about?'
'He knows an excellent clinic, quick and discreet. He's making an appointment for you there right away.'
Zanna's head went back. 'You mean I'm to have an abortion?' Her mind was reeling. She seemed to be looking at her father across some vast chasm of space.
'Well, naturally,' he said impatiently.
She drew a swift breath. 'You haven't even asked who the father is. If we have our own plans...'
'I don't have to.' He drew heavily on the cigar. 'There's no ring on your finger or regular man in your life. I know that. You've behaved like a slut and a fool, but you don't have to live with the consequences-not these days.'
She stared at him. She said thickly, 'You're talking about your grandchild...'
'You think I'd actually welcome some bastard? That I'd let you humiliate me-Westcott Holdings-in front of the whole City?' His laugh was harshly derisive. 'See sense, girl. Remember who you are-what your purpose in life is.'
'Perhaps I don't see it as destroying unborn children.' She tried to speak calmly, evenly.
'Then you're worse than an idiot, and no daughter of mine.' Across the room, she felt the power of him-the anger like a tangible thing, reaching out to tear at her. 'Understand this, Zanna, there's no question of you keeping this child-becoming a-a single parent.' He spat the words at her. 'Do that and you lose everything- your job, your car and this flat. You're out on your ear and on your own, surviving on Social Security. See if the baby's father wants you then,' he added savagely.
'That's blackmail.'
'That's common sense,' Sir Gerald retorted implacably. 'You don't need to ruin your life, throw away your career because you've done a stupid thing.'
'I seem to have done a number of stupid things,' Zanna said tonelessly. 'But you and I would never agree on what they've been.'
Her father moved away from the window, and in spite of herself Zanna flinched as he came towards her. He stabbed out his cigar in a small porcelain dish, grinding the burning stub into the delicate glaze.
'I meant what I said,' he threw over his shoulder as he went past her to the door. 'I'm warning you, keep the appointment Ben's making for you, or you're finished.'
She heard the outer door slam and the tension went out of her. Knees buckling, she stumbled to the nearest sofa and sat down.
She stared around her.
My flat, she thought. The glittering prize I've worked myself into the ground for. The proof of my value and success. Or so I thought.
She looked at the gloss on the carefully chosen pieces of furniture, the unmarked pastel walls, the statements made by the few paintings and ceramics the designer had suggested, and wondered for the first time in her life what it all meant. How it could be that she'd made so little impression on her surroundings that they looked brand-new-untouched by human hand.
And inside her, also brand-new, was a tiny life, on which, for good or ill, she could be a major influence. And she knew that despite her father's threats her choice had already been made. There was no way she could ever have destroyed her child-Jake's child-the evidence that, just for once, during one reckless night in her sterile, work-orientated life, she had been human too.
You 're finished. The brutal words seemed to echo in her mind. Slowly she shook her head, emptying them away.
No, she thought, with resolution. I'm just beginning.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NOT having a car placed a new value on your feet, Zanna thought wryly as she emerged from yet another employment agency.
Finding a bed-sitting room had been relatively easy, but so far, during the three weeks since her precipitate departure from Westcott Holdings, her job search had been totally fruitless.
Zanna had confidently believed that her track record would smooth her path into another executive position, but she'd been swiftly proved wrong.
Probably, she admitted, she had not
'He knows an excellent clinic, quick and discreet. He's making an appointment for you there right away.'
Zanna's head went back. 'You mean I'm to have an abortion?' Her mind was reeling. She seemed to be looking at her father across some vast chasm of space.
'Well, naturally,' he said impatiently.
She drew a swift breath. 'You haven't even asked who the father is. If we have our own plans...'
'I don't have to.' He drew heavily on the cigar. 'There's no ring on your finger or regular man in your life. I know that. You've behaved like a slut and a fool, but you don't have to live with the consequences-not these days.'
She stared at him. She said thickly, 'You're talking about your grandchild...'
'You think I'd actually welcome some bastard? That I'd let you humiliate me-Westcott Holdings-in front of the whole City?' His laugh was harshly derisive. 'See sense, girl. Remember who you are-what your purpose in life is.'
'Perhaps I don't see it as destroying unborn children.' She tried to speak calmly, evenly.
'Then you're worse than an idiot, and no daughter of mine.' Across the room, she felt the power of him-the anger like a tangible thing, reaching out to tear at her. 'Understand this, Zanna, there's no question of you keeping this child-becoming a-a single parent.' He spat the words at her. 'Do that and you lose everything- your job, your car and this flat. You're out on your ear and on your own, surviving on Social Security. See if the baby's father wants you then,' he added savagely.
'That's blackmail.'
'That's common sense,' Sir Gerald retorted implacably. 'You don't need to ruin your life, throw away your career because you've done a stupid thing.'
'I seem to have done a number of stupid things,' Zanna said tonelessly. 'But you and I would never agree on what they've been.'
Her father moved away from the window, and in spite of herself Zanna flinched as he came towards her. He stabbed out his cigar in a small porcelain dish, grinding the burning stub into the delicate glaze.
'I meant what I said,' he threw over his shoulder as he went past her to the door. 'I'm warning you, keep the appointment Ben's making for you, or you're finished.'
She heard the outer door slam and the tension went out of her. Knees buckling, she stumbled to the nearest sofa and sat down.
She stared around her.
My flat, she thought. The glittering prize I've worked myself into the ground for. The proof of my value and success. Or so I thought.
She looked at the gloss on the carefully chosen pieces of furniture, the unmarked pastel walls, the statements made by the few paintings and ceramics the designer had suggested, and wondered for the first time in her life what it all meant. How it could be that she'd made so little impression on her surroundings that they looked brand-new-untouched by human hand.
And inside her, also brand-new, was a tiny life, on which, for good or ill, she could be a major influence. And she knew that despite her father's threats her choice had already been made. There was no way she could ever have destroyed her child-Jake's child-the evidence that, just for once, during one reckless night in her sterile, work-orientated life, she had been human too.
You 're finished. The brutal words seemed to echo in her mind. Slowly she shook her head, emptying them away.
No, she thought, with resolution. I'm just beginning.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NOT having a car placed a new value on your feet, Zanna thought wryly as she emerged from yet another employment agency.
Finding a bed-sitting room had been relatively easy, but so far, during the three weeks since her precipitate departure from Westcott Holdings, her job search had been totally fruitless.
Zanna had confidently believed that her track record would smooth her path into another executive position, but she'd been swiftly proved wrong.
Probably, she admitted, she had not
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