Martinez's Pregnant Wife(4)

By: Rachael Thomas


Now she had to be mercenary. She didn’t want her child growing up as she had, feeling unloved, unwanted. She’d dreaded the days her father had turned up, demanding to see his little girl, not out of any kind of love, or even duty, but out of spite. She’d been the weapon he’d used to get at her mother and that would not be happening to her baby.

Planned or not, she wanted this baby, wanted to provide a happy and loving home, one free of any worries for her child, and after her childhood she knew that could only be achieved either entirely on her own or with the full support of a man who loved her and wanted the same. Max did not. He hadn’t even been able to commit to marriage so how could he possibly be there for his child? That left only one option. To get the divorce papers signed and end that chapter of her life so that she could raise her child alone. First she had to tell him. He had a right to know even if he never wanted to see his child.

‘Max.’ She put aside her past together with her future worries and focused on the present. She said his name softly as she moved toward him, but he remained still, lost in thought. She tried again, firmer this time. ‘Max.’

He turned and looked at her, his handsome features she knew and loved marred by an expression that struck dread into her heart. Had he already heard? Was it possible someone had already given away her secret?

‘What are you doing here, Lisa? Come to make sure I sign the divorce papers? Maybe you have found someone new and want to move on?’ His accent was more pronounced than she’d heard for a long time and anger glittered in his eyes. The heavier than usual shadow of stubble on a man who demanded nothing but perfection notched up her nerves. Something was seriously wrong. He must know. Was he now toying with her? Seeing how long she’d hold out on him?

Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She would tell him before he could challenge her.

‘I have something to tell you.’ There was a waiver of uncertainty in her voice and, judging by the slight narrowing of his inky black eyes, he’d detected it.

‘Nothing I don’t already know. You are a bit late to the party, Lisa.’ The venom in his words sent her heart into freefall as panic raced around her. How could he be so callous about the baby? His baby. Even if he’d found out from the malicious whisperings of the club’s gossips, it was still his baby.

She lifted her chin and glared angrily at him. He wasn’t going to reduce her to a nervous wreck. She had to be strong, had to say what she needed to and then go—leave him to his foul mood. ‘I wasn’t aware such news required a party.’

He stood up, his height suddenly dominating the air she wanted to gulp down in order to remain calm. As always he wore a dark suit, tailored and very expensive, which fitted him to perfection and she couldn’t help but allow her eyes to travel down his long legs. The part of her that loved this man fought for supremacy, not wanting to freeze him out of her life. But hadn’t he already done that when he walked out on her so soon after vowing to spend the rest of his life with her? Then again the morning after that night, when he’d told her to go?

He moved closer to her. Too close. ‘Since when have you known?’ The feral growl of his voice warned her that his anger was running on a short leash, desperate to break free. The day he’d walked out on their marriage he’d made it clear he’d never wanted to be married and most certainly had never wanted to be a father. She’d been convinced it was her casual mention of children that had tipped him over the edge. Now he glared up at her, as if to reaffirm all he’d said that day. As he glared up at her she was shocked by how anger glittered dangerously in his dark eyes.

‘About two weeks.’ As soon as she’d said it she knew it was a mistake. His eyes darkened to glacial black and his lips pressed into a firm line of fury.

‘Two weeks?’ The words echoed around the empty room and he looked directly into her eyes, so intimidatingly close. She’d never seen him this angry. ‘And you thought now was the perfect time to tell me what you knew? More to the point, how the hell did you find out?’

‘Find out?’ She stumbled over the answer, not understanding the question, but stood tall before him, refusing to be intimidated by his black mood. ‘I wanted to be sure.’

‘Be sure of what?’ He sat back and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time and a flutter of doubt crossed her mind. Was it possible he didn’t know? That she’d wrongly assumed that he did? Were they talking about two entirely different subjects? If so, what was so bad it had made him this angry?

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