flashed at the car and a couple of seconds later, the double garage doors automatically rolled open.
“Number plate recognition camera,” Carson answered my unanswered question as I frowned at the light, wondering what it was. He pulled the car into the garage, cutting the engine before turning in his seat to look at me. I had nothing to say to him, though. It was like we were strangers now, because the Carson I had met three years ago was long gone, replaced by this mean, nasty person before me. I shoved my door open, climbing out, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.
As I stepped from the car, I couldn’t help but gasp as I looked around. The garage I thought was just a double from the front was actually a large, expansive area, which must have stretched under the house itself. It housed five shiny, sleek cars and three motorbikes. It was perfectly clean and looked more like a showroom. I raised one eyebrow in understanding. I’d found what Carson liked to spend his money on.
Behind me, I could hear him getting my bags from the boot, but I didn’t bother to offer help. He was the one who insisted on this ridiculous charade, so I figured he could struggle and suffer the consequences.
“This way,” he muttered, stalking toward the door at the back of the garage.
I followed him quietly, watching as he punched a code into a little black box next to the door. When the door lock clicked, he pushed it open, stepped to the side and motioned for me to step through in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. I resisted the urge to laugh. I’d gone from prostitute to lady in the space of half an hour; that was impressive.
After walking up a flight of stairs, I opened the door at the top and stepped into the hallway of his house. I stopped immediately; the damn hallway was bigger than my lounge, and it was exquisite. I gulped as I stared at the expensive-looking ornaments on the side. Glass doors led to, what I assumed was, the lounge because it had sofas and one whole wall was completely covered in a pull-down TV. The place screamed three words: money, show and bachelor.
I smiled wickedly to myself. Sasha is going to have a field day smashing up all his expensive crap!
Carson cleared his throat behind me, setting my bags down. “I’ll give you a quick tour now, and I’ll sort out keys and passwords and stuff for the doors later. Other than vehicle recognition, the main entrances are opened by keypad, so if you forget a key then you can still get in. Handy really, considering I’ve almost locked myself out tons of times,” he joked, smiling weakly.
“Great,” I mumbled, trying to fake interest.
He sighed and a frown creased his forehead, which I longed to smooth away with my fingertip. “You could at least smile or something. This place is infinitely better than the shithole you were living in. At least here you can step out the front door without the fear of being gang-raped or shot for sport.”
I scoffed and shook my head incredulously. “Oh, I’m sorry, you were expecting me to fall at your feet and thank you for letting me live in your incredible house? Was I supposed to take one look at your stupid, elegant sweeping staircase and be all grateful you’re making me marry you under threat of losing my daughter?” I retorted sarcastically. I made a show of patting my jeans’ pockets before I shook my head. “Nope, sorry. Looks like I’m all out of fucks to give.” If he was expecting me to be impressed by the fact he had a nice house and suddenly love the idea of being married against my will, even though he thought I was some kind of tramp, then he would be sorely disappointed. No one had ever hurt me as much as he had. It had been the look in his eyes. If it had been someone else that had said it then maybe I could have shaken it off, but seeing that look from the man I loved had crushed my soul a little. I’d never forget it.
His frown grew more pronounced as a muscle in his jaw twitched. His eyes told me he wanted to say something nasty back, but he was obviously choosing his words carefully. Instead, he said nothing and turned his back on me, stalking up the long, marble hallway toward the door at the end.
I chewed on my lip in anger. Maybe we needed to have a good argument, a good airing-out session before we could then talk about it and reason it out – but it appeared Carson wasn’t the arguing type. After hesitating for a few seconds, I finally followed him, leaving a big gap between us. He stepped into the room at the end and held the door open for me, not looking at me. As I stepped through, I came face to face with the most beautiful kitchen I had ever seen. My stomach instantly growled at the thought of cooking in a place like this. The cupboards were white, sleek and shiny. There were no handles, so it was extremely sophisticated-looking. The built-in appliances were stainless steel, and the worktop was black granite. It looked like something out of a celebrity magazine.
“Obviously, this is the kitchen. You can use anything you want. There’s not much food in at the moment, I don’t think, but I’ll fix that. You’ll have to write me a list or something of stuff you three like and I can order it in.” He pointed to the oven and frowned. “I don’t know how that works. There are probably some instructions around somewhere.”
I raised one eyebrow. “You don’t cook then?”
He shook his head in answer. “No, I have a housekeeper. I pay her extra to cook for me.”
“I guess this is how the other half lives,” I muttered under my breath, touching the cold granite surface, still awed over how stunning it was.
“I’ll show you the rest.” He didn’t wait for me as he stalked from the room and down the hallway. I followed behind him like a wounded puppy. After looking in the dining room, the games room, the conservatory, the study, the TV room, and then the formal lounge, I came to the conclusion that I would never, ever feel at home in this place. It was all too clinical, too white, no colour or personality. It was like Carson had a designer come in and set the house up just for show. He probably didn’t even spend that much time in any of these rooms. With a two-year-old living here, it wouldn’t stay this beautiful for long. Once sticky fingers touched the walls and juice cups were carelessly abandoned on the cream carpets, the place would certainly feel lived-in then.
Just as we were about to head upstairs, his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and stopped walking. “I have to take this. It’s Mason.”
I nodded, folding my arms across my chest while he headed into the lounge. I tried not to listen to him talking to his press agent, but I couldn’t exactly help it. His voice was getting louder as he spoke; they were talking about Sasha and me. He was telling Mason about how it was true and how we were moving in with him and getting married. The way he explained everything so calmly made it all sound so incredibly normal, and a little shiver ran through me. Mason obviously wasn’t too sold on the idea, though, because Carson was getting angry. I could hear him telling Mason it wasn’t a mistake, that he wasn’t going to brush it under the carpet and he wasn’t going to pay us off and deny everything to the press just to make his life easier.
Figuring the tour wasn’t going to resume anytime soon, I sat on the bottom step and rested my head on the wall. Carson was getting even more passionate in there as he talked about wanting to get to know his daughter, and how he would take care of her – her and me. I couldn’t help the little smile, which tugged at the corner of my mouth when he lumped me in with Sasha. Then they were down to planning, statements which needed to be drafted, and when we were going to pick up Sasha. Carson wanted something called a blanket order put on both Sasha and Rory. If I remembered correctly, that meant no one would be able to print a picture of their faces in the papers or magazines.
My eyes were getting heavy as I eavesdropped.
I SNUGGLED AGAINST the warm thing, pressing my face into it, breathing it in. It smelt delicious and made my heart race. Cracking my eyes open, I looked around. Confusion settled over me as I realised I wasn’t at home. All I could see were white walls, splashed with the occasional canvas. I was laying on something soft; I turned my head and looked up to see Carson looking down at me.
What on Earth?
Then I remembered everything: the reporters, the arguing with Carson, the demands he was making. I gulped as my heart broke all over again, remembering the way he looked at me, the way those spiteful words sounded in his smooth voice.
It took me a couple of seconds to realise I was lying on my back on the sofa with my head in his lap. His arm was resting across my body, his thumb stroking my stomach lightly, making my skin break out in goose bumps at the feel of his skin on mine. I wanted to punch myself for reacting to his touch when I was supposed to hate him. Apparently, my stupid, traitorous body couldn’t seem to remember the way he looked down his nose and sneered at me so distastefully.
I pushed myself up, sitting on the sofa, and blushed because I was so close to him. My body still reacted to his even though I didn’t want it to. My mouth yearned to be on his, and my fingers itched to touch him and caress him. As I sat up, his hand dropped off my stomach and he looked at me with a small, sad smile on his face. I’d never felt awkward around Carson since the first moment I met him, but it was almost as if we didn’t know how to act around each other anymore. As if we’d lost the connection we once had, the connection I treasured.
“Hey. You okay?” he asked, brushing my hair behind my ear, making the skin on my cheek tingle where his fingers touched. I gulped and nodded. The corner of his lips twitched with a smile. “You must be the only person I’ve ever met that can fall asleep sitting up with your head against a wall.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, it’s one of my many talents.”
Flicking my eyes around the room again, I spotted a clock on the wall. It was just after one. As if on cue, my stomach rumbled, signalling lunchtime. Carson smiled. “If you’re hungry, I could make you something? My housekeeper doesn’t work weekends, so it’ll have to be sandwiches or something. Unless you want me to order in?” He raised one eyebrow in question.
“Sandwiches are fine,” I muttered, pushing myself off the sofa.
He stood as well, his hand brushing against mine as he moved. I shied away from him, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. I frowned, confused by the look. His disappointment and the caring way he’d obviously carried me into the lounge while I was sleeping didn’t match the awful way he’d spoken to me or the threats of taking Sasha away from me. Him carrying me into the lounge and letting me sleep in his lap was something I could associate with the old Carson, the one I was starting to wonder actually existed or if I was too blinded by my feelings. Maybe I’d imagined him to be something he wasn’t.
“Shall I make them?” I offered, trying to break the uneasy silence that had settled over the room. When he shrugged in answer, I stalked back to the kitchen, pulling open his fridge, just finding butter and a block of cheese.
As I put all the ingredients on the side, he was just watching me silently. The way his eyebrows were furrowed told me there was something he wanted to talk to me about, but he wasn’t sure he should. I sighed deeply and turned to him. “Just spit it out, Carson.”
He recoiled slightly before seeming to compose himself. “Okay, well, I’ve instructed someone from Selfridges to come over this afternoon and look around here. They’ll put in an order for everything Sasha needs for her bedroom and the safety stuff like stair gates and things. If you could be on hand in case they have questions about what she likes, that’d be great. Obviously, I don’t know what she needs.” He scowled down at the worktop angrily. “The manager I spoke to while you were asleep said they can come and evaluate, you can choose which design you like and then they’ll have everything delivered and installed tomorrow morning.”
I gulped at the hard tone to his voice. Clearly, he was extremely angry with me because he didn’t know what type of things his daughter needed. “Okay.”
He nodded. “And I was also thinking we should talk about how it’s going to work… with us, I mean.”
Us. Wow, now there’s an ‘us’. I ignored the little thrill that went through me at the thought of there being an ‘us’. I really needed to protect my heart because he was in serious danger of crushing me if I let myself buy into this little fantasy. I didn’t say anything, so he continued.
“Because people are aware of Sasha now, there’s going to be a statement put out about us being together and that we’re getting married,” he explained, massaging the back of his neck roughly. “It’s going to say we’ve been secretly dating on and off for the last three years, and now we’ve decided to confirm our relationship seeing as The Peoples’ Post forced our hand.”
I averted my eyes. “Will I get a chance to tell Rory before this happens? I don’t want him finding out through some newspaper.” I stabbed the cheese, cutting it into rough slices as my anger escalated again.
“Yeah, you can talk to Rory. You want me to go pick him up or something? Bring him here?” His voice was soft and caring, just like it used to be.
I sighed in frustration. His kind voice made it hard to stay mad at him. “I’ll call him and talk to him. I don’t think I really want to see the look on his face right now.” I winced at the thought of it.
“Everything will be fine, Emma. I’ll take care of you all from now on. We’ll sort everything out together. Rory will be fine, and if he’s not, then I’ll just buy him a car or something as bribery,” he joked.
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “He’s fifteen.”
“Right, well, I’ll buy him an iPad.” He shrugged casually, winking at me playfully.
I wanted so very much to sink into our easy routine, but if I did that then I’d let myself believe in the lie. I’d let myself believe he wanted to marry me for me, and I couldn’t do that because it simply wasn’t true. Carson was only interested in being a good father to Sasha, and marrying me was just something he felt was morally right to do.
He sighed. “Look, I really want to make this work. I’ve missed two years of my daughter’s life already, and I don’t want to miss any more of it. You’ve been struggling on your own to cope with her and Rory, and now I’m here to take that all away. Why are you not happy about this? Seriously, most girls would love to have me propose to them and offer to give them everything in the world.”
My eyes shot up to his. My heart was in my throat; burning rage simmered just below the surface. “You think that’s what you did?” I growled.
He frowned and pulled the cutest little confused face I had ever seen, but my hand was itching to slap it off him. “Huh? What I did? What does that mean?” he asked. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to rein in my anger before I took the blunt knife I was using to butter the bread and tried to butcher him with it. He touched my elbow, and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from spitting my words at him. “Emma?”
“You think that’s what you did? You think you proposed to me?” I couldn’t keep the bitchiness from leaking into my voice.
His body went ridged. “Yeah…?” he trailed off, suddenly looking a little unsure.
I couldn’t even be bothered to explain that ‘proposing’ was when someone you loved suggested you spent your lives together. Proposing was getting down on one knee and smiling at someone with a ring, asking them to take your last name. Proposing was a good thing. He hadn’t proposed; he’d demanded I marry him under threat of losing custody of my daughter.
I put down the knife and pushed the half-made food away from me. “I’m not hungry anymore.” I turned to walk off, ignoring that he was practically on my heels as I marched back down the hallway, grabbing my handbag from the floor.
“Emma, what’s wrong with you? Seriously, you’re so bloody confusing! I can give you anything you want, anything in the world. You should be happy right now. Why are you being such a bitch? I’m sorry for saying what I did about paying you for sex. I was angry! I didn’t mean it. I don’t think of you like that!” he said desperately, stopping at my side.
I blew out a big breath and shook my head. “Carson, it doesn’t matter anymore. You want to be a good dad to your daughter, and I’m really grateful for that. She’s going to love you, and I’m sure she’ll be spoilt rotten and have everything a little girl could ever wish for. Just don’t expect me to be happy that my life has suddenly started to be dictated. How would you like it if someone came along and demanded you move away from your home with someone who, quite frankly, looked at you like you were a piece of shit?” I glared at him challengingly, wanting him to shout at me, scream at me, something other than the confused and exasperated look on his face right now.
When he didn’t bite, I shoved my way past him into the lounge and pulled out my phone. I needed to talk to Rory. As I dialled his number, the recorded voicemail message came on immediately, telling me I was out of credit and that I needed to top up before I could make a call. I shoved my phone back into my bag roughly.
Why is everything so fucking hard?
“What’s wrong?” Carson asked quietly.
I gritted my teeth, pinching the bridge of my nose, wishing he’d just leave me alone and let me have some space for a few minutes so I could calm down. “Out of credit,” I snapped harshly.
He sighed and dug into his pocket, producing his phone. “Use that. I’ll arrange for a contract phone for you.” He didn’t wait for a response, just tossed it into my lap and turned, stalking out of the room.
It took me a while to figure out how to use it, but I finally managed to get it to dial Rory’s number. When he answered, he sounded a little hesitant, probably because he wouldn’t recognise the number on his screen.
Nausea rolled over me. I was actually frightened to tell him because I couldn’t bear the thought of him thinking badly of me, too, or hating me for lying to him. “Hey, Rory. It’s me,” I said, trying not to let the sadness leak into my voice.
“Oh, hey! I’ve been worried about you. Is everything okay? Did the press guy sort everything?” he asked quickly.
I gulped. “Not really.” I swiped at the tear that fell down my cheek. “Listen, I gotta tell you some stuff I should have told you a while ago. Please don’t freak out on me because I really need my little brother right now, so please don’t get angry with me. We’re a team, right?”
“Sure, we’re a team. What’s up?”
I took a big breath. “You know I told you Sasha’s dad was a guy I dated and that he didn’t want anything to do with me and Sasha once we broke up?”
“Yeah…”
Oh, God, this is hard! “Well, that wasn’t true. I lied to you when I said I was dating the guy. Sasha’s dad is actually someone I met at the club. We slept together a few times. I never told him I was pregnant, so he didn’t know about Sash until today when the paper printed it.” I covered my eyes with my hand, waiting for him to shout at me for deceiving him.
He was quiet for a minute before he spoke. The silence was actually a little painful. “Okay, I get that you lied. But I’m still confused as to why all the reporters are suddenly all over our flat. Why would they even care about you and Sash?”
“Her dad is Carson Matthews.”
“Holy shit! No fucking way!”
My mouth popped open in shock. I’d never heard Rory swear before. “Rory! Watch your language!” I chastised. “And you’d better not be anywhere near Sash speaking like that!”
“Oops, wait…” He went quiet for a couple of seconds, and I heard a door close. “No, she didn’t hear me,” he admitted sheepishly. “Carson Matthews, though? Seriously?”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah.”
“Whoa, I didn’t see that coming,” he muttered. I swallowed the lump in my throat, grateful to Lucie for not spilling all and telling him what this was about. I needed to explain it to him personally. “He didn’t even know about Sash?”
“No. I never told him. He found out this morning from the papers. He’s really angry with me because I didn’t tell him about her. We’re trying to work some stuff out right now. He, er…” I frowned down at my lap. “He wants to be a dad to Sasha.”
“That’s good,” Rory replied.
“Yeah, kinda good. But he wants something else, too.” I had no idea how I could explain this to Rory. I decided just to put it out there and see how he reacted. “Carson refuses to let her live in our flat, so he’s insisting the three of us move in with him. He wants us to get married.” I winced, waiting for his reaction.
There was a sharp intake of breath down the line. “Married? Is this even what you want? How the hell is that going to work? You two aren’t even dating, are you?”
“No, we’ve never dated, but Carson isn’t seeing sense right now. He’s being irrational, and he’s not thinking clearly. He thinks this is a good idea for Sasha to have a parental unit. I don’t get a say, apparently.”
“Don’t get a say? Of course you get a bloody say! If you don’t want to move in with him and marry him then don’t!” Rory ranted angrily.
“It’s not that simple,” I countered.
“Why isn’t it that simple? Tell the twat you don’t want to marry him and that’s that. What can he do? Frogmarch you up the friggin’ aisle and force you to say the words? No, he can’t.” His tone showed his fury.
I sighed. “Rory, I haven’t got the energy for this right now, all right? I’m just going along with it for now, and I’ll make him see sense before it gets that far. He’s just angry and upset because I didn’t tell him he had a daughter. He’ll calm down, and then we can talk it all through.”
“You should punch him in the face,” he muttered angrily.
I smiled weakly. “I haven’t got the energy for that, either,” I admitted. Carson walked in then, setting a sandwich down on the table for me before heading over and pulling out a laptop, sitting on one of the other sofas. I looked at the sandwich. He must have taken over making it where I left off. That was actually quite sweet. I felt myself start to smile at him before I gritted my teeth and looked away. No, I’m not going to forgive him because he made me a damn cheese sandwich!
As calmly as possible, I explained everything to Rory: how Carson and I met, how we’d go to the backroom together, how he was now demanding we get married, how he would take me to court if I didn’t, and how I’d already packed up a few days’ clothes for the three of us. I deliberately left out the part about Carson’s father leaving when he was a kid; it seemed like too much personal information to share with my brother. I told him about the statement going out in the papers that was going to say we were dating on and off for three years. The whole time I spoke, Carson just sat there, either not listening to me or pretending not to. I made sure to add a few digs in there about how I thought the idea was stupid and how I would rather just live at our place. I could have sworn I saw Carson’s body twitch when I told Rory that two people who didn’t love each other shouldn’t get married, and that we were both going to be miserable in the long run. Carson’s fingers drummed a little bit too hard on the keyboard as I spoke, so obviously he was listening to me.
Rory hadn’t reacted as badly as I thought he would to the knowledge his big sister sold herself to a client at the club every weekend. In fact, he’d barely even acknowledged I’d said it. I had the distinct impression he didn’t know how to deal with the information so he just chose not to address it at this point. No doubt his feelings on the subject would become apparent sooner or later, though. For now, he just sided with me and vowed to be there for us both regardless. He promised never to tell anyone about the real circumstances of our relationship, and that he’d let me deal with it as requested.
After I’d told Rory everything, I spoke to Lucie, explaining everything to her. Her reaction wasn’t the doom and gloom or anger of Rory’s; instead, she was actually a little excited about it. “You should just make the most of it, Emma! You’re on easy street now. You’re marrying a millionaire; you’ll want for nothing!” she enthused.
I frowned. She sounded just like Carson with his ‘I’ll give you everything in the world’ speech. “But I don’t want his bloody money. If I’d wanted his money, I would have demanded it when Sasha was born,” I retorted, hearing the frustration leak into my voice.
“Well, there’s not much you can do about it now, sweetie. Just suck it up and thank your lucky stars you get to live with the guy you’ve been in love with for the last three years,” she said matter-of-factly.
I groaned. I should be happy, I really should, but I couldn’t stop my anger about this whole situation. Since I’d moved out three years ago, I had been in total control over my life; I had the first and last say in everything. Right now, I felt trapped, like I wasn’t in control of my life anymore. I silently wondered if this was what having an arranged marriage felt like.
“Whatever. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you what time I’ll come for Sash and Rory, okay? You sure you’re okay having them for the night?” I asked.
She laughed. “Of course I am! We’re all good, so stop stressing. You know what you should do?”
“What should I do?” I asked, running a hand through my hair.
“Go drag that fiancé of yours up to the bedroom and ravage his body. Everything looks better post-orgasm,” she said, laughing to herself.
I snorted incredulously. “I don’t want him anywhere near me again after what he said to me, so sex is off the cards, but thanks for the suggestion.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Carson’s face crumble a little when I mentioned what he’d said. I knew he was probably sorry, but I couldn’t let go of the hurt I felt inside. Carson really did think of me as a prostitute, and I would never be able to forget that.
“Shame. It might make you smile again,” Lucie replied.
“I gotta go. Can you do me a favour and call Jason? I’m supposed to be working tonight. Can you tell him I won’t be coming in because I need to get stuff sorted here?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow. Any problems with Sash and Rory then call me, okay?” I said, wishing I could just get a hug from my best friend or my brother. I disconnected the call and pushed Carson’s phone onto the glass coffee table, already noting that particular piece of furniture would have to go before Sasha could be let loose in here. Carson probably had no idea how one little almost-two-year-old could affect his life. It was going to be amusing watching his life change so rapidly.
“I’m ordering you a new contract phone. You have any preference which you get?” Carson asked, obviously choosing to pretend like he hadn’t just listened to my whole conversation about him.
“I don’t need a new phone, just credit.”
“iPhone. Blackberry. Galaxy. What do you want?” he continued, ignoring my comment.
A tear escaped even though I was trying my hardest to keep them at bay. “I just want to go home, Carson,” I whispered.
“You are home,” he replied immediately. “I’ll just get you an iPhone if you’re not gonna choose.”
For the next half an hour, we ignored each other while we ate and he tapped away on his laptop, ordering goodness knows what. When the ring of his phone cut through the deafening silence of the room, I watched as he looked down at the screen with wide eyes before answering it.
“Hi, Mum.”
Mum. My back stiffened. I hadn’t even had time to consider how his family were going to be feeling about the news.
“You’re what? No, it’s not a good time right now. Can’t you just leave it until next week? I’ll call you tomorrow or something.” A frown lined his forehead. “Mum, but…” He groaned and shook his head, tossing the phone onto the seat next to him before looking up at me with tight eyes. “My mum’s on her way over. I didn’t get a chance to explain it to her; she’s just flicked on the TV and seen us all over entertainment news. She’ll be here in ten minutes.”