The Frenchman's Marriage Demand

‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t,’ she replied shortly. ‘I didn’t even know you would come back tonight.’ She’d lain in bed torturing herself with images of him making love to the woman he had taken to dinner, until she’d given up hoping she’d fall asleep and had dug out her college books.

Now she stumbled to her feet and clutched the front of her robe that seemed intent on parting to reveal the skimpy excuse for a nightgown underneath. In the rush to pack for the trip to Monaco, she had forgotten several essential items, including the oversized, comfortable tee shirts she usually wore in bed. The nightwear she had left behind at the penthouse had been chosen for seduction rather than sleep, and she blushed when Zac raked his eyes over her in open appreciation.

‘Now that you are here, it’s time I left,’ she mumbled, hastily gathering up her books. In her desperation to escape him, she dropped her folder and papers flew everywhere. ‘I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d catch up on some work,’ she babbled when Zac leaned down to gather up the pages and his hand briefly brushed against hers.

‘What kind of work?’ he asked curiously. He handed her the sheaf of papers and frowned when she quickly snatched her hand away. ‘You don’t have to run away from me, Freya. We may have been forced together under difficult circumstances but I’m sure we’re both adult enough to manage a civil conversation.’ He straightened up. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

For a moment Freya was tempted to flee, unconvinced that she could manage any kind of conversation with him. It wasn’t as if she’d had much practice, she thought wryly. Her time as Zac’s mistress had been spent mainly in the bedroom and they hadn’t wasted time on idle chit chat.

But the sight of him had inflamed her senses and sleep seemed as impossible now as it had two hours ago. Perhaps a drink would help her to relax? ‘White wine, please—a small glass.’ She hovered awkwardly while Zac poured her drink and mumbled her thanks when he handed her the glass, his terse, ‘Sit down,’ causing her to sink back into her seat. He sprawled on the opposite sofa, his white silk shirt open at the throat and his ankle balanced across his thigh in a position of indolent ease—lithe, tanned and so stomach-churningly sexy that Freya hastily tore her eyes from him and took a large gulp of wine.

‘What job do you do that requires you to sit up working until midnight?’ he asked again, his brow furrowing. He was regularly at his desk until the early hours, but he was the chief executive of a global business empire and a self-confessed workaholic.

‘It’s not my job exactly—I’m doing a home study course for an English degree,’ Freya told him. ‘One day I hope to train to be a teacher so that my career will fit around Aimee’s schooling, but obviously I need to work and can’t afford to go to college full-time. The only free time I have to study is at night, when she’s in bed.’ She didn’t add that after a long day at work and the responsibilities of being a single mother, she often had to force herself to pull out her books, which was why she had fallen behind with the work and had several assignment deadlines looming.

Zac hid his flare of surprise. During the months that Freya had lived with him, he had never really got to know her. His workload had been particularly heavy and after a long day at the office he had simply wanted to take her to bed. He had asked about her day out of politeness rather than any real interest and had thanked his lucky stars that she wasn’t one of those women who insisted on regaling him with every detail of her life.

He had found her quiet, gentle nature soothing, and, if he was honest, he had missed the calming effect she seemed to have on him after he had thrown her out. But now he realised that he knew very little about her. Perhaps it was her faint air of mystery that intrigued him, he debated as he drained his glass and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa, his eyes skimming over her and lingering on the fall of her silky hair. ‘It’s obvious from the state of your flat that you’re struggling financially. Why don’t you receive any support from Brooks?’ he demanded curtly. ‘Are you no longer in contact with him?’

The wine had been a bad idea, Freya decided as she carefully set her glass down on the coffee-table. It seemed to have gone straight to her head and loosened the constraints that held her anger in check. ‘As a matter of fact I do see Simon occasionally,’ she said with deliberate calm. ‘We’ve remained friends, despite the fact that he now lives in Italy. I’m sure he would help me out if I asked him, but Aimee isn’t his child and there’s no reason for him to support her. That responsibility lies with her father, wouldn’t you say?’ She glared at him across the coffee-table, twin spots of colour flaring on her cheeks, but Zac held her gaze, his bland expression giving no clue to his thoughts.

‘Absolutely—and I hope you find him, chérie,’ he murmured. He raised his glass. ‘What shall we drink to—absent fathers?’ Beneath the mockery Freya caught the anger in his voice and indignation surged through her. What right did he have to be angry? She was the one who struggled to combine being a single mother with the necessity to work and pay the bills. He lived here in his penthouse apartment enjoying a life of unimaginable luxury, with no understanding of the real world or how many times she had felt overwhelmed by her responsibilities.

But voicing her resentment would get her nowhere. Zac was convinced that Aimee wasn’t his child and, in fairness, she could understand why. But the very fact that he’d had a vasectomy meant that he did not want to be a father and his present anger was going to be nothing compared with his fury when he learned the truth.

‘I guess we’ll just have to wait for the results of the paternity test,’ she muttered as she got to her feet. Suddenly she was bone-weary and could scarcely believe it had only been twelve hours ago that Zac had stormed into the hospital and back into her life. Returning to the penthouse and reliving the memories of the life she had shared with him was more agonising than she had anticipated and she felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids. ‘I wish I hadn’t come here,’ she flung at him angrily. ‘Aimee and I could have stayed in a hotel instead of being here with you and your horrible, suspicious mind.’

Black brows winged upwards at her outburst. ‘I’ve already explained that I’d like the reason for your visit to Monaco to remain a private affair and I prefer to keep you here under my control. I’ve arranged for a nurse from the clinic to visit tomorrow to take the necessary mouth swabs,’ he informed her coolly. He drained his glass and stood up, instantly dwarfing her. He was too much for her to cope with when her emotions were so precariously balanced, but when she moved to step past him, he blocked her path. ‘The results should be back within ten days, and then you’ll be free to leave. Until then I’m afraid we’re stuck with each other. But it’s possible we’ll find some compensation in being forced to spend time in each other’s company.’

Freya gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Such as?’

Too late she recognised the gleam in his eyes and her heart lurched as his arm shot out and snaked around her waist.

‘Such as this,’ he said, ignoring her punitive struggles to escape from his grip as he lowered his mouth with slow deliberation until it hovered millimetres above hers. ‘You may dislike me almost as much as I dislike you, but unfortunately sexual desire seems to have no respect for our mutual loathing—does it, Freya?’

Before she could formulate a reply, he closed the gap between their mouths and kissed her, his lips moving over hers in a fierce assault that demanded her response. The mockery of his last statement rang in her ears and she pressed her lips together in a desperate attempt to deny him. How could he kiss her like this if he hated her? her brain asked numbly, but it was clear that her body did not care. It had been so long since she had been in his arms and she had missed him so much.