by Bella Andre
While he spoke, Rosie kept her gaze fixed on Jorge across the room. It never wavered now. “All these years,” she said softly, “I just stuck my head in the sand. I didn’t even do anything about it. I just told myself that since he didn’t want anything to do with Jorge as a baby, he never would. I should have gotten a lawyer and had all the legal stuff in place to make sure he didn’t try to claim parental rights in the future.”
Gideon reached for her hands and held them tightly. “Stop beating yourself up. You couldn’t have had any idea he’d try something, after the way he kicked you to the curb.” But there was something else he needed her to know. Something that could outright terrify her. “If you don’t know what your foe wants, you can’t fight him on level ground. That’s the first step in every battle plan. Which means someone is going to have to make contact with him. And soon.”
But Rosie didn’t look scared. Of course she didn’t. She was a fighter, brave as hell. Especially when it came to her son. She looked defiant, her mouth set, her eyes narrowed.
“You’re right. I need to know exactly why he’s reaching out to me, not just guess at his reasons because of that TV interview with his wife. He needs to declare himself. Then I’ll know what the next move is.” Her voice was strong and utterly determined as she added, “Which means I have to meet him.” She looked straight at Gideon, her dark eyes blazing. “Right away.”
It was exactly what he’d expected her to say. Exactly what he’d worried she’d say when he didn’t want her in the same country as the guy, let alone the same city. “I’m coming with you.”
Thankfully, she didn’t argue. “You’ll scare the poop out of him—even with a glance.”
“That’s the plan,” he said. And then, “We go together, we find out what he wants. Then we neutralize him.”
She took her phone from him and made the call.
Chapter Eighteen
Paige sent Jorge and Noah back into the family room located off the kitchen to watch cartoons—the housekeeper, Mrs. Mortimer, would take care of them if they needed anything—while Rosie and Gideon explained what had happened.
Worry lines creasing her forehead, Paige looked stricken by the news. “I’m so sorry you’ve got this huge, horrible thing hanging over you, Rosie. What can we do to help?”
“Whatever you need,” Evan offered.
Rosie’s stomach was tumbling so fast, it made her feel dizzy. But she had to be strong. For Jorge. “I would really appreciate it if you could keep the boys for a couple of hours. I’ve just set up a meeting with my ex.”
Rosie wished she hadn’t hung up on Archie the first time. It had been harder to call him back, almost as though she was begging for a meeting. But she’d done it because they needed to know what he really wanted. No more guessing.
“Of course. We can keep them for as long as you need.” Paige’s smile was kind and warm.
“It’s our pleasure,” Evan agreed.
“Thank you,” she said to them both. She wished she had the words to explain how much their help and support meant, though she had a feeling they already knew.
Rosie and Gideon went into the family room, and she knelt in front of Jorge. “Gideon and I have to go out alone for a little while, okay? So be good for Paige and Evan and Mrs. Mortimer.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Rosie stroked her son’s face. The heartache she’d felt when Archie walked away all those years ago meant nothing once she’d had Jorge, with his soulful brown eyes, his dark curly hair, and his gorgeous smile.
“You are such an amazing kid,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.” As if he was an old soul who knew exactly what she needed, he threw his arms around her and let her hug him fiercely.
Over Jorge’s shoulder, she saw Noah hug Gideon’s leg. Gideon dropped his hand to the boy’s head, stroking his silky hair. The unconscious gesture was so loving, so caring. So Gideon.
As Gideon led her out of the house and down the front path to his SUV, leaving her son behind where he would be safe, he wrapped her fingers in his big warm hand, held on to her, and promised her solemnly, “I won’t let anything happen to him.”
“I know,” she said.
Gideon would keep that promise, no matter what.
* * *
Archibald Findley had chosen a posh restaurant in Saratoga, where parking was done by a valet. But Gideon didn’t like having his keys out of his hand, especially when facing down a foe, so he parked the car himself in a lot across the street.
They were shown to the table by a tuxedoed maître d’. Rosie’s ex was already seated, drinking something dark in a short tumbler. The tables were covered with white cloths and burgundy napkins and flickering candles, while the overhead lighting was low. The glassware glittered like crystal.
Gideon figured it was a fifty-dollar-a-plate joint. What a pompous douchebag.
Findley rose as they approached. He was over six feet, but Gideon was taller. And a hell of a lot bigger.
“Rosie, you look just as ravishing today as you did all those years ago.” Findley was like an aristocrat out of a PBS Masterpiece Theatre series, with high-society manners and the sheen of wealth, but a cutting edge just below the surface. “And this must be your boyfriend. Or is he your bodyguard?” He smiled, oozing smarm instead of charm.
“Do I need a bodyguard?” she asked, her voice without a trace of anxiety.
“From me?” He laid the flat of his hand against his chest as though shocked she could think such a thing. “Never. Do have a seat.”
Gideon held the farthest chair out for her, then pulled his own as close to hers as possible. Throughout this ordeal, he wanted her to feel him there beside her, to know that he was there for her. No matter what Findley dished out.
A waiter appeared promptly to take their drink orders. Both Rosie and Gideon stuck with water.
Gideon took those moments to assess Archibald Findley. He was impeccably dressed in a blue suit, his shirt crisply white, his striped blue tie tacked down with a winking ruby stickpin. He’d slicked his hair back with some gel, the black shot through with streaks of gray. He gazed at Rosie out of eyes so deep they were almost black. Snake eyes.
He looked like a movie gangster hiding out in the back of his favorite Italian restaurant. Gideon half expected The Godfather theme to start playing.
“Tell me all that you’ve been up to since I last saw you,” Findley requested.
You mean since you dumped her, pregnant and alone. Gideon felt a growl rise up in his throat. But on the drive over, Rosie had said she wanted to do the talking. Though he knew she was right—she needed to be in control, and he understood why—it was still difficult to keep quiet counsel when in the presence of such scum. It had to be enough for Gideon to be her muscle today. Still, if Findley so much as blinked out of turn, Gideon would destroy him.
“I got my degree in accounting,” she told her ex, “and I have a good job in a CPA firm.”
“I’m so glad you continued with your schooling, given how difficult it is to break into the art world. It’s always good to have a backup plan. I believe you’ll remember I told you that.” Findley tried to pat her hand, but she pulled away before he could.
“What do you want, Archie?”
“Archibald,” he corrected with an oily smile, enough to grease the wheels on a track. “I simply want to catch up with you after all this time.”
“Like I said, I’m fine,” Rosie said, her eyes narrowed, her nostrils slightly flared.
“And what about the child?”
“My child is fine.”
Findley reached out again, on the pretense of touching her hand, when it was clear that all he really wanted was to bat her around like a feline playing with its prey before it pounces.
Again, Rosie moved out of reach, leaning back, crossing her arms and legs while also shifting her body closer to Gideon.
The waiter arrived with another whiskey for Findley, scooping u
p the empty glass. Her ex swirled the ice cubes in his new glass. “It must be very hard being a single mom,” Archie noted.
“It’s been no trouble at all.” She shook her head, tossing a curl away from her temple. “No thanks to you.”
“You knew I had no choice at the time,” Archie said with an air of regret. Regret someone else might have believed was real had they not already been primed to see the scumbag he was. “But I’ve regretted the necessity every day since.”
“Whatever you’ve done and whatever you regret make no difference to me,” Rosie replied.
Archie made a little face, as though he was disappointed in both her and her response. “Whatever you say, I’m sure it’s very hard to raise a child on your own. What with medical bills, child care, school fees—it must get harder all the time.”
Gideon wanted to fire back by informing the slimeball that Rosie had plenty of friends to help and support her. But he couldn’t do anything to jeopardize their mission—they needed to know what the guy wanted. What’s more, they couldn’t risk giving Findley ammunition for any plan he had in mind.
“We’re fine, Archie. We’ve been fine since the day you left. In fact, that day was a blessing. We don’t need anything from you. We never did.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Don’t you think a child should know his father? Especially when I could be so good to the boy, give Jorge everything he’s currently lacking. I’m sure you’d love to send him to a better school than the one he attends now.”
Her shiver at the fact that Archie knew Jorge’s name was almost imperceptible. Gideon felt it only because they were sitting so close. Thankfully, Rosie didn’t give away a thing. “My child’s school is just fine.”
“But think of how much easier your life could be.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “You wouldn’t have to scrimp and save.” He spared a condescending glance for Gideon. “You could even go out with men of a higher quality than a beefcake bouncer.”
Though Gideon could feel her stiffen at the insult, her voice remained calm as she said, “I’ll repeat myself one more time, just to make sure you understand. My child has everything he needs.”
But Archie clearly wasn’t planning to back down so easily. “Ah, but he could need so much more in the future.” He waved a hand airily. “Say, if you were to lose your job. Or your home, because you couldn’t make the rental payments. Or if you suddenly found your credit rating had taken a nosedive.”
Gideon wouldn’t stand for another minute of this crap. “Are you threatening Rosie?”
Findley shot a sneer Gideon’s way. “Nothing of the kind. I’m just talking about some of life’s occasional misadventures, things that can happen to anyone, anytime.”
Oh yes, he was most definitely a snake, slithering at the base of the tall grass rather than coming right out and saying what he wanted.
“It’s time to tell Rosie what the hell you want.” Gideon didn’t succeed in completely holding back his growl. Hell, the guy was lucky he hadn’t already torn him in two.
Findley ignored Gideon. “Perhaps we should meet alone, Rosie. We haven’t talked about your art. You know how much I always wanted to help further your career.”
“You never wanted to help her.” Now that the gloves were off, Gideon couldn’t keep his fury inside. “Only yourself.”
Though Gideon could see Archie’s skin pale slightly at the thought of a skirmish with someone so much bigger than himself, the man still didn’t back off. “Ah, it sounds like Rosie has been telling stories. Only, I have to wonder if she’s told you everything, the real story, the one only she and I know.”
Gideon knew Findley was baiting him. He wanted Gideon to walk out of here and start questioning Rosie. He wanted to drive a wedge between them. What a fool her ex was not to realize that would never happen. Clearly, he’d never understood Rosie at all.
Before Gideon could reply, Rosie spoke. “You are the one who doesn’t know the real story, Archie. And no, we won’t be meeting again, alone or otherwise. Because now that I know exactly what you want, I promise you that you’re never going to get it.”
Then she stood, looped her arm through Gideon’s, and walked with him to the door.
* * *
Rosie’s stomach twisted with the nerves she’d done her darnedest not to show to her ex. “Do you think he can do any of that? Get me fired? Get me thrown out of my cottage? Ruin my credit?”
“Hell, no.” Gideon drove like a bodyguard, his eyes front, then on the rearview mirror, then checking his sides as he kept watch for a tail. “You’ve got so many people who care about you and can help you. We’re not going to let him hurt you.” He reached out to squeeze her hand. “You did great with him, Rosie. You didn’t so much as break a sweat.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I did do great.” She still felt sick, though. “Even if I wanted to throw my water in his face.”
“Yeah, well, I wanted to punch him.”
What had she ever seen in Archibald Findley?
But she knew exactly what it was. He’d been so smooth, saying all the right things to a starry-eyed girl barely out of high school. He’d played her with such expertise, wining and dining her and telling her everything she wanted to hear, how great her art was, how beautiful and sexy she was, how smart, how mature for her age. If only she’d seen through his act back then the way she now saw through his fishing, his needling, his subtle threats.
After they pulled up outside Evan and Paige’s home, she said, “Thank you for coming with me. I’m not sure I could have been so strong if you hadn’t been there.”
“Of course you would. You are strong. Never doubt that.”
“I just wish I’d gotten more of an outright declaration of intent out of him.”
“He was never going to give you that, no matter what you said or did. He’s a snake, crawling through the grass, striking when you’re not looking. He’ll never be up front. Which is why we can’t fight him up front either. We’re going to have to be as sneaky as he is.”
“I hate being sneaky,” she said.
“I know you do. I’m sorry all of this is happening to you. But I promise, it will all be over soon. And you’ll prevail. Because there’s no way any of us are going to let scum like your ex win.”
“Thank you, Gideon.”
He’d been so wonderful during the confrontation—and so wonderful now as he worked to reassure her—that she couldn’t resist placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Last night her kiss had been full of gratitude. Today, though she was even more grateful to him for all his support, her kiss was about so much more.
And when she pulled back, his eyes were the softest baby blue.
For just a moment, she considered pulling him close again, putting her mouth on his, parting her lips, tasting him, savoring him, never letting him go.
Until the front door opened…and the moment between them broke as they both climbed out of the SUV and walked up the path.
Jorge grabbed her hand. “Aunt Paige found the coolest puzzle for us to work on. Come see.”
Noah dragged Gideon inside to look. The puzzle was of Big Ben in London, and they’d already finished putting together the outside pieces.
“I need to get some Lego kits,” Paige said. “But for now, this was all I had.”
“They love it,” Rosie told her. And then to Jorge, “You two have done a really great job with this puzzle. I’m so impressed.”
“Got a minute?” Gideon said to Evan.
“Sure.” Evan led them back into the living room, leaving the boys in the dining room with the puzzle. “How’d it go?”
Rosie paced as she gave them the rundown on Findley’s thinly veiled threats.
“I was expecting something like this.” Evan shook his head gravely, settling his glasses more firmly on his face. “I’ve got the rest of the guys prepped. I know it’s already been a long day and evening for you both, but we’d like to have a meeting ASAP to figure out the best way to
handle this creep.”
“I’m more than happy to play with the boys while you go meet with the other Mavericks,” Paige offered. “And if there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know. I made sandwiches for them a little earlier.”
“Thank you.” Rosie’s eyes welled up with her emotions, her fears, her gratitude. “I don’t know what to say other than thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“You’re one of us, Rosie.” Evan gave her the gentlest of smiles. “The Mavericks take care of their own.”
She’d been to their barbecues, their pool parties, their holidays, their homes. But she’d never dared to call herself one of them. She was Ari’s friend, that was all.
What she hadn’t counted on was how big their hearts were.
With Gideon’s being the biggest of all.
“Thank you,” she said, her appreciation heartfelt. “Let me just say good-bye to the kids and tell them I’ll be back soon.” She didn’t like leaving Jorge again when she’d only just returned. But there was no choice. She had to talk with the Mavericks, had to find a way to stop Archie. “Boys,” she called.
“Is it time to go?” There was something almost anxious in Jorge’s voice as he scrambled off his chair and raced toward her, Noah close on his heels.
Then somehow, Jorge’s feet got tangled—whether it was his shoelace or Noah’s foot, she couldn’t tell—and he went down with a thunk.
He was a tough little guy and usually he bounced right up as if he’d never fallen. But this time Jorge started to cry. Rosie was there in a moment to grab him up in her arms. “You’re fine, sweetheart.” She ran her hands over his legs, then stood him up on his own. “See? Nothing broken. You’re fine, everything’s okay.” She kissed his tear-streaked face. “I’m going to go out for a little while, then we’ll get you home for a story and bed, okay? I know it’s been a really long day.”
She said the words as much for Gideon and Noah, who stood beside them, as she did for Jorge. As though she needed to calm them all, ease their tension.