Page 95 of The Billionaire's Demand

She laughed. ‘Raul, we have no reason to think there are going to be any complications with my delivery. I’m young and healthy.’

‘Nonetheless, why take chances?’

‘Okay,’ she said softly. ‘We’ll do it your way.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, and Libby’s eyes lifted to his face at the unexpected expression of gratitude.

Was this how it would be between them? Discussion, agreement, compromise, gratitude? It wasn’t a happily-ever-after love match, but it still felt pretty heartwarming for someone like Libby, who’d never known the pleasure that could come from mutual respect.

She returned his smile, even as she kept a firm grip on her heart and mind. He was charming, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be charmed. ‘You’re welcome.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

RAUL KNEW SHE was pregnant. He believed her. He’d seen the sonogram image for himself. And yet, being here in the obstetrics clinic with a wand pressed to Libby’s stomach and a gloopy grey and white image on the screen, listening to the sound of their baby’s heartbeat in the air, Raul found it almost impossible to breathe. He stared at the screen—their baby—and was suddenly on the verge of a panic attack.

At least, he presumed it to be that—he’d never known this feeling before.

His vision filled with white and his lungs burned as though he’d run a marathon. And inside his mind he shouted every curse word he knew.

How the hell could he do this?

He couldn’t be a father. He couldn’t be a parent. What the hell did he know about raising someone? About taking care of another person? He’d made it his mission in life to care only for himself, to keep everyone else at a distance, and now he was looking at a tiny little life that would be his. His responsibility, his burden, his duty, his to care for and nurture and influence.

He swallowed, desperately needing moisture to return to his mouth and breath to reinflate his lungs.

‘Raul?’ Libby was looking up at him, her face showing concern. ‘Are you okay?’

He tried to smile but suspected it was more of a grimace. Libby blinked, but not before he’d seen the hurt in her eyes.

He was messing everything up. He reached down and squeezed her hand, her need for reassurance in that moment trumping everything else. She didn’t look up at him; her attention was focused on the screen.

He was ruining everything. God, he needed to pull himself together.

‘Well?’ He spoke more curtly than he’d intended. ‘Is the baby healthy?’

The doctor’s smile was practised. ‘Everything here looks fine,’ he assured them. ‘I can see arms, legs, a heart.’ He pulled the wand away from Libby’s stomach. ‘We’ll do another scan in a few weeks.’

‘Why?’ Raul asked swiftly. ‘Do you suspect something’s wrong?’

‘No,’ the obstetrician said, running a hand through his hair. ‘It’s standard procedure, to investigate the organs. Today, we’ll take some bloods, run a few more tests, but I haven’t seen anything that concerns me.’

The obstetrician handed Libby a paper towel, which she used to wipe her belly, then she gingerly replaced her shirt. Raul’s eyes clung to her stomach, the soft roundedness there hinting at what was to come, and something stole over him, a tingling sensation in the pit of his gut that ran like waves through his whole body.

Almost as soon as she’d told him about the baby he’d felt a primal rush of connection, a need to protect and provide for, and he felt that again now. This was his baby. Libby was to be his wife. Only he had no idea how to be a husband or a father. He had no idea how to be anything to anyone. He hated the thought of being relied on, even as he knew it had to be this way. But inside, Raul felt as though he was drowning; he wanted, for the first time in his life, to run as far away as he could from a challenge.

Libby desperately didn’t want to take it personally, but the hour spent in the obstetrician’s office had been one of the most emotionally complex of her life. On the one hand, there was the rush of hearing their baby’s heartbeat, of seeing the little person on screen once more, of being reassured by the obstetrician that everything was developing as it should be. These things made Libby’s heart warm and her soul glow. But then there was Raul, who’d spent the entire appointment looking as though he was being dragged through the very fires of hell, who’d made it obvious at every point that he didn’t want to be there.

So why had he even come?

They left the health clinic with her nervous system rioting. She took several deep breaths, told herself to calm down, that it didn’t matter what Raul felt or thought, that they were having an unplanned baby and naturally it was a complicated thing for each of them to navigate. But at the same time, she was angry. Angry in a way that fired the blood in her veins and made her temperature soar, angry in a way that put pink in her cheeks and caused her hands to tremble, so when they reached his car he asked, ‘Are you okay?’

Libby shot him a look, contemplated answering honestly, but instead responded with, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

He frowned, unconvinced, but didn’t say anything else. They rode back to his apartment in silence, with Libby looking out of the window, waiting for a sense of calm that didn’t come.

He spoke once they entered the lift. ‘Libby.’

She didn’t look at him.

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