Australia: Wicked Mistresses

by Robyn Grady

  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. “You 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 bloodyminded, 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.”

  Jordan heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I just felt so ill.” She hadn’t been able to face going back into the courtroom after Nick’s cold, hard put-down. His words his face—her throat closed and she was overwhelmed at last by the tears that had backed up for days, threatening to choke her.

  She threw herself into her mother’s lap and sobbed out the whole story, while Elanor stroked her hair and murmured comforting platitudes. Then, with typical pragmatism, she phoned her specialist and got Jordan an appointment immediately. “Home pregnancy kits aren’t always accurate. We have to be sure.”

  Jordan washed her face and helped her mother into the car.

  “Do you love him?” Elanor asked quietly.

  That started a fresh round of crying. “With all my heart.”

  Mopping her face with tissues, she heard her mother sigh, and looked up. Elanor’s yes were very troubled. “Oh, Jordan.”

  “I know. I’m spoiled and selfish, just like he said. He’s the son of Dad’s worst enemy, but did I let that stop me?” She shook her head miserably.

  “Darling, it’s not that. We can’t always control these things.” She took Jordan’s hand. “I have a confession to make. I warned Nick off last week, insisted he stop seeing you.”

  Jordan’s head jerked up. “How did you…?”

  “I had you investigated,” her mother said quietly.

  Speechless, Jordan could only stare, wondering if she’d heard correctly.

  “I’m sorry. Your social life until a few months ago was well documented. At least I had an idea of what was going on. But there has been no one for months, nearly a year. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. And when I found out who it was, I tried to scare him off.”

  “I can’t believe you’d…” Jordan reeled with the revelation that her kind, sweet mother would go to these lengths. That sounded like something Syrius might do, but…another thought twisted through her over-loaded brain. “What—what did he say? Nick?”

  Her mother bit her lip. “That he cared for you.”

  That should have elated her. It didn’t. After the altercation earlier, it only intensified the ache.

  “I didn’t realize the extent of your feelings,” Elanor continued. “With the court case going on, your father would have exploded if he’d found out. But if I’d known how you felt about him, I would never have spoken to him…told him…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Told him what?”

  Her mother hesitated. “That’s better coming from him. You need to talk to him.”

  “Except he doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Jordan said, sniffing. “Apart from your interference, I’ve spent the last week childishly trying to make him jealous. He thinks I’m sleeping with every man and his dog.”

  “I’m sure once he calms down and gets over the shock, he won’t believe that.”

  The car turned into the consultant’s car park. Jordan took out her compact and checked her face. “You sound almost hopeful.” She grimaced at her red, swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks. If she was seen going into a private ob-gyn clinic looking like this, the press would have a field day. She tied her hair back hurriedly and slid her sunglasses on. “But th
e fact remains that Dad will never accept it.”

  “Let me deal with Syrius,” her mother said grimly.

  As they waited to be seen, Jordan tried to make sense of it all. If Nick had refused her mother’s demands, what had happened between then and now, when he could barely look at her without disgust?

  She had happened. Hurt by his silence, she had lived up to his expectations of her, as she so often did. What had he said? That she always had to be the center of attention.

  The consultant took a blood test, which their on-site lab rushed through. Less than two hours later, they returned to the car. Exhausted after the stress of the day—and of the last week or so—Jordan leaned back in the seat and turned her tear-streaked face to her mother. “Oh, Mom, it just hurts so much.”

  Elanor stroked Jordan’s hair and wiped away her tears, her own eyes glistening.

  “Can I stay with you tonight?” Jordan felt so helpless, so out of control. She needed the comfort of her old room, familiar surroundings, the arms and love and sympathy only a mother could provide.

  “Of course you can,” her mother murmured. “For as long as you like.”

  Nick tossed and turned all night, despite the whiskey sedative that should have ensured sleep. What was the matter with him? He’d achieved his goal. He would be named as the managing director of Thorne Enterprises the following week. He’d made peace with his father over his parentage and gotten to know his mother a little. Surely he had everything he wanted.

  Except…the woman carrying his baby thought he wanted nothing to do with her. The pain in her eyes as he’d heaped insults and scorn upon her haunted him. He tried to justify his behavior by remembering the publicity of her partying up with her new/old lover. And she hadn’t denied it—not that he’d given her much of a chance.

  He should have called her; he knew that now. With her insecurities and mystifying low self-esteem, his lack of communication must have hurt. She wasn’t responsible for what his personal life had served up to him. All she knew was that he’d stayed away.

  The sunrise began to streak the sky with gold. Nick gave up on sleep, pulled on some track pants and sat on the step of his large, modern town house, cradling a mug of black coffee. Looking out over the easy-care garden, across the busy road that ran alongside the bay, he suddenly wondered if this house would be suitable for a child. Built on three levels, not fenced in—Lord, it was a death trap!

  A baby. He allowed his mind to process the word, but found he couldn’t assimilate it quite yet, couldn’t conjure up a picture in his mind. But Jordan pregnant—now that was easier. She would make a beautiful mother-to-be. His mind wandered back to waking snuggled up behind her on the boat, and then he imagined his arms around her swelling middle, feeling the baby move, sharing the appointments, buying…whatever prospective parents bought in preparation for the event.

  A ripple of exhilaration swept him from head to toe, and he threw his head back at the lightening sky. A baby. A chance to right the wrongs of the past. To stamp his identify on another human and show him or her that they were precious, wanted, loved.

  Suddenly he could hardly wait to start sharing the experience. He had to wait, thought, since it was only five-thirty. He dragged on a T-shirt and some trainers and set off for a run along the stony beach, needing physical exertion to curb his growing elation at the thought of becoming a father.

  And what of Jordan herself? He’d changed their intense and forbidden affair into another step on the ladder of his ambition. Technically, now that he had what he wanted, she was surplus to requirements. Pounding along the long stretch of beach, sweat dripping into his eyes, he asked himself the question: if he hadn’t gone away and if she hadn’t fallen pregnant and if she hadn’t taken up with her former lover, would they have continued their affair, even after he’d been made managing director?

  Yes. They would have. Other than their fathers’ prejudices, he and Jordan were great together. The time, effort and resources she put into trying to make a difference suggested she would work hard to support his career and make their marriage and family succeed. He could help her grow in confidence and develop her foundation. Even now, as his lungs screamed, the incredible sexual pull that they shared had him wanting her more than his next breath. She was fun, kind and sexy. He felt comfortable with her and yet fiercely passionate about her.

  And insanely jealous…. The storm clouds gathered in his mind as he turned for home, his steps accelerating. Nick would fight to the death to keep her. No one, neither Jason Cook nor her sanctimonious father, would keep him away from the woman he loved.

  Nick rang the doorbell at the Lake mansion, filled with grim determination. Walking into the lion’s den on the day after the verdict was not the most sensible thing he’d ever done, but he’d had no luck tracking Jordan at her apartment.

  The Lake’s housekeeper opened the door just as Elanor wheeled herself into the impressive entrance. “Thank you, Helen,” she said, then dismissed the housekeeper, keeping her eyes on Nick. It may have been the early hour, but she looked strained, as if she hadn’t slept.

  Nick girded himself for battle. “Is she here?”

  “She’s upstairs. Nick…”

  He hesitated, awash with relief. If she were here, her mother must know about the pregnancy. “What about Syrius? I’ll need to talk to him.”

  “He left early to catch up now that the case is over.”

  Nick gave a brief nod and turned his eyes on the stairs. “Which room?”

  “Second on the right. Nick…”

  He paused, his jaw set with impatience.

  Elanor sighed heavily, her face lined with sadness. “She’s—fragile right now. Go easy on her.”

  Thirteen

  Nick’s eyes narrowed with concern. What was that supposed to mean? Morning sickness or something more sinister? He remembered her words in the car—Jordan falls in and out of love very other week. What if Elanor was trying to tell him that her daughter was in love with someone else or, worse, pregnant to someone else?

  Elanor fidgeted under his gaze.

  Nick needed to get those answers from Jordan herself, no one else. He knew her. She wouldn’t lie about him being the father of the baby. He’d do whatever he had to, but he wasn’t going to allow her to throw her life, her talent, her goodness away on a loser like Jason Cook.

  He snapped off a brief nod and headed for the stairs.

  As he reached the top, aware of Elanor’s anxious eyes following his every step, a door opened and Jordan appeared in the hallway. They both stopped dead, staring. She wore a bright orange floral robe tied at the waist. She seemed to have lost weight. The robe clung to her as she stood, the sharp angle of her hip clearly showing through the flimsy fabric. Her hair was loose and brushed behind her ears.

  She looked done in. Her eyes were pink and puffy, her lips paler than lilac. Nick stroke forward, filled with an irrational worry that she might fall if he didn’t catch her, hold her up. “What is it? Are you sick?”

  Her eyes widened as he approached, and she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He reached out and ran his hand down her arm, needing to touch her, to make sure she wouldn’t disappear into thin air.

  Jordan shrank away, a tiny shift back that sliced at him. “What do you want, Nick? If my father…”

  He shook his head, stung by her disapproving tone. “I went to your place,” he began curtly.

  “And naturally you assumed I was with someone else.” Her surprise had cooled into sullen weariness.

  “Whatever happened in the past week,” Nick ground out, “we have to put it behind us.”

  Jordan swallowed and looked away. He imagined it was guilt making her chew her bottom lip, but then reminded himself of his purpose. The baby came first. Whatever mistakes she’d made—they’d both made—they could work on forgiving each other after he had an assurance from her that they had a future together. “I’m not blaming you, but I won’t let you throw your life away on that loser.
”

  She blinked. “You won’t let me…who?”

  “Jason!” he snarled, his jealousy perilously close to the surface. “Your ex—and soon-to-be ex again.”

  She huffed out a weary breath, shaking her head slightly. “You really believe I’ve been sleeping around?”

  Yes. No. Hell, all he wanted was her denial.

  “Haven’t you noticed,” she said with exaggerated patience, “that the papers don’t care about true or false? If I trip over, it’s because I’m drunk or on drugs. If I say hello to someone on the street, I’m engaged.”

  “You said yesterday—you intimated…”

  “Oh, Nick.” She sighed. “Can’t you recognize when a woman is in love with you?”

  Nick stared at her, the wind knocked completely out of his sails. She loved him. There was no one else.

  Jordan stood in front of him, rocking on her heels a little. But at least some of the color was returning to her cheeks. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Relief and elation threatened to overwhelm him.

  “I didn’t deny your accusations,” she continued, “because you hurt me so much. You just disappeared off the face of the earth. I didn’t know what I’d done. And when you looked at me like that yesterday…” Her voice broke. “Why, Nick? Why did you brush me off like I was something on your shoe?”

  Nick closed his eyes against the pain darkening hers. Unfamiliar emotions slammed him. Elation that she loved him, relief that she wanted no one else, guilt for putting that pain on her lovely face. Moving purely on instinct, he reached out and took both her hands in his. “Didn’t your mother tell you what was going on?”

  Her hands lay limply in his. “She told me she warned you off. And that she’d had me investigated.” Her voice was listless, as if declaring her love had drained her of energy.

  She really looked done in. Nick pointed his chin at the door behind her. “Can we sit down?”