Page 118 of The Billionaire's Demand

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘That’s your prerogative.’

She flinched. His coldness was worse than anything.

‘It didn’t mean anything,’ he continued in the same tone. ‘And if our baby hadn’t been conceived, we would never have seen one another again.’

Libby’s heart seemed to disconnect from her body. She stared at him in surprise. Surprise that he could say that so calmly, surprised at the version of the world he painted, surprised that the idea of not having Libby in his life didn’t bother him at all.

But then surprise faded to understanding. No one had loved her when she was young, and no one loved her now.

Libby’s throat felt thick with unshed tears. She’d been wrong. Not about her feelings, but about the likelihood of Raul returning them.

She had been about to confess something that would make their whole marriage untenable. Worse, it would have made him feel pity for her. He was already treating her with kid gloves, acting as though he needed to walk on eggshells around her. Admitting that she’d fallen in love with him would have made that a thousand times worse.

‘You’re probably right,’ she said, shivering, the words trembling a little as she accepted his responses for what they were. Rejection. Even without telling him she loved him, Raul was making his feelings clear.

Libby swallowed past a lump in her throat, tried to force herself to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

‘I’m going to be in the nursery.’ She spun away from him, almost spilling her coffee in the hasty manner of her departure. ‘See you later.’

Everything was perfect, she thought, turning slowly to admire the room, a hand on her stomach connecting her to the baby that all this effort had been for. From the brightly coloured walls to the sleek minimalist furnishings and happy, pale yellow bedlinen, the room was set up for its future occupant in a way that made Libby’s spirits lift. At least a little. It was solace. Somewhere to go to remember why she was doing this. To remind herself that things were okay. Everything would be fine.

She could live with this equation. She could live with one part of her life being great—their baby. In fact, it was more than just one part, she reminded herself with a degree of forced optimism. She had things she’d never known existed. She had the kind of financial stability that would allow her to pursue whatever dreams she chose. Our marriage can give you wings. She closed her eyes on a shuddery breath, memories of Raul, his promises, making her skin tingle.

Libby had always been determined to see the goodness in life. To give the darkness perspective and make it tolerable. But suddenly she wasn’t sure it would be enough.

The idea of living with Raul, of loving him and getting only a limited part of him in return—those parts he was amenable to sharing—made her chest feel as though a whole ton of cement had been dropped onto it. She didn’t just want parts of him; she wanted all of him.

She wanted him. The real him, flaws, vulnerabilities, everything.

He had to know that, she realised, eyes widening.

For all that Libby’s childhood had shaped her, his had too. When was the last time someone had said they loved him and meant it? When was the last time someone had told him he could be broken and imperfect and it wouldn’t matter because they accepted him for who he was? She spun quickly, legs carrying her from the nursery before she could question her decision. And even if she were to question it, nothing would change, because she was right. She knew she was right.

No matter how he reacted, no matter what he said he felt, he needed to hear this.

He was still standing at the kitchen bench when she returned, coffee refreshed, newspaper on the tablet lit up. Her heart thumped against her ribs. She loved him. Suddenly the idea of not being able to tell him was anathema to Libby. Come what may, she had to do this.

‘I wasn’t finished,’ she said breathily, coming to stand right beside him, taking comfort and strength from his nearness.

He placed his coffee down on the bench, tilted his face towards hers. There was resignation in his eyes and defensiveness in the tight set of his features. Libby ignored both.

‘I know neither of us planned this. I’m not an idiot. Look at who we are, our lives, the way we live—our paths would never normally have crossed. In what world would someone like you even look at someone like me?’ she said, missing the way his eyes narrowed and his lips parted, as though he was about to say something. ‘Sleeping together wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t a mistake. And even without this baby, I think we both would have wanted to see one another again.’

His eyes were shuttered, totally inaccessible.

‘Did you think of me, after that night?’ she pushed, her breath held, her stomach trembling with fear.

Raul’s throat shifted. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Did you think of me?’ she persisted.

‘I think of lots of things, people, all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.’

Libby’s smile was sad. ‘That’s your refrain for everything,’ she murmured. ‘You think you can cling to the idea that nothing matters and you’ll be safe from getting hurt again. But I don’t care how many times you say that, it’s not true. Not with me.’

He flinched but Libby was on a roll.

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