One Night to Risk It All Read online

  She didn’t want all he had to give anyway.

  Not if she had any concept of what it might mean.

  Hell, he wasn’t sure he had a complete concept of what it might mean and he didn’t aim to acquire one.

  Still, she was staying with him, even if she was wandering around sniffing indignantly at him half of the time. She was hiding, and he knew it. But he found he didn’t care, so long as she was close. Barring the small blip of a headline about them cavorting in paradise, which had something to do with them being snapped together having dinner in Cannes, no one had picked up on what was actually happening, and considering the tenuous situation, that was fine with him.

  She seemed pale, though. More so than when they’d first met, and he hated the idea that he might be the cause of it. Shouldn’t be surprised, though. That came back to him. To what was in him. A boy that no one could love, a man who was fundamentally flawed down to his very genetics.

  That black blood filtering through his veins. The image he could never quite shake.

  He saw her sitting out on the terrace and walked through the room, out the door, to join her. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “Ready for the doctor to come?”

  “Yes. It seems pretty extravagant to have her do a house call.”

  “Until you’re ready for the story to break, we need to keep it as low key and close to home as possible. I assume you aren’t ready?”

  “No. I haven’t told my father yet.”

  “Have you spoken to him?”

  She nodded. “Very briefly. He’s worried. I told him... I told him that I was just enjoying a little bit of fun. He said...” She blinked rapidly. “He said that was fine. That it was about time I did. Why is he so supportive of me? Even when I make such stupid mistakes?”

  “Why shouldn’t he be?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it would make more sense if he’d just get mad.”

  “Why? You’re a grown woman. You can make your own decisions.”

  “I’m not sure if I make good ones.”

  A maid appeared in the doorway. “Dr. Sands is here.”

  “Great. Send her in,” Alex said.

  Dr. Sands, Rachel’s doctor, whom he hadn’t met yet, came out onto the terrace smiling. It felt so strange to have a doctor standing there. To know that this was about the baby.

  Sometimes—well, all the time—it was so much easier not to think about the baby.

  But then, if there was no baby, Rachel would have no reason to be there.

  That made his throat tighten with a strange kind of terror.

  “Hi, Rachel. Shall we go upstairs and get started?”

  Rachel looked at him, her eyes wide.

  “Are you afraid I’ll come?” he asked. “Or afraid I won’t?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m going to come.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  A loose summer dress and a sheet were Rachel’s accessories for the appointment. She knew it was technically too early to need another appointment. She was close to eight weeks, but there was little point in checking things out. Except she was nervous.

  About everything. Afraid everything was fine. Afraid it wasn’t.

  And on the verge of losing her mind completely. The pressure in her chest had built to a maddening degree. So that just breathing every day was a chore.

  It had been two weeks since she’d been with Alex. Two weeks. And she’d denied herself the only release that had given her any relief. Because he was too much. Because he wanted too much.

  “Go ahead and lie down on the bed, Rachel, it will be pretty quick. I understand that you were wanting to see if we could see the heartbeat. I can’t make any guarantees. If we don’t see anything, it could all still be fine, but we’ll give it a look.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. I know it’s early but...we have...things to deal with.”

  Dr. Sands gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know. It’s okay, we’ll figure it all out.”

  “Alex, could you stand up...well, not down there?” Rachel asked as she moved into position for her exam.

  Alex came to stand by her head as the doctor prepared the ultrasound.

  Rachel winced both at the cold and the intrusion and waited for everything to come up on the small screen of the portable machine.

  “There we go,” Dr. Sands said. “See the flutter of movement there? That’s the heartbeat.”

  Rachel looked at the black space on the screen, at the little lines of white and flickering brightness that signified life.

  “It all looks good. Of course, there are no guarantees at any stage,” she said, looking her in the eyes, “so you don’t want to make any decisions that are too life-changing. But you’re healthy, and there’s no reason to believe anything will go wrong, okay?”

  Rachel nodded. “Okay. That’s great. Good.”

  “I’ll let you get cleaned up. Alex? Perhaps you’d like to come with me. And if you have any questions it would be a good time—”

  Their voices faded when the door closed and Rachel stood up, her hands shaking as she went into the bathroom and dealt with the gel mess left behind by the ultrasound.

  Then she knelt down in front of the toilet and threw up.

  Morning sickness in the afternoon maybe. Or just shock.

  She sat down in the middle of the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. What had she gotten herself into? She was pregnant and there was really no denying it. There was a heartbeat. Inside of her. She’d never been so afraid in her entire life.

  She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know... She couldn’t do it.

  All she could picture now was the doctor putting the baby in her arms and her handing it right back.

  She pushed herself up, standing on shaking legs. She felt like a newborn fawn. A newborn fawn that was in no way equipped to care for a baby because she was...well, she didn’t feel like she was a grown-up yet. Didn’t feel like she could be a mom.

  Miserable, she crossed to the sink and started brushing her teeth. At least her breath would be better, even if everything in her was still in disarray.

  She took a deep breath, gasped for it, and went back into the bedroom. She was okay. She would be okay. She didn’t need to cry.

  She never cried. She hadn’t cried in years. She wasn’t about to start now. She hadn’t cried since her mother had died. Her mother...

  That’s not where it goes, Rachel.

  No, Rachel, you’re doing it wrong.

  You’re too loud. Too rowdy. You shouldn’t go out at night. You shouldn’t wear that dress.

  Rachel, how could you do something like that? Didn’t I teach you to wait for your husband?

  Rachel blinked rapidly, trying to shut out the memories. The critical voice in her head. The voice of the woman who was perfect and graceful to everyone. Everyone but her.

  Because Rachel couldn’t do anything right. Rachel wasn’t ever going to be able to do things the way they were supposed to be done. Rachel would never get it right. Ever.

  She’d tried to kick against it, to rebel, and in the end she was the only one who’d been hurt. And she’d come out the other side trying so hard to be better. Trying to keep herself from being too big...too loud...too her.

  She was trying so hard not to be herself.

  The dam that was holding everything in, that had been holding it all in for years in spite of the mounting pressure, finally burst.

  A tear slid down her cheek.

  The first tear in years. And now she didn’t think they would ever stop.

  She walked over to the bed, clutching her chest, her shoulders shaking as the dam burst on the past ten y
ears of emotion, held so tightly in her, in a tight, heavy ball that she’d resigned herself to carrying around inside forever, broke open and poured out all over the place.

  She wondered if you could drown in your own tears. She was seriously afraid she might. Or at least that she might die from not being able to catch her breath. Every attempt at breathing became another sob, until she was gasping, shaking and having a complete and utter breakdown.

  Maybe this was what happened when you kept it all in. Maybe the breaking point was inevitable.

  She was certainly broken. No question.

  She was dimly aware of the bedroom door opening.

  “Rachel?” Alex’s voice, her name followed by a sharp curse. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

  “I can’t do this, Alex!” Her words came from somewhere deep inside of her, came out without her having a chance to even think them first. She only felt them.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No, I can’t. I can’t...ever do things the way they’re supposed to be done. I mess them up. When I feel too much I make mistakes and when I...when I don’t feel at all I feel like I might as well be doing nothing at all. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know how to love a child, and follow my heart, use my emotions, without making bad decisions. And if I...if I keep on like I have been and just don’t care...then what’s the point? I can’t. It’s too hard. I’ll mess it all up, I know I will.”

  His arms were around her, holding her close, his lips on her temple, fingers laced through her hair. Their last confrontation, the angry words, didn’t evaporate, but for the moment they were on hold. “Rachel, you can do this. You can.”

  “It’s a lie, Alex. It’s always been a lie. I’m not perfect. I hide all these pieces of myself, and I don’t show anyone. I don’t know how to give everything because I’m so damn afraid of it. Because if I do...it still won’t be good enough. It won’t ever be good enough.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because it never was! Not ever. Not for her. I tried, Alex, I put everything on hold because she was sick. I helped plan her parties, I chose Ajax because he was safe and easy and he wouldn’t disgrace me or our family. I tried to appear polished and to always smile, just like she did. But all I could ever be was a pale imitation. All I could ever manage was lukewarm cocktail shrimp and a party that was barely mediocre. She was this... She made everyone so happy at parties. She made everyone’s life easier and I just...made things harder because I was distracted and couldn’t finish, or just because I don’t have that thing that she had. I fake it, but I don’t have it. Not really. The press sees it, they think I’m so like her but I... She was never happy.”

  “That isn’t your fault, Rachel, you aren’t her clone. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure, not in any way.”

  She nodded. “I’m just all...messed up inside, Alex.”

  He stroked her hair, his body a solid wall of reassurance for her to lean against. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Well, we are.”

  “As you said. Screwed up and screwed up.”

  “A mess,” she said.

  “But it’s the mess we have.”

  “I know,” she said, sniffing loudly. “I haven’t even cried for... This is the first time in eight years.”

  “I haven’t cried since I was a boy,” he said.

  “How long?” she wanted to know. She wanted to know how heavy the burden inside of him was. Hers had been nearly unbearable.

  “Probably about twelve years. A boy of fourteen—I might have cried then.”

  “Why?”

  “You want my secrets now, agape?”

  “I’m leaving snot trails all over your shirt,” she said, leaning back. “I think we have no reason to keep secrets. And I wanted them once already. But you didn’t give them.”

  She thought back to their night in Cannes. He’d deflected then. Both times. And he’d done it with sex.

  “Then you can have them now,” he said. “Leaving the Kouklakis compound was the single hardest thing I ever did. The worst day of my life. My mother was dead. I felt very alone. Afraid of what was ahead. I wanted to escape and yet I feared the freedom. I knew I couldn’t stay because...because of what I would become if I did. I cried that day. It was the only home I knew, and I loved it as much as I hated it.”

  “Your problems are so much bigger than mine,” she said. “I must seem like a nutcase to you.”

  “No. I don’t see it that way.”

  “How?”

  “Because it hurts you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being in the position I’ve been in, being around the types of people I’ve been exposed to, it’s that people have common pains. They come from different places, but they are the same sorts of hurts.”

  “Forgive me, Alex, but you’re one of the most amoral men I’ve ever met. You used me to get back at Ajax, you were going to crash my wedding—”

  “Maybe. I was undecided. Though...it is likely I would have stopped you from going through with it. Because...as I said, you are mine.”

  “You...don’t make any sense to me,” she said. “You act like you were raised by wolves...and then you go and say things like this. You go and say things that are so insightful, and that make me feel like I just might not be alone, or that I might not be the big ball of crazy I tend to think I am.”

  “You probably are still a...ball of crazy,” he said, the words sounding so funny and off rhythm in that accent. “But a very charming one.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “Well, I can’t have you questioning what you think of me too deeply. It might make you rethink too many things, right?”

  “Maybe I should.” She rose up onto her knees and moved to where he stood at the edge of the bed. Her heart was pounding fast, the emotion flowing through her making her dizzy.

  She knew she shouldn’t touch him. She knew she shouldn’t want him. Nothing was settled. There was still too much baggage between them. But when she was in Alex’s arms...she was so much closer to the woman she really was, rather than the woman who was just pretending.

  Right now, she didn’t have the strength to pretend. She leaned in, eye level with his chest, and kissed the bare skin revealed by his undone top button.

  “Rachel.” Her gaze met his. He looked like he was in pain, his eyes closed, a deep groove between his brows.

  “I’m not going to hit you,” she said, stretching up higher and kissing his neck, “I just want to kiss you.”

  He reached out and grabbed her wrist, held her back from him, his eyes. “Only if you’re absolutely certain you want me to push you back onto that bed and take you hard and fast. Make you mine. Make you scream.”

  “I think I do,” she said, her voice trembling, her whole body trembling.

  He captured her face with his other hand, his expression intense. “That isn’t good enough. You’d better be completely certain.”

  She swallowed hard. “I want you, Alex.”

  “Why?” he asked, his voice sharp.

  “I don’t know why,” she said, a tear sliding down her face. Another tear, nothing significant about this one, since it was the hundred-somethingth tear in an hour instead of the first one in eight years. But still, it felt significant. Everything about this moment did.

  “Try to tell me.”

  “Because you’re the only man that’s ever made me feel this way. Because you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted, really wanted. You make me feel like myself. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt like just...me, before. Everything I’ve done, from rebellion to behaving, has been for other people. You were the first thing I ever did for me.”

  “I see.” He traced her jawline with his fingertip. “Am I still a mistake to you, Rachel?”
r />   “I don’t know yet.”

  “What? You need to...make me one more time before you’re sure?”

  “I might need to get to the end of...everything before I know for sure.”

  “And in the meantime you want to make love with me?”

  She nodded slowly, his hands still holding her. “Yes. Does that make me... Is there something wrong with me?”

  “There’s something wrong with both of us. Because whether I should or not, I’m going to have you tonight.”

  “When you say things like that... Alex, it’s enough to drive a woman totally insane. And in a good way.”

  “Is it?”

  “No one else has ever wanted me. Not really. Not me.”

  “I do,” he said. “Feel how much?” He put her hand on his chest, over his heart, then guided it downward, over his denim-covered erection. “Do you feel that?”

  “Yes,” she said, squeezing him. “Impossible not to.”

  “Then you can’t be in any doubt of how much I want you. Want this. If you’re sure of one thing, be sure of me. Of how much I want you.”

  “You really do say nice things.”

  “I’m honest. When I want to be.”

  “That instills a lot of confidence,” she said, moving her hand over him, cupping him through his jeans. “I think you should take these off.”

  “In a moment. I want to watch you take your dress off. We’re always in a hurry. I don’t want to rush this.”

  “I might not give you a choice,” she said, moving away from him to the center of the bed and sliding a strap from her shoulder. “I might jump on you.”

  “I welcome the challenge,” he said. “You wouldn’t be half so much fun if you weren’t always pushing me.”

  “You actually enjoy my back talk?” she asked, pushing down the second strap.

  “I more than enjoy it. It turns me on. I’ve seen enough passive, hollow-eyed women, bent on doing what they’re told just to get a fix. Of a drug. Of a person. I don’t want that from you. I don’t want empty compliance or...that thing that you’ve been doing where you try to make everyone’s life easy at the expense of what you want. I want fire.”