Her Little White Lie

by Maisey Yates

  “That’s … oh, that just makes me so mad!” She stood up and kicked a box of decorations aside. “I had to work so hard to prove I was fit, all because I was single and lived in a small apartment or whatever, and you waltz in with your—sorry, but it’s true—bad reputation, but oh, you have money, so no problem let’s get this adoption show on the road.”

  “I’m sorry you’re frustrated but I imagine the relief of knowing it will be finalized soon will take the sting out of it.”

  She covered her mouth and sat on the edge of her desk. “Oh, you’re right. Oh … she’s really going to be mine.” She popped up and took two leaping steps toward him and threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much.”

  He just stood, stiff, unmoving.

  She stood up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “No glitter today,” she whispered.

  He pulled away from her. “That’s good.”

  “Will your parents be at the wedding?” she asked.

  He paused, his jaw hardening. “They’ll have to be invited. I don’t … I would rather not lie to them.”

  “I don’t want anyone to know,” she said. “And I know maybe it’s selfish, but if anything were to jeopardize my getting Ana …”

  “I understand,” he said, his voice firm.

  “And I understand why you don’t want to lie to them. They’re your parents and …”

  “Yes. They are.”

  “They were good to you, weren’t they?” He always spoke of them so formally, no warmth in his tone.

  “Yes,” he said. “Very. They gave me firm guidance, which I needed desperately. Gave me everything I needed. My own space, which I never had before. My own things.”

  She’d noticed how meticulously he cared for everything, and suddenly, she realized why. He had been in foster care for around eight years and that had likely meant a lot of moving, and owning very little.

  “Love?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t need that.”

  The statement shocked her, even though, after the other night, it probably shouldn’t. “But … don’t they?”

  His expression froze. “I … it’s not that I don’t …”

  But he couldn’t say it, or think about it really, she could see that. “I know. And I’m sure they know.”

  “They’ll probably enjoy a wedding far too much. Though I’m not sure what they’ll think about one on notice this short.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.”

  “I’m sure Mary will pitch a fit about finding a mother of the groom dress on such short notice.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips.

  “Well, yeah, but most women would.”

  “There’s something else I need to say.”

  An apology maybe? That would be nice. She would happily take an apology.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t use a condom the other night.”

  Her stomach sank a little. Not an apology. “Oh.”

  “I need to know if you’re pregnant. I’ll need you to tell me.”

  She nodded. “I would. I will.”

  For a moment, she was afraid her knees might give out. What would she do if there was a baby? What would it mean for Ana? For the adoption? Would she be a single mother of two children? She wasn’t entirely certain she could handle one. The idea of juggling both … it terrified her.

  “Good.”

  “I’m not, though,” she said, because she had to believe it. The alternative was too frightening. Another example of her taking something that was working and making an impossible jumble out of it.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Dammit, Dante, I have to believe I’m not.”

  He laughed, a humorless sound. “I don’t blame you for not wanting my baby. You’ve heard about everything lurking in my gene pool. Hell, I’ve treated you to a front row seat.”

  “That’s not it,” she said, ice trickling through her veins. “But be honest with me. If I were, would you even stay? Or would I be on my own with two children?”

  “You would be better off without me.”

  “I suppose that answers my question.”

  “Sadly, it doesn’t. I would stay. But it’s better you don’t need that. Better I don’t have to.”

  “I don’t want to be someone you’re forced to be with.”

  “If you’re having my baby, then you will be. I will take care of my responsibilities, make no mistake.”

  Her stomach tightened. He looked … resigned. She didn’t want that. Not for the rest of her life. “You would … you would love our child wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t think I could.”

  “You don’t mean that. You just … you need to put the past behind you and … and …”

  He exploded then, a dark flame in his eyes burning bright, stealing the light from the room. “Look around you, Paige. I own all of this. Things have already happened for me. What do you think, that I need to talk about my feelings? That I need a psych? To what? To listen to me? Because that will fix it? That will bring my mother back? It will make it so I don’t share half my blood with a violent killer? Is that it? It will fix me. Make me happy and able to love?” He shook his head. “You live in fairyland. But the real world has less glitter. You can’t fix everything.”

  “Dante that’s not. I’m not trying to trivialize …”

  “You did. I have a business trip that I need to go on this week. I’ll be back in time for the wedding. Everything is being planned. All we have to do is show up.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I have business,” he bit out.

  “Fine.” She went back to her desk and sat behind it, her heart in her throat. She had no idea where they stood. Except that they were both angry at each other. And that he was leaving while still angry at her. But she couldn’t figure out how to fix it, even though she hated it.

  He walked to her desk quickly and braced his hands on the surface, leaning in and taking her mouth in a hard, intense kiss. She was lost in it, in him, the moment his lips touched hers. She pushed her fingers through his hair, slid her tongue against his.

  He pulled away, straightening. Dark and dangerous. “When I get back, we’ll have the wedding. Then we’ll have the wedding night.”

  The media had often accused Dante of atrocious behavior, and very often it had been a part of the myth they’d spun around him for their own enjoyment.

  This time, with no witnesses other than Paige, he would have deserved it.

  But his world was ordered, well controlled, just as he needed it and she seemed bound and determined to come in and challenge him at every turn.

  He didn’t know why he’d told her so much about his mother. About why he took cold showers, and hit things. It sounded crazy when voiced, and maybe in some ways it was. But it had been necessary. The way he’d controlled his emotions as a young boy moving around in the foster system. Anger had to have a release, but if he gave the consequence to himself, no one got hurt. It had flooded over into every emotion until it had been easy to simply not have them.

  He hadn’t needed the intense, physical reminder for years. Not until Paige came into his life.

  Even with those precautions, everything had crashed down around him. He might have gotten her pregnant. A child. His child. He wasn’t the man for that. He couldn’t even look at Paige and Ana without being taken over by memories of his mother. Couldn’t bear to touch the child because she reminded him too much of what it was to be so helpless.

  And he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself, to imagine what it would be like to have a child of his own. To share his poisoned blood. The blood he shared with his father. The blood he worked so hard to keep under control.

  He was failing. He had failed, in every way that mattered.

  And Paige might be the one to pay for it. Someone always paid. Paige. Ana. The child, if there was one. All tied to him because of an act of carelessness.

  The truth was, this business
trip could be deferred. But he had to get his control back. He had to get distance.

  And as long as Paige was around, as long as he had to see her, with her petite curves and tendency to dress in sequins, to listen to the sound of her voice, that voice that he’d heard moaning with pleasure, as long as he had to smell that sweet floral scent combined with the fresh smell of her clean skin … he wouldn’t be able to master his emotions.

  And he had to. There was no other option.

  Even if it might already be too late.

  Midnight, the day of the wedding, Dante arrived back at his San Diego home. It had been a long trip. And his bed had seemed cold, empty.

  He had made promises, threats, really, about a wedding night, but he had no doubt Paige wouldn’t be too thrilled if he tried to make that happen. And he wouldn’t blame her. He’d acted like an ass to her.

  About everything. About the potential baby.

  But he had everything contained now. One thing the time away had been good for was to start feeling like himself again. To start feeling like he had some semblance of control over his mind and body.

  Whatever was ahead for them, they would handle. So long as he maintained his distance, in an emotional sense, everything would be fine.

  He walked into the house, expecting silence, and heard Ana’s indignant wailing instead. He walked up the stairs, toward her room, expecting Paige to be there as she’d been their first night together.

  But she wasn’t there.

  He could hear the water running in the next room. Paige was in the shower, and since it was the time when Ana was normally asleep, she was probably stealing what had been her first chance of the day.

  But now the baby was crying. Deep sobs. A sound so sad, so pitiful. And so full of helplessness that it called to him, resonated in him.

  He walked into the nursery, an image in his mind of a small boy on the floor, crying endless tears, with no one there to comfort him. Crying for a mother who would never return. He approached Ana’s crib, his heart pounding in his head.

  He swallowed and looked down at her. “Why are you crying, principesa?”

  She looked at him, her owlish eyes wide and furious, and continued bawling.

  He reached out to her slowly, placing his hand flat on her round tummy. She quieted and wiggled beneath his palm, her expression morphing to one of curiosity. When he didn’t satisfy it immediately, she started to cry again.

  He could go and pull Paige out of the shower, which she had done to him. Of course, his had been a shower with a self-destructive bent, rather than one intended for cleanliness. Or he could handle this himself.

  He couldn’t remember if he’d ever held a baby before. He doubted if he had. But he had seen the way Paige held her, with infinite care and sweetness. Close to her body to keep her safe. And if … if his carelessness had resulted in a pregnancy, he would have to learn.

  He bent forward and scooped her into his arms, pulling her up against his chest. The discomfort that bordered on fear whenever he saw Ana started to fade, replaced with that tenderness he always saw on Paige’s face when she held her daughter. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, that softening in his chest. But surely it was right to feel tender toward a baby? A sign that perhaps not everything in him was frozen.

  Ana stopped crying, her heart beating fast like a little bird’s as she nestled into his chest. “Is that all you wanted?” he asked, his voice breathless. “To be held?”

  She melted into him, her little body supported by his hands. The trust she had in him humbled him, broke something deep inside of him.

  She shifted, a sharp cry of discontentment on her lips.

  He sat down in the rocking chair, hoping the back-and-forth movement would calm her.

  Sing to her.

  He remembered Paige asking him to do that the first night.

  I don’t know any lullabies.

  A lie.

  Ana wiggled against him, her crying becoming more insistent.

  He took a deep breath, moving his hand over her back. For a moment he could not force the words out. They stuck in his throat, stuck, along with the image in his mind of the little boy curled up on the floor. That was the last time he had sung the song. The last time he had let the words out.

  He moved his hand over Ana’s back, felt her warmth. Her breath. Her life. She was not cold. She was not gone.

  She would hear the song. She would take comfort in it.

  He took a breath. “Stella stellina, la notte se avvicina.” She quieted at the sound of his voice, her wide eyes trained on his face. His chest felt tight, his throat threatening to close, but he kept on. Up until the end. “Nel cuorre della mamma.”

  And all are sleeping in the mother’s heart.

  Ana rested her head on his chest, relaxed her body against him. And he put his cheek on top of her feather-soft head.

  “Papa’s heart, too,” he said, without thinking.

  His own words jolted him back to reality. Ana didn’t have a father. He certainly couldn’t fill that place in her life. He couldn’t fill the place at Paige’s side, either. A husband. A father. He wasn’t meant to be either of those things.

  He had nothing in him to give. A few moments in a rocking chair, a song, didn’t change that. He was bound up too tight, everything in him ordered, set, unable to be moved. If he opened up at all, if he changed one thing, he was afraid it would all collapse. Afraid that his control would slip. That the pain, the ugliness, that lived in him would be unleashed on the innocent people around him.

  That couldn’t happen. Not ever.

  Still, he stayed, in this moment outside of reality. A quiet moment, the kind a man like him had never been given before. To hold someone so helpless, so precious, who trusted him so completely for no other reason than that life had always handed her people who cared for her. Because she had never been touched by someone who intended evil.

  He wasn’t the kind of man who prayed, but in that moment, he prayed that she never was.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT was her wedding day. Strange because she’d never given a lot of thought to her wedding day. Although, when her mind had wandered to the event she’d imagined—the very few times she’d imagined anything—a lot of color.

  Glitter, naturally. Having some friends and family present, no matter how fraught the relationship, would have been nice, too.

  But she’d opted out of it because she simply hadn’t told her parents, or siblings, that she was engaged, so that made it easy.

  And now, in her gorgeous but sedate satin gown, with her hair pinned up, so that her pink stripe was covered, as commanded by the hairdresser, she felt a little sad about her lack of support. About the fact that she hadn’t put more of her own personal stamp on things.

  Which was stupid, because this was a very temporary marriage to a man who meant nothing to her. A man who was just her boss. And who was just the most fascinating, interesting, sexy man she’d ever met. And who was, oh, yeah, also her lover.

  So there was that, too, but it was still no big deal and not worth getting worked up over.

  Too bad she was worked up.

  She blamed some of the worked up on getting out of the shower last night and finding Dante sitting in the rocking chair, holding Ana against his chest. Singing.

  That had made something crack apart in her chest. Had left her feeling vulnerable, tender. Different.

  She took a deep breath and bunched up handfuls of her slippery skirt. She didn’t have time to get all moony. Ana was already in the church, with Genevieve who was acting as an attendant and babysitter. They’d opted to include Ana in the ceremony because, honestly, the party was for her. The whole thing was for her.

  Paige hoped, sincerely, that Ana never doubted how loved she was. Because this was nothing, only a small piece of what she was willing to go through in order to secure her daughter’s safety and happiness. In order to keep her in her life.

  She would walk through fire. Al
l today required was a corset and mascara. And some vows. In a church.

  So maybe she would walk through fire for all this eventually.

  At least now she felt equipped to do it. Felt like she had the strength. She didn’t know what had happened to her over the past few weeks, but something in her had changed. She wasn’t afraid that everything she touched would turn to sand and blow away in the wind. Wasn’t afraid that she was destined to fail. She felt … powerful. Like she had the power to do what had to be done.

  “Ms. Harper?” The wedding planner, the one who had thrown everything together at the last minute without batting an eye, poked her head into the waiting area Paige was standing in.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s time to queue up.”

  Paige nodded and walked out of the quiet little entryway into the foyer of the church. Two wooden double doors loomed in front of her. She could hear people talking quietly, and she could hear music.

  “Dante, Genevieve and Ana are already in place. You just wait until I signal you.”

  Paige nodded, unable to come up with any words.

  Then, way too quickly, the wedding planner gave her the signal and the doors swung open. Paige took a deep breath and started to walk slowly down the aisle, her heart pounding in her head.

  She didn’t really like having everyone’s eyes on her, because there was a very high likelihood of her tripping or otherwise making a fool out of herself, and she really didn’t relish a thousand people bearing witness to her clumsiness.

  One foot in front of the other.

  She concentrated on that. On making it down smoothly. And she didn’t once look up at Dante. She found Ana first, clinging to Genevieve, her frilly white dress bunching out around her, a headband with an oversize flower decorating her short hair.

  Only at the end, when she had nowhere else to look, when it was time for her to take Dante’s hand, did she look at him.

  And it was like the whole sanctuary, the whole city, the whole world, cracked apart around her and fell away. He was beautiful, but he was always beautiful. The tuxedo highlighted the hard lines of his trim physique, the candlelight casting shadows in the hollows of his face, making his cheekbones sharper, his jaw more square.