Baby for the Billionaire

by Maxine Sullivan

  She swallowed the thick ache that misery had lodged in her throat.

  “This is all about Dana.”

  Her voice came out all wrong. Instead of sounding cool and composed, it was an accusatory croak.

  “Dana?” He did a wonderful job of looking totally blank.

  “Yes, Dana.” So he was going to make her spell it out. “Dana, who used to work with you, who used to share your bed—”

  “I know who Dana is,” he cut in impatiently, putting his hands on his hips and managing to look even more intimidating than ever. “But I fail to see what she has to do with this discussion.”

  “Everything!” Couldn’t he see it? It was so obvious. “She got married last week.”

  “Yes, I know Dana got married. So what?”

  Somehow Victoria didn’t think he’d appreciate her telling him he was still hung up on his ex. Especially if he was desperately denying that truth to himself.

  Denial was a terrible thing. Ask her, she knew all about that. She’d been telling herself for two years that she disliked Connor, despised him, that he was the most arrogant jerk she’d ever met. When the truth was so much more shameful. She wanted him, she craved him, she’d been wanting to crawl into his bed and do exactly what they had the night of Dana’s wedding.

  And she’d reveled in every minute of it.

  But she wasn’t telling him her sordid little secret. “You only married me to get back at Dana.”

  “That’s utter rubbish.” His eyes had started to blaze with unfamiliar emotion.

  She drew a shaky breath. “It’s not rubbish—”

  “It’s crap.” He glared down at her. “We got married because of Dylan. You’re making it sound like I’m still hung up on Dana—I’m not.”

  Maybe she was over-reacting.

  According to the newspaper article, he had known Dana and Paul were getting married. No argument there. Victoria tried desperately to regroup her thoughts.

  His eyes snapped with fury, and it took all Victoria’s determination to carry on with him towering above her like a dark lord full of fury and wrath. But she had to—if she wanted any chance at keeping Dylan.

  “But knowing that they were getting married is different from living with the reality of Dana wedded to Paul.” If his love for Dana was anything like the unfurling love she’d discovered for him, that would have been terribly painful. “It took her out of your life permanently. I can understand—”

  He edged closer, knee to knee with her now.

  “You understand nothing!”

  “I can understand,” Victoria continued as though he’d never interrupted so rudely, “that you wanted to get back at her. And what better way than by going through with our wedding?”

  To Victoria’s dismay, he didn’t deny it.

  After a long moment, she said, “Clearly you’ve since decided that our marriage isn’t what you want.” Because Connor loved Dana.

  When he finally spoke again his voice was icier than she’d ever heard it. “Spare me the psychobabble. The issue here is not Dana, it’s your commitment to Dylan.”

  Her commitment to Dylan was not in question; he was her child, for heaven’s sake. And it was time Connor learned that.

  “You don’t want to be married to me because I’m not Dana. I can understand that. But you need to understand that I’m not giving Dylan up. He’s—”

  “I’m not going to give you a choice, Victoria.”

  “You have to,” she said with grim satisfaction. “I’m coguardian, joint custodian, and I’m—”

  “And I am Dylan’s biological father!”

  Horror struck, she leaped to her feet. They stood face-to-face, both breathing raggedly.

  “You’re Dylan’s father?”

  He nodded.

  “You can’t be! Michael is his father.”

  She wanted to howl. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Dylan couldn’t be Connor’s baby.

  Not with everything the way it was between them. The way it had always been, right from that very first meeting when she’d wanted him after one look and he couldn’t even remember her darn name. They could not possibly have created together the perfect being that was Dylan.

  It was too cruel to be true.

  “I’m his biological father. It’s my seed that gave him life. And I will do whatever I can to protect him. He’s my son.”

  Just the sound of that possessive claim knocked the bottom out of her world.

  Victoria put her fingers to her throbbing temples.

  She wasn’t giving up her baby. Connor was going to have a fight on his hands like he’d never seen before. The fight for his company against Dana and Paul would be nothing compared to the war she would wage.

  She flung her head back, and their gazes locked. “Even if that means throwing out his mother? Yes, I donated the egg that Suzy carried in her body. That makes him part of me. What do you think Dylan will think when he learns about that when he’s older?”

  Connor’s eyes had turned to slits of dark ice. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why should I lie? It wouldn’t get me anywhere.” She stood toe-to-toe with him. If she let him win this battle it would be over. She had to convince him. “I can produce the donor agreement to prove that I’m his mother. And you’re not kicking me out of my son’s life because you’ve realized you can’t get over your worthless lover.”

  Under her shock and the growing anger there was hurt that he thought her so unworthy of motherhood. But she was dammed if she would let him see how much she cared.

  “I’m not in love with Dana,” he said into the hush that had fallen.

  She studied him, looking for signs of subterfuge. “You don’t need to pretend with me.”

  He grimaced. “I’m not pretending. I got over her a while ago. And it’s been surprising to learn how many people think I’ve had a lucky escape.”

  A feeling of immense relief fell over her. If he wasn’t in love with Dana, and if they were both Dylan’s parents, then there was no reason for him to push her away.

  Except that he felt she hadn’t been a very good mother.…

  Victoria sank back onto the couch and dropped her head in her hands. “Dylan is more important to me than anything in the world.” Half-fearful of what expression she’d find, she parted her fingers and gazed up at Connor through the gaps.

  The cushion lowered as he dropped down beside her. “But what about your job? That’s always been your number-one priority.” His face was stern, but at least he was listening.

  “I love my work, Connor.”

  How could she explain to him that her work was her security blanket? The thing in life that made her feel worthwhile. He’d think her a total nut.

  So instead, she said, “Don’t push me out of Dylan’s life. He’s all I have left of Suzy and he’s the only child I’ll ever have.”

  “You should have told me sooner.”

  “I considered it. But I promised Suzy that I wouldn’t tell anyone. I finally convinced myself that you should know. But I couldn’t find a way to tell you. What stopped you telling me?”

  He shook his head. “At first there was just so much to cope with, I honestly never considered it. Then once you moved in I thought that you were already so stressed that I might take Dylan away from you, that if you knew he was my son you would become even more anxious. I wanted you to settle down a bit before I told you.”

  “I suppose that’s why you’re kicking me out now,” she said sarcastically.

  Connor’s expression changed. “Tory—”

  Her mobile rang.

  “Leave it,” he ordered as she dropped onto her knees and rummaged in the side pocket of her laptop bag.

  Prickling at the return of his high-handed tone, she said, “I can’t. It might be important.”

  “Work, you mean.”

  She forced herself to ignore the icily sarcastic jibe and squinted at the face of her cell phone. The number was unfamiliar. And so was t
he voice that introduced itself as Juliet after she’d said hello.

  Listening in absolute silence and in growing guilt to what Juliet had to say, Victoria heard the silent screaming in her head. Please not this.

  She terminated the call and raised her gaze to Connor’s bleak visage.

  “My father has had a heart attack.”

  Connor insisted on accompanying Victoria to the hospital after waking Moni to look after Dylan. It didn’t take him long to bundle a rigid Victoria into the Maserati and head for the hospital.

  “I haven’t seen my father for three years—and I haven’t spoken to him in months.”

  Connor shot a look to Victoria where she sat curled in the passenger seat, her hair tousled and wild against the leather seat back, her eyes dull and staring.

  “The conversation ended badly the last time he called.”

  Her voice was flat and lifeless—nothing like the decisive Victoria he knew. Guilt etched deeply into her pale, drawn features. Empathy for her overwhelmed him. And he wished he could absorb the pain she must be feeling. Coming on top of the crushing shock of Suzy’s death, the news of her father’s heart attack must be a heavy blow.

  He nosed the car into the hospital’s underground car park and came around to help her out before putting a hand under her elbow and escorting her into the elevator.

  Frank Sutton was still undergoing an emergency angioplasty to open the blocked coronary artery, they were advised by an efficient nurse who sent them to the visitor’s waiting room.

  As they came through the double doors a woman with a round face and laugh lines leaped to her feet and directed a shaky, uncertain smile at them. “Victoria?”

  Victoria moved forward. “Juliet?” At the older woman’s nod she said, “Thank you for calling me.”

  “I tried your home number first, but a disconnect message gave me your cell number.” There was a hint of curiosity as Juliet’s gaze flickered from Victoria to Connor.

  “This is Connor North.” Victoria linked her hand through his elbow as she introduced him. Drawing a deep, audible breath, she added in a rush, “My husband.”

  She hadn’t found that easy to admit, Connor realized with grim humor.

  “Oh, Frank didn’t mention …” Juliet’s voice trailed away.

  “My father doesn’t know yet,” Victoria said brusquely. “Do you have any idea when I’ll be able to see him?”

  “The nurses said it would be a while.” After an uncomfortable pause Juliet said, “Frank’s been talking about you a lot over the past few weeks.”

  Tears welled up in Juliet’s eyes, and Connor read the discomfort in Victoria’s expression. She had no idea of Juliet’s role in her father’s life, he realized suddenly.

  Stepping forward, he said, “There’s a coffee dispenser in the corner. What would you each like?”

  Both women turned to him with expressions of identical relief. Thank God for coffee. It fixed everything.

  “I’ll come over and make my own.” He should’ve known that Victoria would be her usual, independent self—even in a time of crisis.

  “I’ll come, too. Oh, good, there’s hot chocolate.” Juliet rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though her skin was already too tight. “I don’t think I could face caffeine right now.”

  So he was wrong—and coffee wasn’t always the answer. Especially where human relationships were involved. Connor could only hope that the outcome this time would be happier than it had been for Michael and Suzy. For Victoria’s sake, he offered up a desperate prayer for her father to make it safely through without any further complications.

  It was three hours before they were allowed to see Frank Sutton. Although the angioplasty had been a success, Victoria was shocked at how much her father had aged since she’d last seen him.

  “You came, Victoria!” His eyes lit up as she halted beside his hospital cot.

  “Yes, I came,” she said lamely. “Juliet called me.”

  “Ah, Juliet. She’s my guardian angel.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “I started going to church,” he replied. “She was one of the first to welcome me.” He must’ve seen her shock because he added, “Hard to believe, I know.”

  His skin held a yellow cast marred with liver spots that she’d never noticed. He looked old and tired. A broken man. Nothing like the feckless, handsome man who’d ruined her mother’s life and made her childhood a battlefield. A sliver of pity pierced her heart.

  Whatever he’d done, however enraged and disappointed she’d been with him in the past for failing her, he didn’t deserve this.

  His hand inched out and closed over hers, the tightening fingers telling her without words of his fear and desperation.

  “Frank, this is Victoria’s husband, Connor North,” Juliet said from the foot of the bed.

  Frank lifted his head with a struggle. “You’re married?”

  And she’d never told him.

  It hung between them, yet another recrimination.

  Victoria nodded miserably. Connor had been right. She should have invited her father to the wedding, despite their differences.

  “Remember my friend Suzy?”

  “Of course I remember Suzy. I was sometimes home through the years.” His mouth twisted. “Even though you and your mother probably wouldn’t believe that, not that I blame either of you,” he added as she clenched her fingers under his grip.

  “Suzy died in a car accident. Her husband was killed, too.” How to explain it? “They had a baby—”

  “Oh, poor mite,” exclaimed Juliet.

  “His name is Dylan … Connor and I were appointed his guardians—”

  “And you fell in love.” Juliet wore a dreamy expression, and Victoria didn’t have the heart to disillusion her.

  She searched for something to say that wouldn’t make their marriage sound like a cold, convenient arrangement.

  Juliet took Frank’s other hand. “Your father has been wanting to call you. He’s got something to ask you.” A smile lit up her cheerful round face, and Victoria found herself warming more and more to the other woman. She had a brisk lightheartedness that was contagious.

  “Juliet wants us to get married.” Her father’s eyes were oddly anxious as he waited for her response.

  What did he expect her to do? Refuse permission? She would never do that. Even though she believed Juliet ought to be warned what she was getting herself into.

  But it wasn’t apprehension that lurked in his eyes. It was something infinitely more basic.…

  Her father wanted her approval.

  Deep within her something gave. He’d never sought her approval before.

  “That’s wonderful,” she said. “When will the wedding be?”

  The lines around his eyes eased fractionally. “I’ve still got to propose. Maybe Juliet won’t have me.”

  “It’s been difficult enough to get you to this point, so I’m hardly likely to bolt now.” Despite her tart tone, Juliet’s eyes overflowed with emotion, tears not far away. “You silly, stubborn man. You had to almost die before you saw sense. Now you’d better hurry up and ask.”

  “Worried I might croak?”

  “Don’t joke about dying.” Juliet gave a visible shiver then leaned across the bed and brushed her lips across his furrowed brow. “There’s nothing remotely funny about it.”

  “You could do so much better, my dear,” Frank whispered and Victoria’s own eyes grew dewy.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, honey.” Juliet straightened. “Now hurry up, before the nurse comes back and chases us all out. I’ve got witnesses now, so you won’t be able to back out later.”

  Victoria exchanged looks with Connor—his eyes were gleaming with humor.

  “Juliet, my dear, I’ve wasted a lot of time because I was afraid I’d let you down. I’m certainly no Romeo, but you will bring light to my life if you marry me.”

  A funny sensation shot through Victoria.

  Jul
iet loved her father. The emotion in her glowing eyes was unmistakable as she gazed at Frank. But Victoria’s stomach hollowed out at the certainty that Juliet was heading for heartbreak.

  Her father wasn’t capable of living up to anyone’s love. He’d even admitted that he hadn’t wanted to propose because he knew he would let Juliet down.

  Yet before she could protest she heard Juliet reply, “Of course I’ll marry you, Frank. Tomorrow if you wish. You only ever had to ask.”

  Twelve

  It was midnight by the time Connor pushed open the front door. The coolness of the night had already settled like a blanket over the house. As they crossed the darkened entrance hall, Victoria finally broke the silence that had clung to her like a heavy pall on the way home.

  “You were right,” she said listlessly, “I should’ve invited him—them—to the wedding.”

  “Victoria, you couldn’t have known—”

  “He called me. He wanted to see me more often. I told him I didn’t believe we could sustain a relationship.” She glanced at Connor. “I was afraid, in case he walked away like he’d always done.”

  “You think he’s going to let Juliet down, too, don’t you?”

  She spread her hands. “I hope not. But I don’t know. He doesn’t have a good track record at staying—or being responsible. But to be fair, my mother didn’t try very hard either. She just gave up. I thought that was what loving someone meant. Pain and unhappiness.”

  “Don’t underestimate Juliet. There’s toughness under that merry cheerfulness.”

  “She’d better be made of steel to survive my father.”

  There was no bitterness. It was what she genuinely believed. He considered her. “Frank was a bad father.”

  “Yes. Between him and my mother, I was determined never to have to rely on someone for money or love. But I don’t think they ever loved each other—they got married because of me.”

  Was that why she was so desperate to be successful? Connor wondered. Or was it independence rather than success that she craved? That rang more true. If she could take care of herself, she wouldn’t need to be reliant on a father … or a husband. Suddenly a lot made sense.