Page 134 of The Billionaire's Baby
"It’s called dancing, you bastard."
"You gyrated your hips and all but plastered yourself to him—"
"There was space between us the whole time we danced, you prick."
"Language," he growls, "And what the hell are you wearing?" He looks me up and down.
"What does it look like?" I tug on the hem of my dress, which I confess, is shorter than what I would normally wear, but hell, if it doesn’t look good. "It’s a designer dress, I’ll have you know. The latest of the season, and yet, a classic." I pull back my shoulders, thrust out my hip and prop my hand on it. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" I scowl.
"What areyoudoing here?" he demands.
My jaw drops, "I am a single woman, living my life, out on the town—"
His gaze narrows.
"—ready to take the first eligible man I meet home for a shag."
Color smears his cheeks and his nostrils flare. Ooh, this is more fun than I would have anticipated.
"I was doing so well too, until some tosser—" I tip my chin up, "showed up."
His jaw tics. "Don’t talk to me like that."
I blink, then burst out laughing. "You’re asking me to be polite? After everything you did?"
"What did I do? Except try to give you what you wanted?"
"And yet, you failed."
The color leaches from his face, and for a second, a tiny second, I am almost sorry that I’ve hurt him. Sure, I’d found I wasn’t pregnant but had he…also been disappointed by the outcome?
Nah, not possible. This man? He’s too selfish. He only thinks of himself, after all.
He balls his fists at his side, "I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you aren’t pregnant."
"Not as much as me." I drag the back of my hand across my face. The light from the overhead bulb seems to burn into my brain. Shit, how much have I had to drink? What am I even doing here, with him? "Let me go, Arpad." I wrap my arms about myself. "Just let me out of here."
"No." He widens his stance, seems to draw himself to his full height. "You’re not leaving until you listen to me."
"I don’t care about what you have to say."
"Just a minute of your time, Sparks."
"What? No commanding me to stay?" I snarl. "No tying me up so I can’t leave?"
He drags his fingers through his hair. "Will you just listen to what I have to say?" He lowers his voice to a hush, "Please." And there’s that word again. Damn it, alphahole Arpad f’ing Beauchamp, trying to be polite and failing spectacularly.But he’s trying, isn’t he? Gah. Tell him to go to hell. Do it.I draw in a breath. Instead, I find myself complying. "Fine," I mutter, "you have sixty seconds."
He nods, then pinches the bridge of his nose, "I’m sorry that you didn’t get pregnant, but I won’t apologize for manipulating your life."
I open and shut my mouth, "You won’t?"
He lowers his hands to his sides then thrusts his chest out. "I saw you and I wanted you. I’ve learned that life is short, and when you see something that resonates with you, you have to go after it, so that’s why I did."
I shake my head, try to speak, fail. I simply stare at him.
"Look, Sparks," he steps forward and takes my hand in his, "I know how much you hate me now, and I can only imagine how disappointed you are that you didn’t get pregnant. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to give you a child."
I glance down at where his large palm engulfs mine.
