Page 31 of The Billionaire's One-Night Baby

Yet, around Dodi, they kept welling to the surface. And, for the first time ever, he didn’t mind too much. The feelings he’d avoided for so long—vulnerability, tenderness, a hatred of being out of control—weren’t quite as frightening with her as they’d been before.

Jago watched Dodi walk up the stairs, slower than normal, holding onto the bannister. He couldn’t ask her to go out with him tonight. He could see that she was at the end of her tether, emotionally and physically. He couldn’t expect her to do her hair, put on some make-up and be charming.

And he was more than okay with spending the evening in her colourful, slightly bohemian house, inhaling the calming scents of roses, perfume and beeswax, and the warm Highveld wind blowing in from the open doors leading to her courtyard. He was used to the best money could buy, beautifully designed furniture and eye-catching art,space, but he had no problem with sitting down on her bright red sofa and putting his bare feet on her coffee table, sipping on a beer as he watched a rugby match on TV. Or listening to music.

Or just talking to the woman carrying his baby.

Jago made his call to Jabu and pulled off his tie, dropping it onto the hall table, along with his phone, keys and wallet. After rolling up his sleeves, he walked into Dodi’s kitchen and found a nearly full bottle of white wine in her fridge. He found a wine glass and poured himself a healthy measure.

He felt at home here in her quiet, fragrant house, he realised as he sipped his wine. He could hear Dodi moving around upstairs, the murmur of the turned-down stereo, the distant sound of a dog barking.

It felt normal and natural. He liked it.

He liked it alot.

Dodi made the mistake of lying back on her bed, where she promptly fell asleep. She woke up to the sound of voices downstairs and low male laughter. Then her front door closed, and she heard a car starting up and accelerating away. Jago’s butler had come and gone...

How long had she been upstairs?

Dodi, dressed in black three-quarter leggings and an oversize off-the-shoulder slouchy top the colour of oatmeal, pulled her hair up into a high, messy ponytail and headed downstairs. She placed her hand on the door frame to her kitchen and looked at Jago, who was standing at the island in the centre of the room, on which sat two ornate silver cloches.

‘I fell asleep.’ Dodi grimaced, walking over to the island. ‘Again.’

Jago smiled at her. ‘I know. I was worried about you, so I went up and saw you passed out on your bed.’

She looked at the clock on the wall and saw that nearly two hours had passed. ‘What have you been doing with yourself?’

‘I grabbed my laptop from my car and did some work,’ Jago explained.

Dodi winced at her lack of hospitality. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You needed sleep—and I’m a big boy. I can look after myself.’

When it came to Jago Le Roux people thought him abrupt and cold, terse and tense, but under the designer suits he was nothing like that, Dodi decided. Six weeks ago, she’d thought him to be unemotional and a little robotic. Hot but austere. She now believed that his impassive facade hid a deeply feeling and sensitive man.

Jago had hidden Mariana-Trench-deep depths and she, damn her, wanted to dive. Dodi folded her arms across her chest and pinched the inside of her left arm, reminding herself that that way madness lay.

It would be so easy to fall for Jago, she thought, to allow herself to be swept away in the fantasy of falling in love with her baby’s father. He was outrageously sexy, a fantastic lover, wealthy as Croesus and more thoughtful than she gave him credit for. But Dodi knew, better than most, that good things didn’t last. She’d never felt secure with her parents, and she’d spent the bulk of her childhood and teens constantly worried whether one or the other parent would permanently abandon her, and which adult she’d be left with.

Lily’s taking her in had been an offer from heaven and she’d only had eight years with her grandmother before she died, eight short years of being loved and adored before she was ripped away from her.

Dan, before they became lovers, had been her best friend since she was sixteen, her lover since she was eighteen, but he’d lied to her, constantly and consistently about so much over a long period. Along with cheating on her, he’d also sabotaged her friendships to ensure that she remained emotionally reliant on him. Had his lover not brought matters to the head, she might, by now, be married to him, not knowing he was manipulative and untrustworthy.

She adored and trusted Thadie but the only person she could fully count on was herself.

Dodi felt the headache building up behind her eyes and pushed her fingers into her temple, feeling a little lightheaded. A heartbeat later, Jago’s arm encircled her waist and with no effort at all, and using only one arm, he lifted her off her feet and walked her over to the small, two-seater dining table tucked up against the wall and deposited her into a chair.

Stepping back, and efficient as always, he poured her a glass of ginger beer and pushed it into her hand. ‘Drink that,’ he ordered in a brusque voice.

Dodi sipped, felt the bubbles in her nose and sighed when the tart liquid slid down her dry throat. In a few minutes, the sugar would hit her system and she’d perk up. Maybe even enough to go to Jago’s charity event.

Jago slid a small plate of crackers adorned with finely sliced tomatoes, grated cheese and chives in front of her. ‘I made these earlier because I was starving. Get some food into you, Dodi,’ he gruffly told her. ‘You look like a puff of wind could blow you away.’

Fair assessment. Dodi picked up a cracker, popped it into her mouth and chewed. She’d eat one, two if Jago gave her the beady eye, but probably no more. Food, generally, held no appeal.

Then the tart, slightly spicy mayonnaise hit her tongue and she moaned in pleasure, closing her eyes at the flavour bomb on her tongue. Swallowing, she picked up another cracker and demolished that. Soon, most of the crackers on the plate were gone and she felt, almost, like herself.

Jago flashed his devastating half-smile. ‘Enjoyed that?’

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