Chapter 7-duty vs desire

My whole body went pale seeing the broken bowl on the ground “Noelle?” I heard his voice behind me startling me more

I immediately went on my knees trying to gather the pieces “I’m so sorry. I didn’t –“ he pulled my hands off the glass making me stand up “but–”

“You’ll hurt yourself” he said looking at the mess on the floor and I bit my lip trying not start crying, I literally just got here and I broke something probably worth more than some of my properties combine

“I’ll get a broom, don’t move” he told me

I nodded, my hands turned cold so I had to rub them to warm them up. He came and carefully swept off the broken pieces, when he was done he quietly walks back into the kitchen, I didn’t know if he was mad or not, obviously he would be mad but I couldn’t tell cause his face remained composed

“I’m sorry” I whispered audibly for him to hear. He remained calm not responding to my voice

“I–”

“I assume you came here because you’re hungry” he asked me and I think my brain lagged at his offer before nodding. He nodded and got a pan and quietly started cooking.

I looked from where I stood, confused, “You’re not upset…are you?” I asked cautiously, watching for his reaction.

“Don’t worry about the bowl. I never liked it anyway” he briefly replied to me not looking away from what he was cooking “oh? Okay” I nod

There was a brief silence with him focusing on whatever he was cooking for me. I cleared my throat nervously. Something about him made it hard to be informal.

“Um.. Dorian. I mean I can call you that right since you also call me by my name?” I asked since he literally addresses me as Noelle. There was a sigh then he agreed which actually surprised me but I shrugged it off.

“So I wanted to ask. So what’s the plan now? I know I took your offer and such but where do I or should I say we? Go from here” I laid out what I had been thinking in my head

He turned to me, setting the breakfast he prepared for me “You’re direct to the point.” He pushed the plate of fried egg with bacon and sausage “but eat first”

Staring at the meal in front of me then at him, he gave me an encouraging look and I took the first bite, surprised at how good it was and kept going.

“Okay, now that that's out of the way. I’m sure you’d want to frequent the hospital for your check up and also probably finish handling your divorce, since you’ll be here more often and I don’t want people drawing the wrong conclusions” he explained.

I set my fork down gently, smiling sadly, of course he doesn’t want me in his way “a misconception you mean”

“Well, let me just say, you offered me this when you could’ve just forgotten I ever existed. Biological father or not, that doesn’t mean you have to be involved.” My anger slowly rising but he didn’t answer right away.

“Or do you think I’m that kind of woman?” I pressed. “That once I found out who the father was, I’d come hunting for you? Demanding your attention, your money?”

He stared at me quietly, long enough that it made my anger grow, proving that was right.

“Is that what you think this is?” he finally asked. “That I’m worried you’ll come after my money?”

“Wouldn’t you?” I crossed my arms, some old defensive reflex kicking in. “You don’t know me, Dorian. For all you know, I could be exactly that kind of woman. Maybe I already have a lawyer lined up for child support the second this baby’s born.”

“You don’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” His voice stayed even, but something in it sharpened. “I had you looked into. Before the meeting. I imagine you already guessed that.”

The air went out of the room a little.

“So you did run a background check.”

“I did.” No apology in it, just fact. “I know you’re a paralegal. I know you make less in a year than I spend renovating a hallway. I know you stayed in your marriage through three failed IVF rounds because you don’t give up on things easily, even when you probably should have.” He paused. “None of that told me you were the kind of woman who’d use a child as leverage. That part, I figured out for myself, in the twenty minutes I spent with you two nights ago.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing, my anger losing its footing under me.

“I didn’t offer you this house because I thought you’d come hunting for money,” he said. “I offered it because you had nowhere else to go, and because whatever mistake put us both in this position, you didn’t ask for it any more than I did. That’s all this is. It was never about managing you.”

“So you just had pity.” I laughed dryly at my own words, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “You looked into my background, saw how hopeless I seemed, and pitied me. Huh.”

“That’s not—”

“I honestly appreciate the thought, Dorian.” I stood, pushing the stool back, needing my hands to do something besides sit still. “I do. But I don’t need anyone’s pity. I’ve had enough people decide what I deserve for one week.”

“It wasn’t pity.”

“Then what was it?” I turned to face him, and something in my voice cracked despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “Because from where I’m standing, a billionaire looked at my bank statements and my failed marriage and decided I was pathetic enough to take in. That’s not kindness. That’s charity with better lighting.”

He didn’t answer right away, and for a second I thought I’d finally said something he didn’t have a calm, composed response for.

“Noelle, look I know everything is hard to process right now even for me. But I am not using you at least I need you to be clear on that”

“What I need to get clear is your intentions. You asked me for permission to be involved in my baby’s life but from the outside it looks like I had no choice”

He was quiet for a moment, and I watched his expressions as if he was just processing it, like he was actually turning the question over instead of reaching for the nearest comfortable answer.

“No.” His jaw tightened. “I saw your file. Your situation. I made a decision to help, because it was the right thing to do, given the position we were both put in. That’s it. That’s the whole reason.”

I stared at him, something in his answer landing wrong even though I couldn’t immediately place why.

“That’s it,” I repeated. “The right thing to do.” It sounded more of a question than a statement.

“Yes.”

“Not because you wanted to be involved. Not because you cared what happened to me specifically. Because it was the responsible thing, and you’re a responsible man.” My voice came out flatter than I meant it to. “Good to know.”

Something flickered across his face, like he’d heard the shift in my tone and didn’t entirely understand it either.

“Would you rather I lied to you?” he asked.

“I’d rather you knew the difference,” I said quietly, “between doing the right thing, and actually wanting to.”

He didn’t answer that. And the silence told me more than anything he could have said instead.

“You don’t know the difference, do you?” I looked at him hoping for an answer.

“They both require responsibility, and that’s what I’m doing” he replied before leaving