Chapter 32
I ask Tate and Felstead to take me straight home instead of back to the office. Nico is vibrating with the need for answers from the back of the SUV, but he’ll have to wait. Felstead cannot know about this. So instead, we sit in stilted silence in bumper-to-bumper Dublin city traffic.
‘Can I see the photos?’ Nico asks, stretching his hand to the front to reach for the iPad.
Oh fuck.
I squeeze my eyelids shut tightly. I was so distracted with Cole, I forgot to take a single picture. He’s only been back in my life an hour and he’s wreaking chaos—on my brain, on my body and on my plans for raising this baby.
‘I’ll show you them in the apartment,’ I lie.
‘Shouldn’t we go back to the office? Savannah Kingsley’s samples are in. I could pop over to her place with them once you’ve given me the lowdown on… C—the casino.’ Nico recovers quickly.
‘No, let one of the others go.’ I employ a team of eight other designers. Any one of them can deal with that. I need Nico in his therapist role this afternoon. I pull my phone from my bag and text Livvie.
SOS. My place. Bring carbs. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
Three tiny dots appear.
You’re in luck. My case just got thrown out of court. Be there in twenty minutes.
Finally, we reach my apartment building. Tate opens the SUV door for me, leaving Felstead to park in the underground garage. Nico and I move through the revolving doors, with Tate scanning the lobby like Jack O’Connor himself might jump out. This is beyond ridiculous now.
The daytime concierge spots us and straightens immediately, a wide smile stretching his face. ‘Afternoon, Ms Beckett p>
No one has asked me about my bump. No one would dare. Thankfully, the media haven’t got hold of it. Or if they have, my family paid a hefty sum to squash the story. But it’s the elephant in the room everywhere I go—who knocked up Zara Beckett?
Though, if Cole gets his way, I’m pretty sure he’ll make sure no one is left in any doubt of who my baby daddy is. Him and his mad notions of us being a family.
I mean, I’m not entirely averse to the idea. The attraction between us was as powerful as it was in Punta Cana. And with him adamant about sticking around, there’s no reason not to give him a chance.
The only problem is it will cost me my actual family in the process.
‘Good afternoon,’ I murmur, forcing a faint smile, though I’m not sure if it is. My brain is still a scrambled mess.
My baby daddy is one of America’s most successful billionaires—and Becketts’ number one enemy—after the O’Connors, of course.
How am I ever going to tell them the truth?
Why does my life suddenly feel like a soap opera? A bad one at that.
We cross the marble to the private lifts. Tate positions himself slightly behind me as the lift pings, and the doors slide open.
Rian and Rebekka step out, fingers entwined, cheeks flushed, and a guilty expression on both of their faces. I’d bet my life these two snuck home for a quick shag during work hours.
Rebekka sold her company to Rian last year in order to stop her first husband from getting his grubby hands on it. When it came time to sell it back, Rebekka asked if Remington Publishing could remain under Beckett Enterprises, and now they run it together, along with Rian’s exclusive chain of nightclubs and bars.
‘Zara, how are you feeling?’ Rian immediately rushes out to greet me with a kiss on each cheek before inspecting me from head to toe. ‘How’s my little niece or nephew doing in there?’ His dark eyes drift to my bump.
A pang of guilt rips through me.
If he knew who the baby’s father was, would he still care? Would any of my brothers?
Of all the baby-daddies in the world.
I don’t believe in fate. I believe in hard work, in striving and fighting for everything I dream of achieving. But even I have to wonder if California—Cole—was onto something. It’s too much of a coincidence.
‘Good, thanks,’ I choke out through my guilt.
I’m going to have to come clean—but not until I’ve got my own head around things. And had a serious conversation with Cole tomorrow night about how much involvement he wants in our baby’s life. I have a sinking suspicion if he gets his way, it’ll be a lot. And there’s no court in this country that will stop a man like him having access to his child, and neither would I. It’s not what I planned, but there’s no doubt my baby will have much more opportunities with Cole as his father.
‘You’re kind of pale.’ Concern creases Rian’s face as he leans in closer.
‘Just tired.’ I force the brightest smile I can muster. ‘I’m heading up for a nap. Nico is coming up to make something to eat and to answer a few important emails. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ I pat my brother’s arm, and hug Rebekka before stepping into the lift.
Nico nods at Rian and Rebekka.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Rian calls over his shoulder, taking Rebekka’s hand again. Their fingers seamlessly entwine like they were made for each other.
A pang of longing strokes my chest as I imagine Cole holding my hand like that. Pregnancy hormones are making me crazy. I keep forgetting that I don’t have time for a relationship. Mind you, I didn’t think I had time for a baby, but I’m damn well sure I’m going to make time. My baby will be so loved. I might have to rock him in my arms at my office, and rely on his godfather to feed me, while I feed the baby, but we’ll work it. Scarlett recommended a couple of nannies. I want to do as much of it as I can manage myself to bond with the baby, but I’m under no illusion—I will need help.
When we reach my apartment door, Tate goes in first, scanning it, hand holstering his gun like there’s a bomb waiting to go off somewhere.
This is getting old now.
The only bomb that will be detonating is when I have to tell my brothers I slept with Cole Hartmann—and given the chemistry crackling between us this afternoon—I can’t promise I won’t do it again.
I meet Nico’s eyes. ‘You okay?’ He whispers.
‘Nowhere near,’ I admit. All the emotion from this afternoon rises like a tidal wave in my chest—shock—fear—hope—confusion. Stupid, pent-up tears spring to my eyes, leaking like a burst pipe. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ I sniff. ‘When did I become such a crier p>
Nico swipes my tears away with his thumb, his lips curving up in a small smile. ‘Around the same time Cole Hartmann wrecked your vagina with his giant penis, I assume. So much for him compensating for something with the building p>
I laugh, despite myself. ‘Yep, the man has a giant dick, a giant chain of hotels, and he’s also a giant fucking red flag—yet I still fancy the fucking pants off him p>
‘There are worse things that could happen than fancying the father of your child.’ Nico shrugs. ‘You could be married to him and not fancy him at all p>
‘Marriage?’ I splutter. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Although Cole’s comment about “for the rest of our lives” is still fresh in my mind. He didn’t mean it. Did he?
‘All clear.’ Tate returns to the hallway. ‘I’ll wait outside the door, give you two a bit of privacy p>
I’m not stupid. This is Tate’s way of extracting himself from all the sordid details—again. We’re back to plausible deniability.
Nico boils the kettle. ‘How often does your housekeeper come by p>
‘Four times a week.’ I open the cupboards, scouring for something to take the edge off until Livvie arrives. I deliberately don’t keep treats in the house because I’m a fiend for them, but today, needs must.
‘You might want to up that when the baby comes.’ The kettle hisses to boiling point, and Nico grabs two mugs.
‘I thought the same. It’s bad enough having bodyguards and nannies and siblings all traipsing through my home day and night. Will I ever get any alone time again?’ I accept the mug he hands me.
‘Did you ever get any alone time in your life?’ he teases.
‘Once or twice.’ I rub my palm over my bump. ‘And look how that ended up p>
‘Well, they’re probably right to keep you on a tight leash.’ He winks. ‘Also, just saying… you’re twice as fertile immediately after you give birth, so unless you want another one of Hartmann’s babies, you better make sure he keeps it in his pants p>
‘Don’t joke, Nico, please. It’s been one hell of an afternoon.’ I cradle my cup, blowing on it.
‘I’m not joking, Z p>
Livvie chooses this moment to stroll in. ‘Tell. Me. Everything p>
I open my mouth to speak, but I have no idea where to start. I turn to Nico.
He steps forward as I accept the several bars of Cadbury’s Livvie shoves my way. ‘So we went to meet Cole Hartmann today, you know Beckett Deluxe Design is designing his new casino and hotel p>
‘Yes, the one that your brothers know nothing about yet and are liable to lose their shit over?’ Livvie turns to me for confirmation.
‘The very one.’ I’m already ripping open the chocolate, shoving square after square in, moaning as it melts on my tongue.
Livvie’s blue eyes widen as she watches me stuff my face. ‘Jesus, was he that awful p>
‘Awful?’ Nico cries, fanning himself. ‘He was sex in a suit. A very powerful—I’ve got a giant cock and I know exactly what to do with it type of suit. He was fucking gorgeous—slightly intimidating, but I held my own.’ He puffs out his chest like a pigeon.
‘It was California.’ I cut to the chase, blurting between mouthfuls.
Livvie’s jaw almost hits the floor. ‘Fuck. Off p>
My two best friends spend the next three hours drinking a bottle of wine each, ordering takeout and interrogating me about every word Cole and I exchanged. By the time they’ve dissected it, then analysed it like they’re a couple of qualified psychiatrists, I am exhausted.
Yet when they finally leave, and my head hits the pillow, sleep refuses to come. A million memories flood through my brain as I struggle to process the enormity of what happened today.
If I thought my brothers would go mad about me taking the Hartmann contract, how are they going to feel about him fathering their nephew?
And never mind them, after weeks of readying myself to do this alone, I need to prepare for the fact I’m going to have to share my baby—with a man who will never be welcome in my family’s home. A man, who no matter how much I’m supposed to dislike, even after months of being apart from, I still want to throw myself into his arms.
The following morning, Tate and Felstead escort me to the office. Parking is notoriously impossible to find anywhere in Dublin. I breathe a sigh of relief when Felstead spots a space on the street about twenty metres from my office. I grab my Prada bag, smooth down the ivory shift dress I picked out for today, and fluff my hair. I catch a flash of my reflection in the windows as I exit the vehicle. Despite my lack of sleep, my skin is still glowing. I swear, if I could bottle these pregnancy hormones, I could sell them for millions.
We stroll past a homeless man on the short walk to the office. There’s something familiar about him. It’s probably not the first time he’s shacked up on his tattered tartan blanket on this street. He has one arm crooked around a shabby-looking dog. In front of them sits a cardboard hand-written sign that says Help Me Feed My Fur Baby.
Naturally, my eyes well with tears, because I’m an emotional wreck these days. I stop, pluck out a hundred euro note from my bag and hand it to him. The top half of his face is covered with a tatty baseball cap, the bottom half by a rough beard, making it impossible to say if he’s handsome or not, or even determine his age, but his eyes light as he accepts the money. His rough hand clings to mine for a beat longer than is normal. My bodyguards bristle beside me. The man squeezes, then eventually lets go. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes fall to my swollen stomach. ‘That’s a blessing p>
I nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. Oh jeez, when will this stage pass?
As we get closer to the office building, we spot two black glossy vans outside the front door. Tate and Felstead turn to each other and exchange a frown. Both of them reach for their weapons as they form a protective wall in front of me. My heart lurches in my chest.
They’re not Beckett vehicles… they’re… as we step closer, I see two men struggling with enough orchids to fill Kew Gardens. The logo emblazoned on the side of the van is Flowers For Forever.
What the actual fuck?
‘Careful, it could be a ploy,’ Felstead warns, ushering me back.
‘Yeah, death by pollen count,’ I snort, pushing past him and striding into my office building. The entire reception area is covered with hundreds of stunning orchids—not any type of orchids though—white phalaenopsis orchids—the exact same I’d stopped to admire with Cole that evening on our way to dinner.
A blush creeps up my cheeks.
‘Looks like someone has an admirer,’ Felstead notes wryly.
Tate and I exchange a glance. ‘Plausible deniability,’ he mouths at me, and I smirk.
Nico is nestled amongst the flowers with three other members of my design team. ‘These flowers cost three hundred euro a stem.’ He waggles his eyebrows at me. ‘Someone has got it bad for you.’ He holds up a tiny white card. I take before he opens it, because my PA has zero boundaries when it comes to my private life.
Looking forward to getting reacquainted, Irish.
C x
My foolish heart flutters. It’s a battle not to beam.
‘Or someone just has more money than sense.’ I snatch a heart-shaped box of chocolates from Nico’s hands. ‘These too p>
Cole Hartmann certainly knows the way to my heart—or my pregnant stomach at least.
‘There are a hundred more boxes of these.’ Nico swipes the chocolates back and pops the lid. ‘I mean between the size of his hotel and his grand gestures, are you sure the man isn’t compensating for something p>
I pick a truffle from the centre of the box. ‘Trust me, that man has nothing to compensate for.’ I gesture with my two hands and watch as Nico’s eyes widen. ‘Now, let’s try and get some work done. We have a business to run p>
While my staff try to make some space in my building for the flowers, I make my way up to the second floor, to my private office, and pull my phone from my bag, pursing my lips together to prevent them from breaking out in a stupid grin.
The gesture was grand, but it’s not like he can’t afford it.
Yet still, the fact that he remembered which flowers I liked, has my lady parts wondering what else he remembers I like.