I want her.
All of her.
Forever.
I drop into the seat opposite her. ‘I want to discuss how we’re going to raise our baby. I want you to agree to be mine in every sense of the word. And I want you to agree to choose our family over your family. We both know when your brothers find out we’re together—becausewe are together—there will be murders.’ She flinches as my words sink in.
‘You said we don’t know each other. I disagree.’ I reach for the bottle of champagne slowly. She inhales as she registers I remembered her favourite.
‘You know what I like to drink. That doesn’t qualify as knowing me.’ Her voice wavers slightly.
‘I know how you sleep with one leg out of the bed and one leg under the covers.’ I pour an inch into the champagne flute on the table in front of her. ‘I know how your breathing pattern changes when you finally fall asleep. I know you’re as driven and ambitious as I am. I spent last night googling the ever-living shitout of you. I probably know more about you than you do.’ I fill my own glass. ‘And I know you have a big, beautiful heart from the way you consoled me on my mother’s wedding morning.’
Sympathy flashes through her deep chocolate eyes.
I don’t want her sympathy.
I want her affection.
I take a sip of champagne. ‘Most importantly, I know how to make you come every which fucking way, and if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the future doing exactly that and raising our child to be a man we can both be proud of.’
She sucks in a breath.
‘I’m not asking you to marry me.’ Not yet, anyway. ‘I’m asking you to date me. Because even before I knew you were carrying my child, I felt compelled to find you, to track you down. I had this gut instinct screaming at me that we were far from finished. Admittedly, I didn’t know quite how far.’ My eyes drop to her stomach.
Silence stretches between us. She rolls her lips together. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay?’ That was too easy. ‘What’s the catch?’
‘No catch,’ she says simply. Her fingers trail along the stem of her champagne flute, but she doesn’t lift it to her lips. She eyes me levelly over the table. ‘I thought about you a million times in the months we were apart,’ she finally admits, her voice cracks—and my chest splits right open for her. ‘Despite my smothering family, when I found out I was pregnant, I’d never felt so lonely in my life.’
‘Sweetheart.’ I reach across the table and take her hand. ‘I’m so fucking sorry.’
‘I made my peace with it. Put on a good front. But inside, I felt so… alone.’
‘You’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m with you every step of the way.’
She breaks eye contact for the first time. Her thick black lashes shimmer.
‘What if things don’t work out between us?’ It’s barely more than a whisper.
‘They will. There’s a reason we booked the same resort. A reason your contraceptive failed. A reason you strolled into my office yesterday. I don’t give up, Zara. Not in business. Not in life. And certainly not on the mother of my child. I’m all in.’ I raise my glass and watch her intently over the rim. ‘The question is, are you?’
Her breath stutters—just a fraction.
But I see it.
And something shifts between us.
She hasn’t spoken the words, yet I already know her answer. Further proof that we do know each other.
‘I’m not moving in with you.’ Her chin tips up. ‘And I won’t have you smothering me like my family do. Or bossing me around—unless it’s in the bedroom.’ Her full lips slant into a slow, sexy smile. ‘And when it comes to my family, you let me tell them in my own time. For all I know, this thing between us could crash and burn in a couple of weeks, and I won’t risk burning my bridges.’
I blow out a breath. ‘We’re not going to crash and burn.’ I know it better than I know my own name. ‘Trust me, please.’
‘Trust is earned, not given.’ And that’s exactly why she’s done so well for herself.
‘Agreed. Look, let’s just concentrate on getting reacquainted for now.’
