The Venetian One-Night Baby Read online

  Max’s mother came towards him with half a glass of champagne in her hand. ‘Are you looking for Sabrina?’

  ‘No.’ Shoot. He’d delivered his flat denial far too quickly.

  ‘Well, if you are, then you’re wasting your time. She went home half an hour ago. Said she wasn’t feeling well. I hope it wasn’t your fault?’ The accusatory note in his mother’s voice grated along his already frayed nerves.

  Yep, it was definitely his fault.

  Big time.

  * * *

  Sabrina managed to make it back to her tiny flat without being sick. The nausea kept coming and going in waves and she’d been worried it might grip her in the middle of the party celebrations. She had decided it was safer to make her excuses and leave. Besides, it might have looked suspicious if her mother or Max’s noticed she wasn’t drinking the champagne. After all, the party girl with a glass of bubbles in her hand and a dazzling smile on her face whilst working the room was her signature style.

  But it seemed Sabrina had left one party to come home to another. The loud music coming from the upstairs flat was making the walls shake. How would she ever get to sleep with that atrocious racket going on? She only hoped the party wouldn’t go on past midnight. Last time the neighbours had held a party the police had been called because a scuffle had broken out on the street as some of the guests had been leaving.

  It wasn’t the nicest neighbourhood to live in—certainly nowhere as genteel as the suburbs where her parents and two older brothers lived and where she had spent her childhood. But until she felt more financially stable she didn’t feel she had a choice. Rents in London were continually on the rise, and with the sharing economy going from strength to strength, it meant there was a reduced number of properties available for mid-to long-term rent.

  She peeled off her clothes and slipped her nightgown over her head. She went to the bathroom and took off her makeup but then wished she hadn’t. Was it possible to look that pale whilst still having a functioning pulse?

  Sabrina went back to her bedroom and climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head, but the sound of heavy footsteps clattering up and down the stairs would have made a herd of elephants sound like fairies’ feet. Then, to add insult to injury, someone began to pound on her front door.

  ‘Argh.’ She threw off the covers and grabbed her wrap to cover her satin nightgown and padded out to check who was there through the peephole. No way was she going to open the door if it was a drunken stranger. But a familiar tall figure stood there with a brooding expression. ‘Max?’

  ‘Let me in.’ His voice contained the thread of steel she had come to always associate with him.

  She unlocked the door and he was inside her flat almost before she could step out of the way. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He glanced around the front room of her flat like a construction official inspecting a condemned building. ‘I’m not letting you stay here. There isn’t even an intercom on this place. It’s not safe.’

  Pride stiffened her spine and she folded her arms across her middle. ‘I don’t plan to stay here for ever but it’s all I can afford. Anyway, you didn’t seem to think it was too unsafe when you kissed me that time you brought me home.’

  ‘My mind was on other things that night.’ There was the sound of a bottle breaking in the stairwell and he winced. ‘Right. That settles it. Get dressed and pack a bag. You’re coming with me.’

  Sabrina unfolded her arms and placed them on her hips. ‘You can’t just barge into my home and tell me what to do.’

  ‘Watch me, sweetheart.’ He moved past her and went to her bedroom, opening drawers and cupboards and throwing a collection of clothes on the bed.

  Sabrina followed him into her bedroom. ‘Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘If you won’t pack, then I’ll do it for you.’ He opened another cupboard and found her overnight bag and, placing it on the bed, began stuffing her clothes into it.

  Sabrina grabbed at the sweater he’d picked up and pulled on it like a dog playing tug-of-war. ‘Give it back.’ Tug. Tug. Tug. ‘You’re stretching it out of shape.’

  He whipped it out of her hands and tossed it in the bag on the bed. ‘I’ll buy you a new one.’ He slammed the lid of the bag down and zipped it up with a savage movement. ‘I’m not letting you stay another minute in this hovel.’

  ‘Hovel?’ Sabrina snorted. ‘Did you hear that clanging noise? Oh, yes, that must be the noise of all those silver spoons hanging out of your mouth.’

  His grey-blue eyes were as dark as storm clouds with lightning flashes of anger. ‘Why do you live like this when you could live with your parents until you get on your feet?’

  ‘Hello? I’m twenty-eight years old,’ Sabrina said. ‘I haven’t lived with my parents for a decade. And nor would I want to. They’d bombard me constantly with all of your amazingly wonderful assets until I went stark certifiably crazy.’

  There was the sound of someone shouting and swearing in the stairwell and Max’s jaw turned to marble. ‘I can’t let you stay here, Sabrina. Surely you can understand that?’

  She sent him a glare. ‘I understand you want to take control.’

  ‘This is not about control. This is about your safety.’ He scraped a hand through his hair. ‘And the baby’s safety too.’

  Sabrina was becoming too tired to argue. The noise from upstairs was getting worse and there would be no hope of sleeping even if by some remote chance she convinced Max to leave her be. Besides, she secretly hated living here. The landlord was a creep and kept threatening to put up the rent.

  Sabrina was too proud, too determined to prove to her parents she didn’t need their help. But it wasn’t just herself she had to think about now. She had to take care of the baby. She’d read how important it was for mothers-to-be to keep stress levels down and get plenty of rest for the sake of the developing foetus. Was Max thinking along the same lines? ‘Why did you come here tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘I was worried about you. You left the party early and I worried you might be sick or faint whilst driving home. I’m sorry. I should have offered to drive you but I was still reeling from your news and—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She tossed her hair back over one shoulder. ‘As you see, I managed to get home in one piece.’

  He stepped closer and took her hands in his. His touch made every nerve in her skin fizz, his concerned gaze striking a lethal blow to her stubborn pride. ‘Let me look after you, Sabrina. Come home with me.’

  Her insides quivered, her inner core recalling his intimate presence. The memories of that night seemed to be swirling in the air they shared. Her body was so aware of his proximity she could feel every fibre of her satin nightgown against her flesh. Was he remembering every moment of that night? Was his body undergoing the same little pulses and flickers of remembered pleasure? ‘Live with you, you mean?’

  ‘We’ll have separate rooms.’

  She frowned. ‘You don’t want to...?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ He released her hands and stepped back. ‘Not until you get through the first trimester. Then we’ll reassess.’ His tone was so matter-of-fact he could have been reading a financial report.

  Sabrina couldn’t quell her acute sense of disappointment. He didn’t want her any more? Or maybe he did but he was denying himself because he’d set conditions on their relationship. ‘But how will we keep our...erm...relationship or whatever we’re now calling it a secret from our families if we’re living under the same roof?’

  ‘In some ways, it’ll make it easier. We won’t be seen out and about together in public. And I travel a lot for work so we won’t be on top of each other.’

  Doubts flitted through her mind like frenzied moths. Sharing a house with him was potentially dangerous. Her body was aflame with lust as soon as he came near, living with
him would only make it a thousand times worse. She ached to feel his arms around her, his kiss on her mouth, his body buried within hers. What if she made a fool of herself? Wanting him so badly she begged him to make love to her?

  What if she fell in love with him?

  He wasn’t offering her love, only his protection. Food and shelter and a roof over her head. And a stable but loveless marriage if the pregnancy continued. But wasn’t that a pathway to heartbreak? How could she short-change herself by marrying someone who wasn’t truly in love with her?

  Max came closer again and took her hands. ‘This is the best way forward. It will ensure your safety and my peace of mind.’

  She looked down at their joined hands, his skin so tanned compared to the creamy whiteness of hers. It reminded her of the miracle occurring inside her body, the cells dividing, DNA being exchanged, traits and features from them both being switched on or off to make a whole new little person. A little person she was already starting to love. ‘I don’t know...’

  His hands gave hers a small squeeze. ‘Let’s give it a try for the next few weeks, okay?’

  Sabrina let out a sigh and gave him a wry glance. ‘You know, you’re kind of scaring me at how convincing you can be when you put your mind to it.’

  He released her hands and stepped back with an unreadable expression. ‘I’ll wait for you out here while you get changed out of your nightgown. Any toiletries you need from the bathroom before we get going?’

  She sighed and turned back for the bedroom. ‘I’ll get them once I’ve got changed.’

  * * *

  Max waited for Sabrina while she gathered her makeup and skincare products from the bathroom. He would have paced the floor but there wasn’t the space for it. He would have taken out a window with his elbow each time he turned. It was true that he hadn’t noticed how appalling her flat was when he’d brought her home that night all those weeks ago. The flat wasn’t so bad inside—she had done her best to tart things up with brightly coloured scatter cushions and throw rugs over the cheap sofa, cute little knick-knacks positioned here and there and prints of artwork on the walls. There was even a bunch of fresh flowers, presumably supplied by her best friend Holly, who was a florist.

  But it was what was on the outside of Sabrina’s front door that worried him. Apart from the stale cooking smells, there were no security cameras, no intercom to screen the people coming in and out of the building. How could he sleep at night if he left her here with who knew what type of people milling past? Criminals? Drug dealers? Violent thugs?

  No. It was safer for her at his house. Well, safe in one sense, dangerous in another. He had made a promise to himself that he would keep his hands off her. He knew he was locking the stable door even though the horse was well on its way to the maternity ward, but he had to be sensible about this. Sleeping with her before the three-month mark would make it even harder to end their relationship if the pregnancy failed.

  Something tightened in his gut at the thought of her losing that baby. His baby. He had never imagined himself as a father. For most of his life he had blocked it out of his mind. He wasn’t the type of man who was comfortable around kids. He actively avoided babies. One of his friends from university had asked him to be godfather to his firstborn son. Max had almost had a panic attack at the church when his friend’s wife had handed him the baby to hold.

  But now he was going to be a father.

  Sabrina came out after a few minutes dressed in skinny jeans and a dove-grey boyfriend sweater that draped sensually over her bra-less breasts. On her feet she was wearing ballet slippers, and on her face an expression that was one part resignation and one part defiance. He tore his gaze away from the tempting globes of her breasts, remembering how soft they had felt in his hands, how tightly her nipples had peaked when he’d sucked on them. In a few months her body would be ripe with his child.

  A child he had planted in her womb.

  He had never considered pregnancy to be sexy but somehow with Sabrina it was. Damn it, everything about her was sexy. Wasn’t that why he’d crossed the line and made love to her last month in Venice?

  But now he had drawn a new line and there was no way he was stepping over it.

  No. Freaking. Way.

  * * *

  Sabrina hadn’t realised she had slept during the drive from her flat to Max’s house in Notting Hill. She woke up when the car stopped and straightened from her slumped position in the passenger seat. She hadn’t been to this new house of his before—but not for want of trying by his and her parents. She had walked past it once or twice but was always so keen to avoid him that she had stopped coming to the Portobello Road markets for fear of running into him.

  The house was one in a long row of grand four-storey white terrace houses. Each one had a black wrought-iron balustrade on the second-floor balcony and the same glossy black decorative fencing at street level.

  When Max led the way inside, she got a sense of what Lizzie Bennet in Pride and Prejudice had felt when seeing Pemberley, Mr Darcy’s estate, for the first time. This could be your home if you marry him.

  She turned in a circle in the black and white tiled foyer, marvelling at the décor that was stylish and elegant without being over the top. The walls and ceiling were a bone white but the chandelier overhead was a black one with sparkling crystal pendants that tinkled with the movement of air. There was a staircase leading to the upper floors, carpeted with a classic Persian runner with brass rods running along the back of each step to hold it in place. Works of art hung at various points, which she could only presume were originals. He didn’t strike her as the sort of man to be content with a couple of cheap knock-offs to adorn his walls, like she had done at her flat.

  ‘I’ll show you to your room,’ Max said. ‘Or would you like something to eat and drink first?’

  Sabrina tried to smother a yawn. ‘No, I think I’ll go straight to bed. I’m exhausted.’

  He carried her small bag and led the way up the stairs, glancing back at her every few steps to make sure she was managing okay. It would have been touching if it hadn’t been for how awkward the situation between them was. She was very much aware of how she had rocked his neat and ordered life with her bombshell news. She was still trying to come to terms with it herself. How was she going to run her business and look after a baby? What was she going to say to her parents and brothers?

  Oh, by the way, I got myself knocked up by my mortal enemy Max Firbank.

  ‘I’ll show you around tomorrow, but the main bathroom is on the ground floor, along with the kitchen and living areas,’ Max said. ‘On this floor there’s my study, second door on the left, and the guest bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. My room is on the third floor. There’s a gym on the top floor.’

  Sabrina stopped on the second-floor landing to catch her breath. ‘Who needs a gym with all these stairs?’

  He frowned and touched her on the arm. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Max, I’m fine. Please stop fussing.’

  He drew in a breath and released it in a whoosh, his hand falling away from her forearm. ‘Tomorrow I’ll have the rest of your things brought over from your flat.’

  ‘How am I going to explain why I’m not at home if my parents or brothers drop by? Where will I say I’m staying?’

  ‘Tell them you’re staying with a friend.’

  Sabrina arched her eyebrows. ‘Is that what you are now? My...friend?’

  He glanced at her mouth before meeting her gaze with his inscrutable one. ‘If we’re going to be bringing up a child together then we’d damn well better not be enemies.’

  She had a feeling he was fighting hard not to touch her. One of his hands was clenching and unclenching and his chiselled jaw was set in a taut line. ‘This is your worst nightmare, isn’t it? Having me here, pregnant with a baby you didn’t want.’

  ‘Let’s not ta
lk any more tonight. We’re both tired and—’

  ‘I’m not so tired that I can’t see how much you’re hating this. Hating me.’ She banged her fist against her chest for emphasis. ‘I didn’t do it deliberately, you know.’

  ‘I never said you did.’

  Sabrina was struggling to contain her overwrought emotions. Her life was spiralling out of her control and there was nothing she could do about it. She swallowed a sob but another one followed it. She turned away and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the sting of tears.

  Max put the bag down and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her to face him, his expression etched with concern. ‘Hey...’ His finger lifted her face so her eyes met his. ‘Listen to me, Sabrina. I do not hate you. Neither do I blame you for what’s happened. I take full responsibility. And because of that, I want to take care of you in whatever way you need.’

  But I need you. The words stayed silent on her tongue. She would not beg him to make love to her again. She wanted him to own his desire for her. To own it instead of denying it. She blinked the moisture away from her eyes. ‘I’m worried about how I’ll cope with my work and a baby. What if I lose my business? I’ve worked so hard to get it to this stage.’

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. ‘You will not lose your business. You can appoint a manager or outsource some work. The golden rule in running a business is only to do the stuff that only you can do.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to do that by hiring a part-time assistant but she messed up my booking for Venice,’ Sabrina said.

  ‘It takes time to build up your confidence in your staff but if you train them to do things the way you want them done, and check in occasionally to see if they’re on track, then things will eventually run the way you want them to.’ He removed his hands from her shoulders and picked up her bag again. ‘Now, young lady, it’s time for you to get some shut-eye.’