Reunited by the Tycoon's Twins

On her way back to her own room she could hear Hart stirring in his cot and decided to go in before he could wake up his sister. Carrying him down towards the kitchen, she sniffed the top of his head and asked herself for the thousandth time what she was going to do next. Everything that had happened last night had stemmed from a conversation about making plans for her future—and instead of finding an answer to that conundrum, all she had done was make the status quo even more awkward—had possibly even tipped it over into untenable. As soon as she had had enough coffee—eight or so espressos should probably do the trick—she would fetch her laptop down from her room and resume her search for somewhere to live.

Her employers had promised her pay in lieu of the statutory notice period, as well as the redundancy pay she was legally entitled to, but so far her bank balance wasn’t showing any sign of their making good on this. Great. She could get the money she was legally owed if she pursued it through the courts, of course, but that didn’t help her a whole lot right this minute. And it would also suck up a lot of the time she had earmarked for university research. She didn’t want to give that time to her crappy old company, along with everything else they’d taken from her.

She picked up items of discarded clothing, glad that Finn was still upstairs and therefore unable to see the fierce pink staining her cheeks. It was only when he appeared in the doorway, reversing their positions from the night before, that she remembered that she was still wearing his shirt—and very little else. Well, it was a bit late to be coy. There was no part of her—literally, she thought, not a single part of her—that he hadn’t seen last night. Surely that should make her less embarrassed rather than more. But her cheeks were still glowing and there was no point trying to pretend that Finn couldn’t see it. She handed him one of the coffees she’d made and started prepping bottles for Bella and Hart, anything to avoid eye contact or awkward conversation.

‘That was great,’ Finn said after hastily downing his coffee. ‘You have my mobile and my office number, so if you’re at all worried about the twins then give me a call, yes? I’ll jump straight in the car if you need me back.’

She gave what she hoped was a neutral smile. ‘We’ll be absolutely fine. Now go to work.’

Finn paused before walking past her, and she knew he was making the same calculation as she was. Did they kiss on the cheek? On the lips? After all the places he’d kissed her just hours ago it seemed ridiculous that they could be paralysed by such a question now. But here they both were, with their rictus grins stretching wide, quite incapable of passing one another in the kitchen like normal adults.

Eventually Finn broke—he was the one who had to leave the house after all—and gave her a hasty peck on the cheek as he passed her on the way to the door. Fine—no eye contact, don’t turn back. Determined not to lift her fingers to the spot where the impression of his lips was still burning her already pink cheeks.

It was only when she heard the front door close that she allowed herself to unstick her feet from the floor and resume normal movement, moving around the kitchen until she had a plate of toast in front of her and Hart was drinking enthusiastically from a bottle. And then somehow it was nearly lunchtime, and the morning had disappeared in another round of milk-feeding and nappy-changing and pram-rocking.

Finally, in an attempt to buy herself enough time to sit down with a hot drink, she loaded both babies—sleepy and well-fed and clean and dry—into the double pushchair and determined just to keep walking until they both gave in and had a nap.

The leafy streets and quiet gardens around Finn’s townhouse were hardly a trial to kill an hour in, and she had an entertaining time trying to peer into expensively shuttered and curtained bay windows, spotting grand pianos and silk chaises longues, sleek kitchens and surprised-looking neighbours. By the time that she had done her third lap around the block with the delicious-looking patisserie on the corner, both Hart and Bella had succumbed to the motion of the pram and were peacefully asleep.

Sighing with relief at the sight of a free outdoor table, Madeleine parked the twins in the shade and pulled out her phone. She could have a coffee and get a spot of research done, and all before lunch. Really, she was better at this babysitting lark than she had thought. It was hard to consider this as anything other than gloriously successful.

She pulled up her online banking app and tapped in her passcode. She had been avoiding looking at it for the past few days, not keen on having a concrete reminder of exactly how dire things really were. But if she was going to find somewhere to stay, she couldn’t hide from the ugly truth for ever.

She squinted as the balance loaded, trying to brace herself against the flash of panic that was her norm in this situation. But the number on the screen was so far from what she was expecting that her eyes widened involuntarily. Had her former employers actually come good on their promise of redundancy pay, and pay in lieu of notice and—what?—a year’s back pay that she had somehow not realised she was owed?

She clicked through to her recent transactions, to find the unfeasibly large deposit in her current account. This just didn’t make se

nse. How had they even found the cash to pay her this much? And then she saw the name associated with the deposit.

He hadn’t...

Oh, my God.

If he had done this, she was never going to talk to him again. She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him and then never talk to him again, which would be considerably easier once he was six feet under.

And then through her anger came a crashing wave of shame. Heat that started in her cheeks before spreading to her chest, down her arms, until it felt as if her whole body was burning with it. Was that what he thought of her? That she would accept money from him after last night? Had he thought that she was expecting it? Had she done something to make him think that that was who she was—so mercenary? So grasping.

She picked up her phone to give him an earful but stopped herself before she dialled. She didn’t want to do this in a rage, so emotional. She wanted him to see her ice cool and totally in control. By the time he got back that night she could be packed. Jake would put her up for a night or shout her a stay in a cheap hotel. She didn’t have it all worked out yet, but she was absolutely certain that she wasn’t spending another night under Finn’s roof, and she wasn’t touching a penny of that money. As the flush began to fade, her skin began to crawl as every moment from the night before was cast in a new light—one where Finn was planning on paying for the pleasure.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

FINN HESITATED AT the door as he dug out his keys, wondering what he was going to find inside. His texts to Madeleine had garnered We’re all fine as a response. Which was...fine. But at the same time the brusqueness of those three words made him nervous. If he had thought that finally sleeping with Madeleine would make it easier to concentrate on his work, then he couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d thought about nothing but her all day. Through various meetings that really should have had his full attention. During the lunch that he’d grabbed at his desk. In the car on the way home.

All seemed quiet, he noted as he turned his key in the lock and opened the door. From the hallway he followed the sound of babies laughing right up the stairs until he found Bella, Hart and Madeleine all lying on the play mat in the nursery, staring up at the stars projected on the ceiling. The babies were in pyjamas, looking freshly bathed and content, and there were two empty bottles on the dresser beside the glider chair. He’d tried to get home for their bedtime, but had been waylaid on his way out and was back half an hour after they’d usually be asleep. But Madeleine had known, it seemed, that he’d want to say goodnight to them. His heart throbbed at her understanding that. And then he saw her spot him standing by the door.

She sat straight up and the playful look on her face was replaced immediately with pure fury. He took a reflexive step back as she walked towards him and scrambled to keep up with the abrupt change of atmosphere.

‘They’re ready to go to sleep,’ she all but hissed at him as she approached the door. ‘Hart will go sooner than Bella, I think. Trudy left dinner in the oven.’

He frowned as he watched her walk down the corridor, grab a bag from her room and head for the stairs. ‘Wait!’ he called, jogging after her. ‘What’s going on, Madeleine? I know things are a bit awkward after last night, but you don’t have to—’

‘A bit awkward? A bit awkward?’ Madeleine whisper-shouted, anger radiating. ‘This morning in the kitchen was a bit awkward, Finn. Now...now we are so far past awkward that I actually kind of miss it. We left it behind when you decided to pay me for my services.’

‘Services? I don’t know what—’

And then he did know. Saw how it must have looked to Madeleine and wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall to knock the stupidity out.

He’d deposited thousands of pounds into her bank account the morning after they had slept together. Of course it didn’t look great. But that wasn’t what he had meant by it—not at all, but it didn’t look as if Madeleine was planning on sticking round long enough to hear him out on it. And how could he blame her for that?