by Zee Monodee
“Let me look at you.” Olivia grasped both of Jane’s hands. “You don’t show at all. You must be in the really early stages.”
“I’m twelve weeks along.”
Blue eyes snapped up to look into her dark ones. “That’s nearly three months.”
She kept the intense gaze on Jane, who squirmed under the scrutiny.
Olivia glanced at her son before bringing her attention to Jane again. “Why won’t you marry him?”
Jane hitched in a breath. How to answer her without letting the cat out of the bag?
“Jane, you really shouldn’t be standing like this in your condition.”
Michael, coming to the rescue. She sighed softly in relief. He walked over to her and clasped her elbow before escorting her to a comfy, leather-upholstered sofa after his mother had released her hands.
She was grateful for his intervention, and took the opportunity to look into his face, trying to catch a hint as to what he thought she should say.
His mum sat down across from her.
“Well, dear, why not? You two are having a baby.”
Goodness. She groaned inwardly. Michael got his tenacity from his mother; neither one of them let up when they wanted something.
She licked her lips. “I’m not sure what Michael has told you, but the truth is, we don’t really know each other so well.”
Olivia cocked her head to one side.
Jane couldn’t bear the scrutiny any longer, and she squirmed some more.
“Something wrong?” Michael clasped her hand.
“I’ve got a headache.” The lie flowed smoothly from her lips.
“You should take a nap. The doctor said you need to rest.”
“Is anything the matter?” Olivia sounded worried.
No, Jane wanted to scream before running off.
“Jane’s anaemic,” Michael replied.
Olivia frowned. “You really should look after yourself properly. I remember how I felt when I was expecting Mike.”
Jane nodded. “Umberto mentioned that.”
“Umberto?” Olivia gasped.
She heard Michael’s sharp intake of breath.
“Jane is his personal assistant, Mum.”
“Oh.”
Jane stood, but her head spun from the abrupt move. Michael braced his arm in her back and steadied her.
“I’ll take you up.” He already had one arm around her shoulders and was bending to scoop the other under her knees.
She was sure he would carry her, but she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him away gently, and quickly put one foot in front of the other. “I’ll be fine.”
He scowled. “I’m coming with you.”
There would be no brooking his tone, and she allowed him to lead her to the guest bedroom. They paused at the door.
“Jane, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d come here.”
“It’s okay. Go see her.”
He nodded and left her on the doorstep. With a weary sigh, she went into the room and fell in a heap on the bed. Closing her eyes, she wished she could close the lid on the past few days of her life in the process.
*
Michael went down the stairs to find his mother still seated in the lounge. She pinpointed her sharp eyes on him the minute he stepped in.
“She’s not a doormat, this one. Good for you.”
He blinked in surprise, and she laughed.
“You need a woman who can keep you on your toes, and seems like you found her.”
“How can you say that?”
“She ran there, yes, but she didn’t back down from me, either.”
She’s had practice with her own mother. “She’s … okay.”
“You can do better than that.”
“If you’re asking if I love her, I have no idea. She was serious when she said we barely know each other.”
He balled his hands into fists, arms growing tense. Trust his mother to bring on the Inquisition.
“No need to fly into a temper, Mike.” She paused. “So, she’s staying here?”
He nodded. “She didn’t want to, but the tabloids have laid siege upon her building.”
“So you’ve taken her in.”
He acquiesced.
Silence stretched between them. Finally, she broke it.
“You’ll be there for them both, won’t you?”
He looked up into her face. “Yes.”
“Good. I knew you’d do the right thing when the time came.”
He almost hitched in a breath. That’s what he’d wanted to hear all along, hadn’t he?
Yet, now, to have her say it didn’t bring any elation.
No. It made him feel heavy, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which was, in a way, true. Responsibility weighed more than a ton, and it wasn’t something one could shrug off easily.
“I’ll leave now, sweets.” Olivia stood.
He walked her to her car. Just before she got into the vehicle, she reached out and hugged him. “Congratulations, son. You’re about to become a father.”
He could only nod absently.
“Take care of Jane, and of the baby.”
“I will.”
He watched as she left, standing in his spot until the gate slid closed again after she’d pulled out on the street.
He didn’t have time to ponder her words as his phone rang. He threw a glance at the screen. Phillip.
“Hey, mate.” He almost sighed the greeting—in frustration or resignation, he knew not which.
“Already feeling run down? Gorblimey, Mike, you had to go and get your girl pregnant, too? Now where will I go when Claire throws another of her expecting-mum tantrums on me again?”
He groaned. “Phil, just bugger off, will you?”
“No, seriously, how’d you land in such a situation? And since when were you seeing her? You never mentioned you even had a missus.”
“Phil ...”
“Okay. Just answer one question.”
“Go ahead.”
“You want this?”
Michael thought for a long time.
“Yes.” He gulped. “I do.”
Phillip let out a string of curses on the other end. “At least one of us is willingly in this boat. Blimey, Mike. We’re both going to become fathers.”
Yes, he was about to become a ‘father.’
The notion remained with him long after he’d cut the call with Phil. Taking a peek at Jane in her room, he found her fast asleep. Closing the door behind him, he remained in the corridor, his face pressed against the wooden panel.
He was about to become a father.
Chapter Eleven
After two long days cooped up inside the house while Michael went to work, Jane was about to go off her trolley with all the free time. She’d called the twins, and they’d come over, bringing her a few of her personal effects from the flat. But they’d also brought their huge pink, glittery folder that held all the stuff for Marenka’s wedding preparations. Thank goodness her mother hadn’t joined the party, or she would’ve really thought of killing herself.
Saturday rolled in and found Michael going to the office yet again. He must’ve left a lot of work pending on the Qatar deal when he’d hopped on a plane home to come to her rescue.
Indeed, he had rescued her. Not a day passed without the tabloids speculating on the heiress’ ‘romance’ with her tycoon. God, they made it all sound like some mushy Mills&Boon love story. If only she really were the blissful heroine in the tale.
Far from it. She was harried, tired, and bloated. And, she wasn’t sleeping properly because a few paces away slept a terribly sexy man who could send her hormones to overdrive in a jiffy.
Lust engulfed her every time she looked at him. In the intimacy of his house, he was too human, too accessible. Too gorgeous. She’d never forget the sight that had greeted her on her first morning in the house.
She’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of milk, and from her vantage point
next to the fridge, she’d caught sight of Michael coming out of the pool, towelling himself dry. Suddenly thirsty not for milk but for the water running down his smooth, bronzed skin, she had gasped and flown up the stairs to fall into bed and hide her burning face in her pillow.
The memory still brought a flush to her cheeks.
She must have better things to do, though, like checking her voicemail inbox on her phone. She never picked up calls now, letting them go to voicemail.
One message startled her.
Hey, Princess. I’m home. Call me.
Jane smiled as elation started dancing in her heart. Only one man called her “Princess.” Sir Charles Carlton. One of her former stepfathers.
She called him right away.
“When did you get back?” she asked, breathless, as she let herself fall onto an overstuffed sofa in the lounge.
“And good day to you too, young lady.”
She laughed out loud. “Oh, Charles. You don’t know how good it is to hear from you.”
“What’s the matter?”
His tone had grown serious. Somehow, he always picked up on her moods—one of the reasons they were so close. That, and the fact he was the first man she’d really had as a father figure. Her mother had married him a year after David Smithers’s death. Jane had been three at the time.
She sighed. “Don’t you read the papers?”
“No time for them, really. Why? Should I?”
She shook her head. “What planet do you live on? You mean, you have no idea what the press has been rambling about for the past few days?”
“None. Was in Egypt till I came home this morning.”
Goodness, no. She’d need to explain the whole story. A heavy weight landed on her head.
“You okay, Princess?”
“I … I’m fine. Actually, I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
“What? How? And by whom?”
The heated and sharply stunned tone made her want to giggle.
“No need for you to go into outraged father mode.” She paused, and her spirits crashed from the strain. “Charles, can we meet? I really need to be with someone close.”
“Sure, darling. I’m coming over to your flat.”
“No, wait. I’m ...” How did you tell the man you considered as your father that you were living in a man’s place? “I’m not staying at home right now.”
“And where exactly are you?”
She gave him the address, making as if she hadn’t heard the other, real, questions in the words.
Jane paced the living room waiting for him to come. When she heard the beep of the sensor and camera at the main gate, she went to the security console in the hallway and commanded the panel to open.
A metallic-green, classy Audi A4 slid down the driveway to stop near the front porch. A tall, lean man emerged. His chestnut-coloured hair was speckled with silver, and she could swear his widow’s peak looked more pronounced now. A shadow of beard lingered on his sunken cheeks. She chuckled. Charles had perfected the art of stubble a long time ago. He looked thinner, she couldn’t help but think, and a wave of affection and love washed over her.
She threw herself in his arms as soon as she opened the door. “It’s so good to see you!”
He dropped a kiss on her hair. “You, too, Princess.” He pulled away. “Let me look at you.”
After a few seconds, he frowned. “You don’t look pregnant.”
“Yet.” She grimaced. She was already starting to put on weight, and on some occasions, even felt as if her waist was thicker.
“Come on in.” She took his hand and led him inside to the kitchen.
“You brewed tea.”
She laughed. “Just like you like it.”
She poured him a cup and grabbed a glass of milk for herself. He raised his eyebrows at the choice. “I’m off any caffeine.”
He took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes. “Princess, you make the best cup of tea.”
She smiled. “What did they find in Egypt this time? A new treasure in the tomb of Tutankhamen?”
Charles was an archaeologist who specialized in Ancient Egypt. He had tried to transmit to her his passion for the time, but she had never been able to feel more than passing interest in the subject.
“The locals thought they’d found something in the temple of Anubis, but it was a prank. Some say it was fraud, but that’s not my area of expertise.”
“So now you’re back on home soil.”
“Yes. Maybe for good. I’ve been offered tenure as the head of the Egyptology department at Holbrook College.”
Her eyes grew wide. “It would be so good to have you here permanently.”
“Especially under the circumstances, right?” He raised his eyebrows to punctuate the question.
Jane looked down, biting her lip. What did she tell him? Where did she start? The turmoil of her complicated situation roiled inside her, and she was at a point where the secrets were threatening to get the better of her.
If there was one person she could trust, it was Charles.
So she took a deep breath and told him the whole story.
He remained silent for a long time after she’d finished her tale.
“So …” He glanced around. “We’re in Michael’s house.”
She nodded.
He leaned back in the booth across from her at the breakfast nook table. “Princess, answer this question. What has you more unsettled? The whole tabloids/scandal/Michael situation, or that Michael isn’t the biological father of your baby but wants to be a figurehead father, so to speak?”
“Both.”
“Jane.” The word carried a warning inflection.
She threw her hands up. “Okay. It’s the fact that he wants to be the figurehead father. It’s not his child, you understand?”
Charles watched her for a long time, his piercing grey stare making her uneasy. “You weren’t mine, either.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she cocked her head in silent question.
He leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. “I still remember the first time I saw you. Your mother had arranged lunch at her house in Wimbledon, and your nanny brought you in. You wore a blue-and-white sailor dress. There were ribbons in your hair, but they were slipping down the locks, and you pulled one out when your mother and the nanny weren’t watching.”
Jane remained silent. She didn’t recall that episode.
“I tamped down a laugh at the relief I saw on your face when you pulled that ribbon out. You saw I had noticed, and you watched me with big eyes full of dread. I smiled at you, to let you know the secret was safe with me. And you smiled back.
“You won me that very minute. I wanted to marry your mother, Lord knows why, really, but in that instant, I knew I wanted you as my daughter, too. Too bad your grandma was adamant against adoption, but seeing as she controlled your trust fund, I had no choice.”
No, he couldn’t mean …
“What are you trying to say?” Her voice came out as a croak.
“You were another man’s child, Jane. But I wanted to be your father.” He paused. “Maybe this is how Michael feels, too. Only your baby isn’t born yet.”
Michael had said that very thing to her. If she’d had her baby and he’d wanted a place in the child’s life, no one would have found that strange. Why, then, couldn’t it apply to an unborn baby, as well?
***
Michael cursed at the sight of the car in the driveway. Who the hell was here? He didn’t know any green Audi A4 owner, and whoever had come in it was inside with Jane.
He heard their voices when he stepped into the house. Bloody hell, it was a man. And Jane was laughing. A carefree, joyous laugh he had never heard before.
The sounds came from the kitchen, and with quickened steps, he headed there. What he saw froze him in the doorway. Jane sat with an older man at the breakfast nook. They held hands across the table, and at one point, she reached out and brushed somethi
ng off the bloke’s cheek.
Who the hell was he? And what was he doing in Michael’s house? With Jane?
He cleared his throat, and they both turned to face him. Jane flushed when she saw him.
“Am I interrupting something?” He remained in a rigid stance in the doorway.
“You must be Jane’s young man.” The bloke spoke in a cool drawl.
Michael wanted to punch him in the face for his calm arrogance. He gave himself a mental shake, though. He couldn’t allow his temper to get the better of him, and certainly without knowing all the pieces of the puzzle and how they fit.
Jane and the man stood. He seemed very tall, but wasn’t exactly that big. His leanness made him appear towering.
“Michael, I—”
She stopped talking when he turned his eyes on her.
“Stop glaring at her like that, lad.”
She hurried to his side. “Michael, this is my stepfather, Charles Carlton.”
The tension drained out of him.
Her stepfather.
Not a lover.
He put his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Charles Carlton’s grip was firm, and Michael liked that. This was a man who knew his purpose and his views.
“Same here. You take good care of Jane.”
Or you’ll have my fist in your face. And worse. He heard and understood the unspoken words clearly. Inside, he smiled. At least one person had Jane’s well-being at heart.
He felt Carlton’s steady gaze on him, but didn’t look up to meet his eyes. He was under close scrutiny, and to do so would be to throw an unwarranted challenge.
Finally, Carlton looked away. Reaching out for Jane, he drew her in a hug. “Look after yourself, Princess.”
Princess?
“I will.” She smiled at her stepfather.
He turned to Michael. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other around.”
Michael nodded. “Most probably.”
Both he and Jane went back with Carlton to his car. Just before the man closed the door, he turned to Michael. “And congratulations for the baby.”
Jane stiffened next to him, but he had no time to ask her why. She shot to her room as soon as they made it back into the house.
