by Amy Ayers
She was beautiful, but that had no bearing on her selection, and Marco knew he could find female companionship elsewhere. He wouldn’t be pursuing Ms. Callas socially.
But, as is sure to happen when the best of intentions have been announced, circumstances change. It wasn’t until the spring that they began spending more time together. Marco was doing some much-needed client management when he realized he needed a smart, organized, fully capable associate. Senna, eager to learn, would be perfect.
Her close proximity during client meetings and late-night strategy sessions fostered a most damnable consequence. He wanted her. He shouldn’t. He didn’t sleep with employees, and certainly not young doe-eyed college interns. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to. And if he was being honest, she was less doe-eyed innocent and more burgeoning professional.
Every brushed shoulder or whispered comment during a meeting was exquisite foreplay. It got so intense he would feel himself thicken and harden any time she entered a room. He had no control over his body in her presence. None. And it was maddening.
But that last night. The private dinner in the executive dining room with all the interns and his executives was the easiest of seductions, the kind neither party saw coming. He’d taken her up to his private rooftop that was attached to a small loft apartment he used only when he was too tired to actually leave work and go home. He never brought women there. That was what hotels were for. And since he didn’t sleep with employees, he’d never had to test that unspoken rule.
But he took Senna there. He peeled off her sexy black cocktail dress, divested her of her lacy black barely there lingerie, and finally gave in to his aching desire. They both did. He worshiped her curves and sampled all the delights her body held for him. He took her quickly that night, at first, unable to restrain himself. But after the first time, he’d spent the rest of the night enjoying her slowly, savoring her scent, her softness, again and again.
The memories of that night were always easy to recall. Something had shifted in him after that. Something that made him question his current course. And that feeling haunted him.
“Mr. Medina, your appointment is here.” A voice announced.
“Send her in, Cora.”
The double doors to his suite opened, and Senna appeared pushing a small baby carriage. She looked fairly put together, and Marco appreciated her efforts to look businesslike. What they were embarking on was a business arrangement, after all, wasn’t it? Plus, he’d seen enough of her assets last night to know her body was as lush as it was before.
“Hello, Marco. I assume you want to meet your son…finally?” Her voice was brittle and laced with angry undertones.
He wrenched his gaze from Senna’s turbulent face and settled on the dark-haired baby nestled in the stroller.
That’s my son. His mouth was suddenly dry like he’d swallowed a mouthful of fine Florida sand.
He’d seen pictures. His security team had sent him several different shots. But seeing them while sitting in his family’s ancestral estate in Spain with an entire ocean between them was one thing. Watching his son now as he absently reached for his toes and babbled softly to himself was an emotional punch he wasn’t quite prepared for.
“Princesa, how kind of you to come. We have much to discuss.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was low, and her body tensed like an animal waiting to pounce.
“I don’t remember you being so…disagreeable.” He kept his tone light at first, but darkness won out. He took a step toward her. “Are you really that surprised that I would come for him?”
She blanched but stood her ground. She clutched the handles of the stroller tighter. “You have no right—”
“No right? You hide your pregnancy and keep my son from me and I have no rights? Senna, you’re smarter than that.”
“What do you mean I kept him from you?” Her eyes clouded with confusion. It threw him off, but he kept going.
“Just what I said. I had to find out from people who work for me, that I fathered a child. Were you purposely trying to make me look foolish or was that just a bonus?”
“You need to stop with the accusations, Marco.” She maneuvered the stroller so it rested by his large leather couch. Then she turned to face him. “You went to Spain. You were off the grid. It’s not like I could come to your office with a positive pregnancy test and announce it.”
Senna continued. “But I sent emails, texts, voicemails. I tried social media, snail mail. Begging you to call me. That I had very important news and I needed to reach you immediately.” Her words dripped with sincerity, and her face was heated.
“Nice try, Senna, but I’m not the pope. I’m easier to get a hold of than that.” But a seed of doubt landed in his belly and began to take root. Could she be telling the truth? Would it change the course of things if she was? No. His family had set these plans in motion before he’d been old enough to understand them. There would be no going back now.
She shook her head back and forth with so much vigor he thought she might hurt herself. “No, no, NO! You don’t get to play the ‘I didn’t know’ card. Uh-uh, not possible.”
She inched closer to him with small measured steps. Marco had never seen the look on her face. It was controlled rage, the face of a woman scorned, and it was genuine. There was no guile there, no grandstanding, just pure emotion. She was hurt. She was enraged.
“Did you even ask your staff? I left a dozen messages with Cora. I left messages with Brynn.”
She was pacing back and forth, shooting him withering looks each time she changed direction. “I came here in person to find you. Did Marcellus, your own brother, mention running into me here? How I begged for your contact information so we could talk? I was five months pregnant at the time; he had to have known.”
Marco’s mind was reeling. If she was telling the truth, and her emphatic and earnest retelling of events grudgingly led him to believe she was, how could his staff not follow through with him? He did remember Marcellus noting that he had run into Senna later that summer but that was it, no more details than that.
Brynn never mentioned anything. That fact rankled him. He had a feeling he knew why she had been silent.
“Senna, I had no idea.” He wracked his brain reliving the previous year at his family home.
The large compound in the country at times felt like another world. He’d had plenty to keep him busy. The life of a Medina son, especially a firstborn son, was not truly his alone. Business demands, social gatherings, political meetings were all priorities, and he had little time of his own.
Plus, family duties required his presence at the estate. A surprise stroke relegated his formerly healthy and robust father to bed and essentially turned him into a child. He had to be fed, cared for in every way. Marco and his mother had hired the best nurses, but Massimo was a proud man; he wanted his sons close, and Marco had been happy to oblige him.
Marco’s life was completely consumed with helping nurse his father back to health while trying to keep Medina Enterprises growing and profitable. It was possible that he’d been completely blind to everything else—like a communication attempt from a former lover.
When he was done with a woman, well, he was done. He sent them on their way with a trinket or a bauble and that was it. He never gave women the impression he was available in any way other than sexually. His future bride had been chosen for him when he was still a toddler. He took advantage of his freedom now, but his arranged marriage was looming, along with his thirtieth birthday.
His night with Senna, while exquisite, could never have yielded any type of a long-term commitment. Even if he had wanted more. None of that matters now.
“Marco,” Senna’s voice was low but imploring. “I put your name on his birth certificate for a reason. I never wanted to hide from you or keep you from him in any way. I want his father present in his life.”
They were closer now, no more than arms’ length. He could smell her clean sc
ent, coupled with her slightly floral musk, that was pure Senna. The fight seemed to have gone out of her, or at least enough pressure had been siphoned off to allow her to be civil. He’d forgotten how her mercurial moods could be so charming.
“Do you want to meet him?”
It took a moment for the irony to hit him. Here they were arguing over the baby like he was a prize to be won, a trophy to display, and the real issue was that his son was six months old, and he had yet to hold him.
Hoarsely he managed, “Yes. Yes, please.” The gravity of the moment threatened to overwhelm him.
Senna walked over to the stroller and unbuckled the baby. Marco was clueless when it came to the equipment a baby needed. He’d asked JP to have a car seat installed before he picked them up, and he was proud of himself for even thinking of that. Marco’s stomach did a slow, rolling flip as he watched her lift the baby to her shoulder.
“Sit.”
Marco obeyed the soft command automatically and sat on the couch. Gone was the aggressive magnate looking to catch Senna in a lie. In his place was a man, a man completely terrified of the squirming bundle Senna was getting ready to hand over to him.
“This is Max.” She kissed the baby’s cheek softly then handed him over to Marco’s open arms. He took him and froze. He looked at the baby’s chubby face and saw his own honey brown eyes looking right at him. His connection to him was instant, pure. “You can sit him on your lap if you like. His head is strong enough.” Currently he was holding him at arms’ length, the same way you’d hold a bag of particularly odiferous garbage. He couldn’t quite seem to move.
“Here, let me help.” Senna settled Max onto Marco’s lap and then arranged Marco’s embrace so he was holding the baby securely. He just sat there and stared into the baby’s eyes. His eyes.
Max stared back, looking at Marco like he wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable on his lap. Instinctually Marco reached down and kissed Max gently on the head. The baby perked up, looked up directly into Marco’s gaze and giggled.
“Oh you liked that, eh guapa? Well, get used to it. My father kissed me all the time. Kisses aren’t reserved just for Mami, reyecito.”
Max laughed again, this time clapping his hands in approval.
“Senna, he’s so beautiful.” He tore his gaze from his son’s face and looked at Senna once more.
She smiled, completely softening her features and lighting up her beautiful green eyes. “I know, he’s perfect, isn’t he? And he’s such a good baby. He’s rarely fussy, he’s just…happy. This would have been so much harder if he had been a difficult baby.”
Marco winced. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Senna going through all of this alone. He still couldn’t quite let go of the idea that she had kept him from his child, but now that Max was here, sitting on his lap and happily sucking on his tie, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had gotten things wrong.
“I’m sorry you have been doing this all on your own. I wish I had found out sooner.”
“Thank you, Marco,” She reached into the stroller and produced a small stuffed lamb. Squealing with delight, Max grabbed it and brought it right to his mouth.
“Marco, meet Lambie. I know, I know, not the most creative name. But he’s Max’s most prized possession, so you need to make his acquaintance.”
He took the small stuffed toy and bussed Max’s face with it, eliciting the most precious laugh. “I suppose there are a lot of things I need to get familiar with.”
Happy baby gurgling and cooing was the only sound echoing through the sterile office space. It was musical light, completely innocent and genuine. It felt right to be sitting there, just the three of them, like a timeless, holy trinity. He didn’t want to break the spell, but he needed to, he needed to tell Senna what was happening next. He’d already put the wheels in motion, and there was no going back.
Chapter Three
As sweet as it was watching Marco bond with Max, she needed answers. It was why she agreed to come.
“I’m confused, Marco. If you didn’t hear about Max from me, how exactly did you find out?”
“My security team, actually. And my lawyers. It seems the Florida Family Courts suddenly wanted my financial records. When my teams investigated they discovered my name on Max’s birth certificate.”
Senna nodded. That made sense. “I was trying to get some state services, health insurance for Max, subsidized childcare. I put your name as father on all the forms.” She paused. “Since I wasn’t receiving any child support they must have tried to track you down.” She didn’t really intend for her words to be accusatory, but it was the truth.
The whole process of trying to get any type of aid was fairly dehumanizing. She couldn’t afford a lawyer so she had bumbled through it herself, cursing Marco at every opportunity.
“I never got it, by the way, the aid.” She reached down and smoothed out the wrinkles in her cheap, thrift store skirt.
Marco’s expression grew stony. “Yes. My team found his health records at that free clinic.” He said the words “free clinic” with the same derision as he would say “filthy fleapit.”
“We can do a paternity test. I know you’ll want to do that.” Senna watched as his grip tightened around Max almost imperceptibly.
“It’s not necessary.”
“Well, it’s not necessary for me. I know you’re Max’s father. But it would probably be good just to get one on file.”
“There’s a test already on file. Would you like a copy? I can have someone send it to you.”
Senna blinked. How had he managed that?
She straightened up and leaned closer. Her voice lowered and she laid a protective hand on Max’s chubby leg. He rewarded her by blowing spit bubbles her way. “Marco, you better tell me right now what you’re talking about.”
“My security team was able to obtain a sample while your roommate was at the park with Max.” His voice was almost detached, like he was commenting on the weather.
“Abby let some stranger swab my son? No, not possible.” Senna began to shake, and her hand tightened around Max’s leg. The idea of someone being close enough to Max to touch him without her knowledge made her nauseous.
“Nobody swabbed Max. Even I didn’t want my investigators to touch him without your permission. But one of them may have taken one of his pacifiers from his stroller when Abby wasn’t looking.” His blithe words made it sound like he was recounting an uneventful cocktail party. “He was perfectly safe the whole time.”
A fierce flame of anger ignited in her belly. She’d experienced a few protective “mamma bear” moments since Max was born, but his casual indifference was galling. “And you just did this. You didn’t think about consulting me? Or, I don’t know, picking up the phone and calling me?”
“Senna, you worked here for how long, almost a year? You should know that the Medinas find a way to get what they want. I’d advise you to remember that.”
Gone was the sweet new father charm that had played out over his masculine features. Now his eyes were hard, probing, daring her to challenge him back. Senna knew he didn’t like having his actions questioned, but she had no desire to play the role of compliant subordinate.
She stood quickly. “Give me my son. We’re leaving.”
“No, you’re not. Sit down.” Marco made no move to stand, and he held Max even tighter in his grip.
“You can’t do things like that, Marco. This isn’t your village back home where you control everything around you because that’s the way the Medinas have done it for centuries. I won’t let you roll in here and take over. It’s not going to happen. So give me my baby; we’ll be in touch.” How did this get out of control so fast?
“I have no intention of letting you or Max go anywhere.”
“What are you going to do? Lock us in some ancient castle in the Catalonian countryside? Is that what it means to be the mother of your child? No more free will?”
“He’s not just your son,
or even our son. He’s part of a lineage, a birthright that demands certain behavior. Any Medina heir should be raised knowing our place in the world and the responsibility we have to the men, women, and children of Barcelona and Girona.”
Senna watched as Max tried valiantly to detach the probably solid gold links from the cuffs of what was certainly a custom shirt.
“That’s an incredible amount of pressure to put on yourself…and on a baby.”
His voice hardened again. “Max is a Medina. He’s the firstborn of a firstborn. He will fulfill his duties. That’s the way it’s been done for centuries.”
“It sounds like a prison sentence. What if he wants to be a doctor or a rock star or something?”
Marco’s laugh was harsh. “Firstborn sons don’t get to have dreams, princesa.”
She glanced at Max playing happily in his father’s lap, his big, expressive brown eyes taking in all the shiny newness that was Marco. So precious and innocent. Then the doubt hit her like a vicious punch. What have I sentenced him to?
“It’s not all bad, Senna. I love what I do, and I think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Yes, but if you had a choice, would this have been it?”
“I don’t know. Probably. I mean, I think every little boy has dreams of growing up and fighting fires or flying fighter jets.” His smile was thin.
She sighed. “I wanted to train dolphins at SeaWorld. So I get it. Plans change. Life happens.”
“For a Medina the plan is set. And it’s an honor and a privilege. Max will grow to see that one day.”
“Just like you have?”
“Yes.” His answer was firm, resolute.
He finally stood up to face her, but he didn’t relinquish the baby. His features were fixed and stony. His eyes flashed with fire, his words tumbled out low and foreboding.
“Senna, I want Max to meet his family in Girona.”