Page 33 of Cinderella's One-Night Baby

She’d known even before she was a day late that something was happening to her. She’d buried her head in the sand for two days, telling herself that swollen, tingly breasts this close to her period was nothing to worry about, then spent three further days hitting the toilet at increasingly frequent intervals, desperately waiting for blood to appear.

His colour was slowly returning, the incomprehension of his stare slowly dissipating as his clever brain began to turn and his eyes narrowed.

‘It’s yours,’ she confirmed before he could voice the cynical thoughts she could see rotating in his mind.

A moment passed between them, a flash where she could see into his thoughts and knew he was remembering the bath they’d shared, when she’d lost all control of herself and sank onto him without protection.

Her cheeks flamed and pelvis contracted, just as they did every time she made herself remember that moment. Had it happened then, even though he’d lifted her off him? That was the question she’d tortured herself with. The hour or so before they’d finally passed out wrapped in each other’s arms was still a potted blur of hedonistic champagne-fuelled memories.

How could she have been so reckless and irresponsible?

And how could she be standing only feet away from him with her heart thrashing so wildly and an increasingly desperate yearn to throw herself into his arms and beg him to tell her everything would be okay?

Feelings like this were dangerous.

Once Andrés accepted he was the father he’d want to be involved. He’d said as much at the party, that the reason he didn’t want children was because he’d want to be there every day for them, therefore binding him and the child’s mother for life. It was being bound to a woman for life he found so repellent and the reason his acceptance of paternity would only come with cast iron proof. Gabrielle accepted this and had prepared herself for it. What she hadn’t anticipated was all the emotions swelling in her at being with him again.

Only by bringing Lucas to the forefront of her mind, just as she’d done every time she’d felt the panic starting to rise and consume her, was she able to clamp down on the swell and dredge the words she’d rehearsed for this moment. Her little boy had suffered too much in his short life already without the only mother he’d ever known falling apart. Gabrielle remembered all too clearly how her mother had fallen apart when her father died and could never put Lucas through anything like that.

‘I know this is a shock for you and that you’re not going to take my word that the baby’s yours,’ she said as calmly as she could manage. ‘I accept that you will want to wait until it’s born and a DNA test can be done before acknowledging paternity, but this babyisyours. I don’t have a lawyer but I will comply with any test your legal team asks of me so long as it isn’t harmful to the baby.’

She had to swallow bile to force the last words out. ‘I also want to make it clear that there is no way I’m going to have an abortion.’

The mannequin called Andrés who’d listened to her pre-prepared speech without moving so much as a facial muscle came to life. The narrowed eyes glittered, the handsome face darkening as he moved towards her.

Gripping her arms in an effort to control her trembles, Gabrielle tried not to feel guilty for her assumption that he would want her to take the easy way out. The one thing she knew about rich men was their belief that cash made all problems go away. Lucas’s father had offered cash for a termination and while the only thing Andrés had in common with The Bastard was his wealth—even his arrogance was of a different hue—she would not take the risk. Better she be upfront and say an abortion was not on the cards than experience the pain of him suggesting it, even if it was an eminently sensible suggestion. Sensible or not, Gabrielle could never do that, a notion that had crystalised when she’d walked Lucas to the beach an hour after the tests had both proved positive and she’d looked at his little hand clutched so trustingly in hers and imagined the little hands forming inside her.

Little hands created by the most passionate and wonderful night of her life, and as she gazed into Andrés’s glittering eyes, she had to hold herself even more tightly as the fear of his denouncing of her and the life they’d created together grew even stronger.

Whatever Andrés had intended to say to her was forgotten by a loud rap on the door behind her. The woman who’d been in the car with him burst into the room waving a phone, closely followed by the other two from the car, one of whom she now recognised as the lawyer who’d drafted the non-disclosure agreement.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ the woman said, thrusting the phone into Andrés’s hand, ‘but Kaito will be calling in one minute. You need to talk to him—he’s learned that members of the board are trying to kill the deal.’

The curse that flew from Andrés’s mouth made the woman’s eyes widen in shock. Even the men looked taken aback.

Only Gabrielle knew the curse wasn’t aimed at the deal being killed but at herself and the situation she’d just hit him with.

The phone rang in his hand.

Nostrils flaring, jaw tight, he looked at it before his eyes pinned back on Gabrielle.

‘Take the call,’ she said, almost weak with relief at the timely interruption.

He held her stare for a few more loaded moments before jerking a nod and putting the phone to his ear. ‘Kaito? What the hell is going on?’

With one more hard stare at Gabrielle, he disappeared from the living room flanked by his minions.

Dragging his legs to the bar, Andrés poured himself three fingers of bourbon and downed it. Then he poured himself another hefty measure, drank half, and had another read of the note Gabrielle had left for him.

Dear Andrés,

Sorry for leaving but I need to collect Lucas from nursery. My mother’s taking him to France tomorrow for a few days if you want to talk things through? Will understand if you’d rather go through your legal team.

Gabrielle

Head spinning, he went over her spiel again. Remembered the way she’d held herself. Her fear. Her bravery... The way she’d spoken to him as if they hadn’t shared the most unbelievably perfect night together.

All her assumptions.

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