The Heir From Nowhere by Trish Morey

He’d turned off one highway before reaching the city and onto another major road that seemed to snake its way though tree-lined suburbs that looked more and more wealthy, the houses bigger,the gardens more and more beautiful. Every now and then she’d get a glimpse of harbour and blue water and anticipation bubbled up inside. It was like going on one of those mystery holidays where you didn’t know where you were going until you got to the airport, not that she ever had. But Shayne had used to talk about doing one some time. He might actually do it now with Abigail.
    No! She gave herself a mental slap to the head. She refused to waste her time thinking about Shayne. Not now. Not after all the things he’d done. Wherever she was going, it would be much better than anything she could do with Shayne. Dominic Pirelli might be arrogant and controlling and judgemental, but he wasn’t cheap.
    Wherever he had in mind for her accommodation for the next however many months, it wouldn’t be substandard. Maybe not because he cared about her, but because he wanted the best for his baby.
    Which wouldn’t be so very hard to take, really. It would be like having a holiday at someone else’s expense.
    A six-month holiday.
    Why shouldn’t she at least try to enjoy it?
    The snatches of sea became more frequent and the concept of a holiday more tantalizing and seductive by the minute. They were close to the beach now. She could smell the tang of salt in the air—such a different air to where she’d come from, where the air seemed weighted down with dust and heat and desperation. And then he pulled into a street filled with houses that looked like mansions where the sea lapped practically at their feet.
    And, not for the first time today, anticipation changed direction and changed into a spinning ball of nerves. Surely not anywhere this grand? And then he slowed toenter a driveway blocked by a massive set of gates that must have stood at least ten feet tall in order to match the whitewashed walls either side.
    ‘This is it,’ he said. He turned off the radio and hit a button somewhere and the gates swung slowly open, her jaw also automatically swinging open, though much quicker than the gates.
    This wasn’t a house, she could tell as he drove inside and the full splendour of the home was revealed. At least two levels. Probably three, all facing out to sea with what looked like a pool she could glimpse behind a bougainvillea-covered fence and with the sea lapping the rock-strewn shore below.
    Definitely not a mere house. It was a mansion. Where was the unit or apartment she’d half expected—the place where he could easily keep an eye on her and monitor his baby’s progress—without her getting in anyone’s way?
    ‘But surely this is your home.’
    ‘It is.’ He cast an eye down to her belly. ‘And that’s my child. Where else should it be?’
    She swallowed, thinking she might as well have shifted planets rather than suburbs, because to live here, in a place like this, was beyond her wildest imaginings. It was beyond … anything. But when she’d contemplated having this couple’s child, she’d always imagined remaining at arm’s length. She would have the baby and hand it over to its rightful parents after it was born. The last thing she’d expected was to move in with them for the duration. It wasn’t as if she was family, after all …
    He opened her door for her and retrieved her bag from the back seat and still she hadn’t moved, but what else was new? Ever since that phone call she’d made yesterday—was it only yesterday?—things had been happening too fast for her to keep up.
    ‘Are you coming?’ Impatience threaded through his words and she realised he’d spent his entire afternoon chasing after her. No doubt he couldn’t wait to be rid of her and get back to making his millions. She’d probably cost him a fortune already.
    ‘Look,’ she said, unclicking her seat belt and stepping out reluctantly,