by Maggie Marr
His father.
Aubrey pressed her fingers along Max’s forehead and brushed his black hair back from his face. He looked very similar to his father. She could already see Max’s face taking on the same shape, the same contours, the same hints of those Travati good looks. Good looks that had ruined her good judgment and caused her to make what she’d thought at the time was the worst decision of her life, but in retrospect had turned out to be the biggest gift of her existence.
“Max,” she whispered. She leaned forward and gently stroked the back of her finger down his cheek. “Max, you need to wake up, sweet boy. You have to go to bed.”
His thick black eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened.
Her heart jolted.
There staring at her, from her son’s face, were Justin Travati’s eyes.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine.” Aubrey cleared her throat and forced a small smile onto her face. “It’s late, baby, you need to get to bed. We’ve got a lot to get packed up tomorrow.”
Max’s brows crinkled over his father’s eyes. “Right.” A pause hovered around him. He had more to say; a question hovered near the corners of his mouth.
“What is it?”
“What if I don’t like camp?”
Aubrey smiled. She had to smile. Max had begged to attend Camp Willow with his friends this summer after hearing of their exploits last summer and then hearing from his very own Aunt Nina how much fun she’d had at Camp Willow.
“Then you’ll come home. If you don’t like it, then I’ll come get you.”
He turned his head away and then looked back. Again she knew there was a question, a worry, something he needed to say, to tell her.
She brushed her fingertips along the edge of his hair. They had much to discuss, but now wasn’t the time. “You okay?”
He nodded, sat up, and stood. She stood beside him. Max’s head would soon be even with hers if she were in her bare feet. Soon, very soon, way too soon for her, he would surpass her height. He had just finished middle school, with high school beginning in the fall. He was no longer her little boy.
A boy needs his father.
The words flew through her mind, unbidden and unwelcome, and yet there they were. An idea that she believed to be the truth, perhaps the very reason Max had chosen to go to Dad this time with his questions and not her.
The more she’d considered what Max had done, the more her heart had broken. He’d come to her before, but he’d not trusted that she would tell him the truth because she never had. She’d merely dodged and weaved through his questions, employing the tactics of misdirection and evasiveness.
“Let’s get to bed.” She placed her arm on her son’s shoulders and wove through the furniture and the main part of the house to the door that led to their private quarters. Once they were in Max’s room, Scout circled and fell with a satisfied groan onto his bed. Max crawled into his own bed, and Aubrey tucked him beneath a light blanket. She relished these moments and realized they would grow more and more infrequent. Soon, not long from now, he’d tell her to stop tucking him in. Even now she could only get away with this maternal endeavor when he was half-asleep and it was late in the evening.
She bent forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She pulled back and his eyes, those eyes of his father, gazed at her. A question, a thought, seemed to linger deep within his expression.
“Mom? There’s something … I mean, I need to tell you something.”
“I know, sweetie, but it’s late. I promise we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
He nodded and his eyes fluttered closed. The conversation she’d dreaded having was about to happen. Once she told him … Once she let him know that he was the only living heir to one of the world’s biggest fortunes, what would happen then? Would she lose her son? Would he become a true Travati, bent on pleasure and self-destructive tendencies? Wanting to taste every delight life had to offer? Would he leave her and Rockwater Farms and their quiet, provincial existence far far behind? How could she protect him, how could she prevent his leaving? But he already knew … he knew some of what he was, because of Dad. Again she took one long look at her son, her one and only son, who for one more night, one final time, was her one and only, belonging to no one else, her little baby boy.
*
Justin was always prepared. Preparedness had made him hundreds of millions of dollars, which in turn had made his family billionaires. He wouldn’t arrive in Hudson, Kansas, unprepared. To do so would be negligence. He scrolled through photos that Roger, the head of security for Travati Finance, had sent to his tablet.
“What you’re saying is, the dates match up?” His gaze landed on a photo of a boy.
His breath stalled in his lungs and his nostrils flared. This picture, this child, aside from one feature, looked identical to him. The green eyes. The green eyes of his mother.
An acid combination of rage mixed with pain pulsed through Justin’s chest. Aubrey had kept him from his one living heir. She had become pregnant and swept away his son, had hidden this child from him. Why? What kind of monster did she suppose him to be?
“The sister is a world-class chef. Struggles with some anger issues and got tossed from a number of top-ranked kitchens around the world before she and Aubrey started The Red Barn at Rockwater Farms.”
Justin pulled the digital image of his son into the upper right corner of the screen and continued to scroll through the pictures of Rockwater Farms. He was an urbanite but could appreciate the beauty of Rockwater. A small organic farm nestled on the side of a hill, made lush green by the river that ran through their property.
“Financials?” Justin asked. Through years of business acquisitions, he’d learned that many things could be determined about a person based on their financials. Their desires, what was truly important to them, what they wanted most from life, all could be discovered by what they spent their money on.
“Last page.”
He scrolled and perused what was highly detailed and personal information about Rockwater and Aubrey and Nina and Roy. Information he would never ask Roger where he’d gotten it from or how.
“Making a slight profit this year but running very close to the line. Capitalization is good. Looks as though Miss Hayes remains as risk intolerant as she was when she worked for me.” Justin scrolled to the next page. “Any substantial relationships?”
His feelings were confused. This cocktail of anger mixed with jealousy and desire with hints of melancholy was hard for him to choke down.
“No, sir.” Roger shook his head. “Maybe a date here and there over the past few years, but nothing serious, nothing substantial. It would seem that the only men in Miss Hayes’s life are her father and her son.”
Justin set the tablet on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Sounds like Aubrey.”
Fury flashed through him. Stubborn. Myopic. Risk adverse. Hardheaded. She’d been everything in a woman that as a younger man he’d found off-putting. How might his life have been different if he’d chased after Aubrey? If he’d not been so consumed by his ego, hurt by her leaving, and instead of licking his wounds, gone after her? They might be a family now. Together. The three of them. There might have even been a second child or a third, since their one-night affair had happened before his prognosis.
Such. A. Fool. He’d misplayed the potential relationship with Aubrey. Perhaps the worst play of his life. And now? His gaze trailed across his desk to his tablet where the picture of Maxwell Travati stared back at him. A boy. His son. The first, and so far only, member of the next generation of Travatis.
He fought the anger that thumped through his chest because of the years lost to him and his son. If Max was his son—of course there must be a blood test and official documents. Justin certainly doubted Aubrey had included his name on the birth certificate, but if Justin was a betting man, and he often was often a betting man who won big, he’d say the e-mail was true. He knew simply by looking at the face of thi
s boy that Max was, in fact, his one and only son.
Justin pressed the button on his phone. “Liza, you’ve taken care of the reservations for tonight?”
“I have, sir. It took some doing—you know they’re booked three months in advance. They don’t usually take new guests on short notice. I had to call the Times food critic to get you a reservation.”
Whatever strings needed to be pulled. “Which seating?”
“The nine p.m.”
Justin looked at Roger, who sat across from his desk. “You have my orders with regards to the boy,” Justin said. “I’ll let you know when I need you to move in.”
Roger nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ll be ready when you are.”
“Thank you.” Roger stood and exited Justin’s office. It was good to have money, lots and lots of money, because when people took things that belonged to you, stole things that were yours, there was always a way to make certain those things were returned.
Chapter 3
“Mo-o-om, stop it!” Max ducked his head and weaved away from his mother.
“I simply want to see if this sweatshirt fits.”
“Okay, whatever. Mom? Come on, just let me do it by myself.” Max’s gaze went from her to his bedroom door as he, ever so politely for a fourteen-year-old boy, told his mother to give him space.
“Fine! Fine!” Aubrey threw up both her hands in surrender. She needed to learn what battles to wage and when to surrender. But when, exactly, had her caring for Max become a battleground? Hadn’t she always been the one tasked with making certain his clothes fit? That he was warm and fed and well tended? Now he was wresting away from her all the responsibilities she’d not only diligently performed but had dedicated her life to performing well. Talk about a transition! No wonder adolescence was such a battle. It was the moment the mommy-expert surrendered to her child, and what a tough surrender that was.
“You need to find two sweatshirts that fit and are clean.” Now she stood at his door and glanced around his room, the state of which deteriorated with each passing day. And that smell! What was that funky smell that came with adolescent boys?
“Okay, Mom.” Max stood there with a defiant set to his shoulders, waiting.
Waiting for her to leave.
A tiny crack slivered through her heart. He used to run toward her, arms outstretched, little legs churning as fast as they could, and she’d tried desperately not to take those moments for granted, but she had. A few she’d even tossed aside, needing to work or think or balance books or make orders. A tragedy. She took one more peek at Max, his back to her as he pulled his shirt over his head, and she closed the door.
“I’m going down to see Aunt Nina at The Barn,” she called through the door. “We’ll leave in forty-five minutes.”
A grunt came from Max’s room. She assumed it was a yes or some sort of acknowledgement that he’d heard what she’d said. She walked through the house and out the side door of the farmhouse.
Scents of fresh grass and water-laden air filled her lungs. She took a deep, long breath. Work. She needed work to keep herself busy and focused and not obsessing over the conversation that, since breakfast this morning, she’d failed to have with Max about his father. The fact that Max was leaving for fifteen days only heightened her anxiety. She trod across the limestone path to the back of the restaurant.
The conversation wouldn’t wait. Not now. Not after Max had gone to his grandfather for details. They’d have nearly two hours in the car together to Camp Willow. That would be the perfect time, right? The time to answer questions. Spill the details. Tell Max about the Travati side of his family.
Her fingertips tingled and a sweat cooled her brow. She didn’t want to tell Max about his father or his uncles. That world … that world was too sharp and filled with teeth. Sharks circling and ripping and taking so much more than their fair share. No. She’d hoped he would enjoy an existence here at Rockwater Farms, or close to here. A quiet, lovely life, filled with family and friends and food and joy instead of the fast-paced, elbow-slugging, gladiator blood sport of business that his uncles and father lived for.
She’d witnessed their bloody battles firsthand. Watched it from the inside. Travati Finance had been her first job when she finished her MBA. Her stomach had churned at the business decisions the Travati brothers made for their own benefit. But her job was one of the most sought-after jobs in the world. At twenty-four, how could she have possibly turned her back on that opportunity?
She couldn’t.
Then there had been Justin Travati. A glorious-looking man with dark skin, golden eyes, and black hair. Power and stoicism in a package of well-heeled wealth. Her stomach clutched with the memory of his touch, but fear trailed a narrow line just beside desire. He was sexual and sensual. A man filled with a passionate need but also a fire that consumed everything in his path. There was no middle ground for Justin Travati, only consumption and the taking of anything he wanted.
He hadn’t pursued her. They’d both ignored the flames that danced between them when she worked by his side. For twelve months, the two of them skirted around the attraction that clung to them. Until one fantastic night … a night that was worth a lifetime. Because to be honest, there’d not been another night after Justin. Not one.
Instead, there was Max. Her Max. Her son, her baby whom she adored but whom she’d lived in fear would be taken from her by the Travatis should they ever learn of Max’s existence.
“Hey, sis.” Nina stood just inside the kitchen, her cooks busy with prep while she studied the seating chart and the list of guests for tonight. “We’re full for both seatings, plus we have a last-minute add. Solo diner. Times critic called to get them in.”
Aubrey glanced at the chart of the dining room that lay on the counter. “That’s a good thing. Maybe a critic or a food writer. Especially if the Times called to get them a spot.” She scanned the menu. Nearly every item came from their own stock at Rockwater Farms. The beef was raised here, the pork, the lamb, the chicken. The cheeses were made in-house. The bread. The fruits and vegetables from their own outdoor garden and greenhouse. They’d created a business of which they were proud. Now if she could just get the business to be consistent. They were still up and down and trying to pay off start-up costs nearly fourteen years after they’d begun Rockwater.
Aubrey walked to her office. “I won’t be here to go over repeat diners, menu, and service. Plus tomorrow we start prep for the Simmons wedding next weekend.” She glanced at the calendar that hung beside a whiteboard inside her office and contained the elements of tonight. “Max needs to be at Camp Willow by three and then by the time we unload and he gets settled”—her chest tightened and heat built behind her eyes—“but I’ll be here for late service.”
Nina turned her gaze on Aubrey. “Have you talked to him yet?”
A heaviness settled in Aubrey’s chest. Her baby sister knew her well. “I thought the car ride.”
“Better get it done. You don’t want him up there for two weeks obsessing about this information. With the Internet, he’s probably already found out just exactly who Justin Travati is.”
Aubrey crossed her arms and shrugged one shoulder. “He wasn’t on the computer this morning. We’ve been packing.”
“For such a smart lady, you’re kind of naive. He has a phone. He has Internet wherever he goes.” Nina marked through the list on the whiteboard. She looked at Aubrey. “Seriously, sis, he’s not five. He’s starting high school. Just because we live out in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what’s going on in the world. He has friends, he goes to school. If Dad told Max his father’s name—”
“He did. Dad did.”
“Then I suggest you get on it.” Nina placed the cap back on the marker. “I’m not certain what kind of reaction I’d have if I found out my father was a billionaire and I was the only living heir and”—her eyes narrowed on Aubrey—“my mother had purposely kept all that information away from me for my entire life.�
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Aubrey closed her eyes and released a long stream of air. She placed her palm on the desk. “This is a huge deal, isn’t it?”
“You know my feelings on it, they’re similar to Dad’s. Kind of surprised you kept this from Max this long. I mean, he’s the only living heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the world.”
Aubrey dropped into her desk chair. “But I don’t want him to be the heir.”
“Right.” Nina rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “You’ve gotten what you wanted for Max’s entire life. You’ve kept him to yourself on this farm, an hour from the nearest city—”
“He goes to school, he has friends.”
“Yes. Yes, he does. All I’m saying is you’ve kept him to yourself and now he wants to know who he is and obviously from last night he’s going to get answers from whomever he needs to get them. Yesterday he went to Dad, today he goes to the Internet. Tomorrow, who knows? I think you’re really missing out on an opportunity here. I mean come on, just for a minute, remember who you were at fourteen, okay? Think about if it were you finding all this out and that Mom and Dad hadn’t told you the truth.”
Aubrey’s chest tightened. “Shit.” Her eyes flicked toward Nina, who leaned against a shelf filled with cookbooks.
“Right.”
Aubrey pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “I’m going to be really lucky if he doesn’t hate me.”
“He’s a pretty great kid with a really sharp brain in his head. You might get by with six months, maybe twelve, of his hating you.”
Aubrey’s fingertips tingled. “What if Max wants to meet his father?”
“Oh, that’s a gimme, isn’t it? I mean he’s totally going to want to meet his dad.”
“But … I mean … I never …”
“I know.” Nina pushed away from the bookshelf and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s going to be a tough summer all the way around.” She pulled her pink bandanna from her head. “I’m gonna go say good-bye to Maxie. I’ll see you later tonight.”