Marooned with the Millionaire

‘This is April,’ Mia said. ‘She’s going to help out at the centre until I’m better.’

Marcus watched as April came forward and engaged in polite conversation, studying her every feature, the silhouette of her slender body, and he wondered...wondered...wondered.

There was only one way to find out.

Stepping towards the bed, he smiled down at Mia. ‘You take care. I’ll be back to visit soon.’

Minutes later they exited the hospital and April nigh on scurried ahead.

‘I’ll get a taxi back to my hotel and head to the centre first thing in the morning.’ A deep breath. ‘I think, given the circumstances, we can call it a day now. I have plenty for the article and—’

‘Given the circumstances, we need to talk.’

‘Really, we don’t. Are you worried that I’ll write about last night? Of course I won’t—that was between us.’

‘We need to talk. If you want to have this conversation on the street, here and now, fine. Or we can go back to my place.’

For a moment he thought she would make a run for it, and then she shrugged. ‘Fine. We’ll go back to your place.’

There was nothing further to say. The idea of small talk—of any talk apart from the question that burnt his lips—was impossible.

They climbed into the car and Marcus directed his driver to take them home, ignoring the expression of surprise on Roberto’s usually impassive features. After all it was understandable—he had never before taken a woman back to his home, unless you counted Elvira.

As they pulled up outside the luxury penthouse building that he had spent so much money on and so little time in, he realised that it wasn’t really a home—it was a place to stay. A place that represented proof of his wealth and status, showed him how far he had come from the slums of outer Lycander. It was a symbol, a bachelor pad—not a place where anyone would have a child.

Whoa. Hold your horses, Alrikson.

It could be that he had this all wrong and had totally misinterpreted that single gesture.

Yet as they entered his uncluttered lounge, with its vast windowed wall that led out onto a rooftop terrace overlooking Lycander, giving a view of the palace’s spires and the city’s historic landmarks, and he could ask the question, suddenly he no longer wanted to.

Instead... ‘What would you like to eat?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You must be hungry. By my reckoning, neither of us have eaten properly since yesterday. And you need to eat.’

After all she might be eating for two.

The idea wrenched his gut with an emotion he couldn’t catch hold of. Fear, panic, and through all that a silver strand of irrational awe.

‘Why?’ Suspicion curdled her voice.

‘Tomorrow will be a ful

l-on day. I’ll rustle up something.’

‘I thought you couldn’t cook.’

‘I can’t—but I can boil pasta and heat up a sauce.’

As if recognising that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she nodded. ‘OK. Thank you.’

He gestured to the enormous glass dining table and watched as she perched on a chair and stared out over the rooftops, her gaze averted from his. ‘I won’t be long.’

Half an hour later she looked up from her empty plate. ‘You were right. I did need that.’

Now he knew he could wait no longer. ‘Is there a chance that you are pregnant?’