Page 8

“My intention would be to formalise things prior to the conception of a child, and the announcement of a marriage.”

“I’m sorry—I need to understand. Are we speaking in hypotheticals, or is this a proposal?”

“The latter.”

He reached into his suit jacket and removed a small velvet box, crossed the carpeted office floor and handed it to her. She took it on autopilot and cracked it open, her heart stammering at the sight of the ring inside. It was glorious—a huge black stone, presumably a diamond, surrounded by a circlet of white diamonds, in a white gold or platinum band.

“It’s an heirloom,” he explained.

She closed the lid and went to hand it back. “I can’t marry you.”

“Why not?”

“There are a hundred reasons.”

“Let’s go through them,” he said, crossing his hands so returning the ring wasn’t an option. She placed it on her desk instead.

“I don’t know you, Lord⁠—”

“Hamish,” he corrected.

“I don’t know you,” she repeated. “We’ve met once.”

“I can tell that I like you. You’re smart, prepared, professional, discreet. Plus you’re successful in your own right, so the prenup won’t cause any issues. That’s pretty much all I’m looking for. What next?”

She shook her head in frustration. “I can’t have a baby with a man I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that what a sperm donor is?”

“Well, yes, but I won’t be raising the child with him. If we do this together, you’re going to want access to the baby, to dictate how they’re raised. And if you think boarding school’s an option, guess again. And you’re going to want your mother to spend time with him or her. I’m not doing this to share.”

He laughed.

“It’s not funny.”

“You’re right.” He lifted his hands in silent apology. “Let’s go through that. Yes, I’ll want access. Believe it or not, I’ve always wanted children—I just haven’t been in a particular rush.”

Tia stood up straighter.

“I’ll also want a say in how they’re raised. Not to dictate, but to discuss. I would imagine we could agree on the most important matters, as I said, prior to conception⁠—”

“Can you stop saying ‘conception’?”

He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “—and have it drafted into a contract. As to schooling, I’m more than willing to leave that decision to you, within reason.”

“What does ‘within reason’ mean?” she asked, then realised it sounded as though she was considering his preposterous suggestion.

“It has to be a proper school, with proper teachers. Not some hippy, woodworking, candle-burning forest school.”

“Yeah, okay, because everything about me screams ‘white sage’,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

But she also waved her hand toward her body, as if to emphasise her suit and designer shoes. What was that if not an invitation to look at her? She just hadn’t expected him to really look. To drag his eyes from her throat to her breasts to her waist, lower to the swell of her hips and her legs, lingering on her feet with a frown on his face before his gaze jerked back to hers.

“As to my family, I don’t go home often.” He hesitated, as though there was more he wanted to say, but didn’t.

“So…she’s not going to meet our child?”

“No, we’ll have to go back,” he said, like even the thought of it was some kind of torture. Again she was struck by the hint of a family rift. “However, as much as her health allows, I would prefer her to come to New York. The penthouse has plenty of space for her to stay, even if you and the child move in.”