Page 79 of The Billionaire's Demand

The only silver lining was that she felt marginally better now, having showered and changed into a singlet top and floaty skirt. She was well enough, finally, to contemplate a cup of tea. Moving to her kitchen, she flicked the kettle to life and stood, waiting for it to boil, eyes on the view beyond the kitchen window. At first glance, it was hardly inspiring. Just a brick wall to the neighbouring building. But it was the details that made Libby’s heart lighten. The bougainvillea that clung to the sides, bursting with green leaves and bright pink flowers, the graffiti someone had done a few months back, a picture of a puppy dog in a hot-air balloon, and the way one of the residents had artfully strung their laundry from their window to a back fence, surely in contravention of some building code or other, but from where Libby stood, the sight of the summery linen clothes drying on the line was like a still-life painting.

The kettle flicked off and she splashed boiling water into the cup, watching as the colour seeped from the bag and into the tea, stifling a yawn. She was always tired at the moment, though doing double shifts at work every day for the last week hardly helped matters.

Nonetheless, Libby was abundantly conscious of the ticking time bomb of her pregnancy. She needed to start saving—and fast—if she was going to be able to take off a few months when the baby came.

And then what?

Her mind began to spin so fast she felt giddy.

She needed to find a job she could do from home, that much was clear. Cleaning for the agency was off the cards. She could take in ironing—another skill she possessed in abundance—but the idea was anathema to Libby. While she could iron, she hated it, and knew she’d turn to that only as a last resort.

So what else was there?

She flicked a glance over her shoulder at the fridge, where the pamphlet for the local adult education campus was printed. She’d circled the bookkeeping diploma months ago, even before she’d met Raul and shared that one fateful afternoon with him, but the idea of undertaking night school and picking up that skill was both terrifying and somehow imperative.

Could she do it? Libby bit down on her lip, pressing a hand to her belly.

The truth was, she didn’t know. She’d never had the luxury of pushing herself academically. Her mother had wanted her to drop out of school in grade ten, so she could start ‘contributing’ to the household financially. Libby had held fast though. There weren’t many things she’d been willing to go into bat for, but graduating high school was one of them. It had been exhausting and stressful, and she knew deep down that she could have got much better grades if she’d been allowed to study at night, but she’d had to content herself with passing.

But now? What was stopping her from enrolling in a course? True, it would be exhausting, but at least she’d have a sense of accomplishment, and the prospect of being able to support her child.

She pulled the milk from the fridge and added a splash to her tea, but midway through returning the bottle there was a sharp knock on her door. Her heart started at the unexpected interruption and she glanced out of the kitchen window, but whoever it was had moved into the alcove, shielding them from sight.

Desperate for her tea, she took a quick sip, exclaiming a little when it scalded her tongue, then moved through the small apartment to the door, wrenching it inwards with a polite smile on her face...

Which immediately dropped at the sight of Raul Ortega on the other side.

Her lips parted and everything went wonky in her mind. Libby’s eyes seemed to fill with bright, radiant light.

‘Raul,’ she breathed out, gripping the door more tightly, needing it for strength and support. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered, blinking quickly. Was she imagining this?

‘You called,’ he responded, and Libby’s heartrate ratcheted up.

‘Oh...’ she mumbled, her tummy twisting painfully.

‘I presumed you needed something.’

Anxiety burst through her. He wasn’t supposed to be here! This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have face to face. Or at all, if she could help it. Except she’d known, almost as soon as she’d discovered her pregnancy, that she wouldn’t keep her child from his or her father, nor the father from her child. While Libby intended to be the primary caregiver, she would never stand in the way of the formation of such an important, foundational relationship.

So of course she had to tell him, and she had fully intended to, when the time was right. She just needed to build her courage up.

Except he was standing right in front of her, staring at her, lips pursed with a hint of impatience, and all the air whooshed right out of her lungs.

‘Raul,’ she said, as though it were a lifeline. As though by repeating his name everything might start to make sense.

But it didn’t.

Had he come to Sydney just because she’d called? Or had he already been here? Surely the latter. There was no way he would have flown to Australia on the back of a ten-second call that essentially amounted to a prank.

Was it possible they’d been in the same city for weeks, months, and not known that a new life was forming of their inadvertent creation?

Sweat began to bead on the top of Libby’s lip. She thought longingly of her tea.

‘Why did you call?’

It was so imperious, so demanding. Just like she’d known him to be, only then his commanding nature had all been focused on the delinquent boys who’d stolen his yacht.

‘I—’ She darted her tongue out, licked her lower lip. Libby had never felt more terrified in her life. Strange, when she’d been mentally gearing herself up for this conversation for over a week. As Raul’s eyes dropped to her mouth and chased her tongue, though, something began to fizz in her belly then spread to her bloodstream, filling her with a tangle of emotions she couldn’t fathom.

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