hurt her head. “Stop making excuses. It tells me a lot about the kind of person you are—that even in these circumstances you can abandon the baby you’ve carried for nine months… the baby you’ve just given birth to.”
What was the man’s problem? Hadn’t he listened to one word of what she’d been saying? She drew a shuddering breath. “Let’s get this straight. Regardless of the position in law, this is Keira’s baby, not mine.” Where was her sister? She’d landed Ella in this mess, now Keira had disappeared. She’d been here a few minutes ago, but now Ella couldn’t even hear her voice in the family room next door. The loneliness that seared her was as unexpected as it was alien. For once in her life, she could do with her younger sister’s moral support. But of course, that was too much to expect. “I never intended to have children.”
“Never?”
“That’s right. Never.” Under the bedcovers she clenched her hands into fists.
He shook his head and this time the look he gave her caused Ella to see red.
“And what about your precious brother?” It burst from her. “What about his part in this? He’s the baby’s biological father. Why don’t you harangue him about his responsibilities? Why pick on me?”
For the first time, his glance slid away. “This has nothing to do with my brother.”
Her anger soared at the double standard. “Of course not. He’s male. He gets to donate his seed and walk away scot-free from all responsibility. It’s the woman who carries the baby—and the blame, right?”
Yevgeny shot her a strangely savage look. “I’m not discussing this any further. I will absolve you from all blame and responsibility—I will adopt the baby.”
“She will become my responsibility,” continued Yevgeny, rather enjoying seeing cool, icy Ella looking uncharacteristically shaken. “And I do take care of my responsibilities.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Yevgeny’s pleasure grew. How satisfying to discover that the always eloquent Icicle Ella, like other mere mortals, could suffer from loss of words.
“You… you live in a penthouse. Y… you’re not married…” she finally stuttered out. “A baby ought to be adopted by a couple who will care for it.”
It was a great pity she couldn’t have remained speechless for a while longer.
“I can buy a house.” Yevgeny was determined to ignore the jab about a wife. “And the baby is not an it,” he rebuked gently.
Her brown eyes were wide, dazed. “What?”
“You said the baby should go to a couple who love it—she’s not an it.”
“Oh.” A flush crept along her cheeks. “Of course she isn’t. I’m sorry.”
It was the first time he’d ever heard Ella McLeod apologize… and admit she was in the wrong. Yevgeny refused to acknowledge even to himself that he was secretly impressed. Or that it made him feel a little bit guilty about enjoying her confusion.
He studied her. To be truthful her eyes were luminous. Gold-brown with a hint of smoke. Like smoky honey. And the flush gave her pale cheeks a peachy warmth he’d never noticed before. She looked almost pretty—in an ethereal, fragile way that did not normally appeal to him.
In the spirit of reconciliation he felt compelled to add, “And I will care for her.”
“A procession of big-bosomed careworkers is not what I had in mind.”
Reconciliation was clearly not what Ella had in mind. He suppressed a knowing smirk at how quickly the fragile act had lasted and gave in to the urge to provoke her. “You have something against motherly, homely women?”
The look she gave him would’ve frozen the devil at fifty feet. “I wouldn’t describe a Playboy centerfold model as homely.”
This time he allowed himself to smile—but without humor. “I will need some help with the baby… but you may rest assured the criteria for hiring her caregivers will not be physical attributes. I will make sure that the women I employ will be capable of providing her—” he glanced at the baby and realized he didn’t yet know her name “—with all the womanly affection the infant will require.”
“You will need a wife.”
Yevgeny forced a roar of laughter as Ella repeated the ridiculous suggestion. “The child will have far more than a young, struggling couple could ever give her—I don’t need a wife to provide it.”
“I’m not joking.” Ella pressed her lips together. “And I’m not talking about the possessions you can give her—I’m sure you could provide a diamond-encrusted teething ring. But she deserves to have two parents who love her unreservedly.”
His laughter ceased. “You’re living in a dream if you think that happens simply because a child has two parents.” His own mother was living proof of that. To ease the turmoil that memories of his mother always brought, Yevgeny stretched lazily, flexing his shoulders. He noticed how Ella looked away. “She will have to make do with me alone.”
That brought her eyes back to him. “Forget it. It’s not going to happen—I won’t let it.”
“It’s not only your decision. Fathers have rights, too.” He lifted his lips in a feral, not-very-amused grin. “I’m stepping into my brother’s shoes.”
“As you pointed out, I’m the mother. The legal birth mother.” Did she think he’d missed her point? Yevgeny wondered. “I get to make the decisions,” she was saying now. “I need only to consider the best interests of the child.”
The look on her face made it clear that his solution was not what she considered in “the best interests of the child.”
He froze as he absorbed what she was getting at. “How can that be true? This is the twenty-first century!”
“Quite correct. And a child is no longer a chattel of the head of the household.”
The eyes he’d been admiring only minutes earlier gleamed in a way that caused his hackles to rise.
“So I have the final say in who will adopt the baby,” she continued, “and it won’t be an arrogant, unmarried Russian millionaire!”
“Billionaire,” he corrected pointedly and watched her smolder even as his own anger bubbled.
“The amount of money you have doesn’t change a darn thing. She’s going to a couple—a family who wants her, who will love her. That’s what I intended when I agreed to be a surrogate for Keira, and that’s what I still want for her—I’ll make sure the adoption agency is aware of that requirement. You’re not married—and you’re not getting the baby. End of story.”
Her bright eyes glittered back at him with the frosty glare of newly minted gold.
A challenge had been issued. And he fully intended to meet it.
Ruthlessly suppressing his own hot rage, he murmured, “Well, then, it seems I’ll just have to get married.”
