Demanding His Secret Son

by Louise Fuller

  ‘I love it,’ she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. ‘And I love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’ Dipping his head, he kissed her gently. ‘More than I ever believed I could love anyone. So much more. And it’s going to be so good between us.’

  Reaching up, she stroked his cheek. ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said slowly.

  And she believed him because she could see the certainty and love he was feeling reflected in his eyes as he lowered his mouth to kiss her again.

  EPILOGUE

  DESPITE THE WEATHER forecast predicting rain, the clouds emptied from the sky just as the limousine turned slowly into Broad Street. Glancing up at the sun, and then back down to the diamond ring on her third finger, Teddie smiled. She knew from personal experience that predicting the future was an extremely unreliable business.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  Looking up into Aristo’s face, she nodded slowly. The ring was a surprise gift to mark six months of married life—happily married life—and it was stunning, but the soft grip of his hand around hers was what was making her heart swell with love.

  Any fears she might have had of history repeating itself were long forgotten. Aristo had been true to his word and as eager as she to make sure that the mistakes of the past stayed in the past.

  ‘Of course I do.’ Reaching up, she stroked his cheek, her green eyes suddenly teasing.

  ‘Do I get one every six months?’

  He laughed, and then his face grew serious. ‘I know it’s not an official anniversary—it’s just that I wanted to give you something...you know, because last time—’

  ‘I know.’ Leaning forward, she kissed him, cutting off his words.

  Their engagement had lasted a year, and both of them had enjoyed the wait. They’d argued a little, and laughed a lot, and then finally they’d had a small private wedding with friends and colleagues that they’d planned together. Elliot had given Teddie away, and George had been a very solemn page boy, and now six months had passed and they had never felt closer.

  ‘I love you,’ she said softly.

  Sliding his hand around her waist he pulled her closer. ‘I love you too.’ His eyes were steady and unblinking. ‘And I know it’s been a difficult lately, but that’s going to end today.’

  ‘It’s fine. I understand.’

  Today, after months and months of intense preparation, Aristo was finally floating his business on the New York Stock Exchange. He’d been working long hours, and she knew he was trying to reassure her now, but it was something she no longer needed.

  The unhappy memories of their first marriage were just memories.

  Now, instead of staying late at the office, he’d invite his team back to the apartment so that she and George could be a part of the process, and she wasn’t left feeling isolated and lonely. And on the odd occasion when he had been forced to travel he had kept his trips as short as possible, often returning earlier than expected or taking her and George with him.

  She squeezed his hand. ‘And today’s going to be better than fine.’ Feeling the limo start to slow, she kissed him fiercely, her eyes burning with love. ‘I’m so proud of you, Aristo.’

  He shrugged. ‘I work with some good people. They’re really what’s made this possible.’

  ‘You do, and you’ve worked incredibly hard too.’ Her gaze fixed on his face. ‘But I wasn’t talking about the business,’ she said softly. ‘I was talking about you.’

  Aristo stared down into her clear green eyes, his heart pounding.

  The limo had stopped. If he looked out of the window he would be able to see the six Corinthian columns of the New York Stock Exchange. For so long he had dreamed of this moment—the short walk to the legendary neoclassical building that would turn his business into a global brand.

  But over the last eighteen months he’d made a far more important journey with the woman sitting beside him. Teddie had transformed his life. She had taught him how to hope, to believe and to love.

  Of course he was pleased that the IPO was happening, but the appeal of the big deal had dimmed. His life with Teddie and George was far more satisfying and exciting than any boardroom negotiation, and he savoured every moment spent with his wife and son for he had come so close to losing them.

  As soon as they stepped out onto the pavement time seemed to speed up exponentially, so that one moment the second bell of the day was ringing to start trading on the Leonidas stock and the next they were mingling with underwriters and executives from the business.

  And now they were back in the limousine, on the way to a party for the staff at Leonidas headquarters.

  Teddie breathed out slowly. After the frenzy of the trading floor the car seemed incredibly calm and quiet.

  She felt Aristo’s gaze on her face and, turning, she smiled up at him. ‘Happy?’ she said softly.

  He nodded. ‘It went well.’ Leaning forward, he tapped on the glass behind the driver’s head. ‘Bob, can you take us to the apartment now, please?’

  Teddie frowned. ‘But what about the party? Don’t you want to celebrate?’

  He shook his head. ‘I spoke to the staff this morning. They know how pleased I am, and this party will be a lot more fun for them without the boss breathing down their necks.’

  Biting her lip, she touched her fingertips to his cheek. ‘Does that mean I get to have you all to myself?’

  Pulling her into his arms, he laughed.

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘And no. I thought we needed some time as a family, so I’ve arranged for us to spend a week at the island. We’re just going to pick up George on the way.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth. ‘But once we’re there we should have time to celebrate...privately.’

  The dark heat in his gaze took her breath away. ‘I like the sound of that,’ she said slowly. ‘And we have got a lot to celebrate.’

  More than she would ever have imagined, and more than Aristo knew.

  Watching her expression shift, Aristo frowned. ‘I’m happy it’s all over, Teddie, but going public with the business isn’t what I want to celebrate.’

  His face was so serious, so open, that she could keep the secret to herself no longer.

  ‘I wasn’t just talking about the business.’

  Leaning closer, she fixed her eyes on his handsome face, wanting to see his reaction. He looked at her uncertainly and, picking up his hand, she pressed it gently against her stomach.

  ‘We’re having a baby.’

  For a moment he didn’t speak—neither of them could: their emotions were too intense, too raw. But it didn’t matter. She could see everything he was feeling in his heart, everything she needed to see burning in his eyes as he pulled her closer and kissed her passionately.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed Demanding His Secret Son by Louise Fuller you’re sure to enjoy these other Secret Heirs of Billionaires stories!

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  by Jennie Lucas

  Married for a One-Night Consequence

  by Jennifer Hayward

  The Secret Kept from the Italian

  by Kate Hewitt

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Venetian One-Night Baby by Melanie Milburne.

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  The Venetian One-Night Baby

  by Melanie Milburne

  CHAPTER ONE

  SABRINA WAS HOPING she wouldn’t run into Max Firbank again after The Kiss. He wasn’t an easy man to avoid since he was her parents’ favourite godson and was invited to just about every Midhurst family gathering. Birthdays, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, parties and anniversaries he would spend on the fringes of the room, a twenty-first-century reincarnation of Jane Austen’s taciturn Mr Darcy. He’d look down his aristocratic nose at everyone else having fun.

  Sabrina made sure she had extra fun just to annoy him. She danced with everyone who asked her, chatting and working the room like she was the star student from Social Butterfly School. Max occasionally wouldn’t show, and then she would spend the whole evening wondering why the energy in the room wasn’t the same. But she refused to acknowledge it had anything to do with his absence.

  This weekend she was in Venice to exhibit two of her designs at her first wedding expo. She felt safe from running into him—or she would have if the hotel receptionist could find her booking.

  Sabrina leaned closer to the hotel reception counter. ‘I can assure you the reservation was made weeks ago.’

  ‘What name did you say it was booked under?’ the young male receptionist asked.

  ‘Midhurst, Sabrina Jane. My assistant booked it for me.’

  ‘Do you have any documentation with you? The confirmation email?’

  Had her new assistant Harriet forwarded it to her? Sabrina remembered printing out the wedding expo programme but had she printed out the accommodation details? She searched for it in her tote bag, sweat beading between her breasts, her stomach pitching with panic. She couldn’t turn up flustered to her first wedding expo as an exhibitor. That’s why she’d recently employed an assistant to help her with this sort of stuff. Booking flights and accommodation, sorting out her diary, making sure she didn’t double book or miss appointments.

  Sabrina put her lipgloss, paper diary, passport and phone on the counter, plus three pens, a small packet of tissues, some breath mints and her brand-new business cards. She left her tampons in the side pocket of her bag—there was only so much embarrassment she could handle at any one time. The only bits of paper she found were a shopping list and a receipt from her favourite shoe store.

  She began to put all the items back in her bag, but her lipgloss fell off the counter, dropped to the floor, rolled across the lobby and was stopped by a large Italian-leather-clad foot.

  Sabrina’s gaze travelled up the long length of the expertly tailored charcoal-grey trousers and finally came to rest on Max Firbank’s smoky grey-blue gaze.

  ‘Sabrina.’ His tone was less of a greeting and more of a grim not you again.

  Sabrina gave him a tight, no-teeth-showing smile. ‘Fancy seeing you here. I wouldn’t have thought wedding expos were your thing.’

  His eyes glanced at her mouth and something in her stomach dropped like a book tumbling off a shelf. Kerplunk. He blinked as if to clear his vision and bent down to pick up her lipgloss. He handed it to her, his expression as unreadable as cryptic code. ‘I’m seeing a client about a project. I always stay at this hotel when I come to Venice.’

  Sabrina took the lipgloss and slipped it into her bag, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingers where his had touched hers. She could feel the heat storming into her cheeks in a hot crimson tide. What sort of weird coincidence was this? Of all the hotels in Venice why did he have to be at this one? And on this weekend? She narrowed her gaze to the size of buttonholes. ‘Did my parents tell you I was going to be here this weekend?’

  Nothing on his face changed except for a brief elevation of one of his dark eyebrows. ‘No. Did mine tell you I was going to be in Venice?’

  Sabrina raised her chin. ‘Oh, didn’t you know? I zone out when your parents tell me things about you. I mentally plug my ears and sing la-de-da in my head until they change the subject of how amazingly brilliant you are.’

  There was a flicker of movement across his lips that could have been loosely described as a smile. ‘I’ll have to remember to do that next time your parents bang on about you to me.’

  Sabrina flicked a wayward strand of hair out of her face. Why did she always have to look like she’d been through a wind tunnel whenever she saw him? She dared not look at his mouth but kept her eyes trained on his inscrutable gaze. Was he thinking about The Kiss? The clashing of mouths that had morphed into a passionate explosion that had made a mockery of every other kiss she’d ever received? Could he still recall the taste and texture of her mouth? Did he lie in bed at night and fantasise about kissing her again?

  And not just kissing, but...

  ‘Signorina?’ The hotel receptionist jolted Sabrina out of her reverie. ‘We have no booking under the name Midhurst. Could it have been another hotel you selected online?’

  Sabrina suppressed a frustrated sigh. ‘No. I asked my assistant to book me into this one. This is where the fashion show is being held. I have to stay here.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Max asked in a calm, leave it to me tone.

  Sabrina turned to face him. ‘I’ve got a new assistant and somehow she must’ve got the booking wrong or it didn’t process or something.’ She bit her lip, trying to stem the panic punching against her heart. Poomf. Poomf. Poomf.

  ‘I can put you on the cancellation list, but we’re busy at this time of year so I can’t guarantee anything,’ the receptionist said.

  Sabrina’s hand crept up to her mouth and she started nibbling on her thumbnail. Too bad about her new manicure. A bit of nail chewing was all she had to soothe her rising dread. She wanted to be settled into her hotel, not left waiting on stand-by. What if no other hotel could take her? She needed to be close to the convention venue because she had two dresses in the fashion parade. This was her big break to get her designs on the international stage.

  She. Could. Not. Fail.

  ‘Miss Midhurst will be joining me,’ Max said. ‘Have the concierge bring her luggage to my room. Thank you.’

  Sabrina’s gaze flew to his. ‘What?’

  Max handed her a card key, his expression still as inscrutable as that of an MI5 spy. ‘I checked in this morning. There are two beds in my suite. I only need one.’

  She did not want to think about him and a bed in the same sentence. She’d spent the last three weeks thinking about him in a bed with her in a tangle of sweaty sex-sated limbs. Which was frankly kind of weird because she’d spent most of her life deliberately not thinking about him. Max was her parents’ godson and almost from the moment when she’d been born six years later and become his parents’ adored goddaughter, both sets of parents had decided how perfect they were for each other. It was the long-wished-for dream of both families that Max and Sabrina would fall in love, get married and have gorgeous babies together.

  As if. In spite of both families’ hopes, Sabrina had never got on
with Max. She found him brooding and distant and arrogant. And he made it no secret he found her equally annoying...which kind of made her wonder why he’d kissed her...

  But she was not going to think about The Kiss.

  She glanced at the clock over Reception, another fist of panic pummelling her heart. She needed to shower and change and do her hair and makeup. She needed to get her head in order. It wouldn’t do to turn up flustered and nervous. What sort of impression would she make?

  Sabrina took the key from him but her fingers brushed his and a tingle travelled from her fingers to her armpit. ‘Maybe I should try and see if I can get in somewhere else...’

  ‘What time does your convention start?’

  ‘There’s a cocktail party at six-thirty.’

  Max led the way to the bank of lifts. ‘I’ll take you up to settle you in before I meet my client for a drink.’

  Sabrina entered the brass embossed lift with him and the doors whispered shut behind them. The mirrored interior reflected Max’s features from every angle. His tall and lean and athletic build. The well-cut dark brown hair with a hint of a wave. The generously lashed eyes the colour of storm clouds. The faint hollow below the cheekbones that gave him a chiselled-from-marble look that was far more attractive than it had any right to be. The aristocratic cut of nostril and upper lip, the small cleft in his chin, the square jaw that hinted at arrogance and a tendency to insist on his own way.

  ‘Is your client female?’ The question was out before Sabrina could monitor her wayward tongue.

  ‘Yes.’ His brusque one-word answer was a verbal Keep Out sign.

  Sabrina had always been a little intrigued by his love life. He had been jilted by his fiancée Lydia a few days before their wedding six years ago. He had never spoken of why his fiancée had called off the wedding but Sabrina had heard a whisper that it had been because Lydia had wanted children and he didn’t. Max wasn’t one to brandish his subsequent lovers about in public but she knew he had them from time to time. Now thirty-four, he was a virile man in his sexual prime. And she had tasted a hint of that potency when his mouth had come down on hers and sent her senses into a tailspin from which they had not yet recovered—if they ever would.