Robyn Grady: The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country: The Billionaire’s Fake Engagement / Man from Stallion Country

She siphoned in a shaky breath.

Clearly this situation called for a break. Maybe temporary. More likely for good. She’d always known it would come to this. Hadn’t they both agreed this wasn’t forever? Unfortunately goodbyes had come sooner than planned.

She held her trembling hands firmly in her lap. “This is getting way too complicated.”

“So you’re hopping on the first lifeboat out?”

She recoiled. The sting was as sharp as a physical slap. God help her, she wanted to shake him for turning this around.

“You’re acting as though this is my fault.”

His chin went up. “I only know if you needed my support I’d give it to you.”

Would he? Would he really?

Confused— angry —she turned from him and glared out the window. “I don’t expect anything from anyone.”

“I like your independent spirit but that’s taking autonomy a little too far.”

“Because I’m a woman?” The weaker sex?

“Because that statement makes you sound cold and you’re the furthermost thing from an ice queen I know.”

She pressed her lips together as regret stung behind her nose.

She was saying goodbye for Alex’s own good. Yes, for her sake, too. Two years ago a Sydney specialist had confirmed what the Constance Plains doctor predicted. Although the severity of the condition she’d acquired, Asherman’s Syndrome, was mild, he advised she not attempt to fall pregnant. If she happened to conceive, the risks to a foetus were grave and many.

She didn’t want to see anyone hurt, including Bridget’s unborn babe. She refused to stand in the way. Refused to hang on to silly Cinderella dreams that had zip chance of coming true.

An image of a tiny newborn’s hand flashed into her mind, and the light outside smudged as moisture blurred her vision.

Holding her roiling stomach, she concentrated to school her features and summon a level tone. “I would like to be dropped at my apartment, please.”

“No, carino. We’ll spend the night together at my home.”

Her fingers strangled her clutch purse. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she wasn’t worth the trouble. She wanted to jump out of this car and run as fast and as far as she could.

Instead she sent a thin smile. “Don’t you get it? It’s over, Alex. The boat’s already sailed.”

His dark eyes searched hers before narrowing almost imperceptibly. As the trip-wire tension tightened more, she quivered inside but didn’t back down. For everyone’s sake, she couldn’t.

Finally he sat back against the black leather seat. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he nodded and exhaled. “You’re right. Of course you shouldn’t be dragged into this. Forgive me.”

She gaped at him. Was he purposely trying to guilt her out? He’d said he needed her support. She’d flatly refused and still he forgave her.

Her fingers itched to touch his hard thigh. To let him know that she did care, and too much. Instead she clenched her hand into the cool silk of her dress. If Alex was the father of that baby, he didn’t need distractions. He would need to focus on priorities. She only wished she could explain.

She wasn’t the woman he thought her to be.

Dropping her head, she bit her lip.

“Alex, I—”

He found her gaze then wrapped an arm around her. His cheek pressed against her crown, he tugged her close.

“We’re both upset. Too upset to talk. Be still now and let me hold you for a while.”

Alex asked Paul to head for her address and when the car pulled up in front of her apartment building five minutes later, he slid out and opened her door.

“I’ll tell Paul to come back in the morning,” he told her, extending his hand.

She accepted his hand, so warm and big folded around hers, but she couldn’t accept the offer, no matter how safe and adored he made her feel. If she could hold on, be strong a moment longer…

“I’d rather say good-night here.” She managed a trite smile while her heart—her icy, barren heart—steadied itself not to break. “It’s been nice.”

Not listening, he cupped her nape, lowered his head to kiss her. But she turned her face and his warm lips grazed her temple.

“Good night, Alexander.”

He stepped away, stood stock still. Then, like an unleashed hurricane, he swung back toward the Bentley, his gravelled words trailing behind.

“I’ll say good-night, Natalie. But not goodbye.”

The next morning, Alex scowled at the page five headline.

Playboy to Marry Outsider. Socialite Girlfriend Pregnant.

Cursing, he hurled the paper at his kitchen counter.

His girl had left him, he’d been publicly hailed as a two-timing bastard and, as a side order, Dai Zhang must be wondering if Alexander Ramirez wasn’t a chip off his amoral grandfather’s block.

Every one of his ventures was run above reproach. Zhang’s money was destined for a sound project, one into which Alex had invested a fair stake of his own capital. He believed these research studies would make a difference, not only to his personal worth but also to the medical community who would benefit from improvements made to vascular tolerance of dialysis-dependent patients.

After reading that headline, however, it would be no surprise if Zhang, a respected businessman known for his high standard of principles, pulled out. Alex had worked hard to convince Zhang that these studies would succeed where others had failed, but this publicity made Alexander Ramirez look like a man who couldn’t be trusted. Particularly if this so called engagement was called off the same week it was announced.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Unfortunately after last night’s events, Natalie had pulled the pin on their affair. This morning’s headlines would have her back up all the more. But Alex wasn’t prepared to have it end there.

The living room extension pealed.

Alex strode over, grabbed the receiver and growled, “Call back.”

“Mr. Ramirez?”

Unease rippled up his spine. “Who is this?” The voice sounded familiar. The next second he knew why.

“Mr. Ramirez, when are your nuptials taking place?”

His teeth clenched. “How did you get this number?”

“Natalie Wilder is unavailable for comment,” the reporter continued. “Does this mean the engagement’s off? Can you confirm that the party last night was a double celebration?”

Imagining the phone was the reporter’s head, Alex slammed the receiver down. Throwing up his hands, he strode away.

How to go forward.

What to do to save this mess from disintegrating more.

Then his faculties doubled back and swooped upon a phrase. Natalie was unavailable for comment? That reporter must’ve put her through the wringer already this morning.

He speed-dialled Natalie’s cell phone. Message bank. He got voice mail at her home number. Only one other place she would be.

When Natalie answered her office extension on the second ring, Alex sank into a nearby chair.

He smiled. “Good morning, carino.”

“Alex?” Two beats of silence. “I’m at the office.”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m not talking to anyone today unless they want to buy a property. I—I’m sorry but I have to go.”

She disconnected and he hung up, drummed his fingers on the desk and glared at the phone. “Stubborn woman.” Which was one of the reasons he liked her so much.

Alex stopped midthought.

What if, rather than a brash invention, his statement to that reporter had merely been a little premature? Now that the claim was out, perhaps he ought to make use of it, and in more ways than one.

Zhang was a man of principle, as was Alex. At the moment, nothing could be done about the paternity accusation. But perhaps he should stand by his engagement announcement. To retract now would only make him appear even less honorable in Zhang’s eyes, and when the paternity test came back, his name would be cleared.