by Day Leclaire
At the end of one particularly grueling session, Rafe approached Chase. “Lucky you. Your part in all this is almost over.”
Chase scrubbed his face in exhaustion. Hell, he needed a shave. Again. “I couldn’t be that lucky. Why is Worth dragging his feet? Every time I turn around he’s trying to shove another change into the contract.”
Rafe thrust a hand through his pale hair. “And every time he shoves in another change, my team of lawyers runs up more fees picking them back out again. It’s nothing new. You know that. He’s stalling because this is his baby. And on some level he may suspect what I’m about to do.” Rafe’s expression hardened. “Not that it’s going to stop me.”
“You haven’t changed your mind on that front?”
“Not even a little.” He lowered his voice. “Which brings me to what I need from you.”
“Name it.”
“Get Emma out of town. I have a feeling we’re going to wrap this thing up over the weekend and it would help if she wasn’t around to cause any last-minute trouble.”
“As it turns out, I won’t have to get her out of town. She’s already going.”
Some of the edginess eased from Rafe’s voice. “That’s the first piece of good news I’ve heard all day. Where’s she going?”
“We. We’re going.”
Rafe considered. “That won’t be a problem. Like I said, your job is just about through.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Is it a secret or are you planning to share?”
“We’re going to San Francisco.”
“Nice.”
“Not so nice. Some little bird dropped the news in The Barron’s ear that Emma’s pregnant.” Chase shot a disgruntled glare in the direction of the conference room. “I can guess who. Anyway, the great man himself is flying in to check on some office building he’s constructing and he’s ordered us to make a command appearance.”
Rafe laughed. “Tell you what, feel free to take my jet up to San Francisco. So long as Emma is out of the picture and not running her mouth to reporters—”
Chase stiffened. “Careful,” he warned.
The quiet forcefulness of his tone got through to Rafe where anger wouldn’t have. “Seriously?” He made an impatient sound. “Okay, I can see you’re dead serious. Damn it, Chase. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t talk to you at all, anymore.”
“You can talk to me. You just need to stop making derogatory comments about my future wife and the mother of my child.”
“Hell.”
Chase slapped his brother on the shoulder. “It’s rough, but I have confidence in you. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Whatever you say.” He bared his teeth. “Give your father my best regards.”
Chase winced. “That was low, even for you.”
“My pleasure.” Rafe checked his watch. “Come on, bro. Let’s get back in there and find out what Worth has tried to sneak by my sharks in the last five minutes.”
The next few days flew by and as the weekend approached the deal teetered on the edge of completion. They were well past the point of no return, Chase decided, satisfied. Not that he’d mention as much to Emma. If her father elected to say something, that was his choice. Discretion appealed far more, particularly when it came to his bride-to-be, and particularly since she still needed more convincing to go from bride-to-be to done deal.
At long last, Saturday morning dawned bright and clear and the flight to San Francisco in Rafe’s luxurious business jet proved uneventful. A car waited to transport them into the city. It couldn’t have gone any smoother. For some reason it made Chase wonder at what point the weekend would all go hideously wrong.
At a guess, the minute Tiberius Barron entered the picture.
“Where are we meeting your father?” Emma asked, proving once again that she possessed an uncanny knack for reading his mind.
“He has a building under construction downtown. We’re to join him there.”
She paused and he could tell she chose her words with care. “We’re meeting him at a construction site?”
“I believe the actual construction phase is complete. They’re working on the finishing touches.” He offered a cool smile. “My father is a man who believes in multitasking.”
“So I gather.” She touched the bracelet she wore with a troubled expression. It was the one his mother had designed and purchased for Emma. Noticing her attachment to it filled Chase with fierce pleasure. “He can’t spare time to sit down over lunch or even a cup of coffee and talk?”
“My father is a busy man.”
“I see.”
She didn’t say anything more for a long time, but Chase could tell she was mulling over his words. He could practically see the bullet points she busily created, an entire relentless row of the nasty little suckers. She would connect the dots from this point onward until he wouldn’t be able to take any more and snapped.
He didn’t want to snap. Not at Emma. He steeled himself against the coming conversation. Being the thorough, detail-oriented sort, she started with dot number one.
“Has your father always been this busy?” she asked.
“I never saw much of him growing up,” he explained, pleased with the mildness of his response.
“Why not? You were living with him.”
“No, actually I wasn’t.”
She released a sigh of exasperation. “I’m sorry. Maybe the baby is using up all my brain cells, but I really don’t understand any of this. I thought you went to live with your father when you were ten.” And here came dot number two, dropping with a splat, like a gift from the back end of a seagull. “How could you live with him and not see him?”
Damn. He really didn’t want to get into this. Not now. He’d hoped, not ever. Foolish to think Emma wouldn’t ask at some point. “The same way you never saw your brother after the age of fifteen. I arrived in New York and was immediately shipped off to prep school. Living with my father was just a euphemism for being under his control and having my upbringing orchestrated by him.”
“Oh, Chase! That’s appalling.”
He shrugged. “That’s The Barron for you.”
“And when you weren’t at school? Where did you go?”
“Our…agreement, I guess you’d call it, permitted me to spend my summers and holidays with Mom.” He reflected on the conclusion he’d reached long ago regarding that particular arrangement. “No doubt because my stepmother, Karis, wanted nothing to do with me. Understandable, I suppose.”
Emma stared at Chase in utter disbelief. “Are you telling me The Barron took you away from Penny and then ignored you? Why would he do that? It doesn’t make any sense.”
He smiled at the way she’d picked up his habit of referring to his father as “The Barron” while dodging the third dot with impressive dexterity. “You’d have to ask him.”
Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Will he be any more forthcoming than you?”
“Doubtful.”
“Got it.” There was a significant pause while she strolled over to dot number four and gave it a good, swift kick. “Was your father married at the time you were conceived?” she asked. “Is that why your stepmother wanted nothing to do with you?”
“I believe he was engaged to Karis at the time.” He hoped like hell they arrived at the site soon. Damn soon. Before they reached the next dot.
Emma winced. “Ouch. How many Barron stepbrothers and sisters do you have?”
Too late for a timely rescue. She’s reached dot number five, the most telling one of all. “Karis has never had any children. I could never think of a polite way to ask why, since I guarantee my father wanted sons. Legitimate sons, that is.”
“Ah.”
He turned a disgruntled look on her. “What does ‘ah’ mean?”
“It means I understand.”
“Excellent. No more dots.”
Her brows pulled together in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, we can finally put this conversat
ion to rest.”
“Forever more?” she probed delicately.
“I couldn’t be that lucky.”
“I suspect you’re right, but I do sympathize. After all, I’m just as touchy about the subject of my mother’s death. Not to mention the estrangement from my brother.”
“Then you’ll leave it alone?”
“Mmm.”
He swore beneath his breath. “Let me put it this way. You will leave it alone.”
“Oh, look.” She pointed out the window at an impressive high-rise. “I think that must be the building.”
“What gave it away?”
She grinned. “Maybe the sign that says Future Home of Barron’s West.”
He couldn’t resist her smile. He pulled her close and gave her a slow, thorough kiss. She responded with unstinting generosity, her curves fitting against him as though tailor-made. Slowly his hand crept downward and his fingers splayed across her abdomen.
Their child rested there. He craved these moments when he could touch that precious bundle tucked so snugly within her womb. To try to sense the baby’s presence through the protective layers of flesh and bone. More than anything, he wanted to strip away her clothes and press his lips against the softening mound of her belly. To rest his cheek there and pretend he could hear the rapid whoosh of his baby’s heartbeat or feel the flutter of its first movements.
Her name escaped in a whisper. “Emma…”
She pulled back slightly and traced the curve of his jaw with a tender touch. Gathering her hand in his, she pressed a little tighter and cupped her hands over his. “Still there, safe and sound.”
He lowered his voice, as though to keep from disturbing the baby’s slumber. “Has he…she…moved, yet?”
“I haven’t felt anything. From what I’ve read that won’t happen for another few weeks.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Will you tell me when it happens?”
“You’ll be the first to know, I promise.”
The car pulled to a stop and the driver climbed from his seat. It gave them just enough time to straighten and smooth and collect themselves. An instant later, the door opened beside Emma. She sent Chase an encouraging smile before exiting the car. The minute he joined her, she took his hand in hers, uniting them as a couple. As they approached, he could feel the critical gaze of his father and stepmother from where they stood in the shadow of the huge building. He wondered if Emma felt it, too. If so, had she taken his hand for protection…or to protect? Maybe he’d ask her when they were next alone.
The introductions were brief, formal and bitterly cold. Though Karis greeted Emma with some degree of warmth, she avoided looking at him. As usual. Chase and his father shook hands with brisk, distant efficiency. Then his stepmother swept Emma in one direction while his father ushered him in the other. He could hear Karis inviting Emma to go shopping and was amused to see the invitation blown off, much to his stepmother’s irritation.
“Are you listening to me?” Tiberius Barron demanded.
“Yes. You were asking about a wedding date. Nothing has been set.”
“Why not?”
“It’s quite simple. The lady in question hasn’t agreed to marry me.”
The Barron’s eyes, the same smoky blue shade as his own, ignited with temper. “Now you listen to me, boy. Emma is a Worth. She’s a Smith graduate. Her pedigree is impeccable. And she’s clearly fertile, which means legitimate children, something I’ve never been fortunate enough to possess.”
Huh. One of Emma’s dots just got connected to the others. He’d have to let her know. “I realize how lucky I am to have her. Maybe my mongrel status doesn’t appeal to her,” he admitted humbly. He contemplated the possibility. “Now that I think about it, marrying me would be a step down for her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You have Barron blood running through your veins, even if it’s been diluted.”
Chase stiffened. “Diluted or polluted?” he asked very, very softly.
Ty waved that aside. “Don’t be fatuous. You know damn well what I’m talking about.” His crisp, hard words shot out like bullets. “Emma Worth isn’t some cheap piece of goods you can fool around with and then walk away from. You can’t skip out on your obligations and responsibilities to her so easily.”
A haze of red settled across Chase’s vision, interfering with his ability to think and speak with his usual calm control. “Let me get this straight. I should shoulder my obligations and responsibilities—in other words, marry Emma because she’s pregnant. But you never felt obligated to do the same thing for Mom?” It was a question he’d longed to ask ever since he’d first learned the facts of his birth.
Barron smoldered. “Your mother wasn’t the kind of woman you marry.”
Chase froze, his hands balling into fists. Before he could use them, Emma approached and forced his fingers apart, interlacing them with hers. He caught a brief glimpse of Karis’s rigid back as she exited the site and climbed into the limo waiting to whisk her off to the shopping district.
“What have I missed?” Emma asked lightly.
“Nothing,” both men said in unison.
“Funny.” She fixed The Barron with an icy look. “I could have sworn I heard you tell your son that his mother wasn’t the sort of woman worthy of marriage.”
Dull color swept along Ty’s cheekbones. “Excuse me. I was attempting to protect your interests against my son’s carelessness.”
“My interests?” She lifted an eyebrow in polite inquiry. “Or your own?”
Aw, hell. “Let it go, Emma,” Chase advised.
She glanced down and for an instant he thought the moment would blow over. Then she touched the bracelet encircling her wrist—his mother’s bracelet—and her head jerked up. “No. I don’t think I will let it go.”
“You have something to say to me, Ms. Worth?” Ty used his most intimidating tone of voice, not that it fazed Emma one iota.
“I have a great deal to say to you, Mr. Barron.” Fire burned in her gaze, along with an intense anger. A protective anger. One stirred by her feelings for him, Chase realized with a sense of wonder. “You pressured a ten-year-old boy into deserting his mother in order to live with you.”
“Nonsense.”
She swept aside The Barron’s interruption as though it held little or no merit. Which, Chase conceded, it didn’t. “And once you had your son in your clutches, you dumped him into a prep school where he was subjected to unimaginable ridicule and torment because you chose to allow him to come into this world a bastard.”
“A marriage to Penny Larson would have been a disaster.”
“Then why didn’t you formally adopt Chase?” It was a devastating question, one that Chase had never dared ask, mainly because he didn’t want to know the answer. Or maybe he knew the answer and would rather not hear it put into actual words. “You couldn’t even be troubled to give him the protection of your name, could you?” She stepped closer, invading The Barron’s territory. “Why? Why would you do that?”
She’d actually shaken the old man. Ty shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “That’s none of your business.”
Her voice lowered, intensified. “Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Barron. I have a very good idea why. Don’t for one moment think I haven’t figured it out. All you cared about were your own self-interest. When I think of that poor child…”
She broke off and her fingers curled over the tiny mound of her belly in an instinctive gesture, a distinctly maternal gesture of protection that forged a connection in Chase’s mind between the boy he’d been and the child she carried. To his distress, tears filled her eyes and her mouth trembled. Before he could step in and put an end to the conversation, she pressed her lips together into a firm line and forced past the tears.
“You never gave a single thought to the feelings of your own son. You never once armored him against the cruelty with which society regarded him. Not with your name. Not with your love.” She drew in a swi
ft, trembling breath. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I know I am.”
With that, Emma turned into Chase’s embrace and burst into tears. He wrapped her up in a protective hold. “I believe that’s my signal to rescue the damsel in distress from the ferocious dragon.”
“I think I’m the one who needs rescuing,” Ty growled, his complexion pasty white. “In fact, I know I am.”
“We’ll be going now, in case you hadn’t picked up on that fact. Nice seeing you as always, Dad. Give our best regards to Karis.”
“Chase, I…” For the first time in his entire life, Chase witnessed his father groping for words. “I…I’m sorry, son. For everything. I never looked at any of this from a child’s point of view. Until now, that is. Until Emma.”
A fierce pride swept through Chase. “She has a way with words, doesn’t she?”
“You might say that.” Ty closed his eyes. “Listen to me, Chase. You have the chance to do what I never would. I hope you handle your choices better than I have. Maybe when Emma is feeling better—” He stumbled to a halt. “I’d like to make amends. To both of you.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“He can come to the wedding,” Emma sobbed. “If there is a wedding.”
Ty hesitated, uncertain how to respond. “I’ll be there,” he said at last. “Assuming there is a there.”
Chase figured they weren’t going to resolve their differences any better than that. Not today, at any rate. Without another word, he carried Emma back to the waiting car. “Where to?” the driver asked.
“Sweetheart?”
She wiped her eyes. “Would you mind if we just went home?”
“No, of course not.”
He didn’t know if Emma realized it, yet, but with that single blazing speech, she’d just fully and completely committed herself to him. If she didn’t, she soon would. He’d make sure of that. Because she’d given him the one thing he’d never had and always craved.