Claiming His Secret Son

by Olivia Gates

  The moment they were out of earshot, she pounced. “Any explanation for...all of this?”

  A smile that should be banned by a maximum-penalty law dawned on his face. It was different from what he’d flooded her family and house with all evening. A mixture of wickedness and provocation. One of those would have been more than enough for her to handle. Together, as with everything about him, they were overkill.

  He only answered after he sat. “Your family invited me, remember?”

  “And since when do you answer anyone’s invitations?”

  “You have no idea what I’ve had to do in the past months with Rafael’s marriage. Then Raiden, another of the Black Castle blokes, the Japanese-by-birth guy I mentioned, followed suit. Both their weddings had me putting up with human beings all the time. Then came Numair’s. That one rewrote the fundamental rules of existence for me. He was the one I thought would be the last man on earth to succumb to the frailties of our species or fall into the trap of matrimony. Nothing was sacred after that, and I’ve been open to anything ever since. Even cooking dinner from a minitribe of women and children.”

  So all his friends had married. Was that what was making him dip his foot in the land of domesticity? To see if it was for him? And he thought her household was the most convenient testing ground, since he already had a son and a lover there? Did he think she’d let him experiment on them?

  Gritting her teeth, she sat beside him. “You said you’d leave my family alone.”

  “That was only in return for leaving mine alone.”

  “But you now know your concern for Rose is misplaced.”

  “I do. I no longer want you to stay away from Rose.”

  “Well, I want you to stay away from my family.”

  “I no longer want to do that, either.”

  “Why? You only involved my family as a pressure card.”

  “I did?” He cocked his head at the grinding of her teeth. “By ‘family’ you mean Mauricio. You want me to leave him alone.”

  “Who else?”

  At her exasperated answer, he shrugged. “I don’t want to do that, either.”

  “Why?” she snapped. “What’s new? You didn’t bat a lid when I told you he was your son.”

  “I didn’t because I’ve already been immunized against the shock, having contracted it full-force the day before. I knew he was my son the moment I saw him.”

  “No way you knew that. He looks nothing like you.”

  He produced a picture from his inner pocket, handed it to her. If she wasn’t certain Mauri never had clothes like that, and this photo was in a place they’d never been and looked from another era, she would have sworn it was him.

  “That’s my younger brother, Robert. He looked exactly like our mother. I took after my father. Rose was a mix of the two.”

  Stunned, she raised her eyes, a memory rushing in. “Rose once told me Mauri so reminded her of one of her dead brothers. I didn’t make anything of it, as it never occurred to me to tie you to her.”

  His face darkened. “So she believed I was dead.”

  She swallowed. “She did only because it was the only thing to explain why you didn’t search for her.”

  His jaw muscles bunched. She winced at the pain she felt for both Rose and him. This wasn’t right. That he’d deprived Rose of knowing he was alive. Rose suffered the loss of her biological family even now. And he might have suffered even more watching her from afar.

  “But she didn’t hesitate to identify you, which means she’s been clinging to the hope that you’re alive. You probably look very much like she remembers you.”

  “I was sixteen. I looked nothing like this.” He lowered his gaze, as if remembering those moments they’d all been frozen with shock, each for their own reasons. “Did she ask you about me again?”

  “I didn’t give her a chance. I told her everything about me, so she was too busy with my revelations to think of you. But I’m sure she will. What do you want me to say when she does?”

  “What do you want to tell her?”

  That was the last thing she’d expected he’d ask. “I...I honestly don’t know. I think she deserves to know the brother she loved and clearly still misses terribly is alive. But you probably have nothing in common with that brother, so maybe it’s not in her best interests to know you. It’s your call.”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  Hating that this was his verdict, but conceding it was probably the right one, she nodded.

  Then her original point pushed to the forefront again. “So you knew about Mauri all the time you were here before, and as I told you everything about myself. Yet you gave no indication that you were in the least interested.”

  “I wasn’t.” Before her heart could contrarily implode with dismay, he added, “I was flabbergasted.”

  That astounded her. “I didn’t know anything could even surprise you.”

  “Finding a seven-year-old replica of my dead brother on my ex-lover’s threshold? That’s the stuff strokes are made of.”

  The “ex-lover” part felt like a blow to her heart.

  Sure, she’d walked away this time, saying it was over. But was that what he already considered her? What he’d decided she was? When they’d made love...had earth-shattering sex...just yesterday? If he wasn’t here to pursue her, then why was he here?

  “I walked out of here intending not to come back.”

  “And that was the right decision. Why are you back?”

  “Because the facts have been rewritten. Now instead of wanting to end your friendship with Rose, I want to be your and your family’s...ally.”

  Ally? Ally? That was downright...offensive after what had happened the past couple of days. Not to mention in the past.

  “I don’t need allies.”

  “You never know when and how you might. Having someone of my influence on your side can be more potent than magic.”

  She tamped down the need to blast his insensitive hide off his perfect body. “I have no doubt. But I don’t need magic. I work for what I have. And I have more than enough to give my son the best life and to secure his future.”

  “Even if you don’t want or need my alliance, you don’t have the right to make that decision for Mauricio. The fact remains, he’s my flesh and blood. And my only heir.”

  After a moment of gaping at him, her nerves jangling at his declaration, she choked out, “Are you here because you decided to tell him that?”

  Mauri chose this crucial moment to stampede into the living room. “I got all my drawing stuff!”

  Before she could say anything more, Richard turned his attention to Mauri.

  Brain melting with exasperation and trepidation, she could only watch as father and son ignored her and got engrossed in each other. She had to wait to get her answer.

  A no would mean resuming her life as it was. A yes would turn it upside down. And it was all up to Richard.

  As it had always been.

  * * *

  Richard had swung around at Mauricio’s explosive entry, infinitely grateful for the distraction.

  As heart-wrenching as the sight of him, the very idea of him, still was, right now he’d take anything over answering Isabella’s question. Since he didn’t have an answer for it.

  He had no idea what he was doing here, or what he would or should do next.

  In the distraction arena, Mauricio was the best there was. The boy—his son—wrenched a guffaw from his depths as he hurled himself at him, dropping his armful of drawing materials in his lap.

  Crashing to a kneeling position at his feet, Mauricio anchored both hands on his knees and looked up at him with barely contained eagerness. “Tell me your opinion of my work. And teach me to draw something.”

  “You can draw?”

  That was Isabella. She would have asked if he could turn invisible with the same incredulity.

  Richard slid her a glance. “I have many hidden talents.”

  “I’m sure.”
She impaled him on one of those glances that made it an achievement he hadn’t dragged her out of that kitchen and buried himself inside her.

  Mauricio dragged his focus back, and his angelic face, overflowing with inquisitiveness and determination, sent a different avalanche of emotions raging through him.

  His throat closed, his voice thickened. “Why don’t you show me your best work?”

  Mauricio rummaged through the mess on his lap, then pulled out one sketchbook and thrust it at him. “This.”

  With hands he could barely keep from trembling, Richard leafed through the pages, his heart squeezing as he perused each effort, remarkable for a boy of his age, testimony to great talent...and turmoil.

  Had the latter manifested itself in response to their lifestyle, as Isabella kept relocating them to keep them safe? He was sure she’d shielded her son and family from the reality of their situation. But he believed Mauricio was sensitive enough he’d felt his mother’s disturbance, and felt the dangers she’d paid so much of her life to protect him and their family from.

  There was also a searing sense of confusion in the drawings, an overwhelming inquisitiveness and the need to know, what he’d experienced firsthand. Was that a manifestation of his growing up fatherless? Was he constantly wondering about the father he’d never known, or even known about? Did a boy of such energy and intelligence miss a stabilizing male influence, no matter how loving and efficient the females in his life were?

  He pretended to examine each drawing at length, trying to bring his own chaos under control.

  At last he murmured, “Your imagination is quite original and your work is extremely good for your age.”

  Mauricio whooped. “You really think I’m good?”

  Though the boy’s unrestrained delight made him wish to give him more praise, he had to give him the qualification of reality. “Being good doesn’t mean much without hard work.”

  “I work hard.” Mauricio tugged at Isabella. “Don’t I?”

  Her eyes moved between them, as if she was seeing both for the first time. “You do, when you love something.”

  Richard retuned his gaze to Mauricio before he plunged into her eyes. “When you don’t love something, you must work even harder. When you’re lucky to love something, it only makes the work feel easier because you enjoy it more. But you must always do anything, whether you enjoy it or not, to the very best of your ability, strive to become better all the time. That’s what I call ‘got what it takes.’”

  Mauricio hung on his every word as if he was memorizing them before he nodded his head vigorously.

  Isabella’s gaze singed every exposed inch of his skin.

  The burning behind Richard’s sternum intensified as he turned a blank page. “What do you want me to teach you?”

  Mauricio foisted the colors at him. “Anything you think I should learn.”

  Richard gave him a considering look. “I think you need a lesson in perspective.” As soon as the words left his lips, Richard almost scoffed. No one needed that more than him right now.

  “What’s that?” Mauricio asked, eyes huge.

  “I’d rather show you than explain in words. We’ll only need a pencil, a sharpener and an eraser.”

  Richard blinked at the speed with which Mauricio shoved the items in his hand then bounced beside him on the couch, bubbling over with readiness for his first drawing lesson.

  Gripping the pencil hard so the tremor that traversed him didn’t transfer onto the paper, Richard started to sketch. Mauricio and Isabella hung on his every stroke.

  Before long Mauricio blew out a breath in awe. “Wow, you just drew some lines and made it look like a boy!”

  Richard added more details. “It’s you.”

  “It does look like me!” Mauricio exclaimed.

  Richard sketched some more. “And that girl is Benita.”

  “But she’s not that much tinier than me.”

  “She’s not tiny, she’s just far away. Watch.” He drew a few slanting, converging lines, layered simple details until he had a corridor with boy in front, girl in back. “See? We have a flat, two-dimensional paper, but with perspective drawing, we add a third dimension, what looks like distance and depth.”

  Mauricio’s eyes shone with the elation of discovery, and something else. Something he’d once seen in Rafael’s eyes. Budding hero worship. He felt his lungs shut down.

  “I get it!” Mauricio snatched another sketchbook, showed him that he did before raising validation-seeking eyes to him. “Like this, right?”

  Richard felt the smile that only Mauricio, and his mother, provoked spread his lips. “Exactly like that. You’re a brilliant lad. Not many people get it, and most who do, not that quickly.”

  Mauricio fidgeted like a puppy wagging his tail in exultation at his praise. “I didn’t know anyone could draw so quickly and so great! Can you do everything that good?”

  “As I told you, whatever I do, I do to the best of my ability. I’m the best in some things, but certainly not in drawing. Plenty can do far better.” Mauricio’s expression indicated he dismissed his claim, making his lips widen in a grin once again. “There are people who make it seem as if they’re pouring magic onto the pages. But what they and I can do comes from a kernel of talent, and a ton of practice. The talent you have. Now you have to practice. It will only become better the more you do it.”

  Isabella’s gaze locked with his and the meaning of his motivational words took a steep turn into eroticism. It had been incredible between them from the first, but only kept getting more mind-blowing with “practice.” That last time had been their most explosive encounter yet. He couldn’t wait to drag her into the inferno of ecstasy again.

  Suppressing the need, he continued to give Mauricio examples while the boy emulated him. Isabella watched them, the miasma of emotions emanating from her intensifying.

  Mauricio finally exhaled in frustration, unhappy with his efforts. “You make it look so easy. But it isn’t.”

  “You’ll get there eventually. What you did is far better than I expected for a first time.”

  Mauricio eyed his drawing suspiciously. “Really?”

  “Really. Draw a lot, draw everything, and you’ll be superlative, if you want to be.”

  “Oh, I want!”

  “Then, you will be. Trust me.”

  “I trust you.”

  A jolt shook Richard’s heart. Hearing Mauricio say that again, with such conviction, made him want to go all out to deserve that faith and adulation.

  Should he be feeling this way? Was it wise? Could he stop it or had he put in motion an unstoppable chain reaction?

  “I want you to teach me everything you know.”

  Richard laughed. The boy kept squeezing reactions of him that he didn’t know he was capable of. “I doubt you’d want to learn most of the things I do.”

  “I do!”

  He slanted a glance at Isabella. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, either.”

  “Because it’s dangerous stuff?”

  “To say the least.” Before Isabella burst with frustration he looked at his watch. “And that’s a discussion for another day, young man. We agreed we’d do this until your bedtime. Now you need to go to sleep and I need to get going.”

  Without trying to bargain for more time, Mauricio stood and gathered his things, looking like a stoic knight’s apprentice. He had an acute sense of dignity and honor. Once he gave his word, he kept it. It made Richard...proud?

  Before he could examine his feelings, Marta came to take Mauricio to bed. Handing his grandmother his things, he came back to say good-night. After he hugged his mother, he threw himself at Richard, clung around his neck.

  “Will you come again?”

  Feeling the boy’s life-filled body against him, the tremor of entreaty in his voice, was like a fist closing over his heart.

  Richard looked over the boy’s head at Isabella. Her eyes were twin storms. She was terrified. Of whe
re this might lead. Truth be told, he had no idea where it would. And was just as afraid.

  But he had only one answer. “Yes, I will.”

  Planting a noisy kiss on Richard’s cheek, Mauricio slipped free, flashing him a huge grin before skipping off.

  The moment she could, Isabella hit him with the burning question she’d postponed for the past hour. “Do you intend to tell Mauri the truth?”

  There was only one answer to that, too.

  “No. Not yet.”

  Nine

  Not yet.

  Every time those two words reverberated in Isabella’s mind, which was all the time, it made her even more agitated.

  Not yet implied he would tell Mauri the truth eventually.

  But he’d also implied that even if he did, it wouldn’t mean anything would change. Mauri would only know he had a father, and would get the benefit of all his wealth and power.

  As if that wouldn’t change everything.

  Before he’d left that night, he’d confessed he hadn’t thought this through, didn’t know what to expect himself. But the fact remained that Mauri had a right to everything he had as his only heir. While he...he only wanted to know his son. Only time would tell how that would translate into daily life or in the long term. They’d just have to wait and see how things worked out.

  She had no other choice but to do just that. Now that he’d expressed the wish to know his son so unequivocally, she’d been unable to deny him his desire.

  Ever since that day three weeks ago, she’d succumbed and gone along for the roller-coaster ride of having Richard in her family’s everyday life. And he’d been with them every possible minute. After their workdays, from early evenings to past the children’s bedtime, he’d been there. And he’d shocked her more with each passing minute.

  His unstoppable charm continued on full-blast. But she could no longer believe it to be anything but genuine. Though he dazzled them all, she was now certain it wasn’t premeditated. He clearly liked being with her family. He really was interested in all of their concerns and indulgent of all their quirks.