CHAPTER EIGHT
THATNIGHTWHENSidonie left the Moroccan restaurant she felt so weary she could have cried. It wasn’t helped by the state of agitation she’d been in all day after seeing Alexio. She’d kept expecting him to pop up out of nowhere again and she couldn’t forget how he’d looked so drawn. Intense. He hadn’t looked like the carefree playboy she remembered.
Still... She firmed her mouth. She’d done the right thing by sending him away. He had no right to come barging into her life again just because he wanted to solve the riddle of the mysterious uncashed cheque.
She would never forgive him for delving into her private life, seeking out her most painful memory and then throwing it in her face as an accusation. He hadn’t been remotely interested in listening to her protest her innocence because he’d been all too ready to believe she was just as guilty as her mother. Although Sidonie winced slightly when she thought of the misfortune of him hearing that phone call when he had.
As Sidonie approached Tante Josephine’s apartment she saw a familiar low-slung vehicle parked outside. Clearly out of place in this run-down area of Paris.
Her heart thumped erratically. The car was empty. Sidonie looked up and could see the first-floor apartment’s lights blazing. Tante Josephine was usually in bed by now. Sidonie had a horrific image of her beloved Jojo being confronted by a tall, dark, intimidating Alexio and stumbled in her haste to get in.
When she almost fell in the front door she saw an idyllic scene of domesticity. Her Tante Josephine was perched on the edge of a chair, holding a cup of tea, and Alexio was seated opposite her on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee.
Tante Josephine put down her cup and stood up, her small matronly bosom quivering with obvious excitement. Her cheeks were bright pink. Sidonie could have rolled her eyes in disgust. The Alexio charm offensive had struck again.
Her aunt took her hands as she came in and Sidonie shot an accusing look at Alexio, whose face was unreadable. But something in his eyes made her heart jump. It was dark. Hard. As it had been on that day.
‘Oh, Sidonie, your friend called by earlier. I told him he could wait here for you and we’ve been having the most pleasant chat.’
Alexio stood up then and made the small apartment laughably smaller. He looked pointedly at her belly and said, in perfect accentless French, ‘I believe congratulations are in order?’
Sidonie went cold.No. Her aunt couldn’t have... But she was notoriously indiscreet—especially with strangers...
Sidonie looked at her with horrified eyes but Tante Josephine, having the nous to suspect that something had just gone very wrong, fluttered nervously and said, ‘Well, it’s past my bedtime. I’ll leave you young people to catch up.’
And then she was gone, leaving Sidonie facing her nemesis. The air was thick with tension.
Sidonie lifted her chin and waited. It didn’t take long.
‘You’re pregnant?’
She tried not to be intimidated by the murderous look on Alexio’s face. She’d never allowed herself the indulgence of daydreaming about this scenario, but for a man who didn’t even wanta relationship, this was pretty close to what she might have imagined.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed starkly, reluctantly. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Alexio went pale under his olive skin. His voice sounded rough. ‘Whose is it?’
Sidonie gaped at him. She’d also never envisaged that he would doubt the baby was his. She started to speak but a flash of anger rendered her speechless again. Incensed, she stalked over to him and planted her hands on her hips, looked up into that remote hard-boned face.
‘Well,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘Ididhave a threesome shortly after you cast me out of your life like a piece of unwanted luggage, so it could be Tom, Dick or Harry’s baby. But we won’t know until it’s born and we can see who she orhelooks like.’ She was breathing hard.
Alexio just looked at her.
Growing even more incensed, Sidonie stabbed at his chest with her finger and tried to ignore how hard it felt.
‘It’s yours, you arrogant jerk,’ she hissed, mindful of Tante Josephine. ‘Cold-bloodedly seducing another billionaire hasn’t exactly been high on my priority list lately.’
Alexio looked down into that furious face and felt numb. He welcomed it. His solicitor had failed to mention the very poignant fact that Sidonie’s aunt had mild mental health issues.
And now...nowthe baby.Hisbaby. Ever since Tante Josephine had excitedly informed him that Sidonie was expecting a baby, Alexio had felt as if he’d swallowed nails.
At first he’d told himself it couldn’t possibly be his: they’d used protection every time. He’d been fanatical about it. Except for when they’d come home from the club and made love in the car, unable even to walk the few steps into the villa. That night was almost sixteen weeks ago now. Sixteen weeks of living in a blur. And now suddenly everything was in focus again.
Disgust at the memory of his lack of control that night had curdled his insides as Sidonie’s aunt had chattered on, blithely unaware of the bomb she’d dropped. And then Sidonie had come in, looking panicked. Guilty.
The knowledge that she was telling the truth sank into him like a stone, casting huge ripples outward. He wanted to walk out through the door and keep walking. The sum of all his fears was manifesting itself right now in this room. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to contemplate bringing a child into the world. Not after the childhood he’d endured.
A child had perhaps existed in his future life—far in the distant future—along with his perfect blonde wife. He had vowed long ago to make sure that no child of his would see the ugly reality of marriage, because any unionhewould have would be a union of respect and affection—not one punctuated by cold silences, bitter rows, possessive jealousy and violence.
