One Night In…. Оливия Гейтс
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introduce her to my brother and between them they could happily make a mockery out of both of us in two countries at the same time!’
‘None of which explains what you did with your ex-lover,’ he grated.
Her stomach was still churning and her heart was beating much too fast. ‘I drank coffee with him, then I walked away. End of subject,’ she said and turned back to the bathroom.
‘It is the end of nothing.’ His roughened voice raked over her as he grabbed her shoulder to spin her back round again, his face hard like granite. ‘I want to know the truth!’ he bit out.
Dizzy and nauseous, maybe she was not going to need to do any test, Rachel thought shakily. ‘I’ve just given you the truth.’
‘And your coffee took four hours to consume?’
Rachel made herself look up at him. ‘Your negotiations for the photograph took just as long?’ she challenged him right back. ‘Or was your time spent on a certain kind of negotiation?’
He went white, stiffened and let go of her. ‘You will not sink me down to your level, Rachel.’
‘My level?’ She stared at him.
‘Your propensity to lie, then, without blinking an eye.’
Well, her eyes certainly blinked now and she took an unsteady step backwards. ‘I have never lied to you, Raffaelle,’ she breathed out unevenly. ‘No—think about that,’ she insisted when he parted his hard lips to speak. ‘We have a relationship built on lies, yes,’ she acknowledged. ‘But I have never lied to you!’
The way his top lip curled really shook her. This, the whole thing they had going between them, suddenly showed itself up for what it really was—a relationship built on sex and disrespect, which had never stood a chance of being anything more than the tacky way it felt to her right now.
‘Scoff at me all you want,’ she invited. ‘But while you’re doing it remember that three months ago you wanted my sister. This month you decided that you might as well have me. Next month you will probably put Francesca back into your bed. The way you are going through them, Raffaelle, there won’t be a woman left in Europe you will be able to look at without experiencing déjà-vu!’
Rachel spun away then, needing to head fast for the bathroom. But she didn’t make it that far. The room began to swim and she pushed a hand up to her head, swaying like a drunk on her spindly heels.
‘What—?’ she heard him rasp in a mad mix of concern and anger.
‘I don’t—f-feel well,’ she whispered, before everything started to blacken around the edges and his thick curses accompanied his strong arms which caught her as she started to sink to the ground.
Her own piece of déjà-vu followed, as she opened her eyes to find herself lying on the bed with him looming over her. The same look was there, the same closed expression.
A flickering clash of their eyes and she knew what he was thinking.
‘It might not be,’ she whispered across the hand she pressed against her lips.
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again—tight. Then he straightened up and she knew he was drawing himself in ready to deal with the worst.
‘I will call a doctor—’
The fatalist at work again, she recognised. ‘No,’ she shook out and, when he paused as he was turning away from her, Rachel heaved out a sigh and slowly sat up. ‘Y-you don’t need to call a doctor,’ she explained. ‘I h-have something …’ She waved a hand towards the bedside drawer.
Without saying a word, he walked over to the drawer and opened it. Long fingers withdrew the paper bag containing the only purchase she had made that afternoon.
Such a small purchase for something so important, Rachel thought bleakly as he withdrew what was inside the bag, then just stood looking down at it.
The mood was different now, still tense but thick and heavy. She looked at his profile and saw that the drawbridge had been brought down on his anger and what he was thinking.
‘When did you buy this?’
‘Today,’ she answered. ‘Th-this afternoon.’
‘I thought we agreed that you would not risk making intimate purchases like this,’ he said with super-controlled cool.
A strained little laugh left her throat. ‘There was no one I could trust enough to get them to do it for me and I … needed to know.’
‘Did you?’
The odd way he said that brought her head up. ‘Of course— don’t you want to know?’
He did not answer. There was something very peculiar about the way he was standing there, tense and grim.
‘If you’re concerned that I’ve given the paparazzi something else about us to feed on, then I was careful,’ she assured him. ‘In fact,’ she said, sliding her feet to the floor, ‘you wanted to know what I did with my afternoon. Well, wandering round the shops trying to fool any followers into leaving me alone before I dared to buy the test was it.’
He said nothing. Rachel wished she knew what was going on in his head. Hurt was beginning to prick at her nerve endings. Didn’t he think this situation was difficult enough without him standing there resembling a block of stone? Was he scared in case they discovered she was pregnant and that sense of honour he liked to believe he possessed would require him to marry her when he didn’t want to?
Standing up, she went to take the package from him. ‘I’ll go and find out if it’s—’
His fingers closed around it. ‘No,’ he said gruffly.
Rachel just stared at his hard profile.
‘We—need to talk first,’ he added.
‘Talk about what?’ she said curtly. ‘If I am pregnant we will deal with it like grown-ups. If I’m not pregnant, then I go home.’
‘What do you mean, we deal with it like grown-ups?’ At last he swung round to look at her. His face was pale and taut.
Rachel sighed. ‘If I am pregnant I’m not marrying you, Raffaelle,’ she informed him wearily.
‘Why not—?’
Why not—? If she dared to do it without risking setting her queasy stomach off again—Rachel would have laughed. ‘Because you don’t want to marry me?’ she threw at him. ‘Because I can take care of myself and a child! And because I refuse to tie myself to a man who just loves to believe the worst of me!’ She heaved in a breath. ‘Do you want more—?’
‘Yes,’ he gritted.
She blinked, not expecting that response.
‘Okay.’ She folded her arms across her shaking body and looked at him coldly. ‘You don’t trust me. You think I am a liar and a cheat. I give you perhaps a couple of months held in marital captivity before you start questioning if the baby could be some other man’s.’
‘I am not that twisted!’ he defended that last accusation.
She put in a shrug. ‘Trapped by a child on purpose, then.’
‘We’ve been through that. I don’t think that!’
‘You’ve got your old lover already lined up ready to take my place.’
‘Francesca was not lined up for anything other than to get that photograph,’ he sighed out.
‘Well, guess what?’ Rachel said. ‘I don’t believe you.’
Now that was a twist in the proceedings, she saw, as he stared at her down the length of his arrogant nose. She made a grab at the package.
This