Page 64 of Billionaire's Secret Baby

“Of course,” I said.

“Why does that make you so mad? You loved flying in the helicopter.”

“As a special treat. But it isn’t special to you, is it? I wonder if anything is?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

But I hated him so much right now, I couldn’t bear to respond. I didn’t want to get drawn into an argument. Because I knew that if I lifted the lid on my emotions, I’d find a lot more than hate there. And I didn’t want to know how far down it went, the pit of fear, desire and want that was making me feel empty inside.

After a while, we turned off onto a dusty road. It curved up a hill through the trees, past a small lake whose surface was rippling in the moonlight. I couldn’t see a light for miles around us. The world would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the car’s headlights. But eventually, we pulled into a wide driveway under a dark gabled roof.

“This is it,” said Alex.

I got out sulkily, and followed Alex to the front door with my bag. He opened the door.

I was looking into a wide, spacious living room through the corridor at the front. I could see a stone fireplace in the gloom, with long sofas and chairs scattered around. There were lampshades. On the walls, I could see huge picture frames. And on the floor, a bearskin rug. In the dark, the deadeyes of the animal looked at me.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” I said. “Where’s my room?”

“Well, hang on a minute,” said Alex. “First we need to get this place up and running.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

He flicked a switch, and the lights didn’t come on. “See?” he said.

Alex produced a torch from the chest of drawers which stood by the front door. I followed him through the sleek, modern stainless steel kitchen, down the stairs at the back of the house to a shed.

“What’s that?” I said.

“The outhouse,” he replied.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Of course I’m kidding,” said Alex, and chuckled. “There’s underfloor heating, solar energy. I redid all the plumbing.” But I was unmoved by his rare attempt at humor.

Inside the place was a generator. I watched Alex pull the cord, but nothing happened.

He looked at it for a minute.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“You need to use the pump first,” I said.

“The what?”

“The pump. It’s there.” I pointed towards the handle.

“Oh, I got you,” said Alex, and pumped the handle four or five times to prime the generator. He pulled the cord, and it whirred to life, chugging gently. He shut the door and we went back inside. When we got to the living room, Alex flicked the light on. I could now see the homely, old-time room now. The brass fixtures of the lamps gleamed.

“Are you cold?” said Alex.

“A little. It’s fine,” I said.

“I’ll light the fire,” he said, and bent down. From the cage next to the fireplace, he took out a couple of logs with some kindling and newspaper. With a firelighter on the mantelpiece, he lit a fire.

“Can I go to bed now?” I said.

Alex turned and looked at me.