Pushing aside the letters and documents, she reached to the bottom of the box and pulled out a small blue box.
Her hand twitched and then slowly, heart thumping erratically, she opened it and stared down at the plain gold band. For a moment she couldn’t move, but as her breathing steadied she picked up her wedding ring and slid it onto her finger.
She still wasn’t sure why she had kept it. But the answer to that was not as simple as the question implied.
At first, in the weeks after she’d moved out of Aristo’s apartment—and it had always felt like his apartment—she’d kept wearing it because even though it had become clear to her by then that her husband was a different person from the impulsive lover she’d promised to love and honour and cherish, she hadn’t been ready to give up on her marriage.
And then later it had been the one thing he’d given to her that he hadn’t and could never take away—of course that had been before she found out about George.
Her throat tightened. She could still picture the exact moment that she’d finally decided to stop wearing it.
It had been on the taxi ride home from that night she’d spent in Aristo’s arms, hoping and believing that they’d been given a second chance.
He’d followed her out of their meeting with the lawyers earlier and they’d argued, both of them simmering with fury, and then they’d looked into each other’s eyes and desire had been stronger than their anger combined. Unreasonable, but undeniable.
But then what did desire ever have to do with reason?
They’d rented a hotel room like newlyweds, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes in the lift, hardly noticing the other guests’ shocked or amused expressions as they’d run to their room.
But even before the sheets tangled around their warm, damp bodies had grown cold she’d realised her mistake.
That night hadn’t been some eleventh-hour reprieve for their marriage. Aristo hadn’t acknowledged his part in their marital problems, or been willing to listen to her point of view. Instead he’d just wanted to get his own way and, having failed to convince her with words he’d switched tactics. Like the hopeless, lovestruck fool she had been then, she’d let herself be persuaded by the softness of his mouth and the hard length of his body.
But, waking in the strange bed, she’d realised her mistake instantly.
She breathed out unsteadily, remembering how his face had grown hard and expressionless, the post-coital tenderness in his eyes fading as he’d told that he’d pay for the room, but that would be the last dollar she’d see of his money.
It hadn’t been. Three weeks later she’d emptied one of the bank accounts they’d shared—the one with the least amount of money in it—partly to prove him wrong, but mostly so his unborn child would have something from its father.
Sliding the ring off her finger, she put it back in the box and got slowly to her feet. Elliot was right. She needed to face reality, and it would be easier to do so if she was in control of what was happening rather than sitting and stewing, waiting for Aristo to call.
Walking back into the living room, she picked up the card he’d given her the night before and punched out his number on her mobile before she had the chance to change her mind.
‘Hello, Teddie.’
She hadn’t expected him to pick up quite so quickly, or to know it was her, but that wasn’t why she slid down onto the sofa. It was just that hearing his voice down the phone again felt strangely intimate, and for a split second she was reminded of how they’d used to talk when they’d first met. Conversations in the early hours of the morning after she’d finished performing and she was lying in bed in some hotel on the other side of the country.
It hadn’t mattered what time she’d called—he’d always answered and they’d talked sometimes for hours. She felt her skin prickle. And not just talk... Sometimes he’d made up stories to help her fall asleep.
Curling her fingers around the phone, she gripped it more tightly. Remembering Aristo doing that for her was like waking to find a handcuff around her wrist, linking her to him in a way she hadn’t imagined.
Steadying her breathing, she pushed the memory to the back of her mind. ‘We need to talk,’ she said bluntly. ‘About George.’
‘So talk.’
‘No, not on the phone. We need to meet.’
There was a short pause, and her chest tightened as she imagined him leaning back in his chair, a small triumphant smile curving his mouth.
‘I can come to your apartment.’
‘No.’ Hearing the panic in her voice, she frowned. But there was no way he was coming to the apartment again, not after what nearly happened last time. ‘I’ll come to your office.’
She glanced at the time. She could drop George off at Elliot’s and then go on into Manhattan.
‘Shall we say about five?’
‘I look forward to it,’ he said softly.
* * *
At exactly five o’clock she was staring up at a tall, gleaming tower as all around her crowds of tourists chatted and laughed—no doubt on their way to see the Empire State Building or some other world-famous landmark.
If only she was a tourist too, enjoying a well-earned holiday, instead of having to face her clever, calculating ex-husband. But the sooner she faced Aristo the sooner she could return home, and so, heart pounding, she slipped through the revolving doors into the cool smoked glass interior of the Leonidas Holdings’ headquarters.
Five minutes later she was riding up in an elevator, only just managing to force her mouth into a stiff smile as the doors opened.
‘Ms Taylor.’ Smiling politely, a young male assistant stepped forward. ‘If you’d like to come with me, Mr Leonidas’ office is this way.’
But not Mr Leonidas, Teddie discovered as the assistant showed her into the empty office. She wondered if Aristo had absented himself on purpose. Probably, she decided. No doubt he was trying to psyche her out by making her wait, by giving her a glimpse of his personal fiefdom.
She glanced slowly around the room, her narrowed gaze taking in the dazzling panoramic views of New York, the Bauhaus furniture and the huge abstract painting that hung behind his desk.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
She turned, her body tensing automatically as Aristo strolled into the room, his dark eyes sweeping assessingly over her black cigarette trousers, burgundy silk shirt and towering stiletto heels.
He stopped in front of her and she felt her stomach flip over. He’d taken off his jacket, and the sleeves of his cornflower-blue shirt were rolled up, the collar loosened. Her eyes darted involuntarily between the triangle of golden skin at the base of his neck and the fine dark hair on his forearms.
Her breath pedalled inside her chest. He looked both invincible and stupidly sexy, and any hope she’d had that she might have miraculously developed an immunity to him in the intervening hours since she’d seen him evaporated like early-morning mist. Even just being in the same space as him was sending her body haywire, her chest constricting and a prickling heat spreading like a forest fire over her skin.
If Aristo was feeling as uncomfortable as she was, he wasn’t showing it. But then in the six months of their marriage she’d never really known what he was thinking—she might be a mistress of illusion on stage, but he was a master at disguising his feelings. Her lips tightened. Although that, of course, presupposed that he had any.
‘It’s fine,’ she said stiffly. ‘I know you’re a busy man.’
His gaze hovered over her face and she cursed herself silently, for she knew what he was thinking.
Aristo’s obsession with work had quickly become an issue for her. The long hours he’d spent at the office and his single-minded focus on building his business had slowly but inevitably excluded her from his life. Not that either of them had done much to stop it eroding their marriage.
For Aristo it had only ever been her problem, and she had found it impossible to tell him the truth. That she wanted the man who had craved her, who had been so hungry to share her life that he hadn’t been willing to wait.
She swallowed, pushing back against the sudden swell of misery spreading through her. It was her own fault. She should have known what to expect when he’d cut their honeymoon short to fly halfway across the world to buy a resort. But of course when he’d pulled her into his arms and told her it was a one-off she’d believed him. She’d wanted to believe him, and to believe that she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Only, her brief doomed marriage was not what she wanted to talk about now. They’d moved way past the point where there was even a ‘them’ to discuss. As far as she was concerned, the less she had to do with him the better, and after this meeting hopefully there would be no reason for her to see him except briefly and occasionally.
Watching the conflicting emotions flitting across his ex-wife’s face, Aristo felt a ripple of frustration. She had always been so unsupportive of his career, when all he’d been trying to do was build a life for her, for them.
Glancing round his office, he steadied his breathing. Surely now she could understand what he’d been trying to do? But, either way, he wasn’t going to let it get in the way of what really mattered.
He shrugged. ‘Very busy,’ he said softly. ‘But let’s not get distracted. I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about my work.’
She gave him a small, tight smile. ‘We need to make arrangements. Something stable and uncomplicated. Because what’s most important to me is that George feels happy and safe.’
He nodded. ‘And I want that too.’ Gesturing towards a cluster of easy chairs and a sofa grouped in front of the windows, he smiled slowly. ‘So, why don’t we sit down and talk about how we can make that happen?’
Teddie gazed at him warily. So far it was all going better than she’d expected. Her heartbeat scuttled forward. Only, it wasn’t fair of him to smile like that. It would be so much easier for her to keep a clear head if he was cold and dismissive. When he smiled that extraordinary smile it was difficult to think straight. Difficult to think about anything other than that beautiful mouth.
Feeling his dark gaze, she ignored both his hand and the sudden rapid pounding of her heart and nodded, then walked as casually as she could manage across the room.
She purposely avoided the sofa and sat down in one of the chairs, but regretted her decision almost immediately as, dropping down into the chair closest to hers, he stretched out his long, muscular legs and began to speak.
‘Look, Teddie, before we start I have something I need to say to you.’
‘So say it.’ She had been aiming to sound casual, offhand. Instead, though, her voice sounded stiff and unnatural.
His eyes fixed on hers. ‘I know this can’t be easy, having me back in your life and in George’s life. But I’m going to try to make it as painless and unproblematic as possible for both of us. All I want is to be a good father.’
She held his gaze. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he wasn’t back in her life. But to be fair he was trying to meet her halfway, and it seemed churlish to nit-pick over his choice of words.
Glancing away to the skyline, she shrugged. ‘I hope so. That’s why I’m here.’
It was true, and she wanted to believe Aristo, to take his words at face-value—only after everything he’d said and done in the past it was just so hard to trust him. But if this was going to work, for her son’s sake, she was going to have to put the past behind her and concentrate on the present.
She took a quick, steadying breath and said quickly, ‘I know it probably doesn’t seem like it to you, but I really do want George to get to know you.’
The air seemed to still, like a held breath, and, looking up, she found Aristo watching her so steadily and intently that for a moment she forgot where she was. Suddenly the huge office seemed as though it had shrunk, and his body seemed way too close to hers.
Before she could stop herself she shifted in her seat, drawing her legs in tighter and then regretting it immediately as his eyes dropped to her throat, taking in the jerkiness of her pulse.
‘So what do you suggest?’
It was a straightforward enough question, and his expression was blandly innocent, but something in his eyes made her body tense, her muscles popping and suddenly primed for flight as she quickly went through the options she’d rehearsed on her journey to his office.
‘I thought perhaps we could meet in a park,’ she said hopefully. ‘George loves swings, and we have a nice park just down the street.’
She felt her pulse begin to hopscotch forward as slowly he shook his head.
‘I was thinking of something more than just a trip to the swings. How about you bring George to the apartment for a weekend? That way we’ll have more time, and plenty of space, and of course there’s the pool.’ He raised his dark gaze to hers. ‘You have taught him to swim?’
She glared at him. ‘Yes, of course I have. But—’
‘Excellent, so we’re agreed.’ His smile widened but she started to shake her head.
‘No, Aristo. We are not agreed.’ She gritted her teeth. How had she ever thought this would be easy?
‘Then I’ll come to yours,’ he said coolly.
Her back stiffened. He absolutely definitely wasn’t coming to her apartment, and nor did she want to go to back to the apartment that had once been her home, with all its many reminders of their shared past.
So tell him what you do want then, she told herself.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ She spoke quickly, trying to inject a businesslike tone into her voice.
‘No? But you do want to arrange something, right?’
He lounged back, his arm resting easily against the side of the chair, and suddenly she wanted to reach out and touch the golden skin, run her fingertips over the smooth curve of muscle pressing against the fabric of his shirt.
‘Yes—yes, of course I do.’ She dragged her eyes away, up to the compelling dark eyes and dangerous curves of his face.
He nodded. ‘Something stable and uncomplicated, I think you said.’
‘Yes, that’s what I want, but...’ She gazed at him uncertainly, wondering exactly where the conversation was going.
‘Then the solution is staring us in the face.’
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken, his voice curling over her skin, soothing and unsettling at the same time.
‘What do you mean?’ she said hoarsely.
He smiled. ‘Isn’t it obvious? We need to get married.’
The air was punched out of lungs. She stared at him in a daze, the beat of her heart suddenly deafeningly loud inside her head. She was mute with shock—not only at the audacity, the arrogance of his words, but at the heat building inside her.
How could she feel like that? Their marriage had been a disaster, and yet she could feel a part of herself responding with an eagerness that shocked her.
Ignoring the quivering sensation in her stomach, she forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘That’s not funny, Aristo.’
‘It’s not meant to be.’ He looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘If I’m to be a permanent fixture in George’s life then I need to be a permanent fixture in yours. Marriage is the simplest solution. We marry and George gets two parents and a stable, uncomplicated home life.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Is that what you think our marriage was like? Stable and uncomplicated?’ She wanted to laugh, except that it wasn’t even remotely amusing, just horribly familiar—for wasn’t this exactly why they’d got divorced? Because Aristo had made assumptions without so much as considering her point of view or her feelings.
‘I am not marrying you—remarrying you,’ she corrected herself.
>
Tipping back his head, he stared down into her eyes. ‘Why not? It’s not something you haven’t done before.’
She gaped at him. ‘And it didn’t work.’ She enunciated each word with painstaking emphasis.
His dark gaze roamed so slowly over her face that she felt it like a caress.
‘As I recall it worked very well.’
Her breath was trapped in her throat. ‘I’m not talking about that,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m talking about everything else about our marriage. None of that worked.’
‘Didn’t work last time.’ He dismissed her remark with a careless lift of his shoulders. ‘But engaging with past mistakes is crucial to an improved performance, and this time we’ll be operating from a position of experience, not ignorance.’
She felt her heart beat faster. He sounded as if he was presenting a business plan, not discussing getting married. But then, even before their marriage had ended work had already consumed his life to the exclusion of everything else—including her.
‘This isn’t some management strategy,’ she said witheringly. ‘This is my life, Aristo.’
His eyes didn’t so much as flicker but she felt a sudden rise in tension.
‘No, Teddie. This is our son’s life. A son who doesn’t know who I am. A son I’ve already let down. No child should feel like that.’
He stopped abruptly, his jaw tightening, and Teddie felt some of her anger deflate. There was something in his response that made her flinch inside, as though the words had been dragged out of him.
Aristo caught his breath. Remembering his own childhood, the constant nagging sense of not belonging, he felt suddenly sick. Whatever else happened, his son was going to feel wanted by both his parents.
‘You haven’t let him down.’
Teddie’s voice jolted him back into real time and he gritted his teeth. She might have been his wife, but he’d never discussed his childhood with her. But the past was history. What mattered was George.
‘I wasn’t there—’ He broke off and stared away, his face taut and set. ‘All I want to do is make it up to him. And that is going to take more than a couple of trips to the swings.’
Demanding His Secret Son Page 6