Billionaires: They're powerful, hot, charming and richer than sin...

by Clare Connelly

  The question stopped her in her tracks. She shook her head.

  “You knew who I was. How to contact me. You chose to do neither –,”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know because I discovered six weeks ago that I am the father to a two year old boy.”

  “I tried to tell you.”

  “Oh, yes, how clearly I recall this. The conversations, the meetings, the lengthy discussions about custody –,”

  “Don’t be glib.” She was shaking. She dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her stomach looping like an out-of-control figure of eight.

  “Don’t lie to me then.”

  “I’m not lying!” The words came out louder than she’d intended but she didn’t apologise, nor did she make any effort to soften her voice. She had the feeling that she’d been pushed from the safety and sanctuary of the hospital into a wild and untamed jungle, and that Fiero was a lion hunting her track, toying with her for a reason she couldn’t make sense of.

  “Then tell me of your attempts to contact me,” he encouraged sarcastically. “Was there perhaps a dead battery on your mobile phone? A poor connection? Did the dog eat your homework?”

  “Wow,” she shook her head angrily. “Fine. Have it your way. And you’re right. Kind of. I didn’t want to tell you. Not at first. Not when I saw who you were and I googled you and learned that you were married.” Her eyes flashed with silent rage. “Can you blame me, Fiero? I was furious. I hated you that morning, I hated you so much. To have woken up and found you gone after what we’d shared,” her voice wobbled and she shook her head to break the threads of those memories, memories that warmed her even when the aftermath was chilling. “That was bad enough, but to see photos of you and your wife all over the internet?”

  His chest moved with the rapid rise and fall of his breath, but his face maintained a terse mask of disgust. “So you thought you’d keep him from me as what? A punishment?”

  “NO!” She roared the response. “When I found out, my first instinct was to not tell you. It was a one-night stand and you’d disappeared into thin air, forgetting all about me. Why bother involving you? You were married, for God’s sake.”

  “As you’ve said.”

  “But then I had his twenty week scan,” she spun away from Fiero, focussing her gaze on the view of the roses growing beneath her window. “And I saw his little face and his nose and heard his heart so loud and strong, and I knew that you had a right to know. I could hate you for what you did to me, but that didn’t change the fact that you were his father.” She swallowed, that day burned into her memory. “I flew to Rome, and came to your house. I waited there, screwing up my courage to tell you about Jack.”

  “So? Then what? Go on, I’m intrigued.”

  His scepticism was obvious.

  “Right as I was preparing to cross the road and knock on the door, it opened. You walked out. With her. Alison.” She felt that it was a betrayal to the sisterhood that she spoke the other woman’s name with disdain. The other woman had, after all, done nothing immoral. It was she, Elodie, who’d been in the wrong.

  His features briefly shifted to show a greater level of cynicism. “I see.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I saw the two of you together and I realised that you were happy. No, it was more than that.” Tears cloyed at her throat. “You were a family, and I had no right to come into your life and destroy that. I wanted our baby to bring happiness and love, and if I told you, it would likely have destroyed your marriage and I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want that to be Jack’s legacy.”

  He was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning her face. “That’s a very convenient story, except for one salient detail.”

  “Oh?”

  “My wife and I had separated six months before I met you. She moved out of my home; we stopped living together. We were as good as divorced the night I met you.”

  Elodie had suffered a traumatic accident a month and a half ago, but the pain in her head now was blinding. It was like being slammed with a mallet. “I don’t believe you.”

  “So here we are, man and woman, both determined not to believe the other. Unfortunately for you, only one of us has to bear the proof of a lie.”

  Elodie frowned.

  “Whatever you thought, whatever you felt, you chose to keep my son from me. There is no excuse – none – niente – that you can offer to make that okay.”

  “You were married,” she responded softly, the words swallowed up by her confusion. He had been. There were thousands of photographs on the web, Alison and Fiero at charity balls, concerts, dinner, walking hand in hand in Cannes. Bile rose through her. She ground her teeth and tried to grab onto her anger again.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t magically intuit the situation, that I didn’t somehow know you were separated. If I had, believe me, Fiero I would have told you about Jack sooner.”

  “You should have told me anyway.” The words, though spoken quietly enough, slammed into her as though he’d shouted them through the room.

  She spun around to face him, and whatever she’d been about to say slipped from her mind. The look on his features stilled her.

  He was devastated. Her heart kerthunked.

  “I have missed two years of his life.” The observation was heavy with accusation. “And these past six weeks, I have got to know our son. I have seen him laugh and cry and talk and eat, run and walk. I have kicked a ball with him and for every moment that is so perfect, I feel an equal sense of disbelief and anger, because I should have known him from infancy. I should have held him as a newborn in my arms, I should have wiped his brow if he were fevered, held his hand as he took his first steps. I should have been there.” His eyes glittered when they locked to hers. “You kept him from me, and there is no excuse for that.”

  She felt wobbly on her feet. She reached behind her for the wall, pressing her palm to it as an aid to balance. Was he right?

  She blinked, slowly, and then closed her eyes, needing to shut him out for a second. She tried to put herself back in her shoes as they’d been then. The sting of his betrayal, the man she’d believed him to be. He hadn’t made her any promises during their night together, not with words at least, but his body had been devoted to hers, his kisses had seared her soul. And then he’d disappeared into thin air, back to his marriage. At least, that’s what she’d believed.

  Unable to find the words to defend herself, she shook her head. “Do you think I wanted to do this alone? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?”

  “No. I have no idea what it’s been like because you didn’t involve me.” She opened her eyes to find him looking at her as though she were a piece of metal, one he was keen to send to the scrap heap. “You didn’t have to do this alone…”

  “So what? I should have told you, even believing it would destroy your marriage?”

  “My marriage was my business, not yours.”

  “Yes, but I’d seen the respect you held for it – or lack of respect, I should say.” She lifted a hand up to forestall him. “I thought I’m seen that. And you can’t blame me for believing what was right in front of me. The photographs, the articles, everywhere I looked there was incontrovertible proof that you were another woman’s husband.” She swallowed; her throat felt coarse. “And when I came here to Italy and saw you together – God, Fiero, my stomach was round with your baby and I stood on the opposite side of the street, and watched you walk out of your house, hand in hand with your wife, and I felt like the worst kind of person in the world. You were married. And she didn’t deserve this. You made a decision that night. You lied to me –,”

  “I told you. My marriage was over.”

  “Not so over that I didn’t deserve to know about it,” she snapped, and had the satisfaction of seeing his face flash with something like acceptance. “None of this was her fault. None of it was my fault. You were the only one who knew the situation. It was hard enough for me to accept and I’d known you for one night;
I wasn’t going to ruin her life because of your mistake.”

  “We were separated. As a point of fact, we’d signed the divorce papers. It was almost official. I had every right to do as I wished. Meeting you, going home with you…I didn’t plan that, but nor did I break my vows, Elodie.”

  “Except it wasn’t really that simple, was it? You might have known it was just a one night stand but I didn’t.” Damn it, her words shook with the shock she’d felt that morning. “I woke up so happy because for me, that night had been…I was stupid enough to think it meant something.” She glared at him to erase the impression of sadness; she was stronger than that, better than that. It had been three years ago.

  “It did mean something.” His expression was like stone but his words robbed her of breath. “It was a one night stand but you were…” he paused, searching for words. “I cannot reconcile the woman I met that night to this woman, to someone who would actively hide a child from his father.”

  “I did no such thing!” She swore, shaking her head.

  “Did you mean to punish me, Elodie? Was that it? I hurt your feelings because I didn’t stay to make you breakfast…”

  “No!” She shook her head vehemently, interrupting him. “If I wanted to punish you, don’t you think I would have delighted in storming into your life and breaking up your perfect marriage? Don’t you think I would have relished making things difficult for you?”

  “So you hid my son from me as, what? A favour?”

  “Don’t be so facile. I didn’t hide him from you.” She jutted her chin out defiantly, even when her ribs felt as though they were cracking all over again from the sheer strength of her heart’s beating. “It was always my intention that he would know the truth about you one day, and yes, later, when the sting of your betrayal was watered down by time, I thought you and your wife could learn about our son, and that it might not destroy her in the way it otherwise might have.” As it had destroyed Elodie, for a long time.

  His eyes narrowed. “How compassionate you are. To raise a child on your own merely to spare another woman’s feelings? A woman you didn’t know, and didn’t owe anything to?”

  She gasped. “Only a cold-hearted bitch wouldn’t feel some kind of responsibility to her. I slept with her husband! True, I had no way of knowing that at the time, but are you kidding me? Never in my life would I have chosen to be ‘the other woman’.”

  “You weren’t.” He compressed his lips, his features like stone. “As you would have discovered at the time, if you’d given me even a hint of the consideration you gave Alison, I was all but divorced.”

  “So why not tell me that? Why put it off?” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, goading him. “Why sign the papers and not file them?”

  His skin paled momentarily and she thought, for a second, she’d caught him out in a lie. “My grandfather was diagnosed with terminal cancer, a week after we agreed to split. He was very old-fashioned – mired in a bygone era. Neither Alison nor I wanted to put him through the additional pain of our divorce. Not when we knew he didn’t have long. Not when he’d already endured so much.” He swallowed, angling his face away and sucking in a deep breath of air so his broad chest shifted and her eyes dropped of their own accord to the action. “Yaya was another consideration.”

  “Yaya?”

  “Grandma. She’s Greek.” His expression tightened. “She’s good and kind and she was facing the imminent death of the man she married when she was fifteen years old. The last thing I wanted was to add to her worries with a divorce.”

  Her heart, soft to a fault, ached for him and his loss, but she was defensive too. Hurting for herself and for the years she’d spent blaming herself for that night, wondering if she missed some clue as to his state of matrimony.

  “I thought you were married.” She bit down on her lower lip. “In hindsight, I wish now – obviously – that I’d found a way to talk to you. But I didn’t know then what I do now. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes whipped to hers. “You’re sorry?”

  His fury was unexpected. She bristled.

  “You think you can say ‘sorry’ and I will just smile and accept it?”

  “What else can I do?” She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I wanted Jack to know both of his parents. Believe me, I have wanted that all along.”

  “How can I believe that, when the evidence is completely to the contrary?”

  She opened her mouth to plead her case again but he slashed his hand through the air, silencing her with the emphatic gesture. “Basta. Enough. No more excuses. I will accept that you thought you were doing the right thing, that there was perhaps even a hint of nobility in your decisions, even when you knew you were keeping him from me. You were wrong, completely wrong, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt, as to your motivations.”

  She felt her eyes itching to roll, but she held his gaze through his tirade.

  “It does not change the fact that I have missed two years of his life. It doesn’t change the fact that I am his father and that I deserve everything you have had these past two years.”

  His words did something funny to her insides. “You’re saying you want to be involved in his life?”

  His laugh was completely devoid of humour. “I’m saying I’m going to be his life.” He paced across the room, moving away from her but his words seemed to bring him closer somehow. “I have had custody papers drawn up while you’ve been in hospital. Jack will remain here in Italy, with me. I will be solely responsible for his health and well-being, his upbringing. You will get the same courtesy from me now as I have received from you. In two years, we can talk and see if you still feel so righteous in the choices you made.”

  Nausea crushed her from the inside out. She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “No, Fiero. No. That’s not fair.”

  “Fair? You want to speak to me of ‘fair’?”

  “I’ve told you I’m sorry. Surely you can see why –,”

  “I see a boy who calls me Fiero,” he growled. “Who knows nothing about me or my family, knows nothing of Italy. I see a boy who is my spitting image and yet I am a stranger to him.”

  Her gut twisted painfully. She sobbed. “I know that. But please, listen to what you’re saying. You’re hurt and you’re angry but taking him from me isn’t the answer.”

  “It feels like it is,” he snapped.

  “That’s because you’re angry,” she whispered, the words strangled by her tears. “You’re acting out of that emotion, rather than in our son’s best interests. You’re his father and that means putting aside whatever the hell you feel and using your head to choose what’s right for him.”

  “Oh, as you did, when you chose to raise him away from me?”

  She swallowed. “Yes. Damn it. I didn’t want him growing up believing himself to be the cause of your marriage breakdown. And I definitely didn’t want him being raised by you and Alison, a woman who may very well have hated him – given that he’s proof of your infidelity.”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. Elodie felt as though she was drowning and yet she knew she had to stay calm. To engage her brain and think logically, even as her world was catching fire.

  “We’ve both made mistakes,” she warned him carefully. “But this would be the biggest of all. My mistake was one of ignorance. This would be a mistake you wilfully choose, and he will grow to hate you for it.”

  Fiero’s eyes flashed with something that – were it not for their antagonistic setting – she might have mistaken for respect. But it was gone again, just as quickly.

  “So what do you suggest, Elodie? I don’t have a magical button that can wind back time, unfortunately. So?”

  She thought quickly, as she’d been renowned for in her ‘other’ life. Before her parents had died unexpectedly and she’d lived and breathed for her high-flying corporate job. At twenty three she’d held a senior-management position in the successful, publically listed company, because of her no-nonsense appr
oach to work and her ability to distil any situation down and remain result-orientated.

  She brought those analytical powers to the fore now.

  “You want to be a part of his life,” she murmured. “And you want that to be a considerable part, given what you’ve missed.”

  He didn’t react.

  “I think you know that taking me out of the equation isn’t right for Jack.”

  She was gratified to see agreement shape his features. The man she’d spent the night with three years ago was in there, buried deep beneath his resentment. And it was a resentment she could understand. Damn it, she would never have wished him to find out like this!

  “Which means there’s really only one option.”

  He continued to stare at her.

  She drew in a breath, stilling her nerves in that moment, before speaking words she was certain she’d come to regret. “We find a way to raise him together.”

  Fiero shook his head. “Impossibile.”

  “It can’t be impossible,” she responded tautly. “You’re angry with me, fine. But we’re his parents, and we owe it to him to find a way to do this. I’m willing to make concessions, to meet you in the middle. I can move to Italy, Jack and I can find a place near your home –,”

  “No.” His eyes were loaded with grim determination. “My son is living with me.”

  The edge of the world seemed very close, and just over that edge, there was a pit of despair she was close to tumbling into. “He’s too young. He needs his mother.”

  “He has a nanny,” Fiero shrugged.

  Elodie had never hit anyone in her life, but she threw herself across the room now and pushed at his chest, hard, and when he didn’t so much as flinch, she pushed him again. And then her hands, shaped into small fists, were raining down on him, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. The pit of despair had claimed her.

  “Don’t you dare say you can replace me with a nanny!” She threw the words at him. “I’m his mother and I am going to raise him. I will fight you, I will fight you with everything I have.”