Page 44 of After-Party Consequences

Apart from ensuring his ‘people’ were on hand to help her with setting up her workspace—and dealing with the insane amount of paperwork necessary to hire the two brilliant seamstresses she had found—Cade had made no demands on her socially, as per their fake dating agreement. Nor had he insisted on spending any time with her in the evenings—after checking in on her when he arrived back from his office.

But as he put the mallet down on the chopping board, and she saw the two thick steaks lined up on the counter next to an enormous array of fresh salad ingredients, she realised her reprieve was over.

‘I wanted to catch you tonight before you hid out in the bedroom,’ he said.

‘Hid out? What is that supposed to mean?’ she protested. ‘I’ve been tired. It’s hard work setting up a business and being pregnant...’ she added, but before she could get up to full steam, he lifted his hand.

‘Let me rephrase. Before you crashed out in theguestroom.’

The emphasis onguestseemed significant, but she didn’t get the chance to question what he meant by the inference before he ploughed on, cutting her outrage off at the knees. ‘I’ve done some reading on what’s best to eat during pregnancy...’

He had?

She couldn’t quite hide her surprise. Or the press of something wrapping around her ribs. She’d been making the effort to eat regularly and often, as per the doctor’s orders, but she hadn’t had the time or inclination to cook for herself.

‘Apparently bland and packed with vitamins and protein is a good call—so I figured steak, a baked potato and a side salad would work.’

‘You’re going to cook a meal for me?’ It was a silly question, as he’d just said as much, but even so she felt the wall of emotion hit her unawares.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh,’ she said, blinking as ridiculous tears stung her eyes.

It was just the pregnancy hormones making her over-emotional. She’d already established that. She brushed the moisture away with her fist, but then he tilted his head to one side, scrutinising her in that way he had which made her feel seen.

And the wave of emotion crested again.

‘Hey, now...’ He walked around the counter, clearly as disturbed by her over-the-top reaction as she was. ‘My cooking isn’t that bad, I swear.’

She found herself laughing and crying at the same time.

He brushed her tears away with his thumbs, his gaze unguarded for the first time. But the fierce concern only made her feel more vulnerable. And more scared.

‘It’s just the pregnancy hormones,’ she murmured, stepping away from his gentle touch and wiping her eyes—feeling desperately exposed and pathetically needy.

‘Uh-huh,’ he said, but she could see the question in his eyes.

‘They hit me unawares sometimes,’ she added. ‘And make me overreact to anything even remotely triggering. Sorry.’ That had to be it. She’d persuaded herself over the past week that her initial panic about relying on Cade too much didn’t apply. This wasn’t about who she’d been, but who she was now. And as she’d started to come to terms with the reality of the pregnancy, she had become more convinced that it made sense to lean on him, at least where the baby was concerned. So why did this feel like too much?

‘There’s no need to apologise,’ he said, but then he added, ‘Why would you be triggered by me cooking for you?’

She sighed. She didn’t want to answer. Because it felt too personal. And if she told him the truth, too revealing.

But she could see she’d been a coward in the past week. Shehadbeen hiding out in her room, avoiding him. One of the reasons why she’d decided to stay here was to get to know him better, to deal with a few of his insecurities too, and discover what kind of a father he would be.

But didn’t that require conversation? Time spent together, talking openly?

There were so many things she wanted to know about him—about his past, his childhood, the things which kept him up at night, which drove him so relentlessly, even the reason why acquiring Helberg seemed so important to him. But if she wanted him to reveal his secrets, his vulnerabilities—then she had to be willing to do the same.

‘I guess because no one has ever cooked a meal for me before—well, not like this,’ she offered.

‘I see,’ he said. He didn’t seem all that surprised—maybe no one had ever cooked a meal for him either. But the thought made her consider how tough his childhood must have been in comparison to hers, and she found herself backtracking.

‘Which is, of course, nonsense, now I think about it. Even though he ignored me, my father paid a small fortune to the staff when I was little to make sure I was well cared for while my mother was alive. Then I went to a string of expensive boarding schools—with a host of catering options. And the last thing you want when you’re a catwalk model is to have someone cook you a meal before a show...’ She began babbling, because his scrutiny had only become more intense. ‘Just in case you gain a couple of millimetres on your hips and can’t get into the designs assigned to you. So apparently, the pregnancy hormones are making me feel sorry for myself for no reason.’

He frowned. ‘I’m not sure having someone paid to care for your needs or being forced to starve yourself counts as no reason,’ he murmured. Then he threw her completely by asking, ‘What happened to your mother?’

‘She died when I was eight,’ she said.

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