The Frenchman's Marriage Demand. Chantelle Shaw

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘I love Aimee more than anything and I won’t allow anyone to hurt her. I agree we should do a paternity test—it’s time to set the record straight. I just hope you’re prepared for the result.’

      The fierceness of her tone shook Zac more than he cared to admit, but he immediately dismissed his doubts. She was bluffing, he reassured himself; or else her desperate financial situation had deluded her into believing he was Aimee’s father. Either way, he was not going to be drawn into believing her lies.

      ‘I’m prepared for the test results to confirm that you’re a common tramp,’ he said aggressively. ‘Finally you’ll have to accept the truth and move on with your life, as I intend to move on with mine.’ And ignoring her furious gasp, he turned his head and stared into the dark for the remainder of the flight.

      CHAPTER THREE

      TEN minutes later the helicopter landed on the roof of the penthouse and Zac lifted Aimee into his arms and preceded Jean Lewis down the steps. ‘Laurent, were you able to carry out my instructions?’ he greeted his butler.

      ‘Everything is as you asked, sir,’ the butler replied in his usual unflappable manner. ‘The nursery suppliers delivered a cot and other necessary furnishings and equipment, and the dressing room adjoining the fourth bedroom has been prepared for the child’s nanny.’ If Laurent was surprised by the request to prepare a room for a baby, his tone gave nothing away and his facial expression remained as bland as ever.

      ‘Bon,’ Zac murmured as he transferred the sleeping child back into the nanny’s arms. ‘Please escort Madame Lewis to the nursery and ensure she has everything she requires.’

      He swung round and walked back to the helicopter just as Freya reached the bottom step. She looked pale and tired and was clearly in pain but she glared at him when he reached her side.

      ‘There was no need for you to hire a nanny. I can look after Aimee perfectly well.’

      ‘How exactly when you only have the use of one arm?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Jean Lewis has excellent references and she’ll take good care of Aimee.’

      ‘Where has she taken her?’ Freya demanded. Her whole arm was throbbing and she felt light-headed with pain but she refused to admit it to Zac—any more than she would admit to feeling jealous that Aimee had settled so happily with Jean Lewis. Her steps slowed and a feeling of panic swept over her as she followed him into the penthouse. She didn’t want to be here and she didn’t want to remember the past, but memories were bombarding her.

      Zac travelled by helicopter as routinely as most people used a car and had regularly swept her off to parties and other glittering social functions outside Monaco, often flying along the coast to Cannes or St Tropez. The parties had always been wonderful, glamorous affairs, but Freya had only had eyes for him and even in a crowded room his slumberous stare had tormented her with the unspoken promise of sensual nirvana to follow. The hours until they could make their excuses and leave had been a slow torture and her anticipation had always been at fever pitch by the time they had climbed back on board the helicopter for the return flight.

      There had been something incredibly magical about swooping low over the sea and the towering apartment blocks that lined Monaco’s crowded coastline, knowing that in a few short minutes they would be home. The sensual gleam beneath Zac’s heavy lids would stoke her excitement and as soon as the rotors came to a halt he would scoop her into his arms and race into the penthouse, stripping her with brisk efficiency along the way.

      Sometimes they hadn’t even made it to the master bedroom, she remembered as heat suffused her body. In his urgency to make love to her he had deposited her on one of the sitting room sofas, and the feel of the cool leather against her skin had added a new dimension to her pleasure when he had pushed her thighs apart and entered her with one powerful thrust. Their hunger for each other had been insatiable, a wild, primitive passion that had known no bounds as he had dispensed with her inhibitions and made love to her with an inventiveness that still brought a tide of colour to her cheeks.

      Heart pounding, she forced her mind back to the present and stumbled along the hall after him. Oh, God, what was she thinking? And why had her libido chosen now to make a comeback when she had spent the last two years living like a nun?

      Zac opened the door of the guest bedroom and ushered Freya inside. ‘Jean has taken Aimee to the nursery,’ he explained, his eyes narrowing speculatively on her hot face.

      ‘Nursery?’ Her eyebrows shot up as she frantically dragged her mind from her erotic fantasies and forced herself to concentrate on his words. She remembered Zac’s chic, minimalist apartment as a confirmed bachelor pad—when on earth had he installed a nursery?

      ‘I instructed my staff to prepare a room for Aimee since you will both be staying here for the time being. I hope it will be suitable,’ he added coldly.

      ‘I’m sure it’ll be more suitable than a damp bedsit. I hope you haven’t gone to too much bother, Zac—Aimee and I won’t be here long,’ Freya muttered, unable to disguise the sudden bitterness in her voice as she remembered how she had struggled to afford even the most basic baby equipment. With a click of his fingers Zac could provide everything Aimee needed—it was a pity he was two years too late.

      His mouth tightened but he simply said, ‘Laurent will serve supper in your room and then I suggest you take your painkillers and go to bed. You look like death.’

      Terrific, she really needed reminding that she looked a mess, Freya thought grimly, especially when he looked so gorgeous. He had removed his leather jacket and she could not help but notice the way his black sweater moulded his muscular chest. He was lean, dark and so beautiful that it hurt her to look at him, she acknowledged as desire swept through her. Zac possessed a raw sexual magnetism, and, although her mind urged caution, her body was responding to him with a reckless disregard for her emotional safety.

      She was trembling; not as a result of the cool night air, she realised shamefully, but with an almost desperate longing to slide her fingers beneath his fine-knit sweater and run her hands over his olive-gold skin to feel the faint abrasion of the wiry hairs that covered his chest. The images from the past were stubbornly refusing to disappear and she felt thoroughly hot and bothered as sexual frustration spiralled in the pit of her stomach. Swallowing hard, she tore her eyes from him and stared at the carpet. ‘I forgot my toothbrush. You didn’t give me enough time to pack properly.’

      ‘All the toiletries you could possibly need are in your bathroom,’ Zac informed her, ‘and the clothes you left behind two years ago are still in the wardrobe.’

      ‘Really?’ The surprising statement brought her head up. ‘I thought you would have wasted no time getting rid of them,’ she mumbled, remembering how humiliated she had felt when he’d hustled her out of the apartment. Her face burned at the memory but he merely shrugged disinterestedly.

      ‘I didn’t keep them because I was anticipating ever taking you back, chérie, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ he drawled laconically. ‘I’d forgotten they were there, until the maid found them in the back of the cupboard when she was preparing your room.’ He glanced at his watch and strode towards the door. ‘I’m going out for the evening. Can you manage to get undressed, or do you need me to help you?’

      Freya flashed him a look that told him she’d rather accept help from a self-confessed axe murderer. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks,’ she replied in a cool voice that masked the sharp pang of dismay she felt as she wondered whom he was meeting for his dinner date. Undoubtedly the woman would be stunning and sophisticated—his current mistress? СКАЧАТЬ