her to stumble to a stop barely inside the door. Zac was sitting behind a big solid wooden desk. She hardly heard the door close behind her with a soft click. His chair was high-backed. All the furniture was big…imposing. He looked bigger than she remembered, even though he was sitting down.
He wore a white shirt, open at the throat. Stubble shadowed that firm jaw and his hair was tousled, as if he’d been running his hands through it.
And then he stood up and her brain froze. He placed his hands on the desk in front of him, leaning forward slightly. Rose had the uncomfortable sensation that he was deliberately keeping his desk between them.
Those bluer-than-blue eyes raked her up and down. His lip curled. ‘Do you think you can fool me with another demure outfit, Ms O’Malley?’
Ms O’Malley. Rose’s heart had slowed to a thump-thump of shock and guilt and misery. Of course he knew her real name now. She felt very self-conscious in plain black trousers and the white shirt that she wore for her work at a small local restaurant in Queens—one of the three jobs she’d been juggling. Her hair was up in a functional ponytail. No make-up.
Heat prickled up her neck and she gripped her handbag tighter in her hands, in front of her belly. ‘I’m not trying to fool anyone.’
Her voice came out strong and she sent up silent thanks. She was determined not to let him see how hard this was for her. All she wanted to do was apologise, try to explain. Except she couldn’t explain. And the opportunity for any apology had long since passed.
Zac made a rude sound. Then he straightened up and came around the table, and all of Rose’s dormant hormones started fizzing and jumping, oblivious to the waves of animosity coming from him across the room. He rested back against the desk and crossed one long leg over the other. And folded his arms.
Rose had had tiny glimpses of this remote man, and they had been downright intimidating. Right now he might as well be a complete stranger, so far removed was he from the seductive man who had bewitched her so easily.
Zac’s face seemed to get harder, and his mouth compressed, as if he was recalling something distasteful. ‘So, I’m curious…what’s the going rate for a virginal prostitute these days?’ And then he said, ‘That’s assuming you were actually a virgin? The blood was an ingeniously authentic touch if you weren’t.’
His crude words shredded Rose inside. ‘It wasn’t like that.’ She begged silently, Please don’t ruin it.
Zac stood up and said icily. ‘That’s exactly what it was like.’
Rose drew herself up, even though she felt mortally wounded. Already. And she was sure that he hadn’t even really started his attack. ‘I’m not a prostitute.’
Are you sure about that? mocked a small voice.
Zac sneered. ‘You’re sure as hell no meek and invisible maid either. You’re seriously expecting me to believe that both times we met were a happy coincidence, only for you to disappear into the ether and suddenly emerge from under whatever stinking place you inhabit months later, claiming to be pregnant with my child?’
Rose opened her mouth to assert that this baby was his, but he wasn’t finished.
‘You seem to be forgetting that it’s common knowledge now that the house where you work as a maid was my family home.’
She wanted to correct him—she wasn’t working there any more—but he laughed then, and it was harsh and cold.
‘I have to hand it to you both for such simple ingenuity, using the oldest trick in the book—the honey trap.’
Rose recoiled inwardly, realising that he assumed she’d been in league with his mother… And of course she had. However reluctantly.
He came closer and stopped dead in front of her, self-disgust written all over his face. ‘But your particular brand of honey came with a bitter aftertaste.’
Rose immediately felt protective of her baby, hating the wounding words. She interjected before he could say more. ‘I haven’t worked there for four months. And it wasn’t like that. I swear…’
Zac’s dead-eyed look told her what he thought of that little attempt to defend herself, so she closed her mouth. He started to walk around her, like a shark. She stared straight ahead, rigid with tension.
He said from behind her, ‘Whether or not you currently work there is beside the point. Tell me—did you get a bonus for getting pregnant, or was it an all or nothing deal?’
Rose’s hands were digging so deeply into her bag that she wouldn’t be surprised if she was gouging holes in the leather. She refused to turn around, and again said tightly, ‘It wasn’t like that.’
Zac made a rude snorting sound. ‘Assuming that you are pregnant and that it is mine, I’d say you’re still on the payroll. So essentially that’s a transaction many would call—’
‘Stop it!’ Rose’s voice rang out harshly.
Zac came back to stand in front of her, lifting an eyebrow. ‘Such a spirited defence.’
His eyes dropped to where the bag covered her belly. She was at that slightly uncomfortable stage of pregnancy where her belly was finally looking more defined and less like bloated swelling, and she hated feeling that self-consciousness now. As if he cared how she looked. As if she should care!
Rose gathered up her strength in the face of his utter condemnation, justified as it was. ‘I am pregnant with your baby and I was just a maid. I’m not saying those meetings weren’t engineered to bring us together…’ She faltered then, knowing that however she tried to defend herself she couldn’t deny that on some very crude level Zac was right.
But he wasn’t even listening. He stood back, arms folded. Formidable and distant. ‘As much as I’d love to believe otherwise, I suspect you probably are carrying my child. Jocelyn Lyndon-Holt is so obsessed with the precious family bloodline that she would never leave something that important to chance.’
No, she wouldn’t. Rose knew that all too well, feeling sick when she thought of his mother.
Zac’s voice was harsh. ‘The moment you agreed to accept money from her to deliberately seduce me, you crossed a line that millions of women cross every day in this city. And each one of them probably has more integrity than you.’
Rose fought hard to keep her chin up. This was the least she deserved. She knew that. But, even so, she couldn’t help saying, ‘I didn’t want to do it. I walked away that first night.’
Zac took a step back, incredulity stamped all over his handsome face. ‘That was just a ploy to incite me to chase you. To want you.’
Bitter gall burnt Rose’s insides. Of course he would think that. Why wouldn’t he?
‘I won’t ask again,’ he rapped out. ‘Tell me what the going rate is for playing God with my life and giving me a child I had no intention of ever fathering.’
The futile anger that had risen up in a flash drained away again. He was right. That was exactly what she’d done. She’d played God. And still she couldn’t answer him. Because how could she say the price had been her father’s life when that life was held in such delicate balance at the moment? She couldn’t break the non-disclosure agreement… If she did, her father would suffer. She didn’t care what might happen to her. But it wasn’t just about her any more.
In the face of Zac’s clear hostility all she could cling to now was the fact that she was doing this for her father. To save him. This had to be worth it. It had to be. And she had to protect the innocent baby she carried, who did not deserve this opprobrium.
Zac was glaring at her now, silently demanding an answer, and Rose said the only thing she could.
‘I’m not telling you anything.’