Leah Ashton - Nine Month Countdown

A Christmas Eve wedding would be perfect?

Angus’s brain was still requiring most of its synapses to deal with his impending parenthood. But what little remained was functioning well enough to realise that this was completely and utterly nuts.

‘Is this a pregnancy hormone thing?’ he asked, quite seriously. ‘Can they send you loopy?’

Ivy’s gaze hardened. ‘I can assure you I am not crazy.’

More than anything, Angus wished he’d had time to order a drink. For want of another option, he gestured at Ivy’s champagne. It wasn’t as if she could have it, after all.

She nodded impatiently, and then carried on with her outrageous proposal as he downed half the drink in one gulp.

‘After the wedding we’d need to continue the illusion that we’re a couple, but given the nature of your work that shouldn’t be too hard. My house is huge, so we could live quite separate lives when you are home. Not being seen in public together will help, anyway, for when we separate a few months after the baby is born.’

She blinked when she said baby, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was true.

‘After the separation you’re free to do whatever you like, and then, as soon as legally allowable, we’ll divorce, and carry on with our lives.’

‘Except for the fact that we’re parents of a child we had together.’

A reluctant nod. ‘Well, yes.’

Angus took a second long swig to finish the champagne he’d barely tasted. He plonked the glass down with little care, and then leant forward, watching Ivy’s eyes widen.

‘Why?’ he asked.

Ivy actually shrugged. ‘Does it matter? I can assure you that the remuneration you’ll receive for this will be a life-changing amount. Millions of dollars.’

Pocket change to her.

‘And a house, too, if you like,’ she added, as if an afterthought.

‘Before tonight, Ivy, I never wanted children, and I never wanted to get married,’ he said. ‘Now I’m having a child, but, I can assure you, absolutely nothing has changed on the marriage front. I wouldn’t have picked you to be the old-fashioned sort, Ivy, but I’m not. Even with a diamond-encrusted solid-gold carrot.’

Ivy shook her head, as if she couldn’t comprehend his rapid refusal. ‘I promise you that this will cause you minimal impact, I—’

‘It’s marriage, Ivy. Nothing minimal impact about that.’

She gave a little huff of frustration. ‘Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as signing a contract, nothing more.’

‘Signing a contract of marriage, Ivy. And you still haven’t told me why.’

Now that he had her glass, Ivy had transferred her fidgeting to her fingers—tangling and twining them together.

Had she really thought he’d agree, just like that? An offer of a crazy amount of money and all sorted? Even if her proposal made no sense on any level?

He studied her. Was she was so detached and separate from reality in her billionaire’s turret that she truly believed that money could buy her anything? It was his immediate and rather angry conclusion.

He could feel every sinew in his body tense in frustration at the thought of the level of entitlement, of arrogance that would lead to such an assumption...

But now as he looked at Ivy, it didn’t fit. He hadn’t seen it in her in Bali, and he still didn’t recognise it now.

Sure, she was still some distance from normal, but he knew it wasn’t entitlement, or arrogance, that had triggered her plan.

It was something he could understand. That he could recognise.

It was desperation.

* * *

Ivy didn’t know what to do now.

Maybe he was right. Maybe pregnancy hormones had sent her loopy, because, honestly—had she really thought he’d just agree?

In her experience some people could be bought for the right price. Actually, make that many, many people. But nothing about Angus had indicated to her that he was one of those people. In fact, if she’d spent even a minute properly considering her plan, she would’ve seen this fatal flaw.

Which of course was the problem. She hadn’t spent any time thinking about it, at least not thinking about such pesky details like: what if he doesn’t agree? Because she’d been clinging to this plan as if it were a rope suspended over the abyss that was her pregnancy, and she just couldn’t, could not, let it go.

But, the thing was, if this plan had something to do with mineral exploration or extraction, she certainly wouldn’t give up this early in the fight.

And that meant that she’d have to—at least partly—answer his question.

‘When I turn thirty-two,’ she said, looking him in the eye just as she always did during business negotiations, ‘my mother will relinquish her position as Chief Executive Officer of Molyneux Mining to me. It’s the same age she was when my grandfather died and left her the company, and this has been planned literally from when I was born.’ She paused. ‘I turn thirty-two in July next year. Based on some useful internet calculators—pending me seeing a doctor—our baby will arrive approximately one week before that date.’

Our baby. A slip of the tongue, but Angus displayed no reaction.

‘Although the succession plan was determined before my birth, I can assure you that I want this too. I’m very different from my mother in many ways.’ A huge understatement. ‘But in this way, we are in sync. We both live for Molyneux Mining. This is incredibly important to me.’

It is everything to me, she almost added. But somehow she didn’t think that would help.

It was near impossible to read Angus’s expression, but he nodded. ‘I get that you love your job. I get that you don’t want to give that up. What has this got to do with marrying me?’

‘About ten years ago just under half of Molyneux Mining was listed on the Australian Stock Exchange. We’re still majority family owned, but I report to a board of executives, as well as to our shareholders. We also have a number of significant projects in progress, including a joint venture to mine manganese in the Pilbara, which is reaching final negotiations. It is also widely known that I will take over Molyneux Mining next year, and that we are already in a period of comprehensive change management.’

‘So you’re worried that a baby will impact your share price?’

Ivy’s eyes narrowed. ‘No, not the baby. No one had better think that a baby will impact my professional performance.’

Oh, how she hoped that was true. She ignored Angus’s mildly incredulous raised eyebrows.

‘It’s all about how the baby came to be here, that’s the problem. My whole career has led to my next birthday. Everything I have done, every decision I have made, has been with this succession in the front of my mind. I am known for being meticulous in my planning. For never making a snap decision, for never being reactive in my actions. Even my boyfriends have been chosen with some consideration for my career—I always do background checks. I never take anything or anyone on face value.’

Except she’d never done a background check on Angus. The only thing she’d cared about that night was how good Angus had made her feel.

‘So a baby is okay. But hot, crazy sex on a beach with a stranger isn’t.’

Ivy recoiled a little, and felt her cheeks grow warm.

Now her gaze dipped to her fingers. With some effort she untangled them, laying her palms flat on the table to force them still.

‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,’ she said. ‘But yes. Ivy Molyneux would never be that reckless.’

There was that word again. Reckless.

This time it triggered a remembered snatch of conversation, the echo of her mother’s voice from a time for ever ago: How could you, Ivy? How could you be so reckless?