Carrying Her Millionaire's Baby

And guilt.

* * *

This. This was the part she hated the most. Explaining herself. Justifying her unjustifiable actions.

‘David...’

‘No.’ David cut her off as he jabbed at the button, waiting for the lift that would take them all the way to the honeymoon suite on the top floor.

Zoey looked down at her ruined pink dress and thought about the beautiful ivory lace one that was hanging from the wardrobe in the suite. The dress she’d never wear now. Just like all the others.

They rode the lift in silence. Zoey stared straight ahead, avoiding catching her own eye in any of the reflections glinting from the mirror-lined walls. She didn’t want to see the guilt there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the lift doors opened onto the top corridor and David strode out towards the honeymoon suite door. Zoey followed, her steps more hesitant.

She wished she’d spent more of the time since she’d left on that boat preparing for this conversation. But instead she’d found herself debating and stressing over an entirely different problem. One she couldn’t even have predicted having twenty-four hours earlier.

But at least her night with Ash had made one thing very, very clear: there was no way she could marry David now.

Even if she confessed all and he still wanted her, she knew it wouldn’t be fair—to either of them. She might not be able to find a future with Ash, but she was damned if she was going to settle for anything less than she’d felt with him last night.

How depressing was it that her most fulfilling relationship might actually be a one-night stand?

She stepped into the bridal suite and the door swung shut behind her, closing with an almost inaudible click. No slammed doors, no drama.

Except that David looked like he might explode any second now. Even standing with his back to her, staring out of the window at the blue, blue sea that surrounded them, Zoey could read the tension and the anger in his shoulders, his arms, even his legs.

David was furious. Understandably.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. It was best to get that one out immediately, although she was under no illusion that it was the last time she’d be saying it in this conversation.

‘Do you ever wonder what it says about you that you have to say that so often?’ David spun around from the window, his handsome face ugly with hatred.

Zoey recoiled. David had always been an attractive man in a bland, easy way. No sharp features, just neat hair, neat jaw line, regularly spaced eyes and so on. Like a stock image, or one of those photos that came in a picture frame when you bought it.

He looked ordinary, in an attractive way.

But not now.

‘I shouldn’t have run. I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry,’ she repeated, trying to keep her tone calm and conciliatory, even though her heart was racing.

‘What you should have done was go through with the damned wedding!’ he yelled, slamming his hand down on the desk at the window.

Zoey flinched at the crack of his palm against the wood. ‘I’m sorry. I got cold feet. I just... I don’t think we would have made each other happy for the rest of our lives.’

‘So? Marriage isn’t about being happy, Zoey. You’ve always had some sort of idealised view of what a relationship should be, but it’s not all roses and sunshine all the time. Nobody has that!’

‘I know. I don’t want perfect,’ she said softly. ‘I just want perfect for me.’

‘And I’m not, is that it?’ David shook his head, his face red with anger as he stalked forward towards her. ‘You cannot truly be trying to tell me this is my fault.’ The last two words came out as a yell, and Zoey shrank back against the door.

‘No, no. That’s not what I’m saying.’

But David was past listening. He took another slow, deliberate step forward and Zoey found her hands moving instinctively in front of her as if to ward him off.

Calm down, Zo, she told herself, trying to keep her breathing even. It’s just David. Nothing to be scared of.

Except she was.

‘Do you know, there’s an actual support group.’ David’s voice was low and dangerous. ‘For your exes. For all the men you’ve tried to destroy with your cheating, lying ways.’