According to him and a very scathing Cammy, two colder human beings were never born. They’d spent eighteen years trying to push my husband into the mold they’d made for him, and when that didn’t work they’d all but disowned him, leaving him to fend for himself.
Not that they’d taken much satisfaction out of it, because he’s richer than they are six times over and can buy and sell those creeps any day of the week.
Now I have to meet them, thanks to his brilliant idea that we all need to go over there and get some answers. And all because I can’t keep my big mouth shut about who I’d suspected had given that Barker bitch all that money in the first place.
I hope for their sakes I’m wrong and that he doesn’t connect any of them to it, because if he does, those two are dead freaking meat.
“If she says anything I’ll hold your coat while you play footie with her head. Now come on and get into bed.”
His eyes have taken on that weird, sexy, hooded look that I recognize as his sex face, something my libido is picking up on with bells and whistles ringing strong.
“Lucian, I’m not in the mood to argue with you about sex tonight.”
I say it because I know if I get on that bed and he turns my way, there won’t be much arguing. I’ll probably fold like a freaking concertina under his hands.
God, why did all of this have to happen when things were going so well?
Uh, because things were going so well, my inner harpy snarks, letting me know how cynical and unimpressed she is with me at the moment.
Yeah, yeah, I know you want to do the tango with your guy, but I need to get a grip before I give in here. Trust is not a given, ya know.
Jesus, I really need to call Mary or the girls before I get on that jet, or I can tell ya, my mind may not survive whatever the heck else happens.
Chapter Twenty Nine
London, England
Luc
The moment the huge wrought iron gates squeak open to admit the car filled with those I cherish most, I have an instant regret for thinking this is at all a good idea.
Why have I brought my family here?
What possible good do I think could come from subjecting these innocents to my parents and their icy brand of disapproval?
Well, for one, I want them to see what I have and know that nothing they did or will ever try to do will ever have the power to harm me. I want them to see the love my family has for me—hopefully Ashley will buckle soon and tell me—and covet what their black hearts can never have.
Mostly I want to see the look on Mother’s face when she sees Maddy.
It’s a shot in the bloody dark, I know, since the woman has no emotions and so rarely gives up her secrets, but if there’s even the smallest chance that she’ll react, I want to see it with my own eyes.
“It looks like a castle.”
“Yes, Benjamin, but there are most definitely no fairytales here.”
Ashley rolls her eyes at my tone and kicks my leg none too gently, her gaze telling me she doesn’t appreciate my attempt at disillusioning her little ones.
“What? Best they know that their grandparents are bloodsucking—ow! Dammit, woman, that bleeding hurt!”
“Oh, I’ll make you bleed if you say one more miserable word, Lucian Jasper,” she hisses under her breath, pinching my thigh again for good measure. “Leave them alone. They don’t need this crap.”
Like I do?
“Love, I simply want them to be prepared for her.”
I see her cute little nose scrunch up, and bite my tongue to stifle a laugh. This is my love, all full of piss and vinegar, as the Yanks would say. She’s pregnant and still feeling the effects of morning sickness, and yet she’s ready to protect what’s hers without so much as a sniff.
Goddammit, I’m going to sex her up the minute we’re alone, for no other reason than I find her brand of parenting completely irresistible.
“I’m prepared. That’s all you need to know. Now, what all are we doing today?”
So ready to get this done. I can’t blame her. The minute we know everything, we can proceed with the adoption papers and match Benjamin’s with a set with Maddy’s name on.
My lawyers are good, but they want everything in order so that the judge won’t think twice about giving us our girl. Legally.
If that doesn’t happen, well, I have no scruples about greasing a few palms to get my way. But for now…
“It’s good to have you back again, sir,” the butler, Alfred, murmurs regally when the car comes to a halt and we exit.
The man must be nearing ninety, if not more, and yet he still works here every day, six days a week, serving these vipers. I’d tried, unsuccessfully, to steal him and take him back home with me, but the man’s loyal to a fault and stubborn besides.
He’d been one of only two people in this dump who’d given a damn about me and Cammy, the other being Glory, the crotchety old housekeeper.
“I can’t say I’m too thrilled to be here, Alfred old chap, but I am glad to see you. How’s the arthritis?” I ask, taking Ashley’s hand when he leads us in and directs the staff to gather the luggage.
“Not altogether pleasant, sir, though I dare say I’ve managed it rather well these last years. Lady Jasper knows you’re here. I’m to show you into the formal dining room. Lunch is served.”
The rudeness of this act is not lost on me. Or my wife, it seems, because she just squeezes my hand and smiles ironically, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of all this pomp and grandeur.
“Maybe if we’re really lucky she’ll actually say hello. Now put a smile on that mug, Lucian: we’re gonna give them a good show. Benjamin, stop pulling your sister’s hair, and Maddy, straighten that spine, little cowgirl.”
And then we’re walking into the opulent dining room, my mother and father doing their best royal imitation by looking us up and down like we’re a quartet of particularly unappealing bugs.
That’s when I feel my love’s spine stiffen before her face goes so syrupy sweet I feel my teeth ache.
“Get ready to rumble, baby. I got this,” she mutters out the side of her mouth, throwing me a saucy wink.
***************************************
I’m laughing inside. Well, outside too, since my shoulders haven’t stopped shaking the last half hour since I’d brought my motley crew of ferals into the realm of all things cold and dead.
Ashley, thanks to her immovable pride and her need to hackle the hell out of others, has chosen to do everything in her power to irritate the hell out of Cynthia, something I never thought I’d see.
“So you sit around all day having tea? And shopping? That’s so… No wonder you look so tired. You must be bored out of your mind,” she says sweetly, throwing a glare at Maddy before she can wipe a swath of butter on the tablecloth.
“Well, a true lady knows her place.”
The scathing tone makes my hackles rise, but I should know by now that my little love has no need of my help defending herself from slights.
“Ooookay, well, I’ll need a map so’s to keep away from there. I like my life meaningful and interesting.”
Oh, Jesus, save us all from that trilling tone.
I look away, breaking eye contact for the express purpose of not laughing aloud, again, when I see Benjamin giggling silently, his gray gaze trained to his right, his eyes dancing with so much mischief I can only but assume the lad’s done something particularly smart.
My control almost slips when I look over to see my father’s soup swimming in grapes, his snowy white shirt covered in orange droplets thanks to Benjamin’s skill and aim with a spoon and fruity ammo.
“This soup’s gross, man. Haven’t ya heard of burgers or mac and cheese? Seriously, Mad, when we get home I’ma make you a wicked good burger. Hey, Ash, can we make Mad some real food so she can forget about this yucky stuff these people eat?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve been feeding her real food, kid, but if you want burgers I can do that.”
&n
bsp; “Yeah, Gramps, maybe we can ask Ash to make us some here for dinner!” he yells down the table, garnering my father’s attention with his loud and altogether enthusiastic joy.
The old man, instead of giving him the usual grunt and evil eye, stares at him thoughtfully, his eyebrow raised in contemplation.
“I’ll consider your request when you stop throwing grapes into my soup, young man.”
And with that he flicks his newspaper and goes back to his usual pursuit of ignoring any and everyone around him. His wife included.
Of course, I’m sitting there with my bloody mouth hanging open and struggling to associate that calm demeanor with the scathing, heated set-downs I’d received my whole life.
“Hey, all my party people! Why didn’t anyone invite the Cammy to the party?”
Oh, bleeding Christ!
I turn just as the little termagant comes hopping into the room, her bottom lip hanging in a mock pout that lasts all of thirty seconds before she turns to Mother with look of patient understanding.
“Your invitation must have been lost in the mail. No worries! I’m here now. Sooo, anywho, I’ve brought along my fiancé to meet the parentals. Now, now Mother, don’t get all over excited! He’s just a lowly American come to meet you,” she trills, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Camille—”
“Oh, chill out,” she laughs. “Hi, Pops! Are you still tuning out of life to ignore the old ball and chain’s existence then? That sucks.”
I’m silently laughing at this all too familiar display when Brody comes strolling in, his face a portrait of lazy indulgence.
“Keep it down, sugar, the staff are circling the wagons. Want to introduce your guy or what?” he drawls, planting a kiss on her puckered brow.
“Um, not until she answers my question. No sense in doing the song and dance if we’re not staying. Sooo, Mother dearest, is it true that you paid that Barker girl to lie to Luc about his daughter and then stashed her with some flaky, good for nothing old coot in the wilds of Cornwall?”
And I should have known the little baggage would come in and muscle in on my fun.
Chapter Thirty
Oh, aaaawkwaaard!
A pin could drop at the neighbors’ place and we’d still hear it, it’s gone that quiet in the room. As introductions and first meetings go, this one hasn’t been so bad.
Of course, it could have been worse, considering the kids’ behavior and my own brand of charm, but I have to give this lady credit: she’s a mine of patience and disdainful sufferance.
What I don’t get is how that bag of rotten ever gestated anything alive, never mind giving birth to Cammy.
But back to the matter at hand.
I peep over at her from beneath my lashes and see the outward flinch she can’t manage to hide before looking down the table at Lucian’s father, Lord Jasper the Disinterested, and I gape.
He’s looking at his wife. No, that can’t be simply described as a look. He’s fuming over at his wife, his face having gone so cold and dead I suddenly know where Lucian gets the skill.
This dude is one hundred percent pissed off and all kinds of mad. If I were sour lips, I’d be outta here as fast as my legs could carry me. But this woman…she’s a whole ‘nother breed, apparently, because she just calmly sits there, schooling her features under that molten stare.
And then he stands, coming to his feet—so deceptive, he’d looked, because this dude must be at least six three if not more—and planting his fists into the table.
“Tell me.”
“Well, honestly, I have no idea what the child is saying.”
Lie!
“Listen to me, and listen very carefully, Cynthia. If I find out that this is true, that my son had a child that you hid away or got rid of…if your name is in any way linked with any of this, I will make you regret the day you ever met me. Understood?”
She can do nothing but nod, her thin veneer of disdain cracking beneath one of the worst stares I have ever seen on a human being’s face.
“Lucian, my study. Now.”
I wanna go with, just in case my guy needs help against Mr Coldness, but one look and shake of the head lets me off the hook, leaving me alone with the kiddies, the dragon, and a smiling Cammy and Brody.
Phew. Seems wrong, but right now I’m thinking this chick is most definitely the lesser of two evils.
“Daaamn, Mother, that was one hell of a cracker you just told Pops, huh?” she continues, smiling broadly enough I’m worried her cheeks will rip.
“You little upstart—”
“Oh, good grief, don’t do a nutter. Your face might split if you show too much emotion.”
That gets me chuckling loud enough that Lady Lemons throws me a glare and looks down her snooty nose at me.
“Uh, Cam, lay off the juice till I get the…” I roll my eyes at the kids. “Outta here.”
“Oh goodness, you’re right. Brody darling, do us a solid and take the little dears outside, would you? We have a few things to discuss with mummy dearest.”
Brody, being the irascible darling that he is, corrals the kids before blowing his future mother-in-law an air kiss.
“Good luck. She’s in a damn fine mood today!”
And then it’s just us, all three Jasper woman engaged in a silent showdown.
“You’ve caused more than enough trouble. I want you all out of my home before the end of the day.”
Oh ho! Somehow, now that the lord of the manor knows that the little girl he’d barely paid attention to is his granddaughter, I have a feeling it’s her old ass that’ll be hitting the curb.
I hold my tongue only because I’m enjoying her discomfort as we continue staring at her.
“I’ve done nothing—”
“But you have, Mother. I just need to prove it. Which I will. Now be a good dear and give us a clue as to how you found out about the baby in the first place. It’ll make things so much easier.”
“You’ll never prove a thing.”
That snide, totally confident statement is exactly the wrong thing to say. Not because Cammy the Ravager is here and looking like she’s ready to go ten rounds with Ali himself, but because I am now more than confident that this woman has been messing with my guy for years.
That shit just won’t fly.
Instead of ripping her bobble head right off and shoving it down her neck, I go one worse and pick up my phone, keeping my eyes on her as the line rings and then gets picked up.
“We need you.”
It’s all I need to say.
I disconnect with a cold smirk and nod at Cam, giving her the thumbs up.
“Lady, you’re about to be schooled.”
Chapter Thirty One
Luc
I have officially entered the Twilight Zone, or the bloody circus. My father, a man who has hardly said two words to me besides a put-down or outright cursing, has turned into a man I don’t recognize.
He’s spent his every waking hour with the children, actually playing with them and taking them out to tour the grounds—water guns and all—and refuses to call Benjamin anything but his ‘little lad’.
I’m flabbergasted, to say the least, since one: the lad isn’t even his grandson by blood, and two: the little bugger is even naughtier now than he ever was.
Just this morning he’d told me, “Gramps said I can have ice cream whenever I want as long as I’m under his roof.” Bloody brilliant.
And I can’t even explain the way the old codger looks at Maddy. It’s as if his every dream has come true since he’d bothered to take a closer look and seen the Jasper eyes on the little mite.
According to him she’s a chip off the old block, something I hadn’t heard from him once the whole time I’d been under his roof.
Like I said, weird.
And then, to top it all off, the place has been overrun by three of the strangest women I have ever encountered.
The Goldens, according to Ashley, are her secret weapon agai
nst my dastardly mother. She says that if there’s anything to find about what really happened seven years ago, Viv will find it.
The other two are only here to keep Mother in line, something they’re particularly good at, since Nat is Chicago royalty and knows how to elegantly keep the old bat occupied without ripping her head off.
Now it’s just a waiting game as my father’s people ferret out the truth of what actually happened. If Viv will let them get there before her rabid arse does. The woman, and I say that lightly, because I’m sure she’s a supernatural being, is dogged and ruthless.
To hear her tell it, she’s going to bat for me just because she doesn’t like Ash being upset because I was royally screwed by these bitches who’d stolen my kid.
Her husband, Jack, a man I know well, since we do business together from time to time, has told me to let her at it and just relax. He says his ‘little tornado’ won’t be tamed and that she’d be likely to rip my throat out if I stood in the way of ‘justice’.
Whatever.
Truth be told, now that my father’s come around and I don’t have the luxury of finding the truth myself, I’m more focused on how to get my wife to let me touch her again.
I go to bed hard and wake up in the same condition, thanks to her veto on sex.
Apparently she needs to rebuild the trust before she lets me anywhere near her body. I can honestly say I’ve never been this bloody frustrated before in my entire life.
And this is where I stop everything and take my balls back.
Yes, I just said it. No need to start burning bras or some shit. I’m a man, a man who needs his woman, and the fact that she’s trying to lead me around by the nut sack has gone too far.
I’ve never said I was a nice man, and for some reason, reminding myself that I’ve never lied to her about who I am gives me the notion that what I’m about to do to my pregnant wife is completely within my rights.
***
Ash
“Lucian, what is this? I don’t feel comfortable leaving the kids with your wicked witch roaming the halls,” I huff out, taking in the spectacular penthouse suite in one of London’s most expensive hotels.
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