Blackmail with Susan

Charles Spence, a millionaire businessman, surges back into Susan's life, despite the fact that their marriage is long over. Knowing that Susan's design firm is about to fail, Charles offers to save her from financial disaster by awarding her the contract of a lifetime. Although he claims his proposition is without conditions, there is one: he wants Susan to provide him with a baby, not merely an interior designer to finish his luxurious house.

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Chapter 1

'In the event that YOU don't nail this arrangement, Susan, we're sunk.'

Susan gazed at her colleague in shock.

'What do you signify "sunk"?' she asked, her palms dampening in gentle frenzy.

William fluttered his hands noticeable all around dramatically as he replied, 'Done for, finito, cleaned up.'

She gulped the piece of dread in her throat as she met his upset look across the work area.

'In any case, we're doing okay,' she said. 'You said as much just last month at our arranging meeting. What's more, with the Pritchard account due any day now—'

William shook his head.

'I had a gathering with the bookkeeper today. Our business advance is extended as far as possible and the immaterial Pritchard pennies will not cover the current week's advantage, let alone following months. That is the reason the Spence account is so vital. We in a real sense can't make due without it.'

Susan naturally solidified at the notice of that name. Minuscule plumes of dread stimulated the length of her spine as she carried its proprietor's dim components to mind.

'Why me?' she asked after an extended quietness, her skin actually prickling in anxiety.

'Since you're the one he requested, dear,' William's tone was brimming with attack as he assessed his impeccably manicured nails. 'He demanded you taking care of the entire record. Very homophobic of him, I thought. However at that point you'd thoroughly understand that since you were once hitched to him.'

Susan’s eyes parted with pretty much nothing, yet inside she felt as though her stomach was disentangling.

'It was quite a while past, William,' she said as impartially as possible. 'Seven years, truth be told. I scarcely even recollect what he resembles. Presumably got a girth at this point, and an uncovered fix the size of a yard,' she added for impact.

'Maybe that is the reason he requested you.' He smiled innocently. 'He should invigorate your memory a bit.'

She gave him a decrying look.

'I'm certain there's nothing off about Charles Spence's memory,' she said. 'It's his intentions that stress me.'

'Thought processes?' William's eyes augmented expressively. 'Who cares about his thought processes? He's helping our business out by connecting with your administrations. Consider it! A harbourside house in Cremorne. Full power, no inquiries posed.'

'It sounds unrealistic,' she advised. 'I'd like to see the fine print before I submit myself.'

'It's past the point of no return for that. I've as of now dedicated us—I mean you.' He gave her a disgrace confronted look and proceeded, 'Heartbroken, pet, however I needed to do it. I was unable to see all that cash going to another person. You know what they say about questioning the value of a free gift.'

'Indeed,' she said, getting to her feet and going after her portfolio. 'I do know what they say, and you'd do well to recollect it. A pony's age is normally surveyed by the length of its teeth. You have just to demand the pony's mouth being opened to check whether what you're getting is actually a decent arrangement.'

'I don't know it would have gone down excessively well in the event that I'd requested that Charles Spence open his mouth for me to peer in.' William laughed. 'Maybe I'll pass on that to you.'

Susan gave him an exploding look as she opened the workplace entryway to leave.

'In the event that I don't appear for work tomorrow it will be your whole shortcoming. You've placed me in over my profundity and I'm considering you absolutely dependable.'

'On the off chance that you don't appear for work tomorrow I'll accept Charles Spence has talked you back into his bed,' William said with a wolfish smile. 'He sounds so flavorfully male. Mmm… a particularly squander.'

Susan changed direction suddenly and shut the entryway on her accomplice's prodding articulation.

'Best of luck!' William's voice called from inside.

She didn't reply; she required more than karma to get past the following hour or thereabouts. She required a wonder.

The workplaces of Spence and Associates were tremendous even by Sydney principles. Susan took the sparkly lift to the nineteenth floor, her heart pulsating a consistent tattoo in her chest at the possibility of seeing her ex once more.

The lift halted on the thirteenth floor to give certain individuals access and she contemplated whether it was a type of sign. She squeezed herself to the rear of the hardened steel and reflected dividers and attempted to focus on making her inhale under a type of control.

The lift halted three additional occasions, drawing out the anguish, and she gazed at the enlightened numbers over her head as though they were a commencement to calamity… Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen… nineteen.

The entryways pinged open and she yanked upstanding. One more mass of mirrors confronted her as she ventured out. She viewed at her appearance as though seeing it interestingly. Her mid-earthy colored hair with its blondie features was tumbling from its fasten, her cheeks were flushed as though she'd quite recently run up the nineteen stories, and the dull blue matching suit she'd misled on toward the beginning of today yelled the-stake. It was two seasons old and she'd shed pounds since she'd got it.

The blonde assistant, be that as it may, was heavily clad with Armani and a powerful scent to coordinate. Susan moved toward the bend of the front work area with an angry fear.

'I have a meeting with Mr. Spence,' she said in a voice that sounded unmistakably corroded. 'At three p.m.'

The assistant looked at the arrangement document on the PC screen before her.

'Ms Tyson?'

'Indeed,' Susan replied.

'He's running somewhat behind.' The assistant lifted a reasonable blue look from the screen to meet Susan’s hazel one. 'In the event that you wouldn't fret pausing… '

'How much behind?' Susan added in bothering.

Since she was here she needed it over. She would not like to chill out in his banquet room under the catwalk look of his most recent kind of the month.

'Twenty minutes?' The blue eyes held no hint of expression of remorse. 'Perhaps thirty.'

Susan took a steadying breath.

'I'll stand by.'

After 43 minutes Susan heard the buzz of the radio and covered her head back in the magazine she'd been professing to peruse. Her heart pounded and her fingers shook as she turned the following page.

'Ms Tyson?' The secretary's cool voice lifted Susan’s head from the article on off-the-street four-wheel driving.

'He'll see you now,' she said. 'It's the primary entryway on your directly down the lobby.'

Susan got to her feet, put the magazine down among the others and advanced a few doors down on legs that took steps to give way underneath her. The hand she lifted to thump on the entryway checked 'Charles Spence' was noticeably shuddering, yet she fixed her back and sat tight for his order.

'Come in.'

His profound voice washed over her in waves as she turned the door handle. Her eyes looked for him when the entryway was open, and thought that he is situated nonchalantly behind his enormous work area. She was in a difficult spot, as his expansive shoulders impeded the evening light inclining in from the windows behind his work area. Albeit the greater part of his face was in shadow, she could by one way or another sense his demeanor. She realized it would be taunting, scornful, unaffected, while she remained before him like a reproved student, her knees taking steps to end the cool quiet with their endeavor to thump against one another.

'Susan.'

Single word. Two syllables. Four letters.

'Charles.'

So formal. So briskly formal.

'Pull up a chair.'

She sat.

He leant back in his seat and overviewed her face for relentless seconds.

'Would you like a beverage? Espresso? Something more grounded?' he asked.

She shook her head and fixed her grip on the portfolio she had held to her chest.

'Nothing, much obliged. I'd favor it if we somehow happened to get straight serious.'

He went after a pen, spinning it in his grasp as his dull chocolate look met and held hers.

'Ok, yes,' he said, putting the gold pen down. 'The business. How's it going, incidentally?'

'Excuse me?' Her tone was attentive.

'Your business.'

'Fine.'

Indeed, even in shadow she could see the incredulous peculiarity of one dim forehead.

'Fine?'

She gulped and grasped her envelope somewhat closer, as though it would shield her from the warmth of his entering look.

'I'm certain you realize I wouldn't be here in case it were fine,' she said in a chilly, nearly isolates voice.

'Wild ponies wouldn't have hauled you?' he jested.

'I thought Melbourne was your favorite spot,' she said.

'I've extended,' he said. 'Business is blasting.'

'Congrats.' Her tone was everything except celebratory.

'Much obliged to you.'

'William educated me regarding your solicitation,' she said into the tight quiet that had fallen between them. 'I can't envision why you demand me accomplishing the work. William is the imaginative minds behind our designing business.'

'Your propensity to undersell yourself hasn't blurred, I see,' he remarked inactively. 'How is your mom, incidentally?'

'She's dead.'

Susan felt a weak flicker of fulfillment at his response. Her straightforward assertion had yanked him upstanding in his seat.

'I'm heartbroken,' he said. 'I hadn't heard.'

She shrugged her thin shoulders contemptuously.

'It was an exceptionally private burial service.' Her voice was level and dispassionate. 'My mom had not many companions.'

'How some time in the past?'

'Three years,' she said. 'It was extremely… speedy.'

'Malignancy?'

'No.' she met his dim look momentarily. 'Complexities after straightforward medical procedure.'

'It probably been a horrendous shock for you.'

Susan moved her lips and regretted the shortfall of lipstick. Amusing, truly, that the shortfall of lipstick was more critical to her than the downfall of her mom.

'One actions on,' she said impartially.

'One does,' he answered, watching her consistently.

'So.' She turned her seat so she was on a level with his dim eyes. 'We should get serious. William said the property is in Cremorne. Does it have a harbor see, or is it—?'

'I'll take you there this evening,' he contributed.

'I can make my own specific manner there,' she put in hurriedly.

'As you wish.'

Susan bit her lip. This was all off-base. She didn't feel at all like an individual who set down shading sheets and furniture leaflets for the customer's evaluation. She felt deficient and tense, as though the floor underneath her would have been torn free from her.

'I need to go over shading plans,' she said. 'I need to find out about design, and—'

'I have the plans here.' He came to towards a dark sparkly satchel toward one side of the huge work area. He gave a bundle of papers to her. 'Every one of the details are there.'

She looked down at the papers in her grasp.

'What's the date of consummation?' she asked.

'October first.'

'That is not a ton of time.'

'A month,' he said. 'Sufficiently long.'

She lifted her eyes to his.

'Most furniture producers need something like six to about two months' notice—texture accessibility, etc.'

'So pick ones that main require a month,' he recommended.

'However, '

'Do it,' he said. 'I'm certain you, all things considered, can make a couple of things happen to achieve it.'

Susan gulped her noting answer and on second thought zeroed in on the plans on her lap. The mind boggling compositional drawings obscured before her; it resembled attempting to peruse an antiquated content with no earlier information on the language. She felt her nerves fixing toward the rear of her neck as she battled to figure out what was typically natural to her. How quickly he had agitated her! She'd gone from an expert, profoundly talented inside creator to a jumpy wreck in about a couple of moments.

'I'll require some an ideal opportunity to contemplate this,' she said, after another weighty quiet. As she lifted her head she felt the conflict of his dull look on hers.

'How long?'

'A little while—possibly three,' she replied, reviewing her endless hang tight for him in Reception.

He appeared to think about her reaction.

'Good,' he said finally. 'You have three days. I'll meet you at your office at twelve early afternoon on Friday, yet I need no further postponements.'

'What precisely is the rush on this?' she asked. 'You clearly think enough with regards to the business to understand a great job sets aside time?'

He threw to the side the pen he'd been clicking.

'I wish to move into the house at the earliest opportunity. For what it's worth, I've been at a lodging for three weeks and I'm getting somewhat anxious with all the slowing down.'

'This is your home?' She took a gander at him in shock. 'You're going to live there?'

He gestured.

'However, yet you live in Melbourne,' she said in rising frenzy. 'Shouldn't something be said about your family? What's more, your business?'

'I concluded it was the ideal opportunity for a change.'

She took one profound swallow, trusting he was unable to see the manner in which his words had agitated her.

'The phone registry is loaded with inside fashioners shouting out for work,' she said, camouflaging her internal disturbance with an even tone. 'Why me?'

'Why not you?'

'Since there are such countless more skilled originators than me that is the reason.'

'In any case, I need you.'

Four basic words, yet some way or another she detected a two sided connotation in them. She sat as eager and anxious as ever, her hands cinched down on her knees to hold them back from shaking in response.

'I'm complimented, obviously,' she said without truthfulness.

He got to his feet and his face emerged from the shadows. Susan felt her breath trip in her throat at his sheer stature and presence. His six feet five to her five feet seven had consistently been marginally scary, and presently it was much more so. His dull straight hair was trimmed short and smoothed into place with styling gel. His clean-cut jaw was at that point fostering an evening shadow. The delicate skin of her cheeks shivered in recognition of the vibe of his manly skin grating along hers. His mouth was set in a bleak line, as though he was at this point not prone to grin. She intellectually reviewed his grin; it had been the principal thing she'd saw that load of years prior: straight, even white teeth, and lips that bended upwards, sending creases of delight to the edge of his chocolate eyes. Those eyes held no hint of such giggling now.

'You've changed your hair.'

Susan was taken out of her quiet dream at his words. She got to her feet and reluctantly tucked a strand of blonde featured hair back behind her ear.

'Indeed.'

She went after the plans, yet her hands mishandled getting them and she looked as they slipped from her anxious handle to lie in disorder on the floor. She bowed down to recover them, however Charles had effectively dipped and was gathering them up. Susan went after the last paper simultaneously he did, her fingers contacting his momentarily. She pulled her hand away as though she'd been stung and got clumsily to her feet.

She could feel his eyes on her and it drove her mad that she was unable to overcome this gathering without self-destructing. She was certain he was partaking in her frustration. She was practically sure he'd designed the entire undertaking. However, why? He hadn't seen her in seven long years. What might he actually need with her now?

The radio hummed and Susan let out her stopped breath as he moved to the work area, her heart shuddering like a harmed bird in her chest.

The cool, clear tones of the assistant filled the quietness.

'Charles, Mr Hardy is here to see you.'

'Much obliged to you, Samantha.'

Susan got together her things and thought about what he called her in private. Would it be Sam, or Sammie? Grating her teeth, she put the plans in her portfolio, hatred ascending with consistently.

'I will not be long,' he said. 'Kindly bring down; I'll get Sam to present to you some espresso.'

'No, I should—' She admired dissent however he'd as of now left the workplace.

Susan had no real option except to return her things down and sit tight for him. Irateness fueled along her veins at his oppressive treatment of her—as though she didn't have anything better to do with her time than play a game of seat juggling in his set-up of workplaces.

She disregarded the seat she'd roosted on before and, looking at behind her, moved toward the work area. His cowhide office seat actually held the impression of his built thighs and she tore her eyes from it. She would not like to ponder those thighs weaved with hers, his hair-roughened legs scratching along the smooth tissue of her own as he…

She swung away to review his work area. It was made out of Tasmanian myrtle, the rich red shades of the wood making a kind of warmth that made her need to make a genuine connection with it.

There was a photo on the right-hand side of his PC console and before she could stop herself she got it and taken a gander at it.

The Spence family were by and large present, with their different accomplices—two of whom she didn't perceive—and accumulated around them like prizes were six little youngsters. Susan inspected the elements of every individual kid and saw a smidgen of Charles in every one of them. A throb settled some place practically inaccessible inside her, and she put the photo down similarly as the workplace entryway returned.

Charles's look cleared over her remaining behind his work area.

'I see you've reacquainted yourself with the family.' His tone was dry.

Susan pulled back from the work area with a liable flush.

'That is very some stud you have occurring down there,' she said in a voice that gave a false representation of the genuine condition of her sentiments. 'Advise me, Charles, which kids are yours?'

His eyes solidified quickly. Susan set herself up intellectually for his answer, trusting it wouldn't hurt a lot to hear how he was the dad of a couple of those excellent little faces in the photo, also the torment of discovering which of the young ladies was his new spouse.

'None,' he expressed straight.

It took Susan some time for his single word answer to soak in.

'None?'

'None.'

He took the seat she'd been sitting in before and set one lower leg across his knee in a relaxed posture. Susan begrudged his quiet as he sat and watched her like a bird, orbiting way over its prey, calmly delaying until it was at long last an ideal opportunity to plunge.

She was unable to maintain eye contact with him. She absently tinkered with a paperclip around his work area, attempting to outline the inquiry that tore at her internal parts like harsh hooks. In any case, before she could ask he requested one from his own.

'Any second thoughts, Susan?'

'What do you mean?' She looked towards him momentarily, not confiding in herself to wait too long all over. She didn't need him to see the aggravation in her eyes, the profound ache of disappointment and self-recrimination that was almost consistently reflected there.

'Picking your vocation over parenthood. Advise me, has it been as satisfying as you expected?'

The paperclip pricked her finger and she let it drop back in the plate with a discernible 'ping'.

'Obviously,' she replied without meeting his look.

She could tell he didn't trust her.

'I love my work,' she said to cover the quietness. 'Furthermore, William is enjoyable to be near. He's so imaginative, motivating me to do things I haven't done previously.'

'Like fail?' he put in flawlessly.

She streaked him an angry glare.

'Things are tight a few seconds ago, however I'm certain we'll receive in return.'

'Your certainty does you credit,' he said. 'However, from what I've assembled up until now, things are especially on the declining run.'

'That is false!' Her refusal was exaggerated but rather she was unable to stop herself on schedule. She just couldn't permit him to brag over her disappointment. Her pride wouldn't adapt. She wouldn't adapt.

'Did William reveal to you the bank is taking steps to abandon your business advance?' he asked.

Frenzy rose in her throat and she gulped it down with trouble.

'I… '

'What's more, that except if your income increments drastically all that you've placed into the business will be lost, just as any resources you may have collected in the course of recent years?' He stopped for impact. 'I trust you do have a type of resource base?'

'Obviously I do!' She frowned at him furiously. 'Not that it's any of your concern.'

'I'm making it my business.'

His assertion held a hint of relentlessness about it that completely frightened her. She delivered her gripped clench hands with a work. She clutched the rear of his office seat for help yet it offered nearly nothing; her fingers were shuddering and the seat moved under their weak handle.

'Wh… your meaning could be a little clearer.'

He delayed until her eyes had gotten back to his to reply.

'I'm uncovering you from underneath chapter 11. I'll settle the overdraft and pay off any exceptional obligations you may have.'

'For what reason would you do that?' she asked, her mouth abruptly very dry. 'What conceivable explanation could you have for doing that?'

'I have a generally excellent explanation,' he said equitably.

A shudder of misgiving settled somewhere down in her stomach. Here comes the fine print, she contemplated internally: his conditions.

'Also, that is?' She figured out how to get the three words past the firm line of her mouth.

His dim eyes held hers for an extended period before he at last talked.

'I need you to have my child.'