Demanding His Secret Son

by Louise Fuller

  His lip curled as he glanced down at his wrist. ‘No, still there. But maybe I should double-check my wallet. Or perhaps I should give Edward Claiborne a call...make sure he still has his. I know you were only having coffee, but you were always a quick worker. I should know.’

  Teddie felt her cheeks grow warm. His face was impenetrable, but the derision in his voice as much as his words was insultingly obvious.

  How dare he talk to her like that? As though she was the bad guy when he was the one who had cut her out of his life without so much as a word.

  Not that she’d ever been high on his list of priorities. Six months of married life had made it clear that Aristo had no time in his life for a wife. Even when she’d moved out and they’d begun divorce proceedings, he’d carried on working as though nothing had happened. Although no amount of his neglect and indifference could have prepared her for how he’d behaved at the end.

  It had been a mistake, sleeping together that last time.

  With emotions running high after a meeting to discuss their divorce, they’d ended up in bed and she’d ended up pregnant. Only, by the time she’d realised that her tiredness and nausea weren’t just symptoms of stress, the divorce had been finalised, and Aristo had been on the other side of the world, building his European operations.

  Although he might just as well have been in outer space.

  Remembering her repeated, increasingly desperate and unsuccessful attempts to get in touch, she felt her back stiffen. She’d been frantic to tell him she was pregnant, but his complete radio silence had made it clear—horribly, humiliatingly clear—not only that he didn’t want to talk to her, but that he didn’t want to listen to anything she had to say.

  It had been during a call to his London office, when an over-officious PA had cut short her stumbling and not very coherent attempt to speak to him, that she had decided doing the right thing was not going to work.

  It certainly hadn’t worked for her parents.

  Sometimes it was better to face the truth, even if it was painful—and, truthfully, she and Aristo’s relationship had had pretty flimsy foundations. Judging by the mess they’d made of their marriage, it certainly wasn’t strong enough to cope with an unplanned pregnancy.

  But it had been hard.

  Aristo’s rejection had broken her heart, and the repercussions of their brief and ill-fated marriage had lasted longer than her tears. Even now, she was still so wary of men that she’d barely gone out with anyone since they’d parted ways. Thanks to her father’s casual, cursory attitude to parenting, she found it hard to believe that she would ever be anything more than an afterthought to any man. Aristo’s casual, cruel rejection had confirmed that deep-seated privately held fear.

  Much as she cared for Elliot, it was as a sister. Aristo was still the only man she’d ever loved. He had been her first love—not her first lover, but he had taught her everything about pleasure.

  Her green eyes lifted to his. And not just pleasure. Because of him she’d become an authority on heartache and regret too.

  So what exactly gave him the right to stand there with a sneer on that irritatingly handsome face?

  Suddenly she was glad she hadn’t turned tail. Fingers curling into fists, she glared at him. ‘I think your memory must be playing tricks on you, Aristo. Work was always your thing—not mine. And, not that it’s any of your concern, but Edward Claiborne is a very generous man. He was more than happy to pay the bill.’

  She knew how she was making it sound, but it wasn’t quite a lie. He had offered to pay. And besides, if it made Aristo feel even a fraction of her pain, then why not rub it in? He might not have thought her worthy of his attention and commitment, but Edward had been happy to give her his time and his company.

  ‘And that’s what matters to you, isn’t it, Theodora? Getting your bills paid. Even if it means taking what isn’t yours.’

  He didn’t really care about the money—even before his ruthless onwards-and-upwards rise to global domination, the amount she’d taken had been a negligible amount. Now it would barely make a dent in the Leonidas billions. At the time, though, it had stung—particularly as it had been down to his own stupidity.

  For some unknown reason he hadn’t closed their shared accounts immediately after the divorce was finalised, and Teddie had wasted no time taking advantage. Not that he should have been surprised. No matter how pampered they were, women were never satisfied with what they had. He’d learned that aged six, when his mother had found a titled, wealthier replacement for his father.

  But knowing Teddie had worked her ‘magic’ on Edward hurt—and, childish though it was, he wanted to hurt her back.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘It was mine,’ she said hotly. ‘It was ours. That’s what marriage is about, Aristo—it’s called sharing.’

  He stared at her disparagingly. The briefness of their marriage and the ruthless determination of his legal team had ensured that her financial settlement had been minimal, but it was more than she deserved.

  ‘Is that what you tell yourself?’

  She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as he shook his head slowly.

  ‘Just because it was still a joint account that didn’t mean you had the right to empty it.’

  ‘If it bothered you that much you could have talked to me,’ she snarled. ‘But I was only your wife—why would you want to talk to me?’

  ‘Don’t give me that,’ he said sharply. ‘I talked to you.’

  ‘You talked at me about work. Never about us.’

  Never about the fact that they were basically living separate lives—two strangers sharing a bed but never a meal or a joke.

  Hearing the emotion in her voice, she stopped abruptly. What was the point of having this conversation? It was four years too late, and their marriage couldn’t have mattered that much to him if all he wanted to discuss now was their bank account.

  And was it really that surprising? His whole life had been dedicated to making money.

  She breathed in unsteadily. ‘And, as for the money, I took what I needed to live.’

  To look after our son, she thought with a sudden flare of anger. A son who even before his birth had been relegated to second place.

  ‘I’m not going to apologise for that, and if it was a problem then you should have said something at the time, but you made it quite clear that you didn’t want to talk to me.’

  Aristo stared at her, anger pulsing beneath his skin. At the time he had seen her behaviour as just more evidence of his poor judgement. More proof that the women in his life would inevitably turn their backs on him.

  But he was not about to reveal his reasons for staying silent—why should he? He wasn’t the one who’d walked out on their marriage. He didn’t need to explain himself.

  His heart began to thump rhythmically inside his chest, and an old, familiar feeling of bitter, impotent fury formed a knot in his stomach. She was right. He should have dealt with this years ago—because even though he had succeeded in erasing her from his heart and his home, he had never quite managed to wipe her betrayal from his memory.

  How could he, though? Their relationship had been over so quickly and had ended with such finality that there had been no time to confront her properly.

  Until now.

  Teddie stared at him in appalled silence as, leaning back, he stretched out his legs. Moments earlier she had wanted to throw George’s existence in his face. Now, though, she could feel spidery panic scuttling over her skin at the thought of how close she’d come to revealing the truth.

  ‘So let’s talk now,’ he said, turning to nod curtly at a passing waiter, who hurried over with almost comical haste.

  She nearly laughed, only it was more sad than funny. He didn’t want to talk now any more than he had four years ago, but he knew that she wanted to leave so he wanted to make her stay.
Nothing had changed. He hadn’t changed. He just wanted to get his own way.

  ‘An espresso, please, and an Americano.’ He gave the order without so much as looking at her, and the fact that he could still remember her favourite drink, as much as his arrogant assumption that she would be joining him, made her want to scream.

  ‘I’m not staying,’ she said coldly. She knew from past experience that his powers of persuasion were incomparable, but in the past she had loved him to distraction. Here, in the present, she wasn’t going to let him push her into a corner. ‘And I don’t want to speak to you,’ she said, glancing pointedly past him.

  He shrugged, a mocking smile curving his mouth. ‘Then I’ll talk and you can listen.’

  Cheeks darkening with angry colour, she sat mutinously as the waiter reappeared and, with a swift, nervous glance at Aristo, deposited the drinks in front of them.

  ‘Is there anything else, Mr Leonidas?’

  Aristo shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’

  Teddie stared at him, a beat of irritation jumping in her chest. It was always the same, this effect that Aristo had on people. When they’d first met she’d teased him about it: as a magician, she was supposed to be the centre of attention. But even when his wealth had been visible but not daunting, he’d had something that set him apart from all the other beautiful rich people—a potent mix of power and beauty and vitality that created an irresistible gravitational pull around him.

  She could hardly blame the poor waiter for being like a cat on hot bricks when she had been just as susceptible. It was still maddening, though.

  Some of her feelings must be showing on her face, for as he reached to pick up his cup, he paused. ‘Is there a problem?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Other than you, you mean?’

  He sighed. ‘I meant with your drink. I can send it back.’

  ‘Could you just stop throwing your weight around?’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I know it must be difficult for you to switch off from work, but this isn’t one of your hotels.’

  Leaning back, he raised the cup to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Actually it is,’ he said mildly. ‘It’s the first in a new line we’re trying out—traditional elegance and luxury with impeccable sustainability.’ He smiled at the look of frozen horror on her face. ‘And a constantly rotating collection of contemporary art.’

  She felt her breathing jerk as out of the corner of her eye she noticed the tiny lion’s head logo on the coaster. Cheeks burning, she glanced furtively over at the Warhols.

  Damn it, but of course they were real. Aristo Leonidas would never have anything in his life that wasn’t one hundred per cent perfect—it was why he’d found it so devastatingly easy to abandon her.

  Her heartbeat stumbled in her chest. No doubt he’d only wanted her to stay here so he could point out this latest addition to his empire.

  Cursing herself, and Aristo, and Elliot for being so useless at managing their schedule, she half rose.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said softly.

  Their eyes clashed. ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Why? Are you scared of what will happen if you do?

  Was she scared?

  She felt her insides flip over, and she suddenly felt hot and dizzy.

  Once she had been in thrall to him. He’d been everything she’d wanted in a lover and in a man. Caught in the dark shimmering intensity of his gaze, she had felt warm and wanted.

  And now, as the heat spread outwards, she was forced to accept again that, even hating him as she did, her body was still reacting in the same way, unconstrained by logic or even the most basic sense of self-preservation.

  Horrified by this revelation of her continuing vulnerability—or maybe stupidity—she lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing, muscles tensing as though for combat.

  ‘I’m not, no. But you should be. Or maybe you like your suits with coffee stains?’

  His dark eyes flickered with amusement. ‘If you want me to get undressed, you could just ask.’

  He was unbelievable and unfair, making such a blatant reference to their sexual past. But, despite her outrage, she felt the kick of desire. Just as she had that night four years ago, when her body had betrayed her.

  Her heart thudded. How could she have let it happen? Just hours earlier they’d been thrashing out their divorce. She’d known he didn’t love her, and yet she’d still slept with him.

  But she could never fully regret her stupidity for that was the night she’d conceived George.

  She glowered at him. ‘I don’t want you at all,’ she lied. ‘And I don’t want to have some stupid conversation about coffee or art.’

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay. Look, this is hard for both us, but we share a history. Surely if fate has chosen to throw us together we can put our differences behind us for old times’ sake,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you can spare a couple of minutes to catch up.’

  Teddie felt her heart start to pound. If only if was just the past they shared. But it wasn’t, and hiding that fact from Aristo was proving harder than she’d ever imagined.

  But how could she tell him the truth? That he had a three-year-old son called George he’d never met. She caught her breath, trying to imagine how that conversation would start, much less end.

  More importantly, though, why would she tell him? Their marriage might have been short-lived, but it had been long enough for her to know that there was no room in her ex-husband’s life for anything but his career. And, having been on the receiving end of her father’s intermittent attention, she knew exactly what it felt like to be a side dish to the main meal, and she was not about to let her son suffer the same fate.

  ‘I just told you. I don’t want to stay.’ But, glancing up into his dark eyes, she felt a flare of panic, for they were cold and flat like slate, and they matched the uncompromising expression on his face.

  ‘I wasn’t actually giving you an option.’

  She felt the colour leave her face. Had he really just said what she thought he had?

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Instantly her panic was forgotten, obliterated in a white-out of fury. ‘Just because this is your hotel, Aristo, it doesn’t mean you can act like some despot,’ she snapped.’ If I want to leave, I will, thank you very much, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

  Aristo stared at her in silence. Was this why he had sought out her company instead of simply retreating? To force a confrontation so that, unlike in their marriage, he would be the one to dictate when she left? Would that heal the still festering wound of her betrayal? Quiet the suspicion, the knowledge, that he had been used like a plaything to pass the time until something, or more likely someone, better came along?

  He shrugged dismissively. ‘That would depend, I suppose, on how you leave and whether you value your reputation. Being removed by Security in front of a room full of people could be quite damaging.’ Leaning back in his seat, he raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine what your new boss would think if he heard about it.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said softly.

  His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Try me!’

  He could see the conflict in her eyes—frustration and resentment battling with logic and resignation—but he knew the battle was already won. If she was going to leave she would already be on her feet.

  With immense satisfaction he watched her sit back stiffly in her seat. This wasn’t about revenge, but even so he couldn’t help letting a small, triumphant smile curve his mouth.

  ‘So...’ He gestured towards the pack of cards. ‘You’re still a magician, then.’

  Teddie stared at the cards. To anyone else his remark would have sounded innocuous, nothing more than a polite show of interest in an ex’s current means of employment. But she wasn’t anyone. She had been his wife, and s
he could hear the resentment in his voice for she had heard it before.

  It was another reminder of why their marriage had failed. And why she should have confronted the past head-on instead of pretending her marriage had never happened. She might have been strong for her son, but she’d been a coward when it came to facing Aristo.

  Only, she’d had good reason not to want to face him. Lots of good reasons, actually.

  In the aftermath of their marriage he’d been cold and unapproachable, and later she’d been so sick with her pregnancy, and then, by the time she’d felt well again, George had been born—and that was a whole other conversation.

  She was suddenly conscious of Aristo’s steady, dark gaze and her heart gave a thump. She had to stop thinking about George or something was going to slip out.

  ‘Yes,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m still a magician, Aristo. And you’re still in hotels.’

  Her heart was thumping hard against her chest. Did he really want to sit here with her while they politely pretended to be on speaking terms? Her hands felt suddenly damp and she pressed them against the cooling leather. Clearly he did. But then, he didn’t have a secret to keep.

  He nodded. ‘Mostly, but I’ve diversified my interests.’

  She gritted her teeth. So even less time for anything other than work. For some reason that thought made her feel sad rather than angry and, caught off-guard, she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

  Aristo looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘You must have done well. Edward Claiborne doesn’t often go out of his comfort zone. So how did you two meet?’

  His eyes tangled with hers and he felt a stab of anger, remembering Edward Claiborne’s proprietorial manner as he’d turned and gestured across the room towards Teddie.

  She shrugged. ‘Elliot and I did some magic showcases at a couple of charity balls last year and he was there.’