Chapter 29
‘Irish.’ The name drips from my tongue like molten lava.
The woman I’ve spent the past few weeks scouring the city for is standing in my office. The woman I’ve been pining for since she snuck out of my suite all those months ago.
And her name is apparently Zara Beckett.
Her bastard brothers have been trying to ruin me for over a year. First Dublin, then the Cannes deal. Fuck.
I drink her in silently. Her lustrous, glossy hair. Dark, soulful eyes. Plump pouty lips that have mapped out every inch of my body.
Now that I know who she is, I don’t want to like her.
I don’t want to want her.
But our eyes collide, and that familiar intense, unique chemistry crackles between us.
Instinctively, I take a step closer.
She takes one back, her hand palming her stomach protectively.
It takes me a minute to register, but fuck—she has a bump.
A baby bump.
My jaw swings open. I feel my eyes narrow as my pulse thunders through my temples like a war drum.
‘You’re pregnant p>
‘Ten out of ten for your observational skills.’ Her teeth gnaw at her lower lip. Her voice is cool, calm and collected, but I don’t miss the slight trembling of the hand still resting on her stomach.
Is that my baby she’s carrying?
The memory of my cum dripping between her legs is burned into my brain forever.
Or is it someone else’s baby in her stomach?
I’m nowhere near ready to be a father, but fuck—the thought of her carrying another man’s child churns my stomach—sets me fucking feral.
Her assistant’s eyes are darting between us like he’s watching a tennis match. ‘Leave us.’ I snap at him. He doesn’t even flinch, glancing at her for instruction.
‘It’s okay, Nico.’ She tears her eyes from mine and nods.
‘I’ll be right outside the door with Tate and Felstead p>
Tate. The bionic bodyguard. Of course. Now, it all makes sense.
Nico reaches out to touch her arm in a gesture that’s way too familiar for my liking. ‘Out,’ I snap again. I don’t have the patience for him.
He fires me the filthiest look, then struts out of my office like he owns the place. Asshole.
My eyes drop to her stomach again. It’s impossible to say how far along she is. I honestly can’t decide what’s worse—if it’s mine, or if it’s not mine.
Neither option is ideal. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara. I need a drink. And not water. A thousand different emotions battle for dominance in my body.
Our eyes meet again, and she stands silently, giving me a minute to process. I scrub a hand over my jawline. Finally, I find my tongue. ‘Is it mine?’ My voice is low and demanding.
I watch her throat bob as she swallows.
Her chin juts out defiantly. ‘No p>
Something sharp and painful stabs my sternum—it takes me a long beat to process the sensation—disappointment. Before I can utter another word, she announces defiantly, ‘It’s mine p>
Our eyes remain locked as we drink each other in. ‘Let me rephrase the question.’ I pace the thick plush carpet. ‘Am I the father of the baby growing in your stomach p>
Silence sprawls between us.
The air is thick with tension. Both the sexual kind—and the other kind. Pregnancy suits Irish. She’s utterly fucking stunning. But I can’t think about that right now. I need answers.
‘That’s irrelevant,’ she says finally, blowing out a breath. ‘I’m doing this myself.’ Her teeth clack together. Those deep dark eyes glint with steely determination.
I don’t know if I want to kiss her or kill her for putting us in this predicament. Although admittedly it was my idea to go bareback. But she was supposed to be on the pill. I saw the goddamn things in her suite.
For fuck’s sake.
I drag my fingers through my hair.
‘Answer the fucking question, Zara.’ It’s the first time I’ve used her name, her real name, and it feels oddly intimate as it rolls from my tongue.
‘Yes, Cole,’ she says finally, staring at me unwaveringly. ‘You are the father, but like I said, I’m doing this alone p>
The sweet relief that floods my blood is both shocking and oddly… empowering.
It’s mine.
No one else’s.
Mine.
And so is she.
Whether she knows it yet or not.
Because there’s no way she’s doing this alone.
No way in hell.
I take care of what is mine.
I’ve spent the last few weeks scouring the entire city for her. I was hours away from hiring the best goddamn private investigator in the country.
I wanted her before I knew she was carrying my child.
Now, it’s not even a want; it’s a deep, primal need overtaking all rationale.
Her focus falls to my mouth. She wets her lips. ‘Look, this is a shock for both of us. Let’s take a few days to process, and maybe we could meet again next week.’ She glances at the door.
There is no way I’m letting her walk out of it.
Not now that I’ve finally found her.
I’m not sure I fully believed in fate, but this is too much of a coincidence to be anything else.
‘Don’t even think about leaving, Irish.’ I prowl closer until there are only inches between us. The scent of her familiar citrus perfume crawls into my lungs. ‘I warned you before, if you keep walking away from me, one of these days, I will run after you—today is that day p>
Heat radiates from her body. Heat and desire. She could try to deny it, but it’s rolling off her in wild, undulating waves. Her body still wants mine as badly as mine wants hers. Baby or no baby.
‘Sit.’ I motion to the leather chairs on either side of my desk.
She eyes the seat tentatively, like she’s still contemplating making a run for it. She can try. But I don’t fancy her chances—even without the stilettos.
She hesitates for a minute before stalking towards the seat and sinking into it, dropping her handbag on the floor beside her. I ease into the chair opposite her, gripping the armrests to stop myself from reaching across the desk and yanking her into my lap. The urge to touch, to drag her into my arms and kiss those full, luscious lips is clawing at my insides like a wild beast.
I need to think.
I need to breathe.
It’s impossible to do either with the woman I’m obsessed with across from me, pregnant with my child.
My child.
I pick up the phone from my desk and dial reception. ‘Send in tea, cake, and a bottle of Macallan.’ I drop the phone back onto the receiver.
‘You always did have terrible taste in whiskey.’ She arches an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile forming on her lips.
‘You would say that, given you’re a Beckett.’ I pinch the bridge of my nose. How did I not see it? When I think back to the first time we met, she practically told me. The memory of her in the water beside me hits me like a ten tonne truck.
‘Water ruins whiskey p>
‘Know a lot about whiskey, do you p>
She laughed. ‘More than most p>
‘So you’re a fan of the hard stuff p>
‘Only when it’s hard, rich, and tastes exquisite p>
Between that and the bodyguard.
I can’t believe I missed it.
The city buzzes outside the floor to ceiling windows, contrasting this stillness in here. We continue to weigh each other up silently. Belle knocks, then enters carrying the tray of refreshments. She slides it onto the desk between us.
‘Do you need anything else?’ If she senses the tension crackling between us, she hides it well.
‘That’s all, thanks.’ I nod and wait until she leaves the room before reaching for the teapot, lifting the lid, and stirring. I pour, and put in the tiniest drop of milk, the way I watched her do it in the Dominican.
She arches a brow but says nothing. I pass her the tea. ‘Start talking,’ I say quietly.
Her spine straightens. Chin lifts. ‘About what p>
‘Tell me about my baby.’ I tear off my tie, toss it onto the desk, and undo my top button. I’d never admit it out loud, but Zara’s sheer proximity makes me physically hot under the collar.
‘My baby,’ she snaps.
I love how mama bear she’s gone. It’s sexy as hell. Despite the seriousness of the situation, my lips curl up into a small smile. ‘Fine—our baby. I want to know when you found out. Why you didn’t track me down. Why you thought you had to handle this alone.’ My eyes drop to her bump again.
I’m going to be a father.
The enormity of it crashes over me like a tsunami.
Colour flames her face. ‘We agreed no names or numbers p>
‘That was before I put a baby in your stomach p>
‘A baby which I didn’t know you’d be interested in.’ She takes a tentative sip of tea.
I pour myself a double whiskey. It’s barely two o’clock, but I need it. ‘Of course I’m interested. That baby is as much mine as it is yours,’ I bite out.
Her eyes flash. She crosses her arms—which only pushes her beautifully full breasts higher—and my sanity frays another inch. ‘This baby is a Beckett p>
‘It’s a Hartmann,’ I growl.
‘Better not let my brothers hear you say that,’ she fires back. ‘They’re already gunning for you after your Barcelona stunt. What do you think will happen if they find out you knocked up their little sister? There will be a full-on war p>
‘One I will win, or die fighting, because whether you like it or not, Zara, I’m going to be involved in our baby’s life. Unlike you—’ I take a deep drink, revelling in the burn ‘—I don’t walk away p>
She winces. ‘You know, this is a lot to take in p>
‘Damn right it is.’ I swirl the whiskey in my glass, unable to stop staring at the perfect swell of her stomach. She looks fucking phenomenal. ‘Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?’ My voice softens.
She swallows and shakes her head. ‘Not officially,’ she says quietly. ‘But I have a feeling it’s a boy p>
My heart swells in my chest. An image of my own father fills my head. What would he make of this mad twist of fate?
‘My big scan is in two weeks. I’ll find out then p>
‘We’ll find out then.’ My tone leaves no room for debate.
‘You’re not going to stay out of this, are you?’ Wariness swarms in her eyes.
‘How can I? If I had your baby in my stomach, would you stay out of it p>
She blows out a long breath. ‘How do you think this is going to play out? We can’t exactly share custody when you live in the States. It’s just not practical p>
I take another deep drink. ‘Who said anything about sharing custody p>
Her pupils darken, alarm inching into her features. ‘There’s no way you’re taking my baby away from me p>
‘I have no intention of taking our baby anywhere.’ I eye her steadily over the rim of my glass. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Zara. Not now. I’ll base myself here, work remotely as much as I can. I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone p>
‘I made my peace with being a single parent. This baby will want for nothing, trust me. You do not need to be involved p>
A growl rumbles at the back of my throat. ‘I want to be involved. Besides, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my family p>
‘We’re not your family.’ She glares at me as she takes another sip of tea. I watch her throat work, remembering how it bobbed as she took my cock deep into the back of her throat. Not helpful.
‘You are. And you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not—both of you.’ My eyes fall to her stomach again. ‘I’ve spent the last five months thinking about you, regretting the day I let you walk out of my life. One thing’s for sure, now that I’ve found you again, there’s no way in hell you’re walking away this time p>
Her lips pop open. ‘But we don’t even know each other in real life p>
‘Then let’s get to know each other.’ I shrug. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t feel the insane chemistry that’s still vibrating between us. Don’t pretend you don’t want me. Not when every cell of your body is begging you to give into this—to me p>
‘Cole,’ she warns breathily, placing the cup back on my desk.
Something primal snaps inside me. My name sounds so good on her lips. What I wouldn’t do to hear her scream it as she shatters on my cock. The air crackles with sexual energy. I want her so badly it fucking hurts. Her beautiful breasts are swollen and ripe. Every inch of her skin is glowing and begging to be devoured. She feels it. I know she does. The outline of her nipples pushes against the fabric clinging to her curves.
She’s just told me I’m about to be a father.
I must be in shock, because all I can think about is fucking her.
Taking her right here, right now, on my desk, and reclaiming her. ‘I want you, Zara. I want you, and I want this baby, and I always get what I want p>