by Robyn Grady
Jordan couldn’t comprehend that, coming from a one-child family, the apple of her parents’ eye. She resolved to keep a much closer eye on the girl from now on.
“Told you so,” Nick said lightly.
“What?”
“Sounds to me like that family needs a decent holiday, spend some quality time with their kids…some-where nice and remote with fishing and tramping…”
Jordan felt her face color in pleased embarrassment. He liked her idea after all. That meant a lot, even though it was no longer hers to develop.
They made good time on another amazingly calm day. After a couple of hours, Letitia appeared and helped Jordan cobble together enough leftovers to make some sandwiches. Then they sat out of the sun in the stateroom, leaving Nick on deck. Since neither had gotten much sleep the night before, it wasn’t long before they stretched out on the sofas and their chatting dwindled to sleepy sighs.
Jordan awoke an hour later and the city of Wellington sprawled on the horizon. Letitia was on deck, steering the powerful boat, supervised by Nick. Jordan smiled at the nice picture the two of them made. It was kind of Nick to spend time connecting with the troubled teen.
“Letitia is going to talk to Russ about letting me join the Outreach team,” Nick told her, as if it was something he’d always wanted to do. Jordan grinned, thinking if only he knew what he was getting himself into.
“Nick knows some people at the Marina,” Letitia enthused, “and he’s going to speak to them about teaching us water sports.”
“I believe I said water safety,” Nick cut in, reaching across her to nudge the wheel slightly.
Jordan had never seen him so relaxed and at ease. His teeth gleamed in his tanned face and his eyes shone when they looked at her. He was so breathtakingly handsome. She imagined drawing a frame around him, depicting with fine detail everything a man should look like, should be.
As she watched him smile and tease, and the young girl’s shining face as she bantered with her new hero, something warm and heady washed over Jordan, through her. The cautionary walls she’d erected to protect herself melted and seeped away. Her heart began to beat, slow and strong, so strong she could feel it in her fingertips.A giddy feeling made her wobble on her seat and grab the side.
She loved him. It was as clear and shining and joyful as Christmas. She loved him and wanted him, and all the problems that would entail were as far away as the shoreline. Still there, still beckoning, but with a lower level of importance.
Nick said something to her and she was so distracted with her newfound knowledge, she had to ask him to repeat it. He reached out and ruffled her hair and she felt his hand there for long seconds after he’d taken it away, caressing, caring, branding her as his.
Once ashore, they reunited Letitia with her grateful parents and then Nick drove Jordan home. Her stomach growled as they entered her apartment, reminding her that the meager sandwich she’d had at lunch was many hours ago. “Would you like to stay for…”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Nick growled, pushing her up against the wall in the passageway. Her bag hit the deck, her clothes were roughly pushed aside. He ravaged her mouth and she soared so high, so quickly as he took her against the wall. They didn’t even make the bedroom.
Nick stayed the night, waking her early to make love once more before he had to go to the office. Jordan linked her arms around his neck as he kissed her goodbye. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He smiled and leaned forward to sear her with another kiss.
“The sales agreement?” she laughed.
“Ah.” He nodded. “I’ll have my lawyer witness it.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Jordan asked, leaning back on her pillows, looking like Aphrodite.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he told her. “Maybe I’ll turn it into an exclusive art gallery and exhibit some starving but brilliant artist who’s got a bunch of insecurities about her work.”
Her eyes shone with amusement.
“And people will come from miles around,” he continued, enjoying himself, “and she’ll be famous the world over.”
Jordan chuckled. “Except that no one will ever know because the gallery is so exclusive, no one can find it.”
“Which will add greatly to her fame, in turn, making her forever grateful to me.”
Nick found he liked this, waking with someone, sex, chatter and banter before getting on with the day. The prospect of making it a permanent arrangement entered his mind. It was a win-win, as far as he was concerned. He enjoyed her company, and the sex was beyond incredible.
“Did you get around to having plans drawn up for the refurbishment?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” she said, her eyes shining.
“Give me a look at them sometime.”
Jordan kissed him fervently and asked if she’d see him Friday.
Nick groaned. “Friday is eons away. I have to go to Sydney on Wednesday for a meeting, but I’ll be back late Thursday.” He lifted a strand of her hair, ran it slowly through his fingers. “You’ll be in court today, right?”
Jordan inhaled, her expression becoming cautious. “Nick…”
He knew what she was going to say: Don’t let anyone know that they were together. Not that they’d articulated anything yet…“Don’t worry,” he reassured her, bending for one last taste of her lips. “We’ll talk about it later.”
He drove to his apartment, struggling to keep the smile off his face, an alien concept to his facial muscles, he was sure. This was a watershed weekend, one which had gone exactly to plan. She was crazy about him, he saw it in her face every time she looked at him. And that was just fine by Nick. Things were moving along smoothly and he was enjoying the ride.
He showered, changed and headed in to the office, looking forward to seeing her in court in an hour or so. He wondered if anyone would guess they’d spent the weekend together, if something would show in the way he looked at her.
“I’ll be back after lunch—probably,” Nick told Jasmine as he left for court. Adam and Randall had gone on ahead after the court clerk had called to confirm that Syrius was fit to attend.
Leaving the office building, he noticed an eye-catching pale blue limousine parked outside. He noticed it because he’d seen it before somewhere. The driver leaned against the car but straightened when he saw him and tapped on the back window, then gestured for Nick to approach. He did so, frowning.
The back window slid down. “Hello Nick,” Elanor Lake said pleasantly. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Nick got into the limo and sat opposite her, his mind racing.
Jordan definitely got her looks from her mother. Soft golden hair clouded around Elanor’s face. Her skin was creamy and smooth, her clothes elegant. She regarded him in a friendly, frank manner. The driver remained outside and Elanor pressed the window control closed.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Lake?”
“It’s Elanor,” she said. “And I want you to stop seeing my daughter.”
He saw from her demeanor that there was no point denying it. “I would gladly do almost anything you asked of me,” he said sincerely, a slight inflection on the word you; his father’s guilt ran deep. “But not that.”
Her facial muscles tightened and she studied him at length. “This has gone further than I thought,” she said finally.
Nick wondered if it was she monitoring her daughter’s movements.
“I’ve always liked you, Nick. I’ve watched you grow, followed your career. You’re well known for being straight. Responsible.”
He inclined his head. Her approval of him could be helpful in the bun fight that would ensue when Syrius found out.
Elanor sat back clasping her hands in her lap. “My husband has heart disease. It’s quite serious. If he finds out about this—affair—it will possibly kill him. If it doesn’t kill him straight off, then he will take a gun and shoot you.”
Nick pretended to give it due consideration, allowing three heartbeats to go by. “I’ll take my chances, but thank you for the warning.”
“You’re not listening. I believe you are an honorable man. Your mother was my best friend for many years. We resumed our friendship in secret a couple of years before she died.”
Nick remembered then that’s where he’d seen the limo. At the cemetery on the day of his mother’s funeral. The windows were tinted and he couldn’t identify the occupant. The car left before the end of the interment.
“Your mother was incredibly proud of you. She said you were honest and fair-minded. Very strong without the headstrong traits of your brother. She said you could always be relied upon to do exactly the right thing.”
It seemed to Nick she enunciated every syllable with great care—do exactly the right thing. He continued watching her steadily, waiting for her to get to the point. His family owed her a hearing.
“Nick, I’ve watched my husband struggle over the years to try to modify his personality, and fail to do so. I’ve watched him have affairs and that’s all right because I can’t give him what he needs, and he always comes home to me. He treats me with the utmost care and allows me my dignity by being discreet. He loves me.” Elanor leaned forward, watching his face intently. “But that love pales in comparison to what he feels for his daughter. Syrius loves Jordan more than his own life.”
Nick grappled with some residual familial guilt that had unfairly passed down from his father. He and Jordan should never have started…it was self-indulgent and irresponsible. But it was too late now. “Elanor, I am sorry for what my father did to you. He is sorry for what he did to you. But it’s unfair to expect Jordan and me to take the rap for past mistakes.”
Her eyes were bright with sharp emotion. “I lost everything in that accident. My unborn son, only three weeks from birth. The use of my legs when my greatest passion—and my career—was dancing.”
Nick flinched and swallowed to clear the ball of sympathy that had closed his throat.
Elanor saw it and her mouth thinned. “Syrius will never accept this relationship, do you understand?” She raised her hand, pointing at him. “Your father took his son. He would die rather than let a Thorne have his daughter.”
Nick felt the blood drain from his face. He wanted to look away but a twisted respect forced him to keep eye contact.
Elanor wasn’t finished. “I will lose everything. Again. Jordan will never be able to look at you without seeing the tragedy of what will confront her beloved father, who will be either dead or in prison. Your own father will probably cut you off.”
He could only stare at her. For the first time, he began to truly understand the magnitude of the battle ahead.
“And all for a sordid turn between the sheets once a week. Something you could get from anyone.”
Nick inhaled. He wasn’t having that. “I care for her. I believe she cares for me.” He knew she did.
A ghost of a smile softened her lips for a second. “Jordan falls in and out of love every other week.”
He wouldn’t dignify that with a response.
Now her eyes implored him. “I beg you, Nick, on your mother’s love for me, do the right thing.”
He knew his facial expression hadn’t changed, outwardly resolute, but it was a different story inside. Emotions that he wasn’t accustomed to slammed him, one after the other. Pity for the woman in front of him. Injustice that he and Jordan should pay the price for their fathers’ sins. And anger that Elanor obviously had no intention of broaching the subject with her daughter. That meant it was up to him. If he agreed to her demands, if he agreed to finish it, he was the bad guy.
He couldn’t give her what she wanted. Not yet, not without a fight. Hadn’t his mother been on the mark? Want something you shouldn’t. Take something you have no right to. He raised his chin. “I’ll talk to Jordan. We’ll decide.”
He reached for the door handle but she laid her hand flat on his arm. When he looked back, the respectful demeanor of a minute ago had lapsed into ominous regret.
“Then you leave me no choice but to take this information to your father.”
Nick settled back in the seat, rallying for another blow. Randall would hate it, there was no doubt about that. He needed to prepare the ground first.
“Nick,” Elanor said quietly, “you’ve worked hard to get where you are, yet still your father stalls about naming you as his successor.” She paused, building the tension. “You being involved with the daughter of his most bitter enemy would be a big strike against you, wouldn’t it? He’d wonder about your loyalty.”
Nick said nothing but silently agreed. Loyalty was a favorite catch phrase of Randall’s.
“One strike against you in this situation is bad enough. Two might just tip the balance.”
Nick frowned. What did she mean? A fatalistic sense of foreboding stabbed him at the sympathy in Elanor Lake’s eyes.
“What’s the other?”
“You’re not his natural son, Nick,” she said quietly. “You’re not even legally adopted.”
Eleven
Nick drove straight home after leaving Elanor’s car and took his birth certificate from the safe. His mind soared with relief. She was lying. It was a bare-faced lie by a bitter woman intent on having her own way. Obviously Syrius didn’t hold all the vindictive cards in his family.
But still, something inside him continued to niggle. He drove to his parents’ house and asked the housekeeper where the family photos were stored. It was a standing family joke that if it moved, his mother photographed it. Nick spent hours poring through boxes and albums, searching out familial similarities. Nothing conclusive came of it. He was bigger, broader than his brother. His facial features were thicker than either of his parents, while Adam bore a striking resemblance to his mother. Coloring and eyes were similar enough to all members of the family to reassure him.
His scant relief receded when he opened a pack marked Pregnancy and flicked through tens of snaps of his mother during pregnancy but they were all dated 1979. Adam’s year of birth, not his. Feverishly, Nick went through the rest of the box but was unable to find one picture of his mother pregnant in 1975.
He drove back to the office, told Jasmine he was not to be disturbed and sat there for the rest of the day, building up a good head of steam.
Had they treated him differently? He racked his brain for childhood memories. Nick was the eldest, mature beyond his years so he got lumbered with most of the chores and was expected to keep an eye on his younger brother. Elder kids always thought their younger siblings were spoiled and he was no exception. But one thing about Adam, he followed Nick around everywhere, “helping” him, he’d say.
The bond was real between the brothers, but he wondered about his parents. They weren’t the hands-on parents of modern times because they’d always put career first. Randall worked tirelessly building up his financial business while Melanie ran her dance studio six days a week. Public—or even private—displays of affection were rare.
He checked his watch for the umpteenth time. This rated as the longest day of his life. No matter how often he cautioned himself not to jump to conclusions, something told him Elanor had spoken the truth. Recent events backed it up. His mother leaving the share package to Adam, her natural born son. His father wanting Adam, his natural born son, to run the company.
The moment Randall returned from the court, Nick marched into his office, threw the birth certificate on his desk and demanded the truth. Randall insisted on knowing who he’d been talking to; when Nick told him, he blanched and did not deny it. And Nick faced the fact that up until now, his whole life had been a sham.
Two years after their marriage, the Thornes were told that they could never have children. Coming on the heels of the accident and Syrius’s decree that banned Melanie from seeing his wife, Nick’s mother fell into a state of deep depression. Randall, acutely aware of his business reputation, ensconced her in
a luxury villa in one of Sydney’s beach suburbs and commuted between Wellington and Sydney every other week.
Deeply depressed and lonely, his wife befriended a pregnant and unmarried housemaid. The next thing Randall knew, they had arranged an illegal adoption. Much money passed hands. Melanie even procured a forged birth certificate naming the Thornes as parents. Nearly a year after she’d left, Melanie returned to New Zealand with Nick in her arms. The couple maintained that he was their own miracle child. Four years later, against all odds, Melanie became pregnant with Adam.
“Did you know about this?” Nick asked Adam, who’d unwittingly walked into the tense confrontation.
“God’s truth, I didn’t,” Adam assured him. “But it doesn’t make a scrap of difference. You’re my brother, Nick.”
“Nor to me,” his father said shakily. “Blood or not, you’re my son.”
“I want details,” Nick declared. “Names, dates…”
“What’s the point, Nick? We raised you as a Thorne, loved you from day one. Why rake it all up again?”
“Afraid you’ll go to prison for fraud, not to mention buying a baby?” Nick looked at him scathingly, then immediately felt wretched. He softened his tone. “I’m going to Sydney tonight rather than Wednesday. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I need the address of the villa, her name, her lover—my father’s—name, the dates she worked there…”
He wondered if his birth parents had ever contacted the Thornes again. Had they ever wanted to see him, or was it all about the money? Nick wondered what he was worth. “I see now why you want Adam to run the company, not me.”
He heard Adam’s sharp, indrawn breath, but his eyes were on his father’s pale face.
“That’s not true,” Randall’s voice implored him. “Not just Adam, not just you. Both of you.”
Nick saw a world of fear in Randall’s eyes. How long had he worried over this day?
Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to say “Dad.” Not yet.
“Nick, my feelings remain the same in regard to the company—and you.” Adam lounged in his chair, seemingly relaxed but his expression was bleak, his face as pale as his father’s.
