“And what did Nick say?” she asked faintly, chewing on the straw of her drink.
Adam straightened, still looking at the woman. “Oh, Nick’s way too clever to take my advice. It was nice meeting you at last, Jordan Lake. See you in court.” He paused and winked at her. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Jordan sat for at least a minute with the same stupid, dazed smile on her mouth, trying to make sense of it. He had a plan? A sick dread blanketed down over the misery of unrequited love in her heart.
Was it right from the start? she thought dazedly—no, Adam had said the start of the trial. That was about the time things changed between them. He’d started bringing gifts and acting jealous.
She tried to breathe but the ache inside constricted her chest. Dear God, he’d planned it all along. He didn’t want her. This wasn’t about them. It was a cold, calculated plan to get her to fall in love with him and realize his ambitions.
The reality twisted the knife some more, causing bile to rush to her throat. She rushed to the bathroom where she was violently sick. Someone helped her out of the club and into a cab. And the tabloids faithfully reported her incapacity the next day.
“You’re certainly burning the candle at both ends, dear,” her mother commented. “What on earth were you drinking?”
“I hadn’t had anything,” Jordan said defensively. Her mother had a knack of drawing her secrets to the fore. Her broken heart was one secret she wouldn’t discuss, not with her mother or anyone else. She couldn’t bear the humiliation. “I have a bug, that’s all.”
By day, she sat in court, staring stiffly ahead, acutely aware of the empty space across the aisle. After her fifth consecutive night out, she was exhausted and low as she could ever remember feeling. The lack of sleep and this interminable tummy bug had her head spinning, so on Wednesday night, she bought a home pregnancy test. It was just a precaution. She was ninety-nine percent certain she wasn’t pregnant; surely she’d feel something—a bond, a connection—instead of just miserable and confused and god-awful sick.
The digital display on the stick flashed Pregnant.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.
When was her last period? Things had been so up in the air lately. Working bees, nosy newspapers, charity balls. Nick. Taking a deep breath, churning up with nerves, she took the second stick from the box.
She was late to court on Thursday. Her heels seemed inordinately loud on the wooden floor as she entered. Heads turned in the gallery and the judge gave her a baleful look. “Sorry,” she whispered loudly.
And then she saw. He turned his head and looked straight at her, his expression cold. Scathing.
Jordan sat shakily, absorbing the rush of elation that always came with seeing his face. The emptiness inside her began to fill…but then his icy expression filtered through her joy.
Her stomach churned. What gave him the right to look at her like that? It was she who should feel aggrieved. He’d used and discarded her without so much as a word.
You have to tell him.
“Not yet,” she whispered. Her mother turned and looked at her, eyes full of concern. Jordan could only shake her head mutely.
Not yet. Home pregnancy tests were not foolproof. She would say nothing until she had seen a doctor. Which doctor? She couldn’t rely on the discretion of the Elpis Clinic doctors—they were all volunteers.
He’d think she’d trapped him. Worse, he’d question whether he was the father. So many morbid thoughts surged through her brain, even as common sense told her Nick was a decent, responsible man. He’d do the right thing by her.
It was the longest morning of her life. She made it until lunchtime, then bolted for the bathroom, throwing up for the third time that week.
When she came out, Nick was about to descend the steps outside, alone. Jordan felt like death but she couldn’t cope with the misery any longer. Forcing herself to stop shaking, she filled her heart with steely determination.
He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and his head was bowed. For a brief moment, as she approached, she thought he looked unhappy. But then all the tortured hours of the last week or so swamped her. He’d made her feel a failure as a woman, a lover, a friend. She wasn’t about to let him off scot free. She strode up behind him, grasping his arm firmly. “I want to talk to you.”
As he swung around to face her, just for a second, she saw something so uplifting, so eager in his face, as if he was glad to see her. But then the shutters came down like the night. His cold, closed expression slayed her.
This wasn’t the man she knew—thought she knew. This was someone else entirely. She almost quailed before him and if she hadn’t just lost her breakfast, that would have been a real possibility.
Nick glanced around quickly. “This isn’t the time or…”
“Well, if you’d returned my calls…” Jordan felt like she was swimming in treacle. But then he grasped her arm and pulled her around the side of the building, out of sight of the trickle of people emerging from the court.
“I’m surprised you could drag yourself out of bed this morning—whose bed was it today? Do you even remember?”
Oh, that was a slap in the face. Okay, she had played the party girl this week but that was down to him.
She pried her arm out of his grasp. “What is it with you?” she demanded. “All over me one minute, then nothing?” Her voice rose high and shrill and she sucked in a furious breath. She didn’t know him. His tight, hard face mocked her. A nasty, bilious taste rose from her chest, burning her throat.
She swayed, fear flooding her. Fear that she’d throw up right here. Fear that the next words said would be their final words ever. “I thought we had—” her voice cracked and broke “—something special.”
His expression did not change. She hadn’t reached him, only given him another chance to kick her. A hard little knot of anger formed. That was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.
“Looks like you’ve been enjoying a lot of something special with a lot of men,” he muttered, not looking at her as if the sight of her made him sick. “How’s Jason?”
“Jason’s just fine,” she retorted. Apart from a dose of frustration, since she’d spurned his advances all week. Nick had no reason to be jealous.
“How many men, Jordan?” he asked in a deadly low voice. “How many does it take to satisfy you?”
This was too much. She had done nothing wrong! She was the one who’d been wronged. “You have no right to ask me that,” she told him angrily. “Not when it was all a lie. You used me. It was all about the job, wasn’t it? Getting a promotion?”
Nick flinched and she saw she’d hit the mark. She wanted to howl with rage. “You wanted the feud finished and thought being with me would do it. All you had to do was lay on the charm and you knew I’d take it seriously, poor, gullible fool I am.”
He recovered fast. “Let me tell you something, no one takes you seriously, Jordan Lake. You’re just a spoiled little rich girl who dabbles in charity work with about as much feeling as you dabble in men.”
Jordan saw red, buckets of it. Her gut churned with injustice. The hurt and anger rolled through her with impetus. She straightened her spine and fixed him with as imperious a look as she could muster. “Well, you better start taking me seriously, since I’m carrying your baby!”
Nick jerked back as if she’d slapped him. The blood drained from his face so quickly, a tangible dragging that left him lightheaded. He thought he heard his stomach gurgle.
Pregnant? His whole world crashed around him. On top of the week he’d just endured, this was too much. He stared at her face, her deathly pale face. Pregnant? His lips moved soundlessly, shaping the word.
“You can’t be,” he managed in a strangled whisper. “I always protected you.”
He had. Who knew about Jason Cook? “You’re on the Pill.”
She stared back, eyes wide open and shocked, her lips firmly pressed together.
Nick to
ok a step back, fighting for control. So many revelations, so many life-altering shocks, one on top of the other. But this…this was the last thing he expected.
Jordan was never far from his mind over the ten days he’d been away but between business, meeting his mother and trying to ascertain his father’s whereabouts, he couldn’t bring himself to call her. He was picking through an emotional minefield. With Elanor’s demands that he finish it still ringing in his ears, his pedigree—or lack of—added another dimension, another burden to bear. These were things best said in person, not over the phone.
But he didn’t expect to have to read about her in the newspapers and woman’s magazines. Headlines leapt out at him, everywhere he went, at his mother’s house, walking past bookstores in Sydney’s business district, the plane on the way home. A quick trip to the Internet got him hundreds of hits on Jordan Lake’s antics since he’d been away. Everyone seemed very excited about her reconciliation with Jason Cook, although apparently she wasn’t limiting herself and had been seen with others. Being snapped drunk and sick with alcohol poisoning just capped it all off perfectly. She was weak, he realized, weak and self-indulgent. Not what he needed right now.
As far as Nick was concerned, Elanor Lake had done him a huge favor.
Now she stood in front of him, pale and weary from her hectic social life, telling him she was pregnant. To him?
Glancing around quickly—the ramifications if this little tidbit got out did not bear thinking about—he swung back to her, glowering.
“I want the truth right now,” he gritted. “Are you pregnant—by me—or not?”
A sheen of perspiration glowed on her upper lip, lips that had drained of color. Her normally vibrant skin looked thin as tissue, but Nick clamped down on a spurt of unwelcome worry. Get the truth—and the proof—and decide what to do about it then.
She blinked quickly, opened her mouth. God help him, she looked as shocked as he felt. Even her anger would be better than this frozen-in-the-headlights look. “Well, you can’t blame me for asking,” he said roughly.
Her trembling mouth firmed. “You stood me up, you bastard. Not so much as a phone call. Just how long did you expect me to sit around waiting?”
The bleak wind of betrayal went through him, spreading its poison. “Poor little Jordan,” he said wearily, feeling like he’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. “You’ve just got to be the center of attention, haven’t you?”
She backed off, swallowing, her eyes sliding all the way to his shoes. Her head was down, and for the first time, he noticed that her hair, her beautiful golden hair, looked lank and lifeless. A hank of it fell forward over her face. And then she looked up at him, and he reeled at the disappointment in her eyes.
“You’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?” Her voice held an element of surprise.
Nick wanted to rage, to put his hands on her and shake the disappointment out of her. But somehow he couldn’t do anything other than glower down at this woman, this addiction he had, this spoiled, self-indulgent woman who’d filled a hole inside of him that he hadn’t even known was there.
Pregnant! How ironic. Someone had gotten pregnant thirty-four years ago, but had decided money was more important than raising a child. Illegitimate, disenfranchised—he wasn’t even adopted.
“Nick!” Adam called from the top of the steps. “The judge is coming back.”
The verdict was expected today. Jordan hadn’t even glanced up when Adam had spoken. Nick exhaled loudly. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
She raised her head slowly, met his eyes. He didn’t want to read what was in hers.
“You don’t have to deal with anything,” she said curtly, then spun on her heel and walked away.
Nick’s head rolled back and he looked skyward, feeling the anger ebb away. Now he just ached with wretched need and disappointment. She was like a drug to him, and despite everything, the withdrawal symptoms were powerful. But a drug was a drug. It pulled you down and sucked you dry. You had to kick it to survive.
Twelve
The judge gave his decision, awarding damages of five hundred thousand dollars to Randall Thorne. Everyone agreed it was a predictable outcome. Nick declined the celebratory drinks mooted and returned to the office, aware of Randall staring sadly after him.
He let Jasmine go early and poured himself a Scotch, trying to obliterate the memory of Jordan’s face, twisted with anger and fear and—disappointment. In him.
Nick hated disappointing anybody. But Jordan—Jordan with the big blue eyes that reached in and touched him, connected with him on some level that no one else ever had. No matter how many times he told himself it was just an overpowering sexual attraction, he knew deep down it was real.
Having his baby…
Nick had decided weeks ago to go after her, forge a future with her to force an end to their father’s feud. But this…this was definitely not what he envisaged. Not when he was only just getting his head around being illegitimate himself.
Did he believe her? Yes. She might cheat, she might make the wrong choices sometimes—Nick scowled, wanting to smash Jason Cook’s face—but if she said the baby was his, it was his. She was too good a person to let him take the rap for someone else.
The Scotch slid down his throat smoothly. He listened to the sounds of the office packing up, the noises of the city down below. It rarely happened that Nick searched for answers in the bottom of a bottle. The foundations of his life had been swept away, but he was who he was. He would do the right thing by Jordan.
After all, that’s what he’d wanted, eventually. Did it matter that the schedule had changed? Feud or no feud, his baby would not be born illegitimate, like him.
Randall knocked and poked his head around the door. “Son, we need to talk. There are things I should have said a long time ago.”
Nick nodded toward the bottle and glasses. They hadn’t spoken about their situation since his return from Australia. Now was as good a time as any.
“Nicky.” His father brought his drink to the desk and sat, looking very ill at ease. Nick knew talking from the heart wasn’t the old man’s strong point; it never had been.
“If I’ve made you feel less important to me than Adam, then I’m very sorry. It was unwittingly done. You mean just as much to me—did to your mother, too. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“I know that,” Nick said gravely. “Which is why you’ll cooperate when I get my lawyer to apply for a new birth certificate showing my birth parents’ names.” He watched Randall’s cheeks hollow. “Did you know that I cannot be legally adopted in this country after the age of twenty?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I doubt there will be consequences, after all this time,” Nick continued, pursing his lips.
“I’ll take the damn consequences,” Randall interjected. “And while we’re crossing the T’s and dotting the i’s, I’ll make a new will naming you as an elected beneficiary, or whatever they want to call it.”
Nick settled back in his chair.
“It’s the least I can do,” his father finished bleakly.
Nick studied the older man’s face. It was time to press his case, once and for all. Perhaps he’d lose, perhaps he had underestimated Randall’s feelings for him, but at least he’d go out trying. “It’s taken me a while to figure out why you’re reluctant to name me as managing director but I think I’m getting there.”
His father started to interrupt but Nick stopped him. “You’re afraid of being left alone. Mom’s gone. Adam’s in London. With this illegal adoption…hanging over your head all these years…so many years building a business that you want to live on after you’re gone.”
He sipped his Scotch, his gaze steady. “I may not be your blood, Randall but I’m in this for the long haul. You’ve taught me—us—well. You need to have faith that you’ve done your job. Have I ever let you down?”
Randall shook his head at the quick question, subdued. “Y
ou never have.”
“I won’t leave you,” Nick said firmly. “Nor will Adam. That’s a promise. It’s time you stopped worrying about this.”
Randall was old school, brought up to keep his emotions carefully hidden. But Nick saw the love and support—for him—on his father’s aged face and knew he was on the mark. “I may not be your blood, Randall,” he repeated, “but I’m your best—no, I’m your only—option to take this place, keeping all your values and integrity intact, and grow it to pass on to my kids one day.”
The old man’s eyes gleamed and he suddenly found something very interesting in the bottom of his glass.
“And you’ll be around to see it,” Nick finished.
Randall sat for a minute, swallowing several times, his aged throat bobbing. Then he slowly got to his feet and came around to Nick’s side of the desk. “Nick. Son.” He extended his hand. Nick rose and they clasped hands. “I couldn’t bear to lose you,” his father mumbled, clapping him hard on the back in a semblance of an embrace.
Nick thought that might be the only time in his life his father had hugged him and he knew playing hardball and declaring his loyalty had been the right thing to do.
“Right, then,” Randall huffed, drawing back, patting pockets, buttoning his jacket and generally doing a good impression of businesslike busyness. “You’d better start packing in here in preparation for your move to the corner office.” He stepped back and raised his glass. “I’ll announce it at the birthday party next week. Get yourself a new suit and bring a date.”
Nick nodded. A date…since it was a day for revelations, he could do better than that, couldn’t he? “Sit down, Dad. I have something else to say.”
Jordan sat on the couch, leaning on Elanor’s shoulder. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”
Elanor nodded. “He’ll appeal, just to be bloody-minded, but deep down he knew he’d lose. Even the lawyers warned him this was the likely outcome.” She slipped her hand through her daughter’s arm. “I’m more worried about you, rushing off like that.”
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