the one who called. You tell me.’
‘Okay.’ She sucked in a breath tinged with frustration. Hadn’t they been through this? ‘The way I see it, this baby growing inside me is not my child. I thought that you would want to know about it. And I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, you might actually want the child once it is born.’
‘Because you don’t?’
He made it sound like an accusation. She didn’t want any baby. Not really. But that was none of his business. ‘This baby is yours. I thought—I hoped—that you’d want it.’
‘So you’re saying you’re prepared to have this baby and hand it over?’
‘Of course.’
‘As soon as it’s born?’
‘It would be difficult to do it any earlier.’ Across the table, a jaw clenched, tightening to rock and dark eyes glittered ominously, warning her this was no joking matter. But what did he expect? He was the one turning this meeting into an inquisition. ‘Of course that’s what I’m saying! That’s why I’m here. This child, this baby, has nothing to do with me. Not really.’
‘So you would hand over this child and walk away, and expect to have nothing to do with it ever again?’
‘Why would I want to when it’s not my child?’
He leaned forward. ‘You see, that’s what I’m having trouble understanding, Mrs Cameron. Why would you carry through with this pregnancy when it is not your child?’ Dark eyes caught menacingly in the downlights, gleaming dangerously as he leaned across the table towards her. ‘Unless there’s something you’re expecting in return?’
CHAPTER FOUR
ANGIE blinked, her heart racing, her mind scrambling to keep up. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
‘Oh, come on. You expect me to believe you’re making some kind of altruistic gesture out of the goodness of your heart and that you’ll hand this baby over and expect nothing in return? Nothing? Why don’t you just come clean? How much are you asking?’
She shook her head. He’d asked her yesterday over the phone what was in it for her, but she’d figured it was a knee-jerk reaction, born of shock. She’d never imagined he really believed it of her. ‘This has nothing to do with money.’
His expression darkened with disbelief, his eyes raking over her and making no attempt to disguise his scorn. ‘Come on, Mrs Cameron. You’re expecting me to believe you couldn’t do with a little extra cash?’
He was actually serious. Okay, so maybe she could do with some extra cash and it showed. But there was no need for him to sit there, looking so smugly imperious, like a Roman emperor ready to toss some scraps to a waiting pleb. She didn’t want his scraps. She didn’t want anything of his.
Ever again.
But some perverse part of her insisted she play his game. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should be asking for money if he was so very keen to force it on her. The clinic had promised to cover all her medical expenses, but Shayne had given her nothing in maintenance and her little nest egg wouldn’t last for ever now she’d lost her job. And that perverse little voice asked if it would be so very wrong to ask, given he seemed so keen to part with his money. ‘So what exactly are you offering?’
Nothing about him moved, save for his lips that turned into a half smile, and she tried to ignore the feeling that she’d just made some terrible mistake and wondered whether there was any chance she could make it right if she had.
‘Inconvenience money,’ he offered, watching her intently now, ‘given what you’re undertaking and given your own plans for a child have been delayed. Surely you must be anxious to try again.’ He was sure he had her now. Her point-blank denials had been frustrating him but they hadn’t lasted long until she’d been the one to ask what was on offer. It had been the crack he’d been waiting for. Nobody would do what she was doing for nothing, and with that lapse she’d proven it. He waited while she stared at the glass in her hand, waited while she weighed up his words, wondering if already she was counting the dollar signs; wondering if she even realised she was worrying that bottom lip of hers with her white teeth. The gesture spoke of an innocence he knew she couldn’t possibly possess. Yet still he found himself unable to look away.
And then she looked up and met his gaze. ‘Look, that’s actually very sweet of you, Mr Pirelli,’ she said, ‘but my next pregnancy is my business. And I’ve decided I can wait.’
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, not when he’d thought he had her, now when she’d been the one to ask what was on offer. He cursed himself for insisting on the recording device. It had to be what had made her so reluctant before and what was inhibiting her now. But he wasn’t about to give up yet. ‘What about your husband—what does he think?’
She looked anxiously around, and he wondered if she was looking for a waiter. But no, her water was still full so it couldn’t be that. ‘He … he’s happy for me to handle this.’
‘But surely he must be upset about this whole thing?’
She licked her lips, reaching for the glass. Not drinking, but just twirling the contents, as if searching for something to do and something else to focus on. ‘We’ve come to an agreement.’
‘What kind of agreement?’
Her glass stopped twirling. Her eyes snapped up. ‘The kind of agreement that’s between Shayne and me. The kind of agreement that doesn’t concern you.’
‘Doesn’t it, given right now you’re carrying my child?’
What did he want? Blood? She was sick of her motives being questioned when she was only here to offer him his baby. Had he never heard of the words thank you? ‘Look, Mr Pirelli, do you actually want this baby or not? Only there’s an adoption list a mile long.’
‘This baby will not be adopted!’
‘Fine. But you’re lucky there’s even going to be a baby, given what the clinic offered!’
Cold hard silence descended over the table. Like a blanket of fog, it chilled the atmosphere and set his face to stone.
‘What did the clinic offer?’
She cursed the impulse that had made her lash out at him, cursed the words that had issued from her mouth when she’d never had any intention of acting upon them. But maybe he needed to hear them. Maybe then he would appreciate what she was trying to do. She swallowed, her throat almost too tight to get out the words. ‘They suggested I have an abortion. Cover the whole thing up quietly. Without you ever knowing.’
Skin pulled tight over cheekbones, the cords of his throat stood out rigid and tight, a throbbing pulse at his temple, and she was suddenly back in her dream, the snarling dog closing in on her, its powerful shoulders bringing it ever closer until she could almost feel its hot angry breath against her face. Was this the man she’d imagined in her nightmare? Was this man the snarling danger in the dark?
‘I said no!’ she insisted, shaken by the return of the images in her nightmare. ‘Obviously, I said no.’
