Winning It All

by Catherine Mann

  He understood her need to keep the affair private. Hell, he agreed. But he also knew he’d somehow fallen short in assuaging the concern that was evident in her eyes.

  The next morning, Vanessa zipped up the side of her tennis skirt and stifled a yawn. She and Nicolas had made love until minutes before the train stopped. They’d tossed on their clothes and rushed to the waiting limo that had driven them home by midnight. She’d actually managed to tiptoe past her father’s room with only a groggy “Night, Nessa” drifting out into the hall.

  Still, the truth couldn’t be avoided any longer. She would have to tell Nicolas about the baby, and soon. Her plan to wait until the end of the season was fatally flawed. She simply couldn’t look into Nicolas’s eyes while making love and keep such an important secret from him. How could she condemn her parents for concealing the truth, then turn around and do nearly the same thing to Nicolas? She refused to behave like a self-indulgent brat any longer.

  Before she told him, she would need to prepare her father for the fallout. She had promised to meet Nicolas for lunch after a tennis game with her brother. She’d been surprised when her brother called to schedule the match. He was usually a workaholic, but he vowed he could step outside the polo club office for a quick game at the Seven Oaks courts.

  After their tense summer, she was grateful he’d offered the olive branch. His surprise relationship with his assistant, Julia, seemed to be softening the harsher edge of her intensely ambitious brother.

  That was how a relationship should be—two people bringing out the best in each other. While Nicolas challenged her and excited her, did she make him as happy? She tried to shrug aside the memory of the withdrawal in Nicolas’s eyes when they’d discussed the possibility of going public. He might not want this kind of scrutiny, but she was certain he would stand by her during the pregnancy. Beyond that, she didn’t know.

  And her father?

  As she slid on her tennis shoes, memories from her childhood streamed through her mind of her dignified mogul daddy waving two horse puppets around and putting on different voices. Her mother may not have been ideal, but her father had showered her with attention and affection. She had a fine parenting role model in him.

  Shoelaces tied, she grabbed her racket and headed for the hall. Her father’s door was open wide and she could see he was awake in his sitting room with a breakfast tray. Wearing a paisley robe and matching pajamas, he sat in a wingback chair by the bay window, a cane propped against his knee.

  A thousand words and explanations churned through her mind and she struggled for the right way to start the conversation.

  She gripped the door frame to steady herself and blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me I’m adopted?”

  Hell.

  That wasn’t what she’d meant to say at all.

  Except now that it was out there, she couldn’t call the words back. She waited with nerves prancing in her stomach.

  Christian stilled for just a moment, then placed his fork full of eggs back on the tray by the single rose. He carefully folded his hands under his chin, every movement slow and precise as if buying time to gather his thoughts. “How did you find out?”

  Exhaling hard, she strode into the room and sat on the ottoman in front of him as she’d done a thousand times as a child, waiting for him to tell the next story. After a while, she’d started creating puppets for him, stretching her imagination to the limits to come up with whacky characters, delighted to find out how he would incorporate them.

  Today, she needed something more than stories. She needed the truth. “Does it really matter how I know?”

  “We’d always planned to tell you, but you had such a rough time of it during your teenage years.” His eyes broadcast his apology and regret. “I was afraid of losing you altogether. Then your mother died…”

  He cleared his throat, twisting his wedding band around his finger.

  Understanding crept in even as she wished he’d made a different choice. She rested her fingers over his bruised hand. “You’ve had a lot on your plate lately.”

  “I like to think I would have told you eventually, but I can’t lie.” He squeezed her fingers. “I honestly don’t know.”

  It was not the answer she’d been hoping for, but at least they were talking openly. “Thank you for being honest about that.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m not a man who easily owns up to being wrong…”

  His voice trailed off and he simply stared at her. She realized this was as close as her proud father could come to admitting he and her mother had screwed up. But she deserved to know more. She was no longer a child. And he could have died without ever revealing the truth.

  What kind of hell would that have been for her if she’d found out afterward, never able to ask him about it face-to-face? Never been able to see the regret in his eyes that at least gave her some peace?

  “Why did you adopt me? I would think after Sebastian, Mom would have realized motherhood wasn’t her gig.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready to hear everything?”

  Her throat closed with nerves, but she wouldn’t shy away—not when it counted. “I have to know.”

  “All right then,” he said with a shaky breath. “One of my employees, a married man, had an affair with his secretary.”

  “She got pregnant?” She struggled not to press her hand to her stomach. While she couldn’t imagine having an affair with a married man, she understood well the weight of secrets and fears for an unborn child. Vanessa pulled her concentration back to her father’s words.

  “They approached the company lawyer for help in arranging a private adoption for their baby. When your mother heard tests indicated the baby was a girl, she was insistent. We wanted to adopt the child, to adopt you.”

  “Because I was a girl?” Lynette had wanted a daughter? A bookend set of a son and daughter to round out the perfect family. Bitterness burned her mouth more fiercely than bile.

  “She may not have been a warm, cookie-baking sort of mother, but she thought she was giving you everything by giving you what she wanted but never had growing up. I’m sorry she couldn’t find it in herself to be a better mother to you and Sebastian.”

  She wanted to know more, to pry every bit of information out of him to better understand how her mother could have turned out so lacking in warmth or empathy. But the lines of exhaustion around her father’s eyes stopped her.

  Judging her mother wouldn’t accomplish anything, wouldn’t change the past. And wasn’t she just as guilty in her own way of wounding other people because she hurt inside? She was trying to take steps toward being a better person, but she wasn’t in any position to be sanctimonious.

  Time to dig in and work if she wanted to be a better person.

  A better mother.

  She squeezed her father’s hand again and started to stand. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “That’s not everything.”

  Steeling herself for whatever he had to say, she sat again, determined to see this through even if it hurt.

  “I went along with the adoption for your mother, but I hadn’t counted on the way I would feel the first time I held my daughter.” He leaned closer and cradled her face in his shaky hands. “You are my child, and my love for you isn’t dependent on sharing the same DNA.”

  “I know,” she said and realized she believed it without question. “Thank you for reminding me, though.”

  “We have to get everything right, Nessa, in case—”

  “Stop.” She clasped his wrists as if she could somehow root him in this life. “Please don’t say it.”

  He reclined back in his chair, shaking his head sagely. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less real. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thinking optimistically. I’m going to do whatever it takes to hang on. I’ve always wanted to bounce grandchildren on my knee.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Should she tell him about the baby? Would it
be a comfort or a worry? She weighed the options. If he was nearing the end of his life… Vanessa swallowed hard.

  She could tell him later, after she told Nicolas. Better to know where he stood before talking to her father. In an ideal world, she and Nicolas would tell him together.

  “Daddy, I hope and pray you’ll be around to applaud your grandchildren at their graduations, but if—” she gulped back tears that threatened to choke off words “—if that can’t be, I promise I’ll tell my children all the puppet stories you shared with me. And I’ll teach them to stomp the hell out of those divots.”

  He smiled, big and broad, just the way she remembered from her childhood and in a way she hadn’t seen the past year. Laughing, he held out his arms and she slid right into the familiar hug. His frame was surely slighter, but the hold was firm, steady. One she would feel lifting her up for the rest of her life.

  She would need all that strength and more to put her heart on the line with Nicolas.

  Five

  “It was on the line!”

  Standing beneath a striped awning outside the Seven Oaks gym, Nicolas heard Vanessa shout good-naturedly at her brother on the lush, green tennis court. The sound of her voice stirred memories of passionate hours spent on the train car together, stirring a need for more.

  Sun already baking overhead even though the clock tower only said eleven, he slicked a hand over his hair, still wet from the shower he’d taken after his morning regimen with the team. The Seven Oaks Farm had top-of-the-line workout facilities as well as tennis courts…and, of course, a sauna.

  Any more time spent thinking about the sauna and he would have to head to the gym shower again.

  Stepping aside and nodding politely as Sheikh Adham left the building, Nicolas kept his eyes firmly locked on Vanessa arching back, tossing the ball in the air and swatting a clean serve. She swiped an arm over her forehead, shifting from foot to foot as she watched for her brother’s return hit.

  Yes, he could most definitely stand here and take in the view of Vanessa in her short white tennis skirt. All the other people by the pool might as well have faded away.

  Vanessa and her brother lobbed and volleyed teasing comments back and forth with each sweep of the yellow ball over the net. There was no mistaking the bond of affection between them. Hughes would be pissed to find out about the secret affair—not that his sister’s love life should be any of his business. But Nicolas didn’t like the notion that he would cause trouble between the siblings.

  In fact, he didn’t much like the notion of sneaking around, either. He couldn’t deny the growing realization that he wanted more with Vanessa, beyond the polo season, and that meant coming out with their relationship.

  Once he had Vanessa alone—he’d arranged a private dinner at a local French restaurant—he would discuss the proper time and manner to reveal their relationship to her family. And to the press. Decision made, he started to leave. Better to let her enjoy her game with her brother. If Hughes caught him watching Vanessa, Nicolas wasn’t so sure he could keep his face impassive.

  Vanessa stumbled, missing the ball. Nicolas hesitated. She regained her footing and he exhaled. Hard. Damn, he never would have thought a time would come when he would wear his heart on his sleeve. He definitely needed to regain his own footing before he had the discussion with Vanessa.

  Pivoting, he started back into the gym.

  “Vanessa!”

  Hughes’s shouted call carried an urgency that made Nicolas freeze in his tracks. He turned, just in time to see Vanessa crumple to the ground unconscious.

  Nicolas had considered himself fearless. Until now.

  Seeing Vanessa sprawled on the ground, passed out on the court, dumped fear into his gut. To hell with waiting for the right time to reveal his feelings for Vanessa. He didn’t care who saw how he felt about her.

  Nicolas tossed aside his gym bag and sprinted toward Vanessa.

  Vanessa pushed through the foggy layers of unconsciousness.

  Had she overslept? Disorientation muddled her mind. She sank deeper into the cushiony surface beneath her. Voices swirled—in her dreams?

  “What the hell are you doing here?” her brother demanded.

  “Hughes, this is not the time or place,” Nicolas answered, his voice worried.

  The baby. Their baby. Oh, God.

  Vanessa clamped a hand to her stomach and pried her eyes open. She felt fine, other than dizzy, but still, fear swept over her.

  She blinked fast and saw Nicolas and Sebastian standing nose to nose a few feet away. A quick look around told her they were in Sebastian’s office at the polo club’s headquarters—her father’s old office. Someone must have carried her to the large leather sofa. How long had she been out?

  A cool hand touched her brow, and she found Sebastian’s fiancée, Julia, kneeling beside her. Brass sconces illuminated the concern on her future sister-in-law’s face.

  “Julia?”

  “You fainted. Have you checked your levels recently? Where’s your meter so we can check now?”

  “Fainted?” Because of the baby or low blood sugar? “My meter is in my purse back in the locker room.”

  Nicolas and Sebastian went silent, then bolted across the room toward her. Nicolas beat him by a step.

  “Vanessa?” He stroked back her hair as she struggled to sit up. “Are you all right?”

  His own damp hair was slicked back. Wearing black slacks and a gray polo, he must have just completed his morning workout. She should have considered that when agreeing to meet her brother here, but who could have foreseen this?

  She touched Nicolas’s chest lightly. “I’m fine. Just a little woozy. A quick check of my blood sugar levels and there will be nothing to worry about.”

  He clasped her hand in his.

  Sebastian growled protectively.

  Nicolas scowled, his dark Latin eyes turning even darker.

  “Gentlemen,” Julia said with calm command as she stepped in front of Nicolas, tucking a tapestry pillow behind Vanessa, “why don’t you both help by stepping outside. One of you can go look for her purse. The other can see if the paramedics have arrived. Make sure they know about Vanessa’s diabetes.”

  Both men eyed each other warily, then made tracks toward the door.

  “Thank you.” Vanessa reclined back on the pillow, her head still woozy. “I don’t think I could have handled them arguing right now.”

  “Just lie still. The paramedics are on their way.” Julia tucked another pillow under Vanessa’s feet. “I can’t believe we don’t have a doctor playing tennis here this morning.”

  Vanessa tried to laugh at the joke, but fears for her baby overwhelmed her. “Julia? I need to talk to you. If I pass out again, be sure the paramedics know—”

  “About your diabetes. Of course, I will,” Julia reassured her.

  “Not just that,” Vanessa rushed to explain. This wasn’t the way she’d wanted the news to come out, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting. “Don’t let them give me any drugs. Nobody knows yet, but, um, I’m pregnant—”

  The echo of heavy footsteps stopped her short. Had the paramedics arrived already? She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out.

  Framed in the doorway stood her brother and Nicolas. The room swirled again, and this time it had nothing to do with blood-sugar levels or pregnancy. The stunned—then thunderous—looks on both men’s faces left her with no doubts. They’d heard her revelation. Her secrets were out. Sebastian knew about her relationship with Nicolas.

  And Nicolas knew about their baby.

  Waiting outside the E.R. exam room, Nicolas struggled to keep his emotions in check.

  He was known for his calm under any circumstances. But today had blown that out of the water. He was furious, wrecked, leveled by Vanessa’s revelation at the polo club. She was pregnant with his child. And yes, he knew it was his. He could read that in her expression clearly enough when her eyes had met his.

  Thank God he’d kep
t his mouth shut then, because he wasn’t sure what would have come out once he learned she’d been lying to him for weeks. Nothing had changed. She was still keeping secrets—and may have endangered his child.

  She was still the same immature woman. He’d been a wishful fool to think otherwise, simply because he’d needed to justify climbing back into bed with her.

  Nicolas paced, shoes squeaking on industrial tile. He wanted to punch something.

  At least Hughes and his fiancée were staying quiet. He and Vanessa’s brother seemed to have reached an unspoken understanding that there would be no confrontation right now. Not that Hughes’s fiancée would have let them exchange words. The woman was a velvet-gloved, stern taskmaster.

  She was right. Vanessa’s health was paramount. He was angry, without question, but he would hold himself in check.

  And he wasn’t leaving Vanessa’s side.

  At least her baby was okay—even if her relationship with Nicolas appeared uncertain.

  Unable to get Nicolas’s thunderous expression out of her mind, Vanessa finished dressing in the E.R. exam room. The paramedics had transported her to the hospital, a frightening five-minute ride. Her physician had met her at the hospital and checked her over. The doctor had reassured her that the fainting spell was not related to her diabetes and that everything appeared fine with the baby. Passing out had simply been a byproduct of pregnancy. He’d prescribed a lazy afternoon in bed and given her his pager number if she had any concerns.

  She still had plenty of concerns. First of all, she needed to read a whole lot more about becoming a mother, because she did not want to screw this up. And if she was overdoing it, by God, she would make an art form of settling down.

  Then there were other concerns, the ones centered on the baby’s father. The sterile air stung her nose as she sniffed back tears. Nicolas had come to mean so much to her this summer, even more than she’d expected after a year of thinking about him, of missing him. Seeing that look of betrayal on his face had hurt so much—she wasn’t sure how to begin making it right.