Page 44 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DODI,HERHEARTin her mouth, hands wet with perspiration, peered through the driving rain, and crawled down Jago’s street, looking for the gates to Hadleigh House. It was shortly after six and yes, the storm had rolled in, more vicious than she’d expected. Jago had called it and she wished she’d left work early because the visibility was dreadful, the roads were river-like and there was still, so she’d been told, an excellent chance of hail.

Dodi heard the sharp crack of lightning, felt the fizz of electricity and jumped at the boom of thunder. She needed to get off the road as soon as possible... where the hell was Hadleigh House?

She’d been annoyed earlier when a Le Roux intern dropped off an envelope from Jago containing the remote control to an electric gate and a set of keys.

His terse note was not a heartfelt love letter.

If you’re going to be stubborn and stay at work, at least drive to Hadleigh House instead of trying to make your way across town to your place. It’s closer. Let me know when you leave and when you arrive. Also, Jabu is on holiday, so the house is empty. Alarm code below.

She’d been leaving work when the heavens opened and she quickly decided that driving to Jago’s house was the sensible option. She was stubborn but not, she hoped, stupid.

Dodi gripped her steering wheel tighter and narrowed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Forty-eight, fifty...she was getting close. Her windscreen wipers were operating at full speed and her windshield was steaming up, and she lifted her hand to clear a small circle in front of her. As she caught sight of the gates to Jago’s house, she heard the sharp ping of something hard hitting her roof and she cursed. Hail! Dammit!

She swung into Jago’s driveway and fumbled for the remote control to open the gates, cursing the pebble-sized hailstones bouncing off the bonnet. Her car was going to look like a golf ball after this.

The gates opened and Dodi crawled up the drive. She usually parked to the side of the house but tonight she was going to get as close as she could to the entrance, and when the hailstones stopped she’d run up the stone stairs and into Jago’s house.

Dodi waited for five minutes before the worst of the hail stopped. The rain was still bucketing down, and lightning and thunder still chased each other around the sky. She’d get wet—why wasn’t she one of those organised people who kept an umbrella in her car?—but that was okay. It was just water. She’d survive. Deciding to leave her bag in her car, Dodi wrapped her phone into the hem of her shirt to protect it from getting soaked, grabbed Jago’s bunch of keys and pushed open her car door, fighting the wind wanting to slam it closed.

Bending her head, she ran through the hard rain, wincing as the needle-hard droplets slammed into her face and plastered her hair and clothes to her body. By the time she reached the stone steps, she was soaked through. She slowed down as she hurried up the steps, wiping her eyes and pushing back her wet hair. The huge front door was just there, and, behind it, warmth and safety. She’d send a message to Jago telling him she was safe and then she’d dry off, make herself some tea. And when the storm died down she’d take a long, hot shower. Bliss...she couldn’t wait.

Dodi stepped onto the slate floor of the portico, took two steps, maybe three, and then her feet slid out from under her and her butt slammed down, bouncing off the tiles. Her back hit the floor and then her head. Burning pain ratcheted up her spine and she released a high-pitched scream, which was immediately sucked into the storm.

Her last thoughts as she passed out were a quick prayer that her baby was okay. She needed Jago...and she needed himnow.

Jago opened the door to Dodi’s private hospital room and leaned his shoulder on the doorframe, happy to watch her sleep. The past twelve hours had been some of the worst of his life and he’d felt as though his heart had started and restarted a hundred times.

He never, ever wanted to relive last night. And he’d do everything in his power to make sure that Dodi would always be safe and protected, dammit.

He could’ve lost her last night and the thought made his heart drop like a stone to his shoes and his throat close. It was time they stopped mucking around and she moved in with him, where he could look after her and love her.

Because love her he did. More than he’d ever believed possible. He’d been fighting his feelings, ignoring the sensations he didn’t recognise—and therefore weren’t, in his rational mind, valid—determined to keep things between them under control.

Her falling, cracking her head—the possibility of losing her—was a wake-up-and-face-the-music call. For the first time in his life, he felt as if his life was incomplete, that up until now he’d been unaware of the Dodi-sized hole in his life. He needed her: she made him a better man. A life without her in it was a wasteland, grey, wet and utterly miserable. She was light, colour, fun, laughter...love.

She was his everything. Dodi sighed, her eyes opened and she turned her head to the door, a soft smile on her face. ‘Hi,’ she murmured.

Jago walked over to the bed, sat down next to her and stroked his thumb over her still pale cheek. ‘Hi back. How are you feeling?’

‘A bit of a headache...’ Dodi’s eyes widened, and she shot up, panic on her face. ‘The baby...is our baby okay?’

He gripped her shoulders, gently squeezed and bent his head so that he could look directly into her eyes. ‘The baby is fine, Dodi. Relax.’

It took her a few deep breaths for his news to make sense. ‘Are you sure?’ she demanded, her voice shrill.

‘Very. They did an ultrasound, and all is well.’

The panic in her eyes receded and was quickly replaced by tears. Of gratitude, he presumed. She flopped back on the pillow and closed her eyes. ‘Thank God, thank God.’

He wholeheartedly agreed. Thank God. Jago found the remote control and lifted the bed so that Dodi sat upright. He resumed his place next to her and placed his hand on her thigh. ‘Don’t you remember having the ultrasound?’

The doctor said that some of her memories might be fuzzy as she’d cracked her head quite hard. She hadn’t needed stitches but she did have a large goose egg on the back of her head.

Dodi shrugged. ‘I remember bits and pieces of last night, not much. I remember running up the steps, slipping, my butt hitting the floor and how sore it was.’

‘You bruised your coccyx and smacked the back of your head,’ Jago told her. ‘You have a minor concussion.’

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