The Blackmail Pregnancy. Melanie Milburne

when they met his again, looked wounded, which instantly made him feel like the bad guy. How did she do that? He had every right to be furious with her. She had no right to play the injured innocent. No right at all.

      ‘What time would you like me to be at Cremorne?’ she asked.

      Byron hunted her face for any sign of her composure cracking, but apart from that hurt look in her eyes there was none. She’d effectively shut him out once more, and apart from flaying her with his tongue right here and now there was little he could do but accept it for now. He’d bide his time and get the answers he was after—even if it took him months.

      ‘In the evening’s fine,’ he answered, giving her a key.

      He noticed she took it from him without touching his hand. That too made him angry. She’d have to get used to him touching her, because that was all he wanted to do—from the moment he woke until he fell asleep at night. His body craved her. Being so close to her had stirred his desire to a persistent dull ache, and he wondered if she sensed it.

      He turned to leave before he was tempted to do something about it then and there. He muttered a curt goodnight as he closed the door on her expressionless face.

      Cara sagged against the wall once he’d gone, burying her face in her hands, slipping down until she found the floor.

      She stayed up most of the night packing. She knew sleep was impossible, so continued on until her vision blurred. The last bag was packed and she stood up and looked around her tiny apartment. Three bags and a box wasn’t much to show for her almost twenty-nine years, but then, she reflected ruefully, she had enough internal baggage to sink a container ship.

      She sat and sipped a glass of water as she watched the moon make its way across the early morning sky until the brightness of the rising sun took over.

      This was the first day of the rest of her life. She knew from this day on nothing could ever be the same. Seeing Byron again had torn her seeping wounds apart, and no matter how hard she tried she’d never be able to tie the ragged edges together again. She almost hated him for his cruelty. Almost, but not quite.

      Cara spent some time at the office—more to fill in the day than because of any pressing work commitments. Trevor took one look at her shadowed eyes and whistled through his teeth.

      ‘You’re looking a bit the-morning-after-the-fight-before.’

      She gave him a you-can-say-that-again look and flopped into her chair.

      ‘I’m not even going to correct your misquote of that adage, because your version’s far more accurate.’

      He perched on the edge of her desk, his expression empathetic. ‘Lord Byron giving you a hard time?’

      ‘You could say that.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I’m moving in with him this evening.’

      Trevor’s eyes widened, his brows disappearing under his floppy fringe.

      ‘Is that wise?’

      She gave him an ironic look.

      ‘No, but wisdom doesn’t come into it, I’m afraid. It’s a matter of do or be damned.’

      ‘Is he forcing your hand?’

      ‘Oh, I had a choice,’ she said. ‘Sort of.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Cara,’ he said. ‘This is all my fault. It’s not fair that you’re being forced to pay the price.’

      ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she reassured him. ‘I’ll be fine. Byron will soon tire of me. I’m what is commonly referred to by most men as “hard work”.’

      ‘You’re not hard work,’ he said. ‘You’re wounded. That’s totally different.’

      She gave him a small wry smile.

      ‘Only you would see the difference.’

      ‘I’m sure he will too, in time. Maybe you should be totally honest with him. He might understand more than you think,’ he offered hopefully.

      ‘Byron’s not the understanding type. He’s had life too good. What would he know about how the other half live? He’s had everything handed to him on a plate—including me.’

      ‘Do you still care for him?’

      ‘I don’t know what I feel,’ she answered honestly. ‘I’ve taught myself not to feel anything for so long I can’t quite find the on switch any more.’

      ‘It will come back if you give yourself some time. You need to let the dust of the past settle for a little longer, get some more perspective.’

      ‘You should’ve been a counsellor, Trev,’ she said. ‘You’ve got all the answers.’

      ‘No, I haven’t.’ He kissed the top of her head as he jumped down from her desk. ‘I just know what the questions are.’

      Cara drove towards Cremorne, her heart still heavy in her chest at what she was about to commit to. Byron was little more than a stranger to her now. How was she to simply slot back into his life as if nothing had happened? It would take all the acting ability she had to survive.

      His car was in the large garage, and she parked in the space alongside it. Her run-down Mazda looked very out of place next to his Mercedes—but then, nearly everything about them was just as disparate.