Expecting His Love-Child Page 8

  His child.

  The realisation was starting to hit home. She was carrying a baby—his baby—and the thought literally paralysed him, terrified him more than Millie or anyone could ever know. Yet somewhere deep within there was a flicker of excitement—a flare of want for the tiny life they had created.

  A strange defensiveness towards her.

  ‘Do you want me to speak with your mother?’ Levander offered. The sudden change in his manner obviously confused her, and he watched as Millie’s stunned eyes jerked to his. Though she shook her head, and gripped the phone tighter to her, he could tell she was considering it. ‘I will tell her that I am sorting things out.’

  ‘I don’t think speaking to you will help right now…’ Mille covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘But I don’t know what else to say. She’s really upsetting my brother. I just can’t calm her down.’

  ‘I will talk with her,’ he said, and even though he had no idea what he should say, he was ready to step in. But as he held out his hand Millie shook her head, closing her eyes as she swallowed her bitter medicine—the united front she’d so vehemently opposed just a few moments earlier was the only viable option for now at least.

  ‘Levander met me at the airport, Mum…’ She blew her hair skywards as her mother’s hysterics halted. ‘He’s dealing with the press. I promise you he’s taking care of it, and that things will all seem better tomorrow. I’m at his home, he’s standing next to me now…’ She was trying to sound positive—happy, even.

  But seeing the tears coursing down her cheeks as she spoke, as she tried to look out for her mother, made Levander feel like an utter heel.

  ‘Honestly, Mum—Levander’s not cross. He knows me better than to take what Janey said at face value. We’re going out tonight with his family. Yes…’ With her free hand she pushed his off her shoulder, gritting her teeth as she lied into the phone, her eyes blazing with loathing for Levander as she spoke. ‘Please don’t worry—tell Dad not to either—everything’s going to be fine.’

  Finally, when nothing she could say would appease her mother, when she could hear Austin’s mounting distress in the background, Millie gave in, handing the phone to Levander and dropping to the bed, hugging her knees and biting on her lip, wondering what reaction he would get.

  ‘Mrs Andrews, I am sorry we have to first speak in these circumstances. I understand that you must be distraught, but let me assure you that your daughter is okay…’

  He was so commanding, so perfectly polite and yet so effortlessly charming, that the tears, the panic that was engulfing her stilled. Millie jerked her head upwards as clearly Levander had the same effect on her mother. The buzz of anxious chatter spilling out of the phone hushed as Levander took control—but even as he said the right things, even as he soothed with his silken voice, still he unnerved her. Like a doctor walking in and giving a cancer diagnosis, his delivery was slick and effective, riddled with fact yet utterly devoid of compassion.

  ‘I met her myself at the airport, and I will tell you now what I told the press, so you get no more surprises—I have asked that your daughter be my wife. Tonight we are going out with my family to make things official.’ He handed the receiver back to her and Millie listened to her much calmer mother, twittering away, saying that Levander sounded nice, that it sounded as if he had things under control, was she sure she was really okay…?

  ‘Honestly, Mum, I’m fine.’

  Millie dropped the receiver into the cradle, and her voice was a monotone when next she spoke, her eyes dull when finally she managed to look at him. ‘Well, you got what you wanted—you got your united front.’

  ‘I always get what I want,’ Levander said ominously. ‘Always.’

  She could go.

  Sitting in semi-darkness, all phones turned off finally Levander could think. He had had to resort to calling hotel security and insisting someone be placed on his floor, to halt the endless banging on the door, telling them that under no circumstances, no matter how dire the emergency, was he to be disturbed.

  This was the emergency he must deal with.

  What the hell had he been thinking? Over and over he berated himself for even thinking of taking her out to dinner tonight—exposing her to the snake pit of his family and the chance of stumbling on the truth.

  He managed a glimmer of a smile as he envisioned her happy, lively voice attempting conversation, asking questions that, when you were with a Kolovsky, were completely out of bounds.

  They’d crush her.

  He had to somehow warn her without telling her—but how?

  How many times he’d headed to the bedroom door, braced himself to enter, to wake her from her much needed slumber and tell her what was on his mind, Levander didn’t know. A couple of times he had even got as far as opening the door, standing for a breathless second or two and watching her sleep—her tumble of curls sprawled across the pillow, the steady rise and fall of her chest, long eyelashes fanning her cheeks and the flicker of her eyelids that told him she was dreaming…

  How could he wake her to tell her his nightmare?

  And if he did, then what?

  How could Millie, how could anyone, fathom what he was feeling? And anyway, if he told her his truth—if he exposed his family secret—she could use it against him. Closing his eyes, Levander dragged in air, his mind racing faster—wincing at the prospect of the Kolovskys undertaking damage control. Like a flawed piece of silk, she’d be relegated as seconds, her name muddied and soiled till there was nothing of her left—anything was permissible if it meant preserving the family’s reputation.

  He stared at the passport sticking out of her handbag, sitting beside the suitcase half opened on the floor beside the bed. He figured at most it would take her five seconds to pack and walk out the door.

  And who could blame her?

  He couldn’t keep her a prisoner here. And no matter how loudly he might have insisted today that he would fight her all the way, a woman like Millie wouldn’t take long to regroup—in a day or two the wind would be back in those glorious sails and she’d be gone.

  They’d be gone.

  On the next flight to London, with all the ammunition she needed to fight her case. What court in what land would rule in his favour?

  Nina’s jeers were coming back to haunt him now…making him imagine the vile outcome if Millie ever had her day in court.

  It wasn’t the fear of losing money or reputation that had stopped him in his tracks with Nina—it was fear of the court’s inevitable decision that had chilled him to the bone.

  How could she not be the better parent?

  Closing the door behind him, Levander knew what he had to do.

  Stepping into his lounge, he pulled back the curtains and stared out at the wintry morning, at the heavy grey clouds that smothered the skies Millie had been in so recently—the skies that would surely claim her if somehow he didn’t get in first.

  She had to marry him.

  His breath whistled through his teeth as he let it out.

  He couldn’t let his guard down for a second—couldn’t let her even a tiny bit close till that ring was safely on her finger.

  Whether she wanted to or not, Millie had to marry him so he could protect them all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘MILLIE?’ Jumping at his rather brusque greeting, blinking as the bedroom door opened, Millie could only compare this awakening to her father coming in a decade earlier, when she’d stayed out too late and partied just a little harder than she’d promised her parents she would.

  ‘Am I grounded?’

  ‘What?’ Cruelly turning on the lights, he frowned down at her and placed a heavy glass of water on the bedside table. Despite not wanting to accept anything from him, the chink of ice against the glass, combined with a very dry mouth, had Millie reaching over and gulping thirstily as Levander continued. ‘It is time for you to get ready. I tried to let you sleep as long as possible, but our dinner reservation is for eight.’
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  ‘Oooh…’ Millie closed her eyes and leant back on the pillow. ‘How could I forget that little gem?’

  ‘You should start to get ready.’

  ‘Do we really have to go?’

  ‘We agreed on it.’

  ‘Actually, no, we didn’t.’ Sitting up, Millie wrapped the sheet around her, her woolly jet-lagged brain functioning a lot better after a decent sleep. ‘I was told there were a lot of things I ought to do, but I can’t actually remember agreeing to any of them. And for your information I don’t want to go—so I’m not.’

  There. With a little nod at the end, she said it and, closing her eyes, rested back on the pillow.

  ‘Are you always this selfish?’ She’d expected him to stalk out—had prepared herself for a rather loud slam of the door—but instead he stood over her. Not that she could see him—her eyes were still firmly closed—rather she could feel his brooding presence, hear the contempt in his voice as he stared down at her. ‘You really think I want to do this tonight? You really think I want to be out with my family, posing for happy-family shots after all that has happened?’

  ‘Then don’t,’ Millie attempted, only her voice wasn’t quite so brave. Peeking one eye open, she remained insistent.

  ‘We have to make things better.’

  ‘How?’ Millie demanded. ‘How could it possibly make things better? Frankly, from where I’m standing—or rather lying—going out tonight hand in hand, and pretending everything is okay between us, can only make things a whole lot worse.’

  ‘Ring your mother and tell her that, then.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘And then you can ring the restaurant and tell them to cancel the booking, and let our guests know when they arrive.’

  ‘They’re your family,’ Millie said, huffing onto her side—hating what they had become, refusing to be forced into a corner.

  But the sight of her back didn’t halt him. In fact it inflamed him. ‘And they are the very last people I want to dine with—who, despite what you read, I do not get on with.’

  ‘So why—?’

  ‘Why?’ His voice was incredulous. ‘You have the temerity to ask why? Do you ever stop to think of consequences, Millie? Do you ever think more than five minutes ahead in your life?’

  ‘Of course…’ she attempted.

  ‘You know…’ He shook his head in disbelief at her response, and with each passing word his accent was more pronounced. ‘My family think you trapped me—they try to tell me you knew what you were doing that night—’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I know that,’ he roared. ‘Despite what everyone says, I know that—because I think you’re too dizzy to even come up with it…because you just don’t think, do you? You meet a stranger, forget your pill…’

  ‘It takes two…’ Millie shivered.

  ‘One night, trajat’sya, of sex, and now we pay the price—now we do as countless other couples have done when their one night of lust comes back to haunt them.’

  ‘Haunt them!’ Millie gasped. ‘Levander. How could you say such a thing…?’

  ‘How could I not?’ Levander barked. ‘What did you think would happen here? Did you expect me to start crying? To take you in my arms and say this is the best news I could imagine?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Unwanted tears welled in her eyes. His choice of words was so appalling, she simply couldn’t help herself—the fact that he saw this baby like some dark ghost coming to haunt him was almost more than she could stand.

  ‘So what did you think, Millie? Come on—tell me—what-did-you-think-was-going-to-happen?’ Her threatened tears didn’t move him. ‘You don’t think when you walk out on me, when you don’t bother to tell me about our baby, of the consequences. Instead you open your mouth to your so-called friend. Well, unlike you, I do stop to think—I think of ten, fifteen years from now, when our child can read, when it stumbles on the filth that you spouted.’

  ‘It won’t be like that—’

  She didn’t get a chance to finish. Two strong hands were ripping at the sheet, pulling at it like a magician with a tablecloth—only instead of plates and cutlery left intact on the table it was a thoroughly shaken Millie left lying on the bed as Levander stood over her.

  ‘This is not about what you want and it is not about me. It is about our child.’ He didn’t point, he didn’t even look, but exposing her, letting her glimpse the full horror of a future without first making amends somehow made his words sink into her core. ‘That newspaper article will always be there, the slur getting bigger with each passing day unless we halt it right now. Tonight we can make it right—make sure that when our child is old enough to stumble on it, be horrified by it, he or she will find out that the next day it was all discounted. So get up, get dressed, and get smiling—tonight we do our best for our child’s future.’

  Which didn’t exactly give her much choice.

  Pale, shaking, and feeling utterly wretched, she climbed out of bed. Though he was loathsome, he was also right—and she could actually glimpse an exit from the impossible, unsalvageable situation Janey had dumped them in. She even managed a wry smile as she glanced down at her suitcase. Which reminded her of her next problem.

  ‘I know in theory it shouldn’t matter a jot…’ Jet-lagged, and as dizzy as if she’d drunk half a bottle of champagne, Millie raked a hand through very messy hair as she rummaged through the case. She was talking to herself more than him, delivering a swift pep talk and pulling funny little faces as she did so. ‘I should just be myself, and not care about the cameras or the fact I’m dining with the Kolovskys…’

  She pulled out the faithful red dress that had seen her through a couple of weddings, many first and last dates, and hopefully—if she didn’t put on another ounce between now and next Friday—would see her through the ‘meet the artist’ night. Millie groaned at the blob of dessert she’d meant to dry-clean to oblivion, and closed her eyes in hopelessness. Resting back on her heels to look up at Levander, she missed the glimmer of a smile that briefly dusted his lips.

  ‘Levander—what the hell am I going to wear?’

  She sighed in utter relief when he delivered his answer. ‘It is all taken care of.’

  It was.

  He must have had the entire Kolovsky range transported to his suite, and a hairdresser and a make-up artist were awaiting summons. Weary, utterly drained, and still stinging from his words, for now she played along with Levander’s spin doctors, hoping and praying that even if Janey’s words couldn’t be erased, somehow they might manage to dilute them.

  Choosing from such a dazzling selection of evening wear was a feat in itself, though. The stunning colours and heavy silks that were such a trademark of the Kolovsky line, though undoubtedly fabulous, were just a touch too vibrant for five feet three of drooping exhaustion. Even the basic black seemed just a touch too opulent. But there, amidst them, was the palest grey dress, its silk so thick it felt like wool, and as she slid it over her head for the first time Millie could see why people spent thousands to own a dress as fabulous as this. The cut of the fabric was to die for, tapering over her ribs, and there was soft ruching over her stomach which took away any attention from there and diverted it to her bust—the empress neck somehow giving Millie’s rapidly expanding cleavage absolute centre stage.

  With a cape draped around her she closed her eyes as the hairdresser transformed her strawberry-blonde curls into a thick glossy mass while the make-up artist, with as much skill with a brush as Millie herself possessed, accentuated her blue eyes with grey eyeshadow, lashings of mascara, and made her lips so full and sexy it was a shame she didn’t feel like smiling.

  ‘That’s better.’ Levander barely even glanced in her direction as he lifted his collar and fed in a tie. ‘We’d better get moving.’

  ‘Am I allowed to ask who’s going to be there?’

  ‘My father Ivan, his wife—my stepmother—Nina, and no doubt her ugly sisters and their hangers-on. And my half-sister An
nika will be there, too.’

  ‘The one I saw you with at the restaurant?’ Millie asked, and Levander nodded. ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Sweet.’ Levander shrugged, then cursed as his tie refused to knot. ‘Govno.’

  Watching him heading to the mirror, muttering under his breath and knotting his tie there, for the first time Millie actually registered that he was nervous.

  ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘That is enough for tonight. I have two half-brothers—twins, Aleksi and Iosef—but they are overseas. Aleksi is in London, working for the company.’

  ‘And the other twin?’ Millie asked, overwhelmed and wretched at the impossibility of them all.

  ‘Iosef is a doctor—a trauma specialist,’ Levander clipped. ‘He has been working in Russia for the last five years.’

  Which sounded rather more safe and normal—strange how the most esteemed profession could sound positively bland when you were a Kolovsky.

  Tie still nowhere near knotted, he glanced over to her. ‘Here.’ Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a ring—with no box or bow, and absolutely no ceremony. ‘You’d better put this on.’

  ‘Dig myself in deeper, you mean?’ Millie retorted.

  ‘Don’t play the innocent. I told your family and mine that tonight we will make things official—we can hardly do that without a ring.’

  Pushing the ring on the suitable finger, Millie gave it less than one glance and certainly not a second. She wouldn’t give him the bloody satisfaction. ‘Well, so long as you know I’m a firm believer in long engagements. I’m not going to be pushed into anything.’

  ‘And as long as you know that I’m not to be pushed out of anything either—then at least we’ll understand each other. You’d better help me with this. I can’t get it to sit right.’

  He was nervous, Millie thought again, fiddling with his tie knot. And so was she—and not only about tonight. Standing less than a few inches away from him, trying to sort out the mess he’d made of his tie, she could feel his body was rigid with tension. His eyes stared fixedly ahead, and he was so tall her face was at his chest—so close it was impossible not to breathe him in, not to notice the strong angle of his fresh-shaven jaw, the thick set of his neck, impossible not to think of the last time they’d been this close.