Claiming his Secret Baby & Blackmailed by the Spaniard (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 4)

by Clare Connelly

  She took another bite of the paella, but could barely taste the exquisite saffron rice flavor.

  “Have you told them about Joshua?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes jerked to his. “Why not?”

  “They’ll be at the wedding. I think it is better to present them with a fait accompli.”

  “You’re worried about what they’ll say?”

  His lips were a grim line in his face. “They are likely to be… unforgiving towards you,” he said, softening the words with a small smile. “They will adore Joshua, but knowing that they have missed three years of his life will be hard for them to come to terms with.”

  She swept her eyes shut, thinking of Maria. She’d decided not to tell him about the scene at the hospital, nor the phone conversations afterwards.

  But now?

  “I… your mother…” the words tapered off and he looked at her expectantly, but she found the sentence impossible to form.

  The pain of her own parents’ rejection was so fresh in her mind. What would Xavier say if she told him? If she told him she’d called Maria with the intention of getting in contact with Xavier, to be honest with him about the pregnancy? What would he say if she told him that Maria had lied? And that those lies were a large part of why a twenty year old Ellie hadn’t been confident enough to go through with speaking to Xavier?

  She sighed heavily, her nerves stretching thin, and guilt hammered against her side.

  Maria had lied to Ellie. She’d lied to get the other woman out of Xavier’s life.

  But it was Ellie who’d believed the lies; Ellie who’d decided to run and hide rather than face the truth. Ellie had deprived them all of so much – what purpose was there in implicating Maria in that? “Maybe we should just get married and then they can come and meet Joshua. I don’t have to be a part of that.”

  Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think our son would find it easier with you in the room?”

  She groaned. Of course he would. Now she stood, and he watched wordlessly, as she paced the room, searching for words.

  “They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”

  A beat of silence passed. “They’re going to hate what they’ve missed out on.”

  It was uncharacteristically considerate of her feelings. “They’re going to hate me,” she corrected. “And you hate me. And I… I think I even hate myself.”

  She turned to face him, but she couldn’t look at him, and so didn’t see the expression that overtook his face, the mask of something dark. “I truly believed I was doing the right thing back then. I thought you’d be happy and I didn’t want to foist a child on you, and I didn’t want to foist myself on you. But now I see you with Joshua and I can’t believe I didn’t realise how much you were both losing. And I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her fingertips into her chest, as though that might stem the aching of her heart.

  “I’m so sorry.” Now she forced herself to face him head on. His expression was tight, his features set in a pose of tension. “You wanted to hear me apologise? I’m doing it. I’m apologizing a thousand times. I wish I’d told you. I wish I could go back in time and do everything differently,” she stifled a sob. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but maybe I was being selfish. I was hurt and angry that you’d lied to me and unconsciously maybe I did want to punish you.”

  The words were weakened by tears she could no longer hold at bay. “It wasn’t… something I thought about. They were disconnected thoughts. My anger, and my need to do what was best for everyone. But how could I forgive you for making me fall in love with you and then learning you were getting married? It was all a game to you.” She sobbed. “I should never have kept Josh from you and your parents. I was… wrong. I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop it.” He spoke with alarm, then scraped his own chair back, standing and crossing the room, pulling her into his arms. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, and he held her tight to his chest. “It was a mistake,” he said gruffly.

  Her sobbing got louder.

  He made a noise of frustration and then his fingertips caught her chin, tilting it so that her face was angled towards his, and he kissed her. He kissed her even when tears were rolling into her mouth, and he lifted her, holding her cradled to his chest and carrying her through the house, up the stairs, as though she weighed little more than a feather.

  “Everybody makes mistakes,” he said, as he laid her onto the bed without breaking their kiss. He kept his body on hers, the weight of him a pleasure she hadn’t known she needed.

  He undressed her gently, and for the first time, when they came together, he whispered sweet Spanish words in her ear and she stopped sobbing, but the guilt and the grief stayed lodged in her heart.

  She suspected it always would.

  13

  A NEW PATTERN EMERGED. A dangerous new pattern. Xavier had woken the day after her sobbing confession with a heavy stone of guilt in his gut. He’d found it hard to look at her, hard to talk to her, and she’d obviously been relieved by that distance.

  She’d retreated from him even further, if that were possible.

  He’d watched her shadow herself from him, closing herself off from what they’d shared that night, and he’d been glad.

  Glad that he didn’t have to analyse what her tearful admission had done to his determination and resolve. Glad he didn’t have to face the fact that he was softening towards her.

  He didn’t want to soften towards her. Because despite her remorse, she’d still robbed him of something too valuable to repair.

  Every day he spent with Joshua made him wonder at the years that had come before – made him wonder about his life as a baby, his habits, his experiences. Having missed that would torment him all his life – and now he knew it was tormenting Elizabeth as well. Hadn’t he wanted that?

  Perhaps, at one time. But the obvious state of despair she’d slipped into gave him absolutely no satisfaction.

  Three days before the wedding, Elizabeth came to Xavier in his office.

  “I’m going shopping,” she murmured, her eyes barely meeting him, as always. “For a wedding dress,” she added for good measure.

  A sharp pain in the region of his frontal lobe spiked out of nowhere. He pressed his fingertips to it, hoping it wouldn’t turn into an all-day migraine. They were the last hangover from his accidents. Sudden, sharp sensations of pain that almost robbed him of breath and often took days to recover fully from.

  “You haven’t got a wedding dress yet?” He asked, covering the grimace of pain that flashed on his face.

  “I haven’t had a chance,” she said, and swallowed, because it wasn’t really true. She simply hadn’t been able to face the reality of shopping for a dress for this farce of a wedding.

  “Of course. Shall I come with you?”

  “That doesn’t seem appropriate,” she demurred. “Besides, Nell has offered.”

  “Your sister is in town?”

  “She flew back in last night,” Ellie confirmed. “For an appointment, and then she’ll stay on for our wedding. I’m meeting her for lunch so I thought we’d grab something afterwards.”

  “You make it sound like you are picking out a new brand of toothpaste,” he said with a tilt of his lips; renewed pain seared his brain. When he spoke, his voice had an edge of pain to it. “Isn’t a wedding dress meant to be the most important purchase a woman can make?”

  She paled visibly. “This is hardly a dream wedding, for either of us,” she clipped. “I’ll be happy if I find something even remotely bridal.”

  His head pain sharpened. “Fine,” he said, and then, a thought occurred to him. Swearing inwardly at his lack of forethought, he grabbed out his wallet and placed a credit card on the table. “This is for you. I arranged it a week ago.”

  She stared at the black card with her name in shiny silver letters. Only not her name – it read: Elizabeth Salbatore.

  “How did you do that?” She asked, finally looking at him p
roperly.

  It had been easy for a man like Xavier Salbatore. He had billions of pounds invested with his bank, and used them exclusively for his European projects. A line of credit in his wife’s name with himself as guarantor had been no issue at all.

  “Take the card,” he murmured, as another sharp pain pressed into his scalp. He needed to be alone – preferably horizontal and in a darkened room. “Get whatever you want.”

  She looked awkward. “I don’t need that,” she said.

  “You’re going to be my wife. Take it.”

  She compressed her lips and did as he’d said, but the dejected slump of her shoulders made it impossible for him to feel any degree of relief.

  “I’ll pick Josh up from school on my way.”

  “I can do it,” Xavier offered, wondering if that was factually accurate. He felt as if an anvil was going off in his brain.

  “It’s fine. Nell will come with me. She’s desperate to see Josh.”

  “Did you want to do something with her tonight? Have her for dinner?”

  Elizabeth looked as though he’d suggested scraping her fingernails off.

  “No.” She shook her head sharply, and the sense that she wanted to keep her sister separate from this life filled him with a gnawing sense of frustration. But it was dwarfed by the keening sense of pain that was soaring through his body. He needed her to go before he vomited or passed out.

  “Fine. As you wish. I’ll see you this evening then.”

  It was a curt dismissal and they both knew it. But as Elizabeth left the sanctuary of his office, he realized she had no idea why he’d been so eager to send her away. The second the door shut he let out a low groan of pain and tossed his head back, squeezing his eyes closed and waiting for the sharp, horrifying pain to recede.

  Bella’s wedding dress had been white. Beaded. The straps had been off-the-shoulder, showing a beautiful porcelain décolletage and the generous swell of her cleavage. She’d worn a full skirt and there must have been heels beneath it because Arabella was short but on their wedding day she’d stood almost to his shoulder.

  “I went looking for a wedding dress today. I tried on at least a dozen. And then it hit me: I’m never going to find the right dress, am I?”

  His headache worsened. He gripped the edges of his chair, waves of nausea rocking him, then he dropped his head between his legs, concentrating on his breathing, waiting for the agony to recede. He was vaguely aware of the door pushing open, the sound was intensified in his agonizing pain.

  “Xavier, I forgot to ask if I need a pincode…” And then, the sound of footsteps crossing the carpet, faster. “Xavier? What is it?” She crouched beside him and the pain was worse.

  “Silence,” he said thickly, the word hurting to issue. “Please.”

  “What’s the matter?” She asked, ignoring him.

  “I’ve known you a long time, but is this really what you want?”

  Pain lanced his temples.

  “Please go.” The words were thick with desperation.

  “Xavier? I’m worried.”

  “Get out!” He bit the words out with as much force as he could muster and a wave of nausea threatened to tip him over the edge to actual sickness. He gripped the armrests tighter, his eyes pinched shut.

  She didn’t go though. He was conscious of her as he waited for the sharp pain to recede, and when finally it lessened and he could breathe again, when the piercing and unbearable pain had left only a dull, throbbing ache in its wake, he straightened, and fixed her with a level gaze. “It’s a remnant of the accident.”

  He didn’t add that it was always at its worst when old memories were trying to burst to the surface, when his mind was exhausted by attempting to salvage facts he had once known. “It comes on suddenly but passes quickly.”

  And he could see by the look in Elizabeth’s face that he was looking better. Relief was obvious.

  “Do you need anything?”

  Water helped, but he shook his head. He didn’t want her to see him as a damned invalid, like Arabella had. Arabella. What the hell was that memory? Was it a memory? Or was his mind playing tricks on him?

  “Just go,” he said through clenched teeth.

  He wasn’t an idiot. He saw the way she recoiled, hurt in her expression as she stood and nodded. “I’ll ask Janice to look in on you. To call me if you need anything.”

  “I won’t.”

  More hurt. He needed her out! He needed to think.

  “Fine.”

  She spun, leaving him alone with memories that made no sense and a headache that wouldn’t quit.

  Arabella answered her phone on the first ring. “Xave?”

  “Bella.” A tight smile crossed his face. Their easy friendship the one thing he could rely on from his former life and his new life.

  “Is everything okay? You sound different?”

  “Fine. Just a headache.”

  “Uh oh. Have you had something to drink? Some water? Do you need to call Dr Finley?”

  He winced, shaking his head, which only made the pain about a thousand times worse. “I’m fine. I just…” he cleared his throat. “How are you?”

  She laughed. “Great. But you’re calling because you’ve remembered something. Right?”

  Was he imagining the wariness in her tone? Of course he was. This was Bella – his rock. “Right.” She knew the headaches were usually accompanied by fragments of his past resurfacing. In the beginning, after the accident, memories had come hard and fast, repopulating a brain that was almost completely blanked of personal experiences. Now, he only experienced this a few times a year.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s complicated.” Shame at what he’d done to this woman, shame at the way he’d slept around behind her back made him nauseous for a whole other reason. “I’m getting married.”

  Her sharp intake of breath signaled surprise, nothing more. Their marriage had ended amicably and very much by mutual agreement. There was no love between them, except of the friendship variety.

  “That’s wonderful, Xave! I’m so happy for you!”

  Silence followed.

  “But you’re not happy about it? What’s happened? Who is she?”

  “Someone from my past,” he began uneasily and then shook his head. This wasn’t a conversation for the phone. “Are you in Madrid? I’ll come over.”

  “I’m not, actually. I’m visiting my aunt.”

  “In Edinburgh? I’m in London. I’ll get my jet fueled and come straight up.”

  “Nonsense. You know you shouldn’t fly when you’ve had one of your episodes. I’ll come to you. I have something I need to do in London anyway.”

  He didn’t demur. She was right, as always.

  “I think the dress is beautiful,” Nell said, smiling, as Apollo offered her a glass of water.

  “I’m sure it is,” Apollo grinned, and Ellie couldn’t help contrasting this couple’s easy happiness with her and Xavier’s constant state of tension. They were always, without fail, on edge.

  It was only days until their wedding and she had no reason to think matters were likely to improve once it was over. They’d be married, but they’d still be them. As loaded with hatred and despair as ever before.

  As desperate for one another as they were now.

  They were trapped by their past and locked by their desire.

  She pictured him as he’d been earlier that day – the pallor of his skin, the way he’d grimaced in absolute pain. And the way he’d pushed her away, so obviously unable to tolerate her presence. He didn’t need her, and he never would

  “Want to see it?” Ellie asked, distractedly.

  “On Saturday,” he said with a laugh.

  Nell laughed and then winced and Apollo was instantly attentive. “Are you okay, agape mou?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. You think I’m so fragile lately…”

  Ellie watched their conversation with a dawning sense of comprehension, and it was e
nough to push Xavier temporarily from her mind. “You’re pregnant?” She said, the first genuine smile in weeks curving her lips.

  Nell slapped a palm to her forehead. “Yes, but we weren’t going to say anything until after the wedding!”

  “Why ever not?” Ellie asked, shaking her head and rushing to her sister, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

  “Because we don’t want to steal your thunder.”

  “Steal my thunder? There is no thunder. You both know why I’m getting married. Now tell me some good news,” she enthused, taking the stool opposite Eleanor and listening as Nell relayed everything. Her morning sickness, her fatigue, the discovery that she was pregnant with not one but two babies!

  “Twins?” Ellie laughed, shaking her head.

  “Apparently, you carry the gene,” Apollo teased dryly.

  “Apparently,” Ellie laughed, and all three of them were laughing, and happy and for a moment Ellie let herself pretend that life was problem-free. That she was as happy in general as she felt in that moment. She pretended that a huge axe wasn’t about to drop.

  Hours later, Ellie walked to the door, accompanied by Apollo. “You look pale,” he remarked, when they were out of Eleanor’s earshot. “Are you unwell?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just busy with all the wedding preparation.”

  “You’ve just bought your dress,” he pointed out wryly. “How much preparation have you been doing?”

  She bristled, and shook her head. “I’ve been getting Joshua settled into a new home, a new routine, helping him get to know Xavier. It’s been hectic.”

  “Your marriage—,” he said, apparently searching for words, and Ellie was struck by how alike this man and Xavier were. How strong and charismatic and somewhat useless when it came to expressing any kind of emotional thought.

  “Yes?” She waited.

  “You know that you don’t have to go through with it?”