Beating the System Page 12

  ‘Because when I want to know something, I just go and see Daphne,’ he murmured in her ear as he stepped behind her, his lips barely brushing the shell. Her eyes drifted closed as she leant back against him. He let go of her hand so he could reach up and gently take her chin with just two of his strong fingers and turned her face towards him.

  ‘We’ll say the baby is mine.’ His voice was low, his breath mingling with hers as she slowly turned to him. His eyes were hooded, but within them shimmered a need she knew so well, a need to consume and to be consumed, and she didn’t care about the consequences any longer. She wanted him, wanted to feel as she had all those years ago and never had since. She wanted to be complete again, wanted to soar in a way she’d not been able to without him making her fly.

  She wanted Roman Tyrrell in every way possible.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed.

  ‘We’ll get married.’ His lips brushed hers in the merest hint of a kiss. ‘Marry me, Henrietta.’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed.

  ‘My Henrietta,’ he growled as his lips took hers.

  A small part of her brain tried to speak up, telling her to push him away, but instead of pushing her hands reached up, sliding against the lapels of his jacket before her fingers slowly curled into them. She pulled him closer, and he didn’t argue.

  A moan of pleasure spilt from him as his hands grasped at her waist, drawing her flush against his body, and she returned his sentiments the moment she felt the hard evidence of his desire against her stomach.

  ‘Roman…’ she murmured against his lips as she wrapped her arms around him, one hand in his hair, holding him closer and deepening the kiss—

  ‘Mr Tyrrell, you— Oh!’

  Roman pulled away from Hattie as if she had suddenly caught fire and quickly spun to face the intruder. Hattie’s eyes widened as she peered around him and saw his secretary standing in the doorway, hand still on the doorknob as she stared at the two of them with wide, horrified eyes.

  ‘Yes?’ Roman growled, running a hand through his hair and no doubt in desperate need to adjust himself, to hide the evidence of his arousal. But he stood firm, a barrier between her and their unexpected audience. Part of Hattie’s brain whispered how different a reaction that was to what would have happened years ago if someone had walked in on them that night, but it was drowned out by the louder voice of her rational side which was screaming, What the hell have you done?

  Hattie face burned, no doubt she was bright red—she’d had no intention of stopping Roman. If he’d wanted, she’d have let him have her right here on his desk with only an unlocked door between them and his secretary. She closed her eyes with the shame of it. What if the woman had walked in a few minutes later? What position would she have found them in? What state of undress would they have been trying to fix now?

  Hattie resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands and instead took a deep breath before facing the other woman again. Hattie wasn’t usually shy; she was confident in her body and her looks, but this felt… unseemly. A quick tumble in the office wasn’t for wives—even soon-to-be ones—of executives, but for mistresses… or secretaries.

  Hattie narrowed her eyes at the woman across the room. Had she been one of the women Roman had cheated on Fiona with?

  ‘Sue, what is it?’ he snapped viciously, refocusing her attention on him.

  ‘I— You—’ The woman swallowed, glanced down at the floor before she squared her shoulders and returned his stare. If she hadn’t been drowning in shame, Hattie would have admired the woman for facing her boss in such a manner.

  ‘You have a lunch… appointment at one, if you don’t leave within five minutes you will be late.’ Roman rubbed his hand over his face and down over his throat, until he reached the tie at his neck. He straightened it as he nodded at Sue.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll leave in a few moments. If you want an extended lunch yourself, please feel free.’ Sue nodded and left without another word. However, her silence didn’t stop the secretary from glaring at Hattie as she closed the door behind her.

  ‘Henrietta,’ he began, his voice low as he turned to face her. His eyes were filled with regret. ‘I have to take this meeting, it is… imperative to my future.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ she said with a nod, still completely dazed by the sudden change in events. There were things she should say, questions she should ask. Her brain was at war with itself; one part wanting to cheer in celebration what had just transpired, the other wanting to shake her silly for falling into his arms so willingly, so easily…

  ‘I will call you later, okay?’ he said, taking her hand in his as he led her towards the door. She blinked again, trying to get the warring voices inside her to quieten down so she could pick through the jumble of emotions and find the logical and rational arguments and points of Roman’s plan and what it would mean for her.

  ‘You will?’ she asked, unable to help the lilt of hope in her voice. He offered her a small smile, and she felt herself returning it. Her breath hitched as his eyes drifted to her lips again, and Hattie felt herself lean towards him, hoping for round two.

  ‘I promise.’ He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it before he opened the door. ‘And we will discuss everything, okay? Lay all our cards on the table.’

  Hattie felt as if a bucket of cold water had dropped over her head at those seven words; her eye twitched at the otherwise innocent comment, and her heart began to speed up for an entirely different reason.

  ‘Okay,’ she whispered, as the door closed behind her. She blinked a few times, trying to banish the foreboding feeling sitting heavy in her chest, and prayed that she wouldn’t lose him as she had Jensen.

  She’d never survive.

  Chapter Seven

  Her white-blonde hair dazzled in the bright April sunshine. She sat at a table in the restaurant garden, sunglasses perched on her nose and her face tilted up to the sun. She was dressed impeccably; a beautiful navy-blue dress with a white jacket over the top, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Silver bangles decorated her slim arms as her fingers played with the condensation on her cocktail glass. She was such a cliché.

  Roman closed his eyes, recalled what was waiting for him after he did this—God, she’d felt good in his arms, her kisses sweet and addicting—and took a deep breath before holding his head up high and strolling to where Fiona waited for him.

  ‘Outside? What, are we tourists?’ he asked mockingly as he took the seat opposite her.

  ‘The weather is finally picking up,’ she replied before sipping her drink. ‘You’ve been cooped up for nearly a month, I thought it would be good to get the sun on your skin.’ She motioned for the waiter to come to them.

  ‘I was in mourning, Fi,’ he reminded her. ‘I wasn’t locked in a prison cell.’ It might not have been a prison cell and he may well have had luxuries at his behest, but there were only so many miles he could run on a treadmill or lengths he could swim in a pool to stop his mind from wandering… Usually back to Henrietta and her lust-filled eyes and parted lips that had haunted his dreams. The phantom scent of her perfume had followed him everywhere.

  Even when Fiona had visited and he’d taken her to his bed to try and cast out the demon that had a grip of his heart, he hadn’t been able to stop comparing his fiancée to the woman he really wanted. Would always want. And now would have for the rest of his life.

  He bit back the smile that wanted to curl his lips as the memory of their brief, impassioned kiss earlier wandered through his mind again. He had not been impressed when Sue had interrupted them to remind him of this lunch date. Although, he supposed it would only add to their story.

  At least she hadn’t mentioned who he’d been coming to meet. He’d have sacked her on the spot if she had. And Hattie… Well, Hattie would have slapped him silly, stormed out, and would never have seen him again—he had no doubt about that.

  But he hadn’t lied to Hattie when he’d told her that it was over between Fiona and him. The moment h
e’d realised he could have Hattie in his life if he claimed the child, he’d decided he was done with Fiona and was calling the whole thing off. He was single. It was just Fiona didn’t know she was too.

  A mere technicality. And it wasn’t as if he’d told Hattie the exact timing. If it got back to her their breakup happened today, then he’d simply tell her it he’d done the deed before she’d arrived. Perhaps he could distract her from any other questions she had with more soft caresses as he slowly kissed his way down her body…

  ‘My tan is fine. I have an outdoor pool,’ he reminded her, clearing his throat to dispel the distracting daydreams. He glanced around the garden to ensure there wasn’t anyone there they knew and was satisfied when he saw only three other parties, none with familiar faces.

  ‘Your shared pool.’ Fiona’s upper lip curled with disgust and Roman bit back the desire to tell her to stop being such a snob; she was about to get a very rude awakening after all. ‘Why don’t you just move in with me? Daddy said if we marry before the end of the year, he’ll pay for the whole thing. He’ll have a scotch, neat,’ she added to the waiter as the young man reached the table.

  ‘No, just a glass of water,’ Roman corrected. A fourth glass of scotch so early in the day would mean he’d get nothing done that afternoon, and he had a lot to do if he was going to marry Hattie before she changed her mind. He wanted the announcement out tomorrow, Monday at the latest, and he’d get her up the aisle by the end of the month—sooner if possible.

  ‘Sparkling. Ice, lemon and mint.’ He told the waiter who nodded before scurrying away again.

  Fiona narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘What’s up with you?’

  He sighed and sat back in his chair. He’d been planning on at least having a civil lunch and explaining everything at the end. But just being around her had completely killed his appetite. Best to do it as quickly as possible and move on.

  ‘Fi, I won’t be moving in with you and there isn’t going to be a wedding.’

  ‘Oh, don’t start that again, Roman,’ she said with long suffering patience before she took another sip of her drink. ‘We both know it’s going to happen. We discussed this at Christmas.’

  ‘No, Fi, it’s not. I’ve got someone pregnant.’

  She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and stared at him.

  ‘Ha ha. You’re not as good at pranks as Jensen was.’

  Roman frowned at her, wondering what she was—Ah.

  ‘It’s not an April’s fool.’

  She narrowed her grey-blue eyes at him, her gaze hardening as she tried to work out if he was indeed being serious. He stared back, daring her to challenge him. Finally, when he refused to wilt under her gaze, she sighed.

  ‘Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I hope it’s being dealt with.’ And she’d accept it. She’d accept him knocking someone else up if it was quickly terminated, the other woman paid off, and the most iron clad non-disclosure agreement signed. He imagined how this might play out if he were telling Hattie such a thing; she’d have killed him. The difference between the two women was the difference between here and the centre of the universe—unfathomable and unimaginable. He questioned for the billionth time in his life why he’d ever thought this arrangement with Fiona had been a good idea.

  ‘No, it isn’t being dealt with. I’m marrying her.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Pay the chit off and let’s move on.’

  ‘No. I am marrying her. The child is mine and I’m making it legit. They’ll be the Tyrrell heir my father is always harping on about.’

  ‘I’ll give you an heir at some point in the future, get rid of it.’

  The idea of having a child with Fiona sickedened him. With the two of them as parents, it would become a monster. With Hattie, his children would at least have half a chance of having a normal emotional range. And there would be plenty of them. A whole brood if he got his way.

  ‘We are done, Fiona. Finished. No more. I am marrying the mother of my child and we’re going to be very happy together. You can keep the ring; I plan on giving her my grandmother’s.’

  Fiona removed her glasses and leaned forward in her chair, the pulse in her jaw jumped. Ah, he’d hit a sore point with that last comment. She’d wanted his grandmother’s ring, and he’d refused point blank, telling her he was going to allow Jensen to give it to whoever he felt deserved it. She’d argued it was his by birth right being the eldest and he’d countered that being three minutes older didn’t really count. It was just a matter of logistics in the womb; he’d been closer to the exit. He hadn’t really thought Jensen would marry of choice, but figured he’d rather whoever his brother accidentally knocked up and hurried down the aisle have it over Fiona.

  He bit back a laugh at the fact he had almost predicted it perfectly. The only difference was that it was going to be him giving it to the woman his brother had accidentally knocked up.

  ‘My father will destroy them and you. Don’t be stupid, Roman. Pay her off, make her deal with the matter, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.’

  He scoffed. ‘Good luck. I don’t think even your father could go against the King.’ Ah, shit. He hadn’t been planning on telling her who the other woman was; he had hoped to be far away when she read their official announcement in the paper in a day or two.

  Fiona went still. Her fingers curling over the edge of the round table as her eyes searched his. He raised a single brow, daring her to make a scene.

  ‘Hattie.’ She spat the word as if it were the most disgusting thing in the world. ‘You knocked up Hattie! At your own brother’s funeral!’ Her voice grew louder, more shrill as she spoke. She was going to cause a scene.

  ‘We’re in public, Fi. Please remember that.’ He nodded to the waiter who chose that moment to return. The young man stared wide eyed between the two, startling when Roman cleared his throat and took the drink off the tray himself. He watched the young lad hurry away and wished he could follow just as quickly.

  ‘You promised,’ she hissed. ‘All those years ago, you swore you’d never shag her again! That it was over and done with, out of your system—’

  ‘Why does she bother you so much?’ Curiosity finally got the better of him. ‘You don’t care about any other woman I have in my bed, and you know I’ve had plenty; why her?’

  ‘Because you—’ She bit her words off and looked away. He frowned, that was an unexpected reaction. ‘You’ll break her heart.’

  He snorted. ‘You didn’t want me bedding her because I’ll break her heart. How magnanimous of you.’

  ‘Oh, go to hell, Roman!’ she sneered as she pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘You’ll break her heart, the way you’ve broken mine.’

  ‘Oh, give it a rest, Fi, you’ve never loved me, just the idea of me.’ She narrowed her eyes at him, before grabbing her sunglasses and bag. She shoved the small clutch under her arm and shoved the glasses back on her face.

  ‘You won’t be able to keep it in your pants! You can’t be faithful; you’ve never been able to be! But I have thick skin, unlike your little Henrietta. I could cope, I could overlook it, but she won’t. You’ll be divorced before the year is out. You mark my words.’

  ‘I won’t cheat on Henrietta.’ He raised his glass to now ex-fiancée. She grabbed her own and threw the contents of her drink over him before she spun on her heel and stormed away in a chorus of click-clacking heels and tinkling bangles.

  Roman sighed and grabbed a napkin to wipe his face of the fruity mess. Picking a pineapple chunk from his lap and tossing it onto the table.

  So much for thinking she wouldn’t cause a scene. He leaned back in his seat before taking a mouthful of the cool water and casting a casual glance around the garden. Two of the three groups were staring, wide eyed and silent at him, the other, a young couple were fastidiously avoiding looking in his direction, although they’d also stopped talking.

  Well, this would be out far sooner than he’d hoped.

&n
bsp; He stood up and dropped a few crowns on the table. Most expensive glass of water he’d ever had, both to his wallet and his reputation.

  The things men did for love were unfathomable.

  Hattie had left Seymour Medical with her head held high, her back straight, and shoulders squared, giving neither Sue nor Daphne the time of day as she strode through the building. She must have channelled a little bit of her cousin Artie, as no one, not even security challenged her as she went, and the lifelike Barbie doll quickly disappeared the moment Hattie came into view.

  But the moment she’d left the building’s campus, Hattie felt as if her strings had been cut. Her shoulders slumped, her chin hit her chest, and her knees felt like they were made from jelly. She shakily took a seat on the first bench she found and held her head in her hands as she replayed everything that had happened and tried to work out what the hell it all meant.

  While sitting there, she should have considered the fact that Jensen had no money, no fortune to offer her child. She definitely should have contemplated that she had agreed to fraudulently claim her baby was Roman’s. That should have made her think about the fact that she was about to con her trust into giving up her daddy’s money—although that was an entirely separate thought trail to go down—which could land her in prison if she was found out.

  Maybe she should have weighed up the fact that Roman and Fiona had broken up. She definitely should have pondered on why Roman was so quick to offer marriage to her, practically seducing her into agreeing to be his wife. She also should have debated why she’d said yes—it would be a short one-sided argument, but she should definitely have given it at least some thought. And she should most certainly have mulled over the knowledge of his unfaithfulness to Fiona and how he probably would expect the same conditions within their arrangement.

  But instead of any or all of those very pressing matters, all her mind wanted to exam was their kiss…