Redemption in Love (Hearts on the Line)

by Lee, Nadia

  Amandine had been present when Aggie had received the money and would never forget the expression on her face, or the way her work-roughened hands had trembled around the check.

  “Just so you know, your taxes are going to suck next year,” Gavin had said. “If you want, I’ll have my CPA give you some advice. But you deserve this.” He put a hand on hers. “Your husband deserves this.”

  The woman had broken down and cried, with protestations that the amount was too much, that both she and her husband would work for free in order to pay it back. But in the end she’d taken the money, and with it, they had been able to get through the rough patch in their lives. Paid off the mortgage on their modest home, retired and taken a vacation for the first time in years.

  Why Gavin couldn’t show this kind of consideration and sweetness to her, Amandine didn’t know. Maybe he was incapable unless the gesture involved at least six zeros on a check. Just look at the jet.

  Except Amandine didn’t want all the millions.

  She wanted him.

  The sexy him, the generous him, the wonderful him.

  But she had a feeling she was losing him. He was drifting away to a better-bred, more beautiful, more sophisticated upgrade: Catherine.

  The waiter brought their soup, then the lobsters, everything appearing with an almost magical speed. Maybe the chef was working faster than usual to impress the man in a suit.

  Gavin picked up the thin, light fork. Amandine watched him study his utensil, feeling a bit of satisfaction. She knew he wasn’t used to anything that didn’t contain at least three ounces of silver.

  Something about it struck her then, made her truly see what her subconscious had been saying for years now. Gavin and she were just too different.

  He looked completely out of place in a cheap Chinese restaurant with old vinyl seats and melamine plates. He belonged in a glittering restaurant that had heavy, perfectly balanced silverware that sparkled from regular polishing, real china, and discreet and unobtrusive waiters in crisp tuxes.

  And she…didn’t. She was more at home in a humble kitchen than the places he frequented, where she knew she didn’t quite fit.

  Was it any wonder that she’d always felt like an outsider whenever she’d gone to Gavin’s family gatherings? Everyone was nice and polite enough to her, although that was to be expected. The Lloyds were too well-bred to be anything but gracious. But that didn’t mean she belonged with them anymore than the catering staff at some of their more extravagant parties did. Like the staff, she just occasionally occupied some of the same rooms.

  Amandine and Gavin couldn’t possibly understand each other. They were fundamentally too different, never mind her Fairchild connection.

  “I’m going to get to the point.” He pulled soft lobster meat out of the shell and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “This is actually good.” Then he rested his fork wrist against the edge of the table. “The baby represents an irrevocable tie between us.”

  She choked as some soup went down the wrong passage. Her nose stung, and her eyes watered instantly.

  He handed her a full teacup. She downed it like a shot of whiskey, wiped her eyes, and spent a few moments getting herself back together. “Don’t do that again.”

  “What?”

  “Exaggerate what the pregnancy means. What’s changed since the anniversary?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Explain it to me anyway.”

  “We created a life together. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “It means everything to me. But I don’t think it’s the same for you.”

  He raised an imperial eyebrow.

  “You don’t want this baby,” Amandine said.

  “How can you say that? You know I love children.”

  “The way you love—never mind.”

  His jaw tightened. “Amandine, my child isn’t going to grow up without a father.”

  “We don’t have to stay married for him to grow up with a father.” Then she couldn’t resist adding, “Of a sort.”

  “Pete won’t make a great father figure, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  She blinked. Her younger brother was the last person she’d nominate for the father figure for her baby. “I don’t want to raise my child—”

  “Our child,” he corrected, his voice without inflection.

  “—in a cold, loveless household. You’re emotionally unavailable. Ditto for time. You’re too busy for everyone.” Except Catherine.

  “I am busy, and the markets require attention. Profitable trades don’t happen by accident. I didn’t make my twenty billion by lying around daydreaming.”

  She ground her teeth. He was deliberately being obtuse. “Gavin, marriages with stronger foundations than ours fail all the time. A baby isn’t enough.”

  “Nonsense.”

  He dug back into his lobster and fried rice. She barely touched hers. Several minutes passed while her stomach twisted.

  “A baby is easily a strong enough reason to give us another chance,” he finally said. “Besides, we have an incredible foundation. We’re comfortable, have a good life.” He spread his hands. “We like each other.”

  Like.

  What a convenient word.

  Tell me you love me. If he’d reassure her, she’d change her mind. But she couldn’t bring herself to make that demand. She didn’t want him to say it only to salvage their marriage. She wanted him to mean it. “My mind’s made up. This is the twenty-first century. We don’t need to stay married for the baby. Believe it or not, I had a comfortable life before I met you, and I’m sure I’ll be at least as comfortable as a divorcée.”

  The muscles around his jaw ticked. “If you insist, you can go. But you cannot have the baby.”

  She had to fight to keep from bursting out laughing at how dramatic he was being. “And how do you plan to ensure that?”

  “By demanding custody, how else?”

  “Courts generally favor the mother.”

  “Generally.” He gave her a slight smile that made her heart stop.

  Amandine gaped at him because she knew what the smile meant. His arrogant confidence was galling, but what if he was right? He was a Lloyd, moneyed and well-connected. For heaven’s sake, he played golf with local judges. Would they side with her—a nobody—over their golf buddy?

  “Take your time and think carefully about the odds. It’s a big gamble,” Gavin said, placing his fork next to his now empty plate. “Now finish your dinner, and I’ll take you home.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re eating for two. I insist.”

  “You can’t expect me to eat after that declaration of war.”

  He tilted his head. His gorgeous dark eyes cut into her like a scalpel. “You’re the only woman I know who could equate an attempt at reconciliation with a declaration of war. It’s love, not war.”

  Her heart froze for a moment at the mention of “love”…except he didn’t really mean it the way she did. “Does your attempt really have anything to do with love?”

  He took his time, crossing his legs and smoothing out the crease in his trousers. “Well it certainly isn’t war. I’ve never offered reconciliation to my enemies.”

  “Stop evading my question.” She crossed her arms. “Convince me.”

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  Her mouth dried. This was important. It might be the only way to salvage their relationship, even compel Gavin to realize he loved her. “Convince me our marriage’s going to work. I’m not going to stay just for the baby because I’m certain it’ll give you an even bigger claim on the child in case things don’t work out.”

  “Fine.”

  “And I want all the rules written out.”

  “That’s unusual.” His mouth crooked into a semi-cynical smile. “Want a lawyer to go over them?”

  “Why not? I want them to be fair. I don’t want you hanging around, taking forever to convince me.” It’d
hurt too much to have him close, all the while knowing that he didn’t love her, but simply wanted to play at being married for the sake of their child. She wished she had the confidence to demand more from him, somehow just…commandeer the love she deserved, but every time she started to open her mouth, she froze. Just thinking about what he might say if she asked him point-blank made her break out in a cold sweat.

  The cultured voice of Aunt Olivia—Catherine’s mother—came to Amandine all of a sudden, each word spoken with a perfect moneyed diction she could never achieve: “What a shamelessly poor-mannered child she is. Never grateful for what she’s been given, but always demanding more.”

  “Don’t be too harsh, dear. She’s still a Fairchild,” her uncle had said.

  “Please, Sebastian. She’s a Monroe like her father. I don’t know what Chantelle was thinking, marrying so far beneath her. But this is what she got for it. A greedy, ill-bred girl. At least her brother isn’t as bad.”

  The memory of the private conversation she’d overheard still had the power to make her gut clench with shame. Amandine never wanted anybody to see her the way Aunt Olivia had.

  Amandine signaled the waiter and asked him to box everything. “Don’t worry,” she said, before Gavin could object. “I’ll have it later.”

  He dropped a few crisp bills for their dinner, then took her to the waiting car. Thomas always seemed to have some special sense when it came to Gavin’s schedule. He knew exactly when to bring the car out. It was overkill for such a short walk, but she didn’t want to make a scene in front of the chauffeur, so she let him drive them to Brooke’s apartment complex. Gavin would find out where she was staying soon enough anyway.

  Instead of dropping her off at the gate, Gavin escorted her all the way up to Brooke’s unit, while carrying the bag of Chinese food. “I don’t care for the security here,” he remarked. He probably wouldn’t approve of anything less than a platoon of Marines with machine guns and bazookas.

  “I’ve never been mugged.”

  “You’ve never been mugged yet. And the place is a dump.”

  She gave up. Why was she bothering? Once he realized how much time it’d take to convince her that their marriage could work, he’d sign the divorce papers. It sucked, but that was the most likely outcome.

  Before she could open the door to the apartment, he gave her the bag of leftovers. As she reached out to take it, he dipped his head, and hers tilted until their breaths mingled. His free hand glided down from her shoulder, then brushed her breast gently with just the three fingertips, then caressed her belly with the back of the same fingers and rested them at the small of her back. She gasped as her nipples tingled, and her inner thighs clenched with longing. What the hell was this? Despite her emotional turmoil, her body seemed to miss the intimacy and ecstasy of his touch.

  He kissed her, his lips hard yet gentle on hers. She should push him away, but she couldn’t resist. She had no willpower, especially when she wanted it as much as he did. He was the only man who could make her lose her head.

  Just one final taste.

  She met his tongue with hers with boldness born from the knowledge he wouldn’t be able to take things very far in the hallway. She could smell a faint whiff of his cologne, which had become her favorite scent the moment she’d met him. His mouth coaxed her, flirting with her, drawing her closer to him until she never wanted to be apart from him.

  She pulled him closer, her arm around his shoulders to make sure he would keep his mouth on hers. His erection pressed against her belly, and she moaned softly as her skin tingled at the contact.

  This was the only time she felt she could be as greedy as she wanted, giving him as much pleasure as he was giving her and showing him how much he meant to her. His physical reaction to her was starkly honest. If only she could be sure of his feelings for her the way she was of his body…

  “You sure you want to give this up?”

  It took a moment for the words to register. She pulled back.

  “Your body still burns for me. Think about that while you weigh pros and cons of what I offered earlier.”

  For a split second she thought he hadn’t been into the kiss at all, that it had just been a gambit. But he was breathing harder than usual, and had definitely been affected. He chose not to act on it because he wanted to win, to have another key point in his favor. More than anything, Gavin hated losing.

  Before she could say a word, he gave her an unreadable look and walked away, leaving her weak-kneed and full of frustrated longing.

  Chapter Eight

  THE MOMENT THE APARTMENT DOOR CLOSED, Brooke hopped off the couch. “Spill!”

  Amandine handed her the bag of Chinese.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your favorite.”

  “Lobster?” Brooke asked, brightening immediately. Nothing made her happier than free food.

  She pulled out a plate and helped herself to a heaping pile of fried rice and lobster. After taking a small forkful of the shellfish dripping with velvety sauce, she put the plate into the microwave. “Now, spill!”

  “What do you want me to say?” Amandine took a seat at the dining table and fished out a fortune cookie. That was one of her favorite things about Chinese. She broke it in half, then growled.

  “What?” Brooke said.

  “It’s empty.” She crumbled the rest of the cookie. “I’ve been robbed of my fortune!”

  “I can give you your fortune: Stay strong even in presence of brand new jet.” When the microwave dinged, Brooke pulled out the plate and joined Amandine at the table. “Come on, what did Gavin say?”

  Amandine rested her chin on her fist and started talking, though she decided to keep the part about the kiss to herself. She didn’t want any grief about being weak. When she was done, Brooke said, “Wow.”

  “I know. It sucks majorly.”

  “No. I mean the ultimatum. I can just see Gavin being all like, I’m a Lloyd.” As she spoke, Brooke frowned impressively, which was not at all what Gavin had looked like. He had been imperial. “But then it totally fits his kind, doesn’t it?”

  “His kind?”

  “His family. His friends. That whole group. They think they can get away with murder because of who they are and how much money they have.” Brooke tilted the carton of lobster. “Sure you don’t want any?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “All right. I’m gonna put it in the fridge.”

  Amandine nodded.

  “I wonder why he wants the baby,” Brooke said, as she placed the two cartons into her serviceable white fridge. Everything in her kitchen was simple and functional. “He barely knows what to do with a wife. What’s he going to do with a kid?”

  “He probably feels responsible. Says he doesn’t want his kid to grow up without a father.” There hadn’t been any mention of love for her or the baby. True, he’d said he loved children before, in a general way, but was that the same thing?

  “Let’s talk about a scenario where he stays the course, since I’m not sure if he’s capable of reprioritizing his life.” Brooke reclaimed her seat and tapped her chin. “He’ll never have any time to properly care for the child, and you’ll end up having to invent lame excuse after even lamer excuse for his absences.”

  “Probably.”

  “He’s going to miss the kid’s school plays and baseball games. Just like he missed the anniversary dinner.”

  Because he’d been too busy doing yard work for Catherine. Would he ignore the child because of Catherine’s needs?

  That’d devastate the child and break Amandine’s heart.

  She wanted to believe she was strong and resilient, but she knew she’d eventually become hardened and bitter from resentment, and it might affect her relationship with her child. No, there was no might about it. It would affect her relationship with her child. What other outcome could there be?

  “He might be different with his own kid,” Amandine began, thinking out loud. “His family really
is big on children, and he loves them. Every one of the Lloyds adores Meredith’s son, and she had him out of wedlock.”

  “Was there a scandal or something?”

  “I think it was semi-scandalous.”

  “Hmm.” Brooke’s middle finger tapped the table. “Meredith is the youngest, plus she’s the only girl…so Gavin and the others probably protected her. You know how things are with a baby sister.”

  “I don’t know if it’s that.” Meredith was so smart and sophisticated, she didn’t need her older brothers to shield her. “Some of them would’ve liked to kick the guy’s ass for getting their only sister pregnant, but I think that generally they’re just happy that he never came forward to stake a claim and waste their time. None of them treat the kid any different.”

  “So why does Gavin think you have to stay married? It’s not like you’re going to flee the country with the kid. You guys live in the same area, so he can stop by when he can. He can send you child support if he feels that responsible. You gotta admit, one thing he’s really good at is throwing money at people.”

  “And cars and jets and diamond watches and pearl earrings,” Amandine added, half-glum, half-sarcastic. “Still, I don’t think I can ignore his threat. He wasn’t kidding about fighting for custody, and he’s on a first-name basis with every judge in the area.”

  “You need a lawyer. A really good one.”

  “I know.”

  “Get Samantha Jones.”

  Amandine frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

  “She’s a divorce attorney to the rich and famous,” Brooke said. “She’ll know exactly what to do to make sure whatever deal you strike with Gavin over the custody issue will be solid.”

  “Not sure if I can afford her.”

  “Gavin can, and it’s the least he can do. If he wants to convince you to stay, he can start by paying for your lawyer.”

  “And there’s something else I want to mention.” Amandine bit her lower lip. “I’m really sorry, but you might not have a job much longer. I can’t continue to pay you.”