Page 15 of Owned By a Billionaire

Puffing slightly, I settled into the seat across from him at a table by the window. “Apologies.”

Reynard beckoned to the waiter and ordered tea for two before returning his attention to me. “I only just arrived.” His brows gathered. “You seem rather rattled.”

I nodded slowly and exhaled. Rey knew I’d given my child away. He’d also reminded me that babies were born every second, and it was best to leave single motherhood to those with little else to offer. I took this sober advice with the resignation of someone about to have a tooth extracted.

The waiter delivered a willow-patterned teapot and laid out the matching set in a ballet of crockery. He then brought a tiered plate stand filled with cucumber sandwiches and pastel iced cupcakes.

I poured our tea and chose to abstain from the cakes. My stomach was a bundle of nerves.

“Earlier today, I went to Hackney. That’s why I’m late.” I traced the blue cup with a freshly painted fingernail.

“You went to visit your baby, you mean?” The alarming intensity in his gaze made me shrink, like a child might in front of an admonishing school principal.

“Can’t you do something?” I asked.

“What is it you want, Carol?”

“I want to see her. Hold her.” My eyes misted over, and I sucked back the sob that tried to burst from me.

Staring out the window, he sipped his tea, and after a moment of reflection, he said, “We’ve had this conversation before. You can be a single mother and struggle financially because I won’t help. Or you can become a woman of the world. Marry a Harry Lovechilde and raise a brood you can be proud of.”

His cool hand landed on mine. “You can’t have both, Caroline. Decide which it’s to be. I can’t help you—and won’t —if you go for the former. We made a pact a year ago, and look at you now.”

Yes, look at me. I just attended an orgy and have developed a crush on a married man who knows my body better than any other man I’ve slept with.

After a moment, Rey removed his hand. “Helmut told me you were a smash hit at the Lathams’.”

I topped up his cup then mine. “Oh, that degenerate swingers’ night.”

He chuckled. The only time Rey smiled was when discussing people’s bedroom habits. “I’m told you looked to be having fun.”

Biting my lip, I chided myself for taking that guard-lowering blue pill. I also thought of Gregory’s recent invite onto his houseboat moored on the Thames. Though I’d badly wanted to go, I politely declined.

“Gregory Latham called and asked for your number,” Rey added as though reading my thoughts, something he often did. Some days, I wondered if he was supernatural. With that lily-white skin, he might have even slept in a coffin.

“Oh, you gave it to him?” I frowned. I did wonder how he’d gotten my number, assuming it was Helmut.

“He was rather persistent.” His mouth twitched into a half smile. “I’m told he’s got his talents.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Fire bit my belly. It rankled, the lack of privacy in this world of privilege and entitlement.

“My, you are in a mood.” He chuckled.

“Helmut and his fucking happy pills. I am humiliated that the word has spread.”

He sniffed. “No one forced you, Carol, so remember that. In any case, Helmut’s delivered nicely, and for that, I am very grateful. He likes you.”

“No more fucking for my supper.”

His brow pinched. “Gutter language does not become you, Caroline.”

Caroline had become my name when playing the woman of class, but it was Carol whenever the mask dropped.

Rey was right. I needed to be Caroline.

“Gregory’s wife’s a serious dyke,” Rey said.

“So why are they married then?”

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