Byron excused himself from the group. Ignoring Yolanda’s concerned gaze, he walked up to Dominic. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone is here to see you.” Dominic’s calm expression didn’t waver. Dominic was always calm. An observer who could charm as easily as he could intimidate. Despite his calm, the sharpness of his gaze put Byron on edge.
Byron’s heart jumped in his chest. “Zoe?” He’d thought he’d protected her. Had something gone wrong?
Dominic shook his head. “No. She’s still back home living her life with no signs of any problems. But I don’t know if I can guarantee that much longer.”
Byron shifted closer to Dominic. He rubbed his beard, a new habit now that he had one, and tried not to let the fear seeping into him show. “What?”
Dominic nodded his head back toward the door. “Come with me. You don’t want him to create a scene.”
Him? “Let’s go.” Byron followed Dominic out of the party, through the kitchen in the back and into an empty office. Once inside, a man he didn’t recognize turned and faced him. Slim, with beady black eyes and a shifting stance. Byron immediately didn’t like the guy.
“Byron Robidoux, this is Carlton Powell,” Dominic said through clenched teeth.
Byron’s hands tightened into fists. “Carlton Powell? What the hell do you want with me?” Byron had paid Dominic a lot of money to make Carlton stay out of his business. Carlton had been hired to find the same person Byron had been looking for before announcing his run. Byron thought the payoff would ensure Carlton moved on to other things.
Carlton rubbed his hands together. “Don’t be so rude. As you know, I’m here to do you a favor.”
“I don’t need any favors from you.” Byron glared at Dominic. “You brought him here?”
Dominic shook his head. “No. I’ve kept tabs on him. When I found out he was in town, I followed him here. Stopped him before he went in there to confront you.”
“I’m not confronting anyone,” Carlton said with the nerve to sound affronted. “I’m just here because I’ve got an offer I think the future senator can’t refuse.”
“What offer is that?” Bryon asked.
“The offer to keep what I know to myself instead of telling all those happy people out there.” Carlton pointed to the closed door. “About you being a deadbeat dad.”
Byron’s stomach flipped and sweat ran down his back, but he didn’t flinch. He hadn’t become a defense attorney and served a term in the state house without knowing how to hide his shock. “I’m not a deadbeat dad. I don’t have any children.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Carlton said, sounding like he’d gotten the gospel truth on everything Byron Robidoux. “You see, after you sent me on my way I did a little digging on my own. Turns out the woman you told me to stay away from also told a few people you were the father of her kid.”
Byron gritted his teeth. He should have known this would come back. He didn’t have any children, but thirteen years ago he’d agreed to help a friend out by keeping her secret and going along with a lie. The image of Zoe in his college apartment, her face bruised, and tears in her eyes as she’d clung to him, played like a bad movie in his mind.
Byron, please say the baby is yours. He’ll kill me if I stay with him. This is my only way out.
Even now the memory filled him with rage and helplessness. Zoe had been his best friend. His homegirl. He’d loved her with everything he had, but when he’d told her, she’d tossed his love back at him as if playing hot potato. She’d been in love with someone else. A guy Byron had never thought deserved her. A guy Byron discovered way too late that he’d been right about. So he’d kept her secret. Said the child was his and promised never to say anything.
“You’re coming to me with rumors,” Bryon replied coldly. He wasn’t playing his hand without knowing exactly what Carlton knew and wanted.
Carlton shrugged. “Rumors can do a lot of damage. You see, I doubt you’re really the father. The person who originally sent me to find the old girl was pretty sure someone else was the father. Now, I took your money to lead them off her trail, but then I got to thinking why so many people were interested in this one woman and her kid. Did a little research and here we are.” He sounded pleased with himself.
“Get to the point,” Dominic said in a deadly voice.
“My point is regardless of who is the baby daddy, I think word getting out about everyone’s favorite candidate possibly being on the birth certificate won’t be good for this campaign you’ve got going so well. You know the early polls show you’re going to beat the other guy. Be a damn shame to lose because people think you’re an absentee father.”
Byron didn’t have time for this. “What do you want?” he asked instead of going with the urge to shove Carlton into the wall.
“A million dollars,” Carlton said without missing a heartbeat. “I know you’re good for it. Your family is known for its wealth.”
“I don’t have a million dollars.” He did, but he’d be damned if this guy got any more of his money.
“Oh, I don’t want it tonight. I’ll give you say...two weeks to come up with the money.” Carlton spoke as if he were a debt collector who’d done a client a favor by extending the deadline. “Bask in this win. Let it sink in a little what you stand to lose.”
Byron was well aware of what he had to lose. He was also shrewd enough to realize that paying Carlton anything wasn’t going to make this problem go away. He needed to know how far this guy was willing to go.
“What if I say no?” Byron asked. He crossed his arms and sized up Carlton. “A DNA test will prove I’m not the father.”
Carlton sucked his teeth and shook his head. “But the scandal it’ll cause. That, and your playboy ways. Oh, I’m sure there are dozens of other women willing to come forward and claim you’re their kid’s dad.”
The greedy gleam in Carlton’s eyes made Bryon’s stomach churn. He wouldn’t doubt Carlton already had women lined up to say they’d slept with him. Even if he had a dozen paternity tests to prove his innocence, the stigma would follow him and cost him the campaign.
“I thought you’d see what I mean,” Carlton said. “Just think it over. But not too long.” Carlton put two fingers to his brow in a mock salute and walked out.
Byron punched his fist into his opposite hand. “Fuck!”
Dominic frowned. “You can’t pay him. Guys like Carlton never go away. I never should have taken his first deal.”
Byron paced back and forth. His mind raced with what to do next. He couldn’t dwell on previous decisions. They were already done. Byron had agreed with all the choices he’d made, and he’d deal with the results of those decisions.
“Protecting Zoe is what matters,” he said. “Carlton just proved what I feared. Her ex is about to get out of jail and he’s looking for her. There’s no way that man needs to get close to her.”
“If you pay him for this, you’ll have a paper trail of past dealings with him. He’ll make things worse and won’t hesitate to out you as a guy leaving babies all over the Southeast.”
Byron stopped pacing and met Dominic’s concerned stare. “No, he won’t. I have no intentions of paying him.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
He was going to outplay Carlton. Byron hadn’t grown up in this family to not recognize when he needed to make a big play in order to win. “I’m going to see Zoe. It’s time we figured out our next move in this game.”
Don’t miss what happens next in...
Scandalous Secrets
by Synithia Williams!
Available September 2020 wherever HQN books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from Secret Heir Seduction by Reese Ryan.
Copyright © 2020 by Synithia R. Williams
Secret Heir S
eduction
by Reese Ryan
One
Darius Taylor-Pratt sat in front of a heavy mahogany desk and surveyed the space around him.
The room’s dark decor seemed better suited to an older man than to upbeat lifestyle guru and reality TV star Miranda Dupree.
Miranda, founder of the Goddess health and lifestyle brand, had invited him to Royal, Texas, for a meeting. She’d proposed a collaboration with Thr3d, his quickly growing performance wear company, to create a Goddess-branded line of athletic wear.
The timing was terrible.
His team was preparing for their first LA Fashion Week runway show. Still, this deal could catapult Thr3d to the next level. So he hadn’t been able to board the plane she’d sent for him quickly enough.
Heavy footsteps approached. Too heavy to be the five-foot-three, redheaded sprite. Miranda probably weighed less than a buck twenty-five.
A man with a messy shock of brown hair, brown eyes and a five o’clock shadow entered the room.
“Hello, Darius. I’m Kace LeBlanc.” The man extended his hand. “Attorney.”
Darius regarded him warily as he stood to shake his hand. “Don’t lawyers typically get involved after an agreement has been reached?”
Kace thumbed through papers in a folder already on the desk. “In a business deal, yes. But I’m not Miranda’s lawyer.”
“Then whose attorney are you, Mr. LeBlanc?” Darius’s shoulders tensed.
“I represent the estate of Mr. Buckley Blackwood, recently deceased. The estate which he left to his ex-wife, Miranda Dupree Blackwood.”
“How nice for her.”
That explains the furniture, but not why he’s here.
Darius returned to his seat and glanced at his black-and-gold Tissot chronograph watch before meeting the man’s gaze again. “Will it be much longer before Miranda joins us?”
“I apologize for the subterfuge in bringing you here. But you’ve been summoned to meet with me about a completely different matter.”
“Miranda has no interest in partnering with my company?” When the man didn’t respond, Darius shot to his feet. “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for your little shell game.”
“I assure you, you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” the man said calmly. “I only need ten minutes of your time. When I’m done, if you’d still like to head straight back to LA, the driver will take you to a fueled and ready plane.”
Darius set his stopwatch. “You’ve got exactly ten minutes.” He sank onto the chair. “Why am I here?”
“Does the name Buckley Blackwood mean anything to you?”
Darius shrugged. “I know he’s Miranda’s ex-husband, and that he owned a bank.”
“Plus this six-hundred-acre ranch, homes around the globe and investments in a variety of other business interests, like Thr3d.”
“You’re saying he invested in my company?” Impossible. He knew the names of every investor. Buckley Blackwood wasn’t one of them.
“He invested in Thr3d using a shell company.”
“That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.” Darius’s patience was wearing thin.
“You’re here for a private reading of Buck’s will.” The man tapped the document in front of him.
“Why would an investor include me in his will?”
“Buck was more than just an investor, Darius. He was...your father.”
The room became eerily quiet. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock on the wall behind him.
Darius stared at the man a few moments longer, sure someone would pop through the door and declare that this was a prank.
“Look, Mr. LeBlanc—”
“Kace.”
“Kace...there must be some mix-up. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“You’re Darius Taylor-Pratt, son of former actress Liberty Taylor. Adopted by your stepfather, William Pratt, at the age of two. You’re thirty years old, and you received your undergrad at—”
“All right.” Darius held up a hand. He wanted Kace to stop talking long enough for him to wrap his head around what was happening. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to slow his rocketing heart rate. “You’re saying that this guy, this...”
“Buckley Blackwood.”
“...and my mother...they were together at some point.”
“Yes.”
“He knew I was his son. Yet, he never so much as called or dropped a birthday card in the mail in thirty years.” Anger slowly crept up his spine. “Why? Was he ashamed that he’d fathered a son by a black woman?”
“No,” Kace responded emphatically. “That wasn’t it at all.”
“Then what was it exactly?” Darius seethed, unconvinced.
“You were the product of an affair during his first marriage. That’s why he thought it best to care for you from a distance. When you were two, and your mother married Mr. Pratt, Buck agreed to allow him to adopt you and raise you as his son. You were to be informed of the adoption once you turned eighteen, which I assume you were.”
Darius gripped the armrest without response, his head pounding and his muscles tense.
He’d been told that Will wasn’t his biological father. But his mother wouldn’t reveal his father’s identity beyond saying he was a wealthy man who didn’t want to “complicate” his life.
“Darius,” the man said, “I realize this must come as a shock to you, but—”
“That’s the understatement of the year, Mr. LeBlanc.” He gritted the words through clenched teeth.
“Just Kace is fine,” the man insisted.
Darius was beginning to hate Kace’s sympathetic expression. It felt a lot like condescension and pity.
“The old man is dead, so I’m obviously not here for a father-son reunion.” The declaration made him sound like a heartless ass, but Buckley Blackwood had shown him the same callous disregard. “And you could’ve conducted the reading of the will via video conference. So why the hell am I really here?”
“I’ll allow Buck to explain for himself.” Kace read the final will and testament of Buckley Blackwood. The more he read, the more agitated Darius became.
Buckley Blackwood was a coward and an asshole.
Too cowardly to claim him as his son while he was alive. And the kind of jerk who left everything to his pretty, young ex-wife while leaving nothing to his children. And just for shits and giggles, Darius was being asked to take a DNA test to prove he was Buck’s son.
“Any questions?” Kace put down the will and clasped his hands on the desk. The man seemed braced for a verbal assault.
“What’s the point of a DNA test? The man’s dead, and it’s not as if I’m in line to inherit anything.”
“You have three siblings.” Kace laid out the photos individually. “Kellan, Vaughn and Sophie.”
Darius’s mouth went dry, and he couldn’t speak. He wanted to shove the photos onto the floor and call bullshit on this entire charade.
But he couldn’t.
Darius picked up each photo and studied it.
His brown skin was darker than theirs, but they shared many facial features.
His nose, chin and cheekbones were similar to theirs, and he and Sophie had the same rich brown eyes.
An unexpected sense of belonging washed over him, like a wave at high tide, with the power to knock him off his feet. He swallowed hard, returning each photo to the mahogany desk.
“Do they know about me?”
“They learned of you after their father’s death.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“So far, just the family,” Kace said.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” A knot tightened in his gut. The same one he’d developed when he’d gone to school with wealthy kids who�
��d treated him like an undeserving outsider.
He’d learned to relish that status. Had incorporated it into the Thr3d brand. But he wasn’t keen on experiencing that kind of painful rejection again. Especially not from people with whom he shared DNA.
Darius wanted to walk out. Refuse to play along with the old man’s sick game. But a part of him needed answers. And this was the only way he’d finally get them.
“I’ll take the test.”
“They’re expecting you at Royal Memorial Hospital.” Kace slid a sheet of paper across the desk, then closed the folder. “As for the estate...from what I’ve learned about you, you’ve always been a fighter. Two of your siblings are contesting the will. I’m certainly not encouraging you to do so, but—”
“It is an option.” Darius rubbed his jaw.
Kace gave him a subtle nod. “I’ll be in touch when I get the DNA results. In the meantime, someone else would like to speak with you. Should I send her in?”
Darius nodded absently, not really listening. He pulled his phone from his pocket once the door clicked shut behind Kace. He needed to tell his mother and stepfather he finally knew the truth about his paternity. But they were on vacation. And this wasn’t the kind of conversation they should have over the phone while they were an ocean away. He’d wait until they returned from Europe and talk to them in person.
His relationship with them had been strained since he’d learned that Will wasn’t his biological father. He could’ve forgiven that lie. Maybe even understood it. But when his mother refused to reveal the identity of his father, Darius had been furious.
Now he knew the truth.
He was the son of some rich asshole who hadn’t wanted him when he was alive but felt the need to alleviate his conscience on his deathbed.
The door opened suddenly, startling him.
“Hello, Darius. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Miranda Dupree extended a hand.
He scrambled to his feet and shook her hand. She was nearly a foot shorter than him. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dupree.”
“Call me Miranda, and please, have a seat.” She settled onto the chair beside him. “I apologize for not being direct about why I invited you here.” She sifted her fingers through her wavy red hair. Her sparkling, deep blue eyes seemed sincere. “But I didn’t think you’d come if I’d told you the truth.”
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