Page 83 of The Billionaire's Demand

Libby’s heart stammered.

‘I want to be in their life every day, not just occasionally, and I presume you feel the same way.’

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.

‘Then the solution is obvious, and simple.’ His tone was bland but she saw the look in his eyes. It was a look of sheer disbelief. ‘We’ll get married.’

Libby almost passed out. Her heart skipped a thousand beats and her eyes flashed with white.

‘No.’ She lifted a hand to her lips, pressing it there.

Something precious she’d nurtured inside of herself since she was a girl was being strangled by his cold, pragmatic suggestion. The little girl who’d hidden in her room and read romantic fairy tales to escape the reality of her life, who’d promised herself that one day she’d make all her own fairy tales come true, had never given up on the idea of real, all-consuming love. Of finding the kind of man who was like a modern-day Prince Charming, who’d love her with all that he was, for all time. She’d hated the way her mother had gone through partners. It had made Libby all the more determined to believe in true love. In the idea of finding that one perfect person who was destined for her, and she’d been holding out for them all this time.

A cold marriage for the sake of a child, in the twenty-first century, was a death knell to all those hopes and dreams.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

‘Marriage is the last thing I want as well,’ he responded, and hurt lashed her. She turned away from him then, looking out of the window and finding no pleasure remained in the view.

‘We don’t even know each other.’

‘That’s less important than being married before the baby arrives.’ He spoke as though it were a foregone conclusion. ‘You will be supported in every way,’ he said, ignoring the fact she hadn’t accepted his proposal. ‘You will live in my home, have true financial stability and comfort. You will not have to work unless you want to—you can be a full-time mother, if that is your wish. This is not a jail sentence, but a gift of freedom. Our marriage can give you wings, can’t you see that?’

‘Marriage to a virtual stranger? Freedom?’ she repeated, incredulous, turning to face him then wishing she hadn’t when the sight of him made her central nervous system go into overdrive. Even now, feeling as she did, totally on edge and laced with panic, she was all too aware of him as a man, and that terrified her. ‘How can you say that?’

‘What will your life be like if you do not accept?’

‘I’ll manage,’ she promised defiantly.

‘And what about our child’s life?’ he pushed, moving closer, looking down at her with cool eyes, appraising her every gesture so she felt totally seen and vulnerable. ‘Do you really think you can offer them enough?’

Her lips parted; it was a low blow. ‘Of course.’ But was she so sure of that? Hadn’t it been the biggest problem she’d been trying to solve, since finding out she was pregnant? Her voice trembled. ‘I will love this child enough to give them anything.’

‘Evidently not,’ he said quietly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I am offering them everything—and you are choosing not to take it.’

Libby’s eyes widened.

‘This is not about you,’ he continued, and shame curdled in her belly. ‘I am not offering to marry you as a man offers for a woman. This is a sacrifice we would both be making, for the sake of our child. Is there any better reason to sacrifice, Libby?’

Did he have any idea how badly he was twisting the knife in her heart? Not because she felt anything for Raul, but because her longest-held dream was of being loved, really loved. On her loneliest nights, she’d consoled herself with visions of her future. Nothing special or glamorous—a very ordinary, happy life, in a nice simple cottage with a garden and an apple tree, a white timber fence with nasturtiums scrambling along it, sunlight dappling the thick, lush lawn, perfect for picnics, and most of all—love and laughter. Chubby little children whose hands would seek hers, and a husband who’d wrap his arms around her waist and draw her to him, their hearts in lockstep, always.

She expelled a soft sigh. It was a fantasy. A childish dream.

Maybe Raul was right... Maybe she needed to grow up and accept the reality of this. Fairy tales were for children; there were more important considerations here. In marrying Raul, Libby would be giving up on the idea of romantic love, of meeting her soulmate and losing her head to them. But there were other kinds of love that were just as important, and the love she already felt for her child, and knew they’d feel for her, was enough to start stitching her heart back together again. She could still know the contentment of a little hand in hers, of a toddler in her lap for reading time, of goodnight cuddles and kisses...all of the things she’d never had enough of.

Raul was right: marriage to him was a sacrifice, but she would make it, for the baby. But it would need to be the right kind of marriage, a partnership at least. If love wouldn’t be part of the picture, she had to know there would at least be teamwork. They were going to be parents together, after all.

‘Obviously, financially, you can offer us the world,’ she said, running her hand over her stomach, pausing when his eyes followed the gesture and flared. Her heart trembled and when she spoke, her voice was unsteady. ‘But I would need more, if I were to go along with this.’

His dark brows lifted, surprise showed in the depths of his grey eyes before he concealed it. ‘What are your conditions?’

It was like he’d been expecting it, she thought, then realised he probably had. Raul Ortega was used to negotiations, and this was no different. He wasn’t taking over a company now though, but her life, and she had to be just as pragmatic and sensible as he would be if their positions were reversed.

‘I would want everything in writing before we got married,’ she said, lips pulling to the side.

---