Returning To Claim His Heir

by Amanda Cinelli

  The serving staff arrived just as he moved to pull out her seat and he felt himself annoyed by their presence, by the pomp and glamour of the entire set-up in comparison with the simple days they’d spent at the beach house. Ornate dishes were being set out between them: fresh fruit platters and warm bread rolls, along with perfectly poached eggs in a creamy hollandaise sauce.

  He tried not to watch her as she ate, his thoughts going over and over the events of the past few days.

  ‘You wanted to talk.’ She interrupted his thoughts, sitting back to dab her mouth delicately with her napkin once they’d both finished.

  ‘My sister and Valerio will be arriving today.’ Duarte sat back too, folding his hands on the table in front of him. ‘I haven’t told them about Liam yet.’

  ‘You want to keep us hidden?’ She clasped her hands together, pursing her lips slightly. ‘Until your paternity test comes back?’

  ‘There won’t be a test, Nora.’ He sat forward, running a hand along the length of his scar. ‘I was angry when I said I wanted proof. Anyone with eyes can see that he is my son.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, I suppose...’ She shrugged.

  Duarte felt a flare of annoyance at this change in her. ‘You suppose?’

  ‘I told you that you are his father, that there is no doubt. But I understand why you wouldn’t accept my explanation.’ She took the napkin from her lap and folded it delicately beside her plate. ‘So—your sister and her fiancé...will they want to meet him today?’

  ‘They will want to meet both of you, I would imagine.’

  ‘Surely there is no need for them to meet me.’

  Her shoulders immediately became tense, and Duarte fought the urge to stand up and knead her unease away with his hands.

  ‘I disagree. You are my son’s mother.’ He sat back, pushing away his errant thoughts. ‘I had a lot of time to think last night. And I realised a few things. The first one is that I do not want to miss a single moment of my son’s life.’

  ‘Duarte, you know that’s unreasonable, considering our situation.’

  ‘Is it unreasonable to want to give him the kind of upbringing he’s entitled to?’ He measured his words, keeping his tone light. ‘I have a large empty house in a quiet English village. It’s safe, and the area is filled with young families. He would have access to a great education and the freedom to become...whatever he wishes.’

  ‘That sounds wonderful.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Of course I want all those things for him. But I can’t be expected to drop everything and follow your demands.’

  ‘I’m not demanding anything, Nora. I’m offering a solution that I think will suit us both. I’m making a proposal.’ He leaned forward, looking at her until she finally met his eyes. ‘I realised last night that we don’t need to make this difficult. Despite my anger towards you, I still find you intensely attractive. The idea of marriage to you is not unpleasant.’

  Her face was a cool unflinching mask. Her words were deathly calm. ‘Am I supposed to be flattered by that romantic statement?’

  ‘I don’t believe in perfect fairy-tales, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either. That doesn’t mean we can’t try to be a family together. It’s the most logical path.’

  ‘First of all, you have no idea what I believe in or what I want for myself.’ She leaned forward slightly, taking a deep breath before her eyes met his. ‘And, secondly, are you telling me that you now trust me? That you suddenly forgive me for the things I’ve done and who my father is?’

  Duarte felt her words hit him square in the chest. He hesitated, looking away from her for a moment to try to school his features, and apparently that was all the confirmation she needed.

  Her harsh exhalation of breath held the smallest hint of sadness. But he wouldn’t lie to her to make her accept his proposal. He wouldn’t make promises and say things he didn’t mean. He believed she would put their son first and come to realise that this was the best way forward for the three of them. Surely his honesty was better than empty words?

  She turned herself away from his gaze. ‘Don’t do it, Duarte, whatever it is you’re about to ask of me...’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m asking.’ He reached across the table for her hand.

  She pulled it away, closing her eyes. ‘And if I say no?’

  Her voice was barely a whisper and he heard the fear in it. ‘I won’t force you, if that’s what you’re asking me.’

  He sat back in his chair, furious at her and at the way she viewed him. He took a moment to compose himself, feeling the urge to reach across the table and haul her into his arms to dispel those shadows from her eyes. He knew he needed to go into this with a cool head, but his logic seemed to go out of the window when it came to this woman, time and time again.

  ‘I cannot abide the idea of splitting my son’s life across two countries on opposite sides of the world, Nora.’

  ‘That is not fair...’ Her voice broke slightly on the last word.

  ‘I never promised to play fair.’

  ‘Why marriage?’

  Nora could feel hurt and anger warring within her at the knowledge that he could be so cold and calculating.

  ‘Do you trust me so little that you think I won’t agree to any reasonable terms for co-parenting?’

  ‘Marriage makes sense.’

  Duarte took a sip from his coffee mug, as though they were discussing the weather and not the future entwining of their lives.

  ‘From a practical viewpoint, we live on different continents with very different legal systems. It would make my legal rights regarding my son unclear.’

  ‘That’s not an answer,’ she challenged him. ‘Nor was there an actual marriage proposal anywhere in that ridiculous statement.’

  He stood up and took a step towards her. ‘I grew up with two loving parents and had a very happy childhood. I’m not some eternal bachelor; I always planned to settle down and start my own family someday.’

  ‘What about my plans?’ she asked, trying to ignore the warm, needy feeling his words stirred up. That yearning she had always harboured to truly belong somewhere, to be a part of a steady, happy home.

  To give that kind of life to her son...

  It would be so easy to say yes—to become his wife and commit to live with him, raising their son together. She had a feeling he wasn’t suggesting a cold marriage of convenience—he would want her back in his bed—but that was where it would end for him. She would always be the woman who had lied to him. She would always be the daughter of the man who had killed his parents.

  She closed her eyes against that painful truth, preparing herself to reason with him as to why marriage was never going to work between them...

  The noise of a loud whistling from the marina below jarred them both.

  ‘Duarte Avelar—you’d better not be hiding from me on my own ship.’

  The female voice was calling from a distance and Nora felt her brows rise into her hairline.

  Duarte cursed under his breath, and a thoroughly apologetic look crossed his features as he raised a hand and motioned for her to stay where she was while he strode across to the top of the steps.

  Nora waited a few minutes, trying and failing to hear more than the slight murmur of voices as Duarte stood halfway down the stairs and greeted whoever it was. She moved to check on Liam, scooping him up into her arms and breathing in his comforting baby smell.

  When the voices came closer, she turned to see a woman emerging onto the deck. Her hair was a cloud of thick ebony curls, her skin the same dark caramel as Duarte’s. Even her golden eyes were a mirror image of the man who stood by her side. Another man followed them, sallow-skinned and blue-eyed.

  Nora recognised him from the night of the Avelar Foundation dinner. The night of the kidnapping.

  She felt a slight wobble in her legs as Valerio M
archesi looked up at her and narrowed his eyes in a manner that suggested she wasn’t the only one who remembered that painful day.

  What followed was perhaps the most intense hour of Nora’s life, with Daniela Avelar sobbing as she held her nephew for the first time while Valerio and Duarte watched in shock. Apparently the elegant businesswoman had never been a baby person, and nor was she prone to such displays of emotion.

  At one point Nora was very aware of the two men speaking in low tones in a corner of the deck. Duarte’s friend and business partner seemed to have some things he wanted to say out of earshot. She saw the man’s eyes dart to her, filled with evident mistrust, but she tried to pretend it didn’t bother her.

  When Dani insisted that Nora and baby Liam come to the launch of the new headquarters that evening, she politely declined.

  So far Duarte had managed to navigate their entire interaction without once mentioning their relationship status or any details of their history together. She was grateful, but one look in his eyes as he was leaving told her he wasn’t finished with their conversation from earlier.

  She found herself suddenly intensely grateful that he was a hotshot CEO and his presence at the event was necessary.

  When she was finally alone in her luxurious cabin, she lay down on the bed with her son by her side and blew out a long, frustrated breath.

  The look on Duarte’s face when she had asked him whether he had considered her own plans had spoken volumes. He hadn’t even thought of her career dreams, her aspirations. No, he’d weighed up the situation and how it affected him and come up with the perfect solution to fulfil his duty to his son and keep her around as a handy bonus.

  Was this what life would be like if she accepted Duarte’s proposal? Trailing after him from city to city and waiting around while he attended events? Or, worse, would she be forced to play the dutiful wife on his arm?

  He’d said he had a home in the English countryside and he’d made it sound idyllic. But the reality was he was a global businessman; his success took him to every corner of the world and she didn’t expect that would change.

  The last time Duarte had seen the Fort Lauderdale headquarters of Velamar International, the entire building had been mid-construction. Now he stepped into the glass-walled lobby and was awestruck at the level of detail everywhere he looked.

  One detail caught him by surprise. The wall of the corridor that led to the common areas, where the drinks were to be served, was lined with picture frames. Upon first glance, he almost just walked by them, but something caught his eye.

  He stopped and took a step back, frozen at the sight of his own blueprints and sketches for the original Sirinetta superyacht. For a moment Duarte wondered if they had been framed and put on show in memoriam—if perhaps he should avoid looking too close lest he should be met with an epithet of some sort about his tragic demise. But there was no mention of his death, only a succinct note on each frame, giving the date of his first concept and each stage on the road to production.

  ‘We wouldn’t be here without your brilliant mind.’ Valerio appeared by his side, sliding a glass of champagne into his hands. ‘You have always been the brains.’

  ‘The creative brains, perhaps.’ Duarte raised his glass in toast and gestured to the amazing building around them. ‘But you were the one to come up with this crazy venture and build it into the powerhouse it is today.’

  ‘I can’t take the credit for any of this particular venture. Your sister did most of the legwork.’

  Valerio smiled and raised his glass to where Dani now stood, welcoming their guests into the large conference area at the end of the corridor. She walked towards them, beaming.

  ‘I still can’t get used to seeing you together,’ she said, and smiled as Valerio wrapped his arm around her waist and looked down at her with obvious adoration.

  ‘I could say the same.’ Duarte smiled too, noting their mild shock at his light words as they all began making their way towards the party.

  Dani moved away to talk with some of their investors, and Duarte saw his best friend staring at him in silent question.

  ‘What I mean is, it’s strangely normal to see you this way. It’s like it was always going to come to this.’ He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘You make her happy.’

  ‘She is everything to me.’ Valerio spoke with gruff sincerity. ‘Once I accepted that, everything else just followed. I knew it might cause a strain between us, but I hoped you would understand eventually.’

  ‘I was a bastard when I first came home.’ Duarte shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re not a bastard.’ Valerio laughed as they entered the fray. ‘You’re just brutally stubborn and despise change in all its forms.’

  Valerio’s words were repeated in his mind long after they had finished their private conversation and separated to move through the crowd. He did despise change; he always had. It made him irritable and hostile. And when he looked at the past few months of his life he realised it had been one brutal change after another. He’d felt completely drained of mental energy.

  Except at the beach house in Paraty he hadn’t felt drained. He’d felt calmer and more at ease than he had in years. Now, surrounded by a mix of elite international business associates and clientele, he felt wound up and stifled. But he knew his role—knew what was expected of him.

  He smiled and shook hands and tried to pretend he cared, when really he wasn’t sure why he’d ever cared for this world at all.

  The ship was quiet when Duarte arrived back from the event. Most of the staff had finished for the day, in anticipation of an early start preparing for the glamorous party on board the next afternoon to mark the opening of their new routes.

  He wandered along the rows of empty tables on the entertaining deck, surrounded by stacks of chairs and boxes of decorations. In his old life he would have stayed to the end of the party at the new headquarters and ensured there was an after party in a fancy hotel penthouse, where everyone would have gone wild and he’d have ended the night with a beautiful woman in his bed.

  The thought of it now made his blood run cold. He’d barely managed to stay for a full two hours tonight—only until his disaster of a speech had been given and he’d been able to slip away.

  He was so distracted as he made his way down to the private saloon that separated the guest cabins that he almost missed the subtle clearing of a throat. Nora sat cross-legged on a sofa, her hair once again loose and flowing over one shoulder. She wore her ridiculous pyjama pants and tiny tank top, and one of her giant architecture books was splayed across her lap.

  She looked like heaven...

  He would be content to just lie down alongside her and sink into her warmth while she continued to read and ignored him.

  He shook his head to clear the ridiculous thought. If she evoked such intense feelings in him it was just because he was stressed and irritated after his first evening of being ‘on’ as CEO of Velamar for the first time in months.

  ‘You’re still awake,’ he said, trying to mask his inner turmoil with a light tone.

  ‘I was waiting for you.’ She stood up, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I assume you got the message from Angelus Fiero?’

  Duarte shook his head. ‘I haven’t received anything.’

  She frowned, picking up an unsealed brown envelope from the coffee table and extending it towards him. ‘It arrived an hour ago by courier. It was addressed to both of us. I assumed he must have already spoken with you.’

  Duarte shook out the contents and read through the police reports quickly. Angelus had worked quickly, and a warrant for Cabo’s arrest had been issued within hours of his leaving Duarte’s study. The police had hauled the crime boss out of his Rio mansion in broad daylight and questioned him for hours until he cracked.

  He’d confessed to everything, including the false
imprisonment of his own daughter and his coercion of her to blackmail and work on his behalf. Nora would be given immunity for supplying evidence.

  He looked up at the woman before him, her eyes tight with strain.

  ‘He’s going away for this, Nora,’ Duarte said gruffly. ‘The trial may not happen for a few months, but thanks to your evidence he won’t get bail.’

  ‘He’s confessed to what he did to me...’ She pressed her lips firmly together. ‘He didn’t have to...there was never any hard evidence.’

  Duarte took a step towards her, seeing the way her lips trembled as she shook her head in disbelief. ‘It’s over, querida. He has no power over you any more.’

  Nora had dreamt of the day that her father would get the punishment he deserved for all his wrongdoings, but a part of her had always believed him when he said he was untouchable. Now, seeing the cold, hard evidence of his sorry end in black and white, she came undone.

  She let herself break, unable to stop the tears falling or the messy sobs racking her chest. She sobbed with relief for herself and the terror she’d endured under his tyranny, but she also sobbed for Duarte’s mother and father, who had never got to see their children’s wonderful achievements or to meet their grandson.

  Eventually she closed her eyes and felt warm arms envelop her. She didn’t pull away and stiffen, even though she knew she should. She accepted his comfort and sank into his chest until she could breathe again, which wasn’t for a long while.

  He didn’t complain. He simply held her, his face on the top of her head so she could feel his breath against her hair. When she had finally quietened down, he pulled back just enough to look down at her.

  ‘You are more than just his daughter, Nora,’ he said gruffly. ‘I was wrong to say that to you...to compare you to him. I’m sorry.’

  She nodded, taking a step backwards out of his arms. ‘It’s okay.’