She stumbled, and Thierry’s arm slid around her waist, holding her upright and safe. She stopped, her heart hammering high in her throat.
What if she’d fallen? Would such a simple tumble be enough to dislodge that tiny life? Surely not? Yet Imogen’s palm crept to her abdomen as fear spiked.
Her baby. She’d never get to see it grow. Never have the opportunity to be a real mother to him or her. But she knew with a sudden fierce certainty that she’d do anything to protect it. Anything to ensure her baby had a good chance at life.
‘Here. It’s okay. We’re at the car.’ Thierry clicked open the lock and ushered her into the gleaming sports car that looked like something out of a glossy magazine and which she knew rode like a growling beast eager for the open road.
Suppressing a sigh of relief, she sank into the moulded leather and shut her eyes. The car dipped as he got in then he started it and swung out into the traffic.
Minutes later she opened her eyes and stared glassily at the congested traffic.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To your hotel. You look like you need rest, and we have to talk.’
Imogen frowned as she recognised a landmark. ‘I’m not staying in the centre of the city this time.’
‘Then where?’
She told him and his ebony eyebrows slashed down in a frown. ‘What on earth are you doing there?’
She shrugged. ‘I’d spent all my holiday money. I was due to go home, remember?’ She didn’t add that she’d been loath to dip into the last of her savings. She’d kept some in the bank in Australia, figuring she’d need something to cover her last months.
‘Money didn’t seem to be a problem before.’
Was that accusation in his voice? ‘Believe it or not, I didn’t stay in a five-star hotel to catch myself a rich man—’
‘I didn’t say that.’ The wrinkle on his brow became a scowl and it hit her that Thierry wasn’t used to having his intentions questioned.
‘I told you before.’ She struggled for an even tone, though she felt like shouting or maybe smashing something. It was hard enough to deal with the impossible hand fate had dealt her without coping with his doubt, however reasonable. Imogen dragged in a sharp breath and tried to ignore the twin scents of luxury leather and earthy male that filled her nostrils. ‘The trip was a once in a lifetime experience. I splurged on things I’d never normally afford.’ She laced her fingers together in her lap. ‘Now it’s back to reality.’
She pursed her lips to restrain the burst of hollow laughter that threatened. If she gave in to it she feared she’d never stop but hysteria wouldn’t help.
They finished the rest of the trip in silence. It continued as he unlocked the door to an apartment in a prestigious old building looking out over the Seine. One glance at the spacious living room with its view of central Paris glittering in the twilight told her she’d stepped into another world. One where wealth was figured in numbers with far more zeroes than she’d ever see.
‘Please, take a seat.’
Imogen settled onto a vibrant red lounger that toned with the slash of grey, red and yellow abstract art over the fireplace. A moment later Thierry passed her a tall glass. ‘Sparkling water, but I can make tea or coffee if you prefer.’
‘This is fine.’ Gratefully, she sipped, watching as he strode to the bar in one corner, downed a shot of something then poured himself another before turning towards her.
‘Are you all right?’ As soon as the words escaped, she firmed her lips. What a stupid thing to say. Of course he wasn’t okay. She was still in shock and she’d had seven days to get used to her pregnancy.
Yet his eyebrows rose in surprise. Because he hadn’t expected her to notice he wasn’t utterly in control?
Looking at him now, at those broad shoulders that seemed capable of withstanding any weight, at the glinting dark eyes and firm jaw, she realised that, no matter how surprising her news, Thierry Girard was more than capable of handling it.
Exactly the sort of man she needed. For the first time today she felt herself begin to relax, just a little.
‘You’re absolutely sure it’s mine?’
Imogen stiffened, her fingers gripping so hard the water in her glass threatened to slop over the side.
She met searing eyes that probed her very depths. ‘For all I know there could have been a man in Venice, one in Reykjavik and one in London too.’
Imogen swallowed hard, tasting indignation. ‘You think that was on my must-do list? A lover at every stop?’ Despite the harshness she heard in her voice, she couldn’t quite keep the wobble from it. Maybe if she was the sort of woman to fall into bed with a stranger so easily she wouldn’t have expected so much from Thierry.