Page 22 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

He sent her a steady look. ‘We’regoingto get married, you’regoingto move into Hadleigh House, and we’regoingto raise this child together.’

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes clouded over with confusion. He waited for his words to register and when they did, instead of blasting him, she released a belly laugh. ‘Oh, that’s too funny.’

Really? Strange, but he couldn’t find anything amusing about their current situation. Was he missing something here?

As she took in Jago’s thundercloud face, Dodi’s laughter faded away. God, he was being serious! He actually expected her to marry him, after just a few conversations and a night spent in his bed.

What an insane idea!

Having witnessed her parents’ lackadaisical approach to marriage and commitment, and knowing the detrimental effect it had on her, Dodi took the idea of being legally and morally linked to another person extremely seriously. Marriage was a commitment that should be separate from pregnancy, and one shouldn’t influence the other. Outside forces or circumstances shouldn’t play a part in any decision to commit to spending the rest of their lives together. She’d been a ‘mistake’, an unwanted pregnancy, and her parents had married because they’d thought it the right thing to do...

It hadn’t been, not for them and not for her.

And what was Jago thinking with his ‘going’ to do this, and ‘going’to do that statements? She was notgoingto allow him to push her into a relationship, house or situation she didn’t want to be in, one she hadn’t chosen. She was a grown adult, perfectly able to make her own decisions, one who didn’t need a man to support, protect or dominate her.

Who did he think he was?

Exasperation, impatience and fury sparked her temper to life. Standing up, she stomped over to the French doors and gestured for him to leave. When he didn’t move, she forced the words past her gritted teeth. ‘Get out.’

Jago folded his arms across his broad chest, stubbornness turning his eyes to the colour and texture of slate. ‘No. We’re talking about this.’

‘We’re not talking, you’re dictating!’ Dodi shouted at him, vibrating with outrage. ‘That might work at Le Roux International, but it won’t with me! I am not one of your employees and you don’t get to tell me what to do!’

She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. Stomping back over to the table, she placed her hands flat on the surface and leaned forward, bending her head to stare into Jago’s eyes. ‘You arenotthe boss of me.’

Blue and grey eyes clashed and held. Jago eventually broke their stare by rubbing his hand down his face, across his mouth and briefly closing his eyes. He sat back, breathed deeply and Dodi knew that he was trying to harness his temper.

Maybe she should do the same. Standing up straight, she paced the small area of her deck before turning her back on him and looking to the small water fountain in the corner of her enclosed yard. The pretty garden, overlooked by a memorial plaque she’d put up for Lily on the back wall, looked ragged and overgrown. She hadn’t tended the garden for weeks and her fingers itched to dig in the soil, to pull out weeds, to tidy it up. To restore a little bit of order to her chaotic world.

Feeling a smidgeon calmer, Dodi turned back to Jago and rocked on her heels.

‘This could be so much worse, you know,’ she told him.

He looked at her in disbelief. ‘It could? How?’

‘I could be a teenager, with absolutely no resources, pregnant by a boy who didn’t have a job, couldn’t be bothered to find one, couldn’t be bothered about me or the baby. I could be a mum with four kids to feed, with no money to raise another. But I’m a wealthy, privileged woman, who has the money to raise this child on my own. I’m healthy, I have a house, I have medical. I own my own business and have fabulous staff, so I can pick and choose the times I go to work and take the baby with me when I do.’

‘You seem to have it all worked out,’ Jago stated with an edge to his voice. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘Right at this moment, I don’t want or need anything from you, Jago,’ Dodi quietly told him. ‘I don’t need you to rush in and rescue me, to marry me or do anything equally stupid. I’ve been on my own for a long time and I’m perfectly happy to walk this path alone.’

She read the expression on his face as clearly as if he’d spoken: that’s not going to happen. Dodi rubbed the back of her neck, exhausted. She didn’t want to argue any more. ‘Look, if you want to claim this baby as yours, you can put your name on the birth certificate. If you want to see the child, have him, or her be part of your life, we can talk about that...visitation rights, et cetera. But I’m not forcing you to be, or do, anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. I expect you to treat me the same way.’

‘That’s all very well, Elodie Kate, but you have the right to ask me to step up to the plate, to take responsibility and to play my part. I was there. You didn’t get pregnant on your own!’

He was overbearing and bossy and was used to getting his way, but he was, in his screwed-up way, trying to be the good guy, to do the right thing. She had to respect that. Then she caught the flash of determination in his eyes and knew that he wasn’t backing down, he was just trying to find another way to get what he wanted. Not going to happen, bud.

‘You are thinking that you will work around me, to manoeuvre me into, at the very least, moving in with you.’

He didn’t deny her accusation. ‘I live in a huge house with servants, a massive garden, a pool and a gym. Your meals will be cooked for you, your laundry and cleaning done. At Hadleigh House, you’d be looked after, by me and my staff.’

‘I don’t need to be looked after!’ Dodi wailed. ‘That’s not your job!’

God, how was she going to get through to him?

‘Jago, you are very used to getting your way,’ Dodi told him, her voice taking on a hard edge. ‘But I am not your brother, sister or one of your many responsibilities. Yes, I’m pregnant, with your child, but that doesn’t mean you get to swoop in and start arranging my life.’

She walked over to the French doors and waited as he followed her to his feet. ‘Don’t make decisions for me. I don’t want you to, and I don’t need you to. If you decide to be part of this baby’s life, I will discuss that. But I will not be dictated to, manipulated or manoeuvred.’

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