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Why does it matter? She is nothing to you.
And yet that night had meant something to him.
Her gaze flickered. ‘Yes,’ she said.
But she was lying. That wasnotwhy she’d stayed in his bed that night, no matter what she said.
Hewassomething, she’d said to him on the plane when he’d asked. In fact, he was the best night of my life.
She hadn’t been lying then.You trusted him, he’d responded. And she hadn’t denied it.
The toxic mess of anger and desire inside him swirled, another feeling winding through it: satisfaction.
‘So, why didn’t you say anything to me?’
She gave him a slightly defiant look. ‘Because I thought you might stop and I didn’t want you to.’
And he hadn’t stopped. Maybe he wouldn’t have even if he’d known who she was, because it had beenthatgood.
‘What about in the morning? You didn’t say anything then.’
‘I was going to. I thought you’d know me.’ Her eyes were so very dark, even in the sunlight. ‘But you said nothing and it was clear that you hadn’t realised it was me. I...didn’t know what you’d say if I told you and I was...afraid that it would affect my job. I thought you might dismiss me.’
A fair thing to be afraid of. What would he have done? Not that it mattered. She hadn’t told him and so he hadn’t realised.
How could you not know it was her?
Easily. He’d never thought of her that way, never looked at her that way. She was part of the wallpaper of his life. Mere background noise.
The sun was flickering, the glare making his head throb. He’d been wrong to think he could have this conversation and be completely in control, that none of this would touch him. He was emotionally unstable at the best of times and this was not the best of times.
Still, they were in it now. He had no choice but to keep going.
‘And when you found out you were pregnant?’ he asked. ‘Why didn’t you tell me then?’
All the colour in her face had vanished again and she looked down at the ground. Her jaw was tight, the tension in her posture becoming even more pronounced. ‘You didn’t want children. And I didn’t want to make things difficult for you. So I decided to handle it myself.’
That made a certain kind of sense. Her entire job was about making his life easier. And her having his child was the opposite of making his life easier.
No wonder she didn’t tell you.
Except all the reasoning in the world didn’t change the intensity of his fury. No, he’d never wanted children and he had good reasons for that, but to be cut out of the decision-making process entirely incensed him.
‘And how exactly were you going to “handle it” yourself?’ he said acidly. ‘Please explain to me how this miraculous handling was going to occur.’
She didn’t respond straightaway, her gaze firmly on the green grass at her feet. He could feel the distress pouring off her.
Then abruptly she lifted her head and said, ‘I’m not feeling very well. Excuse me, sir.’ And she went to walk past him.
But he’d put out a hand and grabbed her arm before he knew what he was doing, stopping her in her tracks.
She didn’t turn, staring fixedly ahead, and he could feel the fine tremor running through her. Her blouse was short-sleeved and he was conscious of the feel of her bare skin beneath his fingers. Warm. Soft. Silky.
But her face was the colour of ashes.
That’s it. Totally destroy your pregnant PA because you can’t control your anger. Another reason to hand this kingdom on to Philippe as quickly as possible.
Yes, it was true.
