Page 50 of Hidden Heir With His Housekeeper

She’d become used to having him here most nights, used to the incredible sex, but also the feel of his strong arms around her when she slept, and the sight of him doing everything from attempting to cook a stir fry to snuggling up on the sofa so they could watch the romcoms she loved, which she knew he found boring. And she missed him on the very rare occasions when he didn’t show.

She had become attached to him. Dependent on his company and his presence, and even on the in-depth discussions they’d had about her job and his work without ever getting a commitment out of him that he would still be here when she would need him most.

She shivered, stepping out of the cubicle. He lifted a towel off the pile and wrapped it around her shoulders.

‘Listen, I need to go to an event tonight,’ he said as he turned away to scoop his discarded clothing off the bathroom floor. ‘I should probably head back to Belgravia to get changed,’ he added.

She shuddered, the chill on her skin piercing her heart.

Was he really going to leave her straight after sex, for the first time in weeks? Spend the evening without her, when he had never done that, not once since she’d been back in London? Right after feeling the baby move for the first time.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asked hopefully, sure she must have misunderstood.

They’d been to several events when she’d first arrived, and she’d enjoyed being seen with him, but the press attention had been insane, and she’d nearly fallen asleep at a banquet in the Barbican—so she had also been stupidly pleased when he’d stopped suggesting they attend public engagements. But she wanted to go with him now, somehow scared by what this might mean.

He glanced at her, but his gaze darted away again before she could gauge his reaction.

‘No need,’ he said. ‘It’s likely to be a late one. And you must be tired. I’ll probably crash at the hotel tonight.’

The oh-so-casual dismissal felt like a physical blow, his desire to leave, to pull away from her, suddenly making her question all the assumptions she’d made about how he really felt. About her, about the baby, about them.

Good God, had she been kidding herself all along? Wanting to believe he felt more for her than he did? Wasn’t that exactly what she’d done with her father for years? Believed he loved her and cared for her, and that if she just did as he wanted, he would eventually show her she had value to him, instead of just being a means to an end?

‘How important is this event?’ she asked as her heart buffeted her chest, making the stinging pain in her eyes intensify.

He stared at her blankly.

‘It’s just, you didn’t mention it until now,’ she added. ‘And I wondered why.’

But when he continued to stare at her, she knew why. This was just another of his avoidance tactics. Another chance for him not to acknowledge his feelings.

She had seen that moment of awe in his eyes when he’d felt the baby move too, before it had disappeared. But she clung to it now.

Time was galloping away from them. Soon they would have a child, and she still had no idea if he wanted to be a permanent part of its life. Or even how he really felt about her. Because she had failed to ask.

And failed to hold him to account.

There were so many other things she didn’t know about him because she had sensed his reluctance to talk about them. And being sensitive to his needs had been easier than facing her oldest fear, that if she asked for more, she would be told she wasn’t worthy, she wasn’t enough.

Yet none of that had stopped her falling in love with him... The thought blindsided her.

Wow, Bea, fabulous time to figure that out.

But it also galvanised her. Because loving him wasn’t enough. She had to know if there was a chance that he could love her in return. Or else she would be trapped in another one-sided relationship—where she was left hoping for the unconditional love she needed, instead of demanding it.

Apparently, her old fear of confrontation had reared its ugly head again over the past month. The same cowardice which had allowed her to live in her father’s house for so long and never challenge his agenda. She’d never pushed Mason about when he was coming over, she’d simply been overjoyed to see him. She’d never asked for a commitment other than what he was willing to give...

How had she allowed herself to slip into that passive role with Mason when there was so much at stake?

Perhaps because she had convinced herself she was different now. But having a fulfilling job, and great sex, and knowing he cared about her—in a way her father never had—wasn’t enough. Not for her or her baby.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty important,’ he said. ‘I should go.’ But she could hear the lie in his voice because she had become much better at reading him now.

A single tear escaped, but she scrubbed it away.

‘Beatrice? What’s wrong?’ he said, sounding pained. And so, so wary. ‘It’s just one night, okay?’

‘Except it’s not just about tonight, Mason,’ she said, suddenly feeling unbearably weary and unsure of herself.

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