higher. ‘Damn it. Open the door!’
‘Sir? Can I help with anything?’ The solicitous butler had appeared behind him.
Gael curbed the urge to demand the spare keys to the bathroom, accepting that perhaps he was overreacting. Goldie had mentioned having a stomach upset after some food two days ago. He could still hear movement and the occasional splash of water, so she hadn’t passed out—or worse.
‘No, we’re fine. If I need anything I’ll call.’
He waited until the butler had left, then returned to the bathroom door. ‘You have two minutes to come out, guapa. Then I’m coming in.’
‘Okay, fine.’
He hesitated for a second, then returned to the patio. He poured a glass of water and downed it, then poured one for her in case she needed it.
He knew less than a minute had passed, so he forced himself to the balustrade to stare unseeingly at the view. He was overreacting. Goldie being sick might disrupt the movie’s shoot, but it wasn’t something they couldn’t overcome.
But if it was more than a stomach bug...if she was falling ill with something else...
When his practised deep breathing barely calmed his flailing control, he cursed under his breath.
‘Gael?’
He whirled away from the view, his relief at seeing her standing there more welcome than he knew it should be. Her hair looked tumbled and a touch wild, as if she’d run her hand through it several times without a single care about the way she looked—which put her firmly in a unique category far from most of the women he’d dated.
Framed in the light spilling from the living room, she was a gorgeous sight, despite the paleness of her face. A sight he wanted to see more of. Much more, he realised. And accepted. Perhaps he’d been too hasty to consign them to being just temporary room-mates. The chemistry between them was beyond electric. It was unique enough to warrant further investigation. Exploration of the best, carnal kind.
Prising himself off the low wall, he walked towards her. Saw the mixture of horror and acute trepidation in her eyes. And froze.
‘Goldie! What’s wrong? Do I need to call a doctor?’ he demanded, his voice turning harsh with barely curbed concern.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘I... I think I know...’ She stopped and swallowed, then a charged little tremble shook her frame. ‘Gael, I think I’m pregnant.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE LIFE-CHANGING WORDS uttered out loud locked something deep into place inside her. Goldie had no explanation for it, but she knew she wouldn’t need a pregnancy testing kit or a blood test to confirm the truth burning in her heart.
She was pregnant.
From her single night in Gael Aguilar’s bed she’d fallen pregnant.
And he...he looked as if he’d been hit by a giant wrecking ball.
She turned around, stumbled back into the living room, sank down onto the sofa. Despite the juggernaut of emotions tumbling through her she heard him approach, take up residence in front of her. A glance upwards showed him with crossed arms, the skin around his mouth pinched tight as eyes turned dark and turbulent pierced her.
‘You’re pregnant.’
The words were devoid of emotion. But they demanded confirmation.
‘You don’t just think? You’re sure?’ he grated out in an icily controlled voice.
She licked dry lips, went over the dates she’d spent the last ten minutes in the bathroom desperately calculating. When they fell a good fourteen days short—again—she nodded.
‘I’m late. I’m never late. I just thought... God, I don’t know what I thought. I know it sounds naive, but I thought having sex and...and getting ready for this job may have disturbed my cycle.’ She met his gaze, saw the frigid disbelief there and closed her eyes. ‘Trust me, I know how that sounds. But with everything that’s happened these past few weeks...’ She stopped and stared at him. ‘Are you going to stand there glaring at me all night?’ Her voice shook, and, oh, how she hated herself for it.
‘What else is there to say? Except maybe congratulations?’
Her stomach threatened to roll again. She placed a soothing hand over it. ‘I don’t know about that. I haven’t taken it in yet.’
‘Haven’t you?’
His voice was a stiletto, cutting through the noise in her head.
She glanced up, and her heart dropped to her feet at the look on his face. ‘What are you implying, Gael? What exactly do you mean by congratulations? On the pregnancy or on something else?’
‘You need clarification?’
‘Yes!’ She surged to her feet, swayed, and sat down again. ‘Please don’t tell me you think I did this deliberately?’
Light, cold eyes stared unflinchingly back at her. ‘Perhaps not the failure of the condom, but I’m afraid the “naive” argument doesn’t fly. You’re an intelligent woman, Goldie. I don’t believe you ignored your hitherto regular cycle at all. You knew you were pregnant but chose not to say anything.’
‘Why would I do that? Why would I be so—?’
‘Calculating? I can think of a few reasons.’
Horror clenched her heart in a vice. ‘Enlighten me, then, please.’ Her hands began to tremble with the force of her chagrin and the shock that was rocking through her. She curled them into her lap and fought the prickle of tears that burned her eyes.
‘You’re already on the fast track to stardom—thanks to a few well-placed circumstances. But this pregnancy guarantees you the fastest possible route to achieve your aims.’
‘My aims?’ she whispered.
‘You want to be a successful actress, do you not?’
She shook her head in confusion. ‘Yes, of course I do—the same way you strive to be successful at what you do. I love what I do and I’m good at it. But I’ve also worked hard for it. There’s nothing wrong with that and I won’t apologise for it.’
‘Of course not. Just as there’s nothing wrong with the few hundred thousand starlets who want the same thing you do. Except you saw an opportunity for a fast track and you took it.’
‘An opportunity you told me I’d be a fool to refuse, if I remember... Oh, you’re still talking about the pregnancy? You think—’ She stopped, too horrified to put what she suspected he meant into words immediately.
He raised a mocking eyebrow, dared her to continue.
‘You think that just because you own a production company I deliberately kept this a secret, so I’d be set career-wise and security-wise for life?’
‘Sí. Exactly.’
She shook her head again, unable to fathom how he could read her so wrong. How could he be so twisted about her motives? Or complete lack thereof. Had his past circumstances really done such a damaging number on him that he truly believed that?
‘Gael, let me make one thing clear. I didn’t want to lose the opportunity you presented me with, once you yourself talked me into it. But, please believe me, I would never put my career before the welfare of an innocent child,’ she stated, her heart dredged with a hurt whose depths she couldn’t quite touch.
‘Sadly I have no proof of that besides the words falling from your mouth. Will have no proof of that until the child is born,’ he rasped icily.
‘How...? What did I do to make you think this of me? We barely know each other—’
‘I know enough.’
‘To condemn me like this?’ she rasped, feeling her voice, like everything inside her, threatening to go numb at the flaying condemnation she saw in his eyes.
‘On the way back from that dinner party in New York did you not plead with me? Tell me that you’d do anything to get the part?’
‘Anything within reason. Like an audition. Or a screen test. Even an initial interview to see if my credentials were what you needed. Something within my profession. Not...not this!’
His eyes followed the hand she slid low over her stomach, then his gaze rose to hers, icier, more soul-shredding than before.
‘This? The baby is a mere thing to you?’
‘Oh, please—why are you trying so hard to twist my every word?’ she cried, blinking back the further tears that threatened. ‘I didn’t trick you, or keep this baby a secret from you. I’ve only just worked it out myself. I’m not out to get my hands on your billions, or use the baby as leverage for my career. I haven’t even been able to absorb the news and you’re already labelling me a heartless gold-digger who would trade her unborn child for fame and fortune!’
‘You wouldn’t be the first,’ he drawled, the same way he had that day in New York.’
Pain, raw and bracing, ripped through her. ‘You know what? Go to hell, Gael. And stay there!’
This time when she stood her feet felt more inclined to support her.
He took one step forward.
She countered by taking several away from him.
He halted. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded, his voice quiet but grating.
‘Anywhere I don’t have to continue this ludicrous, demeaning conversation with you. I’m not one of the women you’ve dated in the past who came with a portfolio of agendas. Hell, we’re not even dating. So leave me alone.’
‘Goldie—’
‘No! If you have something else to say to me that doesn’t involve you shredding my character, talk to me in the morning. Otherwise I’ll thank you to stay away from me.’
He laughed. ‘Stay away from you? When you’re carrying my child? Believe me when I say that will not happen in a million years. We will talk in the morning, Goldie, whether you wish to hear what I have to say or not.’
‘Don’t count on it.’
‘Goldie—’
‘Goodnight. I’d say sleep well, but I hope you spend the rest of the night thinking about your unfounded accusations and stewing over them.’
Her words, his warning—everything rang in her ears long after she’d brushed her teeth and slipped between the covers.
The shocking reality that history had well and truly repeated itself for another Beckett was so visceral it brought tears to her eyes. Goldie herself was the product of a one-night stand, conceived when her mother had been part of a charity’s volunteer group in Ghana and had fallen for the charms of a local businessman. But, unlike the men who’d followed, her father had tried to make it work, even moving continents to be with her mother.
Sadly, her mother had been unwilling to settle for being a wife and mother in a picket-fenced house. Gloria had believed there were bigger and better things out there for her. Her reluctance to give their relationship a chance had eventually driven her father back to his homeland, leaving her mother to fall prey to dreams that had never been fulfilled and a lifetime of being taken advantage of by unscrupulous men.
Goldie had always known in her heart that the lessons she’d learnt via her mother’s experience wouldn’t lead her down the same path. But one night’s wrong decision had led her here. Only this time she was the one being called unscrupulous. Avaricious.
She hated the tears that welled up in her eyes. Hated Gael in that moment for making her feel lower than she already felt. Because what had they created together other than a child who would hate her, and possibly its father too, for bringing it into a world where there was no chance of its parents ever being together?
Goldie knew how lonely and frightening things could get. Already she feared for her child. In light of Gael’s revelations about how he felt about his family, how could she not?
Her hand slid over her stomach as weariness and inevitability washed over her in equal measures. She didn’t have all the answers for how she was going to deal with what was happening to her. Far from it. But Goldie knew without a doubt that she would fight to her very last breath to make sure her child didn’t suffer an ounce of preventable pain or rejection. Just as she knew that if that
involved battling with Gael Aguilar she would bring the same fervour to the task.
With that resolution burning bright in her chest, she closed her eyes and willed healing sleep.
Her sleep was relatively peaceful. But twice she got up in the night to throw up. Twice she heard Gael prowling through the suite. Clearly her curse had worked, but she couldn’t take any joy in that. She shut her mind to it, concentrated only on making it to the bathroom and back to bed both times.
It was almost as if now her mind had caught up with what was happening in her body her baby was determined to make its presence felt one way or another.
She fell asleep just before dawn, her hand on her stomach, her mind whirling with a million thoughts.
Less than an hour later she was up. Determined to stick to some sort of routine, she donned the aqua-coloured bikini she’d used since coming to Durban, and threw a light matching sarong over it. Slipping her feet into gaily coloured sandals, she settled a wide-brimmed hat on her head and drew back the sliding doors to step out onto the private patio fronting her bedroom. Steps led down to the beach and the dramatic shoreline.
Pausing to breathe in the fresh air, she let her gaze drift past the iconic red and white Umhlanga lighthouse to the gleaming waters of the Indian Ocean. Seagulls flew overhead in the early-morning sun, and Goldie blanked her mind as she struck out for the quarter-mile walk along the shoreline.
Pregnant. She was pregnant.
She would buy a pregnancy test to confirm it as soon as she could, but even without the visual proof with each pulse of the word in her brain her breath caught. She reached the end of her walk and stopped to face the ocean, her mind spinning.
How would a child fit into her world? Where would they live? How would they live? How would her mother feel about being a grandmother?
How did Gael feel about being a father?
That question stood out above all the myriad hurtling through her head. It was also a question whose answer she knew she’d discover soon.
Swallowing, she raised her face to the warming sun’s rays for a minute, before shedding the sarong, hat and sandals and walking into the sea.
