“You?” she gasped as she pulled the door open.
A chill ran through her body and the blood drained from her face and dropped to her feet. Draco’s frame filled the doorway, his face as dark as thunder, his brows a thick, straight line, and his lips—normally bearing the slight curve of smile—were set in lines that didn’t bode well for Carson’s, or for Blair.
Seven
“Who else? I couldn’t get you to agree to see me any other way. I’m not above using my wealth and influence when I have to. You’d do well to remember that in future, cara mia.”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that. I’m not your darling, your lover. Your anything.”
Suddenly it occurred to Blair that antagonizing Draco was probably not the best thing to have done under the circumstances. A roiling wave of nausea rose from the pit of her stomach. She spun around and flew toward the women’s restroom, her hand over her mouth, tears once more streaming down her face.
In a toilet stall she fell to her knees and retched until her stomach was empty.
“Here.”
A folded wet paper towel was pressed into her hand from behind her. Oh no. Had Draco followed her in here? Witnessed her embarrassing loss of control?
“When you’re feeling okay I will be waiting for you outside.”
There was a tone to his voice that left her in no doubt that he wouldn’t wait long. She freshened up as quickly as she could, rinsing out her mouth before she straightened her jacket again and checked her appearance in the mirror.
Her pantyhose were laddered from the knees down. Well, there was nothing she could do about that right this minute, aside from remove them altogether, and she didn’t think he’d wait while she did that. There was one thing about Draco of which she was certain: when he wanted something, or someone, he wanted them right now.
On legs that were surprisingly steady she walked back out to the restaurant. Draco leaned up against the bar, his casually elegant pose a front for the coiled tension she sensed simmering below the surface. He pushed himself upright as she approached and crossed his arms, his feet planted about shoulder width apart.
His dark hair was slicked back off his forehead today, creating a stark demarcation line, framing his face which was set in stern lines. His heavy brows drew together slightly, his green eyes narrowed as his gaze swept her body. She feared he saw everything—each of the changes in her body she’d so staunchly tried to ignore. Her stomach pitched again.
“How long were you going to wait before telling me?” he demanded, his voice like velvet over steel.
She decided to try and bluff him out, then abruptly changed tack, choosing to attack him on his own terms. “I could ask you the same thing. How long were you going to wait before telling me you’d bought this building? Just how much did you offer Mrs. Whitcomb? I never stood a chance to buy out, did I?”
“You would have known in good time, Blair. Now, it is not like you to be unwell, and I assume it can be due to only one thing. So, I will ask you again. How long were you going to wait before telling me?”
He covered the short distance between them in the blink of an eye. One arm curved around her back, holding her captive against his body. Darn it! Her body responded instantly to his touch, his warmth. When his hand stroked inside the lapel of her jacket and across the silk of her camisole, her nipples tightened instantly, as if seeking the softness of his palm.
“Did you think I would not notice your breasts are fuller?” His hand slid down to her waist before coming to rest against her lower belly. “That your waist is even now thickening with the growth of my child?”
A shiver ran through her from head to foot. There was a note now to his voice that frightened her. A staunch sound of possession, ownership.
“This changes everything. I was prepared to let you have some space, to give you time to see the sense in our relationship. But no more. Not when this involves my child.”
“And what about me? You make it sound as if my wishes have nothing to do with whatever you decide.”
Draco’s lips compressed in a straight line as he looked at her closely. His eyes turned the color of a storm-tossed sea and she shivered again, only this time it wasn’t in fear. This time, it was in pure reaction to the intensity she saw there, and every ounce of that intensity was focused on her.
A weaker woman would crumble. Throw herself on his mercy. But then again, she reminded herself tersely, a weaker woman would probably happily accept Draco’s imperious manner.
“Well?” she prompted. “Don’t I have any say?”
“The baby is a Sandrelli, and he, or she, will be brought up with all that entails,” Draco replied in a voice that brooked no argument.