Page 42 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

No, he wanted his child to grab life by the horns and go on a wild ride, skidding in at the end on a whoop and a grin, yelling that he’d had a hell of a ride.

Actually, that was how he wanted to be. He’d wasted so much time looking for trouble, trying to keep himself safe...and he was done. He wanted to live, dammit. Feel. Be present. If he was going to have another relationship, create a family, then he had to do it properly, go all in and skip the emotional guardrails and airbags. If he wanted to live the rest of his life with Dodi, with his kid, creating a life and a family with her, he needed to be brave, open, fully present, and God...emotionally available.

The thought made his hands tremble.

If he wanted the happy-ever-after with Dodi, he first had to get her to trust him. But she was as emotionally wary, as scarred as he was. Could they build something new, start afresh, or was he tilting at windmills, setting himself up for a sky-high fall?

He didn’t know, couldn’t predict the outcome. But when faced with the alternative—living a half-life, with Dodi on the periphery of it—he knew that he had to take this huge, crazy, scary leap.

And hope like hell that Dodi would catch him.

‘I do want to be part of the process. Don’t doubt that, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.’

Dodi stood in her shower stall, her hands flat against the wall, her lips pursed, deep in thought as she remembered Jago’s words from their intense conversation two weeks ago. Did she believe him? Would he stick around?

She trusted Jago, as much as she trusted anyone, and she knew he was a straight-shooting guy, someone who didn’t mince words and who did what he said...

He was also considerate and thoughtful, and since telling him she was pregnant he’d shown her that he cared for her. He’d looked her car over, decided it needed new tyres, and loaned her another car while her tyres were being changed. While her car was in the workshop, he’d also arranged for it to have a top-to-bottom service. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn’t replaced the thing!

Jabu, his butler, was now a frequent visitor to her house, always accompanied by a Hadleigh housemaid. She hadn’t cleaned her house or done her laundry in over a month. Her freezer was stocked with nutritional meals, easy-to-heat food full of all the nutrients she and the baby needed.

Jago was taking care of her and, God help her, she liked it! She shouldn’t, but she did. But she still harboured a deep-seated fear of being abandoned and couldn’t shake the voice of doom that kept insisting that this couldn’t last, that Jago would hurt and disappoint her. It was, after all, the pattern of her life.

She wasn’t being fair to him. He hadn’t done anything to deserve her mistrust and she wanted to enjoy their growing closeness, the intimacy that had sprung up between them. But something kept holding her back...

Her heart and her head were at war, that much was clear. Her heart was head-over-heels in love with the man, while her brain was asking if she was off her rocker. Her heart wanted to tell him how she felt about him, and her brain wanted to slap a gag over her mouth.

Her heart insisted she could trust him. Her brain was deeply concerned that she was losing her capacity for rational thought. She felt as if she was playing host to two squabbling teenagers, both determined to be in control, to have the upper hand.

She did love Jago but she also wanted to stay safe. She wanted him in her life, to share her life—for her to share his—but she didn’t want to open herself up to being disappointed, to be let down by him. She wanted his beautiful body, to feel his touch every day and in every way, but she needed to keep her heart encased in Teflon. She wanted everything to change but she also wanted things to stay the same.

But she wasn’t the only one with skin in the game, so what did Jago want? Did she even have the first clue? Dodi snapped her thumbnail against her front tooth, deep in thought.

He wasn’t interested in love. He’d said as much. He didn’t want the messiness and the drama of being in a relationship. He’d married Anju to have a drama-free, cleverly constructed life with someone whose company he enjoyed, whose body he loved. They’d entered into a well-thought-out arrangement, and it seemed to have worked.

Why couldn’t she and Jago have something similar?

She wasn’t talking about marriage—that was too complicated—but maybe they could live together, sleep together, raise their child together. They could sleep in the same bed, have hot sex, which they both enjoyed.

And, if they felt like it, they could talk about their lives, thoughts, and feelings.

Could it work? Was she brave enough to suggest such a thing?

A hard rap on the bathroom door made her jump. She spun around as Jago opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, dressed in dark suit trousers that hugged his muscular thighs and a white button-down shirt that skated across his broad chest. A mint-green tie, still to be knotted, hung down his chest. He’d shaved and his hair was carefully tousled. Lord, he was hot.

Jago flashed her a smile. ‘No, I’m not getting into the shower with you, temptress. I’ve got to get moving.’

His ability to read her mind still disconcerted her. Jago waited for her to turn off the water and then opened the shower door and handed her a towel. ‘I’m running late but I need to talk to you before I go.’

She caught the worry in his eyes and frowned as she wrapped the towel around her torso. She was about to ask him what was wrong, but he walked back into her bedroom. Concerned, Dodi quickly dried off, ran a comb through her hair and pulled on her dressing gown. In her bedroom, Jago stood by her window, frowning as he gulped from his steaming coffee cup. ‘I made you some ginger tea.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed before picking up her cup. ‘What’s up? You’re looking quite grim.’

‘Have you seen the weather report this morning?’

He knew she hadn’t. They’d woken up, rolled towards each other and made love. Then she’d dozed as he showered and changed. Then she’d showered...

Besides, she wasn’t someone who routinely checked the weather. It was summer in Africa and that meant heat and the occasional thunderstorm. What was the point of routinely checking something she couldn’t control?

---