And Greer was going to give this child the best, happiest life she possibly could, she thought fiercely. No nannies and tutors. No squirreling her child away to the back of the house because it was inconvenient. Greer’s baby would be loved and know it was loved at all times, even if it didn’t have a father in the picture.
But it would be a change. A big, big change. Holy crap. She got a little faint just thinking about it.
She went to her room in a daze and took another nap. When she woke up, she was mentally refreshed, and convinced that the tests were right. Of course she was pregnant. Asher hadn’t used a condom. She was getting sick at all kinds of smells, and her stomach acted up in the morning. Her breasts were tender, and her period was due in about three days, but she suspected it’d be a no-show. Greer googled pregnancy symptoms and it seemed that one could start getting sick as early as three weeks after conception.
Well, that certainly fit the timeframe for her sex with Asher. Actually, she couldn’t even call it that. She’d refer to it as an unwanted sperm donation at this point, because sex implied she might have gotten some pleasure out of it, and that certainly wasn’t the case.
For a moment, she thought about unblocking Asher’s number and texting him. Telling him he got her pregnant and reveling in his panic. She could force him to pay child support, and wouldn’t that be ironic? He was a billionaire, but he was a billionaire only because of her; back when his business had nearly collapsed, she’d secretly given him five million dollars and pretended it was from her father. Milking him for child support would have a vicious sort of justice to it.
But she discarded the idea as quickly as it came. She didn’t want her baby to be a problem. She certainly didn’t want her child to be a weapon between angry, battling parents. Been there, done that. She didn’t want to mess with Asher. Actually, she never wanted to see him again. This would be her child and hers alone. Her hands went to her flat stomach, imagining what her body would look like when the baby started to round it out.
A knock sounded at the door. “Miss Greer?” One of the butlers.
She sat up. “Yes?”
“Mr. Stijn’s returned home if you wish to talk to him.”
“Thank you, Jonathan.” She smoothed her hair and straightened her sweater and slacks. She did have to talk to her father. Not only about the party she was going to plan for him, but the baby she was going to have. As her parent, she supposed he deserved to know.
Greer slipped her flats back on and then headed down the stairs and into the main part of the castle, looking for her father. Finding a person in the Dutchman castle was sometimes like finding a needle in a haystack, but her father had a few favorite haunts. He wasn’t in the movie room, the library, or taking laps in the indoor swimming pool. She found him in his study, seated at an enormous glass desk, going over proofs of the next magazine issue.
“Hello, Vader,” she called out as she entered.
“Little Greer,” he greeted, putting aside the folder and getting to his feet. “I’m glad you made it. I have a lot of ideas for the party.” He extended his hands to her and she put her hands in his and they exchanged air kisses on their cheeks. “Come sit down, and I’ll go over my checklist.”
That was about as warm as Stijn Janssen got with her, Greer thought wryly. She was treated more like an old business associate than a daughter. There was no asking how one was doing, what she was up to, how her wedding planning business was going. It was always—and always would be—about Stijn and Stijn alone.
At sixty-five, her father was still an impressive figure. Over six feet tall, his hair had finally faded from pale blond to silver, but his shoulders were as broad as ever and his face just as tanned. His cheeks were unlined, but the set of his mouth got a little thinner every year, and he was starting to get a gut. Not that Greer would ever say that to him. “You look well, Vader.”
He shot her an unreadable look. “I should. Those women are working me to the bone. So demanding, all three of them. You met them? My triplets?”
Ah yes, nothing like getting reminded that her father didn’t really think of her as a daughter. As if she wanted to hear about his sexual conquests. “I did. They seem very nice.”
“They’re stupid,” he said bluntly, sitting back down in his chair and digging through a few folders. “But they’re enthusiastic.”
Calling them stupid seemed cruel. “You do have a type,” she said lightly.
He shot her another look, and this time it was irritated. “I do not. Your mother was nothing like them.”
Yes, and you discarded her and me. But she bit those words back. “Speaking of mothers . . .”
Stijn pulled out a piece of paper and then put on his reading glasses, perching them on his broad nose. “Now let me tell you my idea for the theme. I was thinking something with ice. Something elegant, though. This is a showpiece of a party. There will be very important people there and we don’t want to look trashy. So, ice. Ice can be elegant. Maybe diamonds. I think—”
“Vader,” she interrupted. If he got started on work, she’d never be able to broach the subject of her pregnancy.
He paused and angled his head so he could stare at her over his reading glasses. “What?”
“You should know that . . .” She sucked in a breath, and then forced herself to admit the words. “I’m pregnant.”
He blinked. “Can you work? Is it going to be a problem with planning my celebration?”
“No, it won’t be a problem—”
He tapped his glasses, pushing them farther back on his nose. “So I was thinking diamonds. An elegant theme. Like satin and diamonds. Or does that make you think of strippers?”
She bit back her sigh of disappointment. Why had she expected her father to show any sort of emotion? He never called her unless he needed something. He never remembered her on holidays. He didn’t care about family. Of course he wouldn’t care about her baby. Maybe she was still reaching for that dream of family after all. Hope sprung eternal, and Greer had always been an optimist. She idly touched her stomach. She’d just have to be enough family for her baby without anyone else.
“Greer? Diamonds?”
She sat forward in her chair and pulled a blank piece of paper off his desk, and picked up a pen. “Perhaps we can tweak the idea, Vader. Maybe not satin and diamonds. How about black tie and diamonds? Or perhaps just call it a black tie affair?”
“Good idea,” Stijn said, grinning. “See, this is why I wanted you to do it. You have good taste.”
And Greer kind of hated that she got a little inward thrill at her father’s approval.
Chapter 3