Page 5 of Pregnancy Clause in Their Paper Marriage
‘I know.’ He eyed her thoughtfully, rocking back on his heels, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. ‘And you surprised me. Of all the proposals to suggest...what do you mean, Lana, you want my baby?’
Lana tried not to cringe—I want your baby. It sounded like a tabloid headline. Why had she said it like that? And yet it was true, and he’d cut to the chase as always, with no prevarication or pretence. She struggled to know how to answer, to explain. They’d always promised to be honest with one another, the only way their sort of marriage could work. She didn’t want to lie now, far from it, but she still felt she had to handle the truth carefully. There was simply too much at stake not to.
‘I want a baby,’ she stated baldly. ‘A child of my own.’
Something flickered in his eyes. ‘And my own, presumably.’
‘Well, that part seemed to make sense.’ She moved past him, towards the trio of sofas scattered across the black marble floor, resisting the urge to wipe her suddenly damp palms on the satin material of her haute couture dress. She had thought through this. At least, she believed she had, although now that she was saying it all out loud, she wasn’t quite as sure. But she’d had to do something, after hearing the news. She’d been galvanised into action...but had she been precipitous? ‘Considering we’re already married,’ she explained over her shoulder.
‘One of the tenets of our marriage was no children,’ Christos reminded her. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it on a chair before he joined her by the sofas, sitting down in the middle of the one opposite, arms stretched across the back, the cotton stretching across his powerful shoulders and lean yet muscular chest, the epitome of relaxed power.
Lana curled up in the corner of another, kicking off her heels and hiking her dress up around her calves. She couldn’t keep from letting out a sigh of relief to have the designer stilettos off her feet.
‘Why do you wear those again?’ Christos asked, cocking an eyebrow towards the shoes in question.
Lana shrugged. ‘They’re a power move.’
‘And you’re all about those,’ he acknowledged wryly, while she nodded back. Yes, she was. Projecting power, being confident, never being taken advantage of—or hurt—again. ‘So how does a child fit into your business plan, Lana?’ Christos asked. ‘Because as I recall, that was why you didn’t want children. You were admirably career focused.’
‘I still am, but I’ve reached a point in my career where I can afford to hand projects to some trusted deputies,’ Lana replied. She’d thought that part through carefully in these last three days. ‘If I had a baby, I’d take three months’ maternity leave to start, and then go back part-time for another nine months. After that I’d have to see what was best for both the baby and me.’ She wasn’t going to have a child just to hand it over to a nanny, not completely, anyway, but neither was she going to completely sacrifice her career. She’d find a balance.
‘I see,’ Christos replied slowly. His gaze was moving over her again, in thoughtful study, yet revealing nothing. ‘So why the change of heart about motherhood?’
Lana hesitated. She needed to be honest, yes, she wanted to be, but she also hated showing weakness. Being vulnerable in any way at all—physically, emotionally, either...both.
‘Lana,’ Christos said softly, and she knew what he was thinking.Be honest.He’d felt her hesitation, had understood what it meant. What else did he understand about her? It was something she wasn’t prepared to think about, at least not now.
‘I had a doctor’s appointment,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘And it turns out I’m in the beginning stages of early menopause.’
‘Menopause.’Christos looked shocked, that sleepy, thoughtful look dropping away instantly. ‘But you’re only thirty-two.’
She shrugged, trying to act as if she’d accepted the news when it still felt blisteringly raw. ‘One per cent of women experience menopause before forty. I’m one of the unlucky ones, it seems.’
His mouth turned down at the corners, green eyes drooping in sadness as he leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry, Lana.’ His tone was low and heartfelt. She knew he meant it.
‘Thank you.’ She drew a breath that hitched revealingly. She hated him knowing almost as much as she hated having it be true. Yes, she’d said she hadn’t wanted children—mainly because she hadn’t trusted herself as a mother. It wasn’t as if she’d had a good example, after all, but claiming her career had been an easy out, so she hadn’t had to get into the mess of her childhood—a single mother who had blamed her for her dad’s desertion, always resentful, angry, bitter, mean. Lana had grown up learning to brace for the emotional and physical blows, and she’d moved on at just seventeen, working her way through college, living in a series of awful apartment shares, working hard, desperate to prove herself—and to be loved.
So, so desperate. Thankfully she’d moved past that, but now she was going to have to convince Christos she really did want to have a baby, be a mother. ‘It was a shock, I can tell you,’ she admitted, hearing the slight thickening of her voice before she managed to get herself under control. ‘It’s true that I always thought I didn’t want kids, but I also thought I had all the time in the world to decide for sure. It turns out I didn’t. Don’t.’
‘And so, time is of the essence with this plan of yours,’ Christos surmised quietly. He leaned back again, arms folded.
‘Well—yes.’ She glanced at him from under her lashes, feeling uncertain. He seemed to be taking this all in his stride, but how did he really feel about it? She hadn’t even explained what she actually meant yet. Maybe she should do that now. ‘But I want you to know,’ she told him stiltedly, ‘that this wouldn’t actually affect you in any way.’
Although he’d been completely still, it felt as if he’d gone even stiller. ‘It won’t? Because having a child generally does, you know.’
‘Yes, but...you wouldn’t have to be involved. At all.’ His expression didn’t change, not even a muscle twitching, and Lana rushed on to explain, to reassure. ‘Nothing about our agreement, our arrangement, would have to change. I’d have the baby by IVF, and you could be completely uninvolved in its—his or her—upbringing. If you didn’t want our—our baby to know you were the father, I’d accept that. I mean, naturally, there might be questions later on, so we’d have to figure how to handle that at some point, but, you know, I’d absolutely respect your privacy.’
She gave a little gulp, wishing he’d say something. Show something. His expression was utterly blank, his body completely still. Wasn’t this what he wanted to hear? It was the way her dad had been, the way Anthony had been, not that she’d fallen pregnant with him, but he’d made itveryclear that if she did, he was not interested. Lana knew, intellectually at least, that Christos wasn’t anything like Anthony, but since he’d agreed to the no-children clause, had seemed reassured by it even, surely he would consider this good news? ‘Christos?’ she prompted uncertainly. ‘How does that sound?’
How did that sound? Like the most insulting, unbelievable,absurdthing he’d ever heard in his entire life.
Christos stretched his arms back along the sofa, taking a moment to keep his expression relaxed, interested. He wasn’t ready yet to show the fury—thehurt—he felt. He watched as Lana tucked her hair behind her ears, swallowing several times, clearly nervous—and she was someone who was never nervous. She must realise how badly she’d just insulted him, and on so many levels he couldn’t even count them. She was asking him, herhusband, to be an anonymous sperm donor for the child she’d raise on her own, no help needed or wanted.As if.As if he would ever let himself be reduced to that, letherreduce him to that, a stud for her own convenience.
‘Can you expound on some of the particulars?’ he asked mildly, and, to both his annoyance and amusement, he saw she looked relieved by the question. As if a few details were going to change his mind, reassure him. Still, he wanted to know what she was thinking, how deeply she’d dived down this rabbit hole of hers.
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled, or tried to, but he understood the source of at least some of her strain. Early menopause, and at only thirty-two. Even for a woman who had stated she never intended to have children, it had to be a terrible blow. He thought of his own mother, his three sisters, the big, boisterous family he’d always loved, at least until the heart had been ripped out of it, and he’d chosen to walk away—although it had never truly been a choice. How could he have possibly stayed, considering what he’d done, and more importantly what he hadn’t? A failure that reverberated through him all these years later and had been part of the reason why he didn’t think he wanted children of his own. They were just little people you could mess up, and yet...
Lana wanted his baby.His baby.Those words, that knowledge,didsomething to him.