by jm blake
“You can call me Ayden, Gemma.” His mouth quirks into that flash of a smile, but he looks nervous.
“Oh, good. I didn’t know if it was ‘My Lord’ or whatever. Tell me, since you are a Marquess, what does that make Kian? Is he a Lord or something?” The whole room goes into slow motion. Brin’s face contorts in confusion, Bash frowns, and Ayden’s head drops to his chest.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Gemma?”
Ayden
Dammit.
Cassidy’s sister is sitting there with Satan’s own anger pointed at me. I knew something was going on when I saw her glaring at her phone and then me. I thought that perhaps she was reliving some of my, erm, past exploits, but somehow this is worse. One of the things that drew me to Cassidy was her absolute ignorance about my family history. She had no idea who I was— who we were— and it made her even more attractive. She actually wanted me for me, not my money. And not my title. I thought about telling her a few times, but I successfully managed to avoid it. I didn’t want her to look at me differently, and now I’m about to pay the price.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Gemma?” Cassidy’s voice is sharp, but I can see the wheels turning in her genius head. My girl isn’t stupid. A few times that we were out, some of the more old-fashioned types slipped and called me ‘my lord.’ It went over Cassidy’s head, thank god- but I’m sure she’s putting it all together.
“It says it all right here: Ayden Christopher Alexander St. Devane, Marquess of Brandon, Heir to the Dukedom of Kendall, and his brother Lord Sebastian John St. Devane, Earl of Kelt, blah, blah blah. There’s a string of other titles behind his name, but I guess this is the most important one. Oh, and it’s not a ‘royal’ title or whatever that means. But, yeah. It’s one of the oldest titles in Britain.” She reads straight off the phone, punctuating her words with a pink painted forefinger jabbing in my direction. “So does that mean Kian is a Sir or something?” Her expression is mutinous, as if she dares me to deny it. I look at Bash who for once is speechless. I open my mouth to say something, but I’ve only got:
“It’s true.”
Cassidy’s eyes widen, her sinful lips parting in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whirls around to Bash. “Or you? I mean, it doesn’t matter, I guess? But, I think that it should have come up at some point.” She genuinely looks confused; her beautiful face wrinkled up in a confusion. She starts pulling at her earlobe, which pangs my heart. I’ve missed her little quirks.
“It doesn’t mean anything anyway. Ayden and I aren’t married, and we live in the States. Right?” Her blue-green eyes peer at me with a combination of pleading and defiance.
Bless. She has no idea what this means for her. Or for Kian.
And then, of course, Bash steps right in it.
“Well, actually, it means that Kian is the heir. Our family has been in collywobbles over Ayden not having any children. Of course, the task would have fallen to me, but it has been about two hundred years or so since the second son has inherited. So my mum will be delighted. Which title is Kian’s? Let me think— I think this makes him Baron Everly since that was Ayden’s title. Am I right, old man?” He smirks. “Of course, there is a Viscount or two in there as well.” His smirk widens.
I could kill him.
My fierce glare should have burned him to a crisp, like a charred piece of bacon.
My response is slow, given Cassidy’s face’s positively horrified expression, not to mention the murderous one on Sabrina’s.
“Yes, that is his title. Cassidy, we don’t have to be married for Kian to inherit— it’s just a matter of me acknowledging him, a formality. I had no intention of having children, but now that I do, of course, my son will be my heir.” My eyes are pleading with her to understand, but she looks nauseous.
“Can’t you ‘not acknowledge’ him? I mean, I don’t need my baby to be Baron Anything- he’s just plain Kian Masters. I don’t even need you to help take care of him- I can manage on my own. You can let your wife have all the other stuff.” That stubborn chin is jutting out in anger, and I zero in on the last part.
“What wife? I’m not married.” I take two steps closer to her and prop my hands on my hips. Her cheeks stain red, and it spreads down her neck. Her mouth opens, and her sister jumps in.
“Well, it says right here you are supposed to marry Lady Saskia Dougless, some chick you’ve known since birth. This one article says your wedding is next month.” Gemma shoves her phone in my face, and I can see a blurry picture of Saskia and myself. It’s at least ten years old. “So why show up here if you have some milk dud waiting for you back home? Oh, and her dress is hideous.” Her brown eyes are shooting fire, and I look to Bash for help, but this arsehole just glares at me too.
“I told you to nip this in the bud.”
Did I mention that I wouldn’t mind being an only child?
“I think what we need is a written agreement that outlines all responsibilities and expectations and makes it legally binding. Ayden, you can have your counsel reach out to me directly.” Sabrina’s cold voice cuts like a knife. Counsel? Agreement? She may be dressed casually, but her fierce presence is palpable, and I suddenly don’t want her as an adversary. I’m being attacked from all sides— I expect the baby to chime in any moment now.
“This is getting ridiculous,” I practically stomp my foot. “Firstly, I am not married, not engaged to be married, not involved with, or even in like with Saskia. Yes, she is an old family friend, but she has been pressing me for months to take it to another level. I, erm, haven’t been paying attention, and her efforts have spiraled into a gossip firestorm. The rags are salivating over the story— but none of it is true. I have Phyl putting out a full statement as we stand here. And we will talk about your assumptions later, love.” I turn a wonky eye to her, but the vixen scoffs at me.
“Secondly,- I am not going to ignore my son. He is entitled to everything that is mine- from the entailments to DevCo, and I will not sign or agree to anything otherwise. I am not a man that shirks my responsibility, and that is especially true of my family. Also, we need to fix his name immediately- he should be a St. Devane - we can make Masters a middle name,” I hold up my hand to Cassidy, who is ready to fire a rocket at my head. “I will not budge on that. My son. My name. End of.”
“And you may think you can take care of him on your own, but you won’t be. I plan on being here for every single second of it. So get used to it. That means all of my money, power, and influence. My son will have the best, and so will you.” I point my finger at her stormy face and fully expect her to bite it off. “St. Devane’s take care of their own.”
Cassidy full-on shrieks and storms out of the room. I move to go after her, but Sabrina the Dragon steps in my way. “No. Let her go. She’ll calm down.” She holds her arms out her sides— if she weren’t so scary, I would just go around her.
“I don’t know how you found out about the baby or what your intentions are toward my sister, but know this- there is no title, amount of money, or a connection that could protect you from me if you hurt them. I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and make your life a living hell. Remember that.” She whirls around, her honey blonde hair like a golden whip, and storms out of the room. I turn toward Gemma, who is still scrolling through her phone.
“I am not going to touch the fact that you’ve slept with half of Europe- that’s none of my business. And maybe I’m not as fierce as Brin or as brilliant as Cass, but I can make it so that you don’t make another Best Dressed List as long as you live.” I swallow down my amusement as this spitting kitten gives me the once over and flounces after her sisters. These women are as tough as hide.
I shake my head from the lashings I just received and peek at my soundly sleeping son. At least he’s not yelling at me. Bash clears his throat, and I give him the stink eye. This fool could have come to my defense at any time.
“I think that went brilliantly, don’t you?”
* * *
The soft sound of a voice and the answering coo of Kian wakes me from my sleep. After Cass and her sisters stormed out of the room, Bash decided to check into our hotel to give them some space. Me- I stayed right where I was. I couldn’t bring myself to move one inch from my son (or his mother), and with a grumble and glare, Cass agreed to let me stay on the sofa. Brin shoved a stack of sheets and pillows at me while skeptically measuring my six-foot three-inch frame compared to the much shorter couch. Truthfully I’ve already reached out to Phyl and had her set up a masseuse appointment back in London. My back probably won’t survive.
Cassidy said that Kian typically sleeps for about six hours if he gets a wash-up and more of his Mumma. So for the first time in my life, I bathed a baby. His chubby legs and belly were like a beacon for kisses, and I don’t know how I managed not to eat him alive. His arms windmilled when I poured the warm water over his head, and I only got a little bit in his eyes. Cassidy hovered around nervously shooting out directions while I pretended to be calm. My poor sweater probably will need to be binned, but I don’t care. I drew the line at picking him up, terrified I’d drop his slippery little form, but Cass swopped in and snatched him up. She showed me how to diaper him up properly (apparently, the little sucker liked to spray when not covered) and how to get his in-motion body fit into his onepiece. His eyes were already half-closed when his mother fed him, and he latched on like a solider, eating away until he fell asleep. I burped him again and laid him in his crib. His room was a cheerful little space, painted light yellow with a zoo theme. Cass fiddled with the video monitor attached to the wall and handed me one of the portable handhelds. “In case you want to peek at him.” I smiled at her, and her blue eyes just narrowed. She stomped to her room, braid swooshing behind her. (Yes, I stared at her arse; it’s as spectacular as I remember—sue me) closing the door with a firm snap.
Another coo, slightly louder, has me unfolding my form from the small couch. There is a dim light coming from the kitchen, and I peek around the corner. Brin is fiddling around with something on the stove while a wide-awake Kian watches intently from her arms.
“So that decision by the Supreme Court paved the way for women to have more rights. Now be a good boy and no crying. We need to let your mama get some sleep.” He grunts back at her, and I see the bottle she is trying to warm. “Need some help?”
She looks up with a blank face, but I can tell that I startled her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I hold both hands up in supplication, and she rolls her eyes.
“You didn’t.” She gives me a once over and smirks. “Couch uncomfortable?”
I consider lying but decide that with this woman, that would not be a good plan. “Decidedly so.” We both chuckle, and I tentatively reach out. “Can I take him?” She hesitates just slightly but then hands him over. I hold him up to my face and inhale his neck. His smell is a mix of sweet baby shampoo and his mum. I can’t get enough. Brin’s severe face softens into something more relaxed, and she turns back to the bottle. “Cass hasn’t gotten the pump thing down pat, but we manage to get enough for Gem and me to feed the little one here if he wakes up at night,” I recall the complex machine sitting on the dresser in Kian’s room. “He’s normally a good sleeper, but I think all this excitement has got him a little off track.”
He fusses a bit, sucking on his fist. “Just a moment now, son. Your Aunt Brin is working on it.” He pauses— eyes wide at the sound of my voice. I stroke a finger over his patch and smile. “Aye there, that’s my boy.”
“Is that streak common in your family?” She hands me the bottle, and I jostle around until I have him cradled correctly. He snuffles, eating as though he’s deprived—greedy little bugger.
“Yes. It skips around a bit, but both my grandpop and I have it. There’s a random cousin or two. My dad had it as well.”
“Had?” Her green eyes are curious but a bit sad.
“He died when I was little— Bash was just a baby.” Kian grunts and shifts around. I shush him, rocking him slightly. I am quickly discovering that I never want to put him down.
“I’m sorry.” A slim finger taps me on the arm. “Can I ask you a question?”
A huge part of me wants to say no, but again —with this woman— I decide to go with it. “Of course you may.” I cringe internally. She is an attorney, after all.
“How did you find out about Kian?” She runs the faucet into a kettle for what I hope is tea. I pause, thinking about how much I want to say without looking like I am thinking about what to say.
“I was, erm, looking at some of Cassidy’s lectures online, and noticed that she, erm, was pregnant. I put two and two together and figured it out. Or rather Bash did. I was a bit in shock.”
She nods thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize that her lectures were publicly available.”
Two mismatched mugs are pulled from a cabinet, and two tea sachets are dropped in. She peers at me out of the corner of her eye, and I squirm. This woman is intense without even trying. “There may have been a small fee involved.” A wayward grin crosses her face, and it’s suddenly apparent how pretty Brin is. Once you get past that ferocious bite, that is.
“Small, huh?” She pours the boiling water into both mugs and slides one within my reach. A sugar cellar joins it. “How long ago did you find out?” She dumps an ungodly amount of sweetener in and stirs it briskly. I mask my horror with a throat clearing.
“Would you believe me if I said it was only a few days ago?” I peek at Kian and see he has slowed down. I attempt to pull the bottle from his mouth, but he stirs and starts sucking again. Brin snorts and nods her head. “Yeah, I would. Judging by your reaction to everything, it’s clear you came here on a tear. I have about one thousand questions about you and your time with my sister, but I’ll let them go for now.” She takes another sip and shrugs. I stare at her and then decide to ask my question.
“Sabrina, why didn’t Cassidy tell me about the baby herself? We left on excellent terms, and I thought we had a close friendship…”
Brin takes a deep breath and looks at me closely. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning. I meet her eye to eye, working hard to keep my face calm. I can tell that she is warring with herself, and judging by the cold shoulder Cass has been giving me— this is my one chance at some answers. The deep breath turns into a sigh. “Let me put Kian back in his crib, and then I will be right back.” I look down at my son and see that his vigorous sucking has turned into an open mouth snore. I feel a large involuntary smile stretch across my face. She takes him carefully from my arms and pats his back. “One minute, ok?” She disappears around the corner, and I slide the teacup closer. I grimace at the weak color and get up to find some milk. The fridge is weirdly empty (or too empty for my liking), and I make a mental note to have Phyl rectify it. I hear Brin’s returning footsteps and rummage for a clean spoon.
“Sorry, I should have realized you would want milk. Cass came back with the same preference.” She gives me the side-eye again, and I give her my most innocent expression. She snorts again, which I am realizing is as close to a laugh as I’ve seen. She gestures to the chair I just occupied, and I take a seat.
“So was my sister a one night stand or what?”
Ouch, ouch, ouch. The horror on my face must be a ten on the scale. What is it about this family that makes me feel like a complete prat?
“Gem has already pulled me aside and reported on your past. You have a pretty, shall we say, extensive history. I’m not one to judge, but we are talking about my sister and her son. So you can understand if I’m curious. And please close your mouth. Even on a perfect face like yours, it looks ridiculous.” She makes a close motion with four fingers and her thumb.
I obey and grimace. “Has Cass said nothing of our time together?” I sip the awful tea and scratch my head.
Brin slowly shakes her head. “No. I knew something happened while she was in London. She was oddly vague about the mo
nth she was there. And whenever I would ask her questions, she would do that ear thing.” She imitates Cassidy’s ear tic. “That means that she’s upset about something but is being stubborn about it. Then a few months later, she almost passed out at work.” I sit up straighter. “Her secretary made her go to the hospital, and lo and behold—she was pregnant. Gem and I bugged her to death about the father- you- but she wouldn’t budge. Not a single clue. I pushed her to at least attempt to tell you, even if she had no intention of raising the baby with you. Did you know that the three of us are foster sisters?” I nod at this, and her brows raise in faint surprise.