by Robyn Grady
He picked her up and set her aside. “A broken nose, for starters.”
She blocked his path. “And then?”
Armand’s ragged breathing eased marginally and his gaze drifted from Matthew to her. He studied her as if through a hazy screen. Then he truly focused and gripped her shoulders. “Tamara, we have to talk.”
Setting his tumbler on the coffee table, Matthew piped up. “About paternity matters? Too late. I know the child isn’t yours. You’re not the only one who makes good use of private investigators, Armand.” He unfolded to his feet. “The terms of the will are not met. The trust stays with me. Court adjourned.”
Armand’s grip, which had slid to Tamara’s hand, tightened. “What in the name of Hades makes you think that under any circumstances I’ll stand back and let that happen?”
Matthew flicked lint from a jacket sleeve. “You have no legal standing.”
“I have rights, and, more importantly, I have my family’s interests to protect.”
Matthew looked scandalized. “What you have is a woman who sleeps with one man then married his brother, and possibly, if no other man was involved in the meantime, you have a niece or nephew.” While Tamara gasped, Matthew darted her a cursory glance. “Sorry to sound so heartless, but we seasoned barristers go for the jugular.”
Armand’s deep voice was lethal. “Listen to me, Matthew, because I won’t say this again. I don’t care what your story is. I know only two things. You double-crossed me and I will win controlling interest of De Luca Enterprises if I have to fight you for rest of my days.” He stepped closer. “If you think I won’t win, by all means try me. And if you speak to my wife like that again, you won’t have to worry about DLE. You’ll be dead.”
While Tamara gazed over at the man who had defended her like no one else could, the room fell quiet. No ticking clocks or outside noise intruded. The world had been reduced to one fierce blue gaze burning into another.
Matthew backed down first. His gaze slid between the two of them as if assessing their arrangement and his position. “There is one thing we can all three be sure of,” he finally said. “You’re going to be taken to the cleaners in divorce court.” He grinned at Tamara, affecting a slight bow. “Perhaps I could offer you my services.”
While she felt physically repulsed, Armand announced, “There won’t be a divorce.”
Matthew drew a card from his shirt pocket and tossed it toward the coffee table. “Call me. Perhaps we can discuss the benefits of my representation.”
Matthew had barely disappeared from the room, and hopefully their lives, before a car horn blared outside.
Tamara’s stomach jumped. It was time. “That’s my cab.” Before she could think any more on it, she moved to collect the case she’d dropped earlier by the room’s entrance.
Armand’s strong grip on her arm held her back. His voice was a mix of steel and tempting deep velvet. “Don’t go.”
Arcing around to face him, heartbeat tripping wildly, she tried to wrench free. Please, Armand, don’t make this worse. “You know I have to.” This scene had been difficult enough without prolonging the agony.
His bristled jaw hardened. “I need you.”
Her heart squeezed so much she couldn’t breathe. She chose to ignore his deeper meaning. “No need to pretend about paternity now. Sounds like you might be in for a real fight.”
His grip, still on her upper arm, eased fractionally. The heat of his gaze combed her lips, then her throat. She tingled all over by the time his eyes finally locked again with hers.
“Would you be happy if I lost?”
Her chin tucked in as she coughed out a denial. “Of course not. I don’t want to hurt you, Armand. I…”
Swallowing her confession achieved nothing. He said it for her.
“You love me. And I love you, more than I ever wanted to admit.”
Her eyes drifted closed as those longed-for words and raw energy seeped in to drug her. His hand traveled down her arm, leaving a series of flash fires in its wake before his fingers curled around to thatch with hers. The vibration of a pulse popping in his wrist hummed through her blood. She should tug away, leave now, but she needed to see this out first.
“Love drove my father crazy,” he said. “Love at twenty-four made me want to lie in a big black hole and never come out. But your love, this love, is better than any fairy tale. This is real. We can’t lose it.”
Emotion, heady and bright, swirled around to lift her up. She tried not to breathe in his scent or fall too deeply into his imploring lidded gaze. Still, the tug of his magnetism was almost too strong to resist.
Her mouth quaked at one corner and heart broke in two as she forced out a strangled whisper. “Armand…it’s not enough. It’s too late.”
Natural heat enveloped her as he brought her near. “Too late for this?”
His kiss was more than it had ever been before—undiluted magic, simmering, sparkling sensations that propelled her soul toward the heavens. The warm palm pressing on the small of her back, his mouth working so beautifully with hers…every screaming, aching part of her wanted to forgive everything, believe, and fall completely under his spell.
But it wasn’t that simple. He’d not only stomped on her feelings, he’d dismissed the very foundations upon which she meant to build the rest of her life. Her dream hadn’t changed. Nothing could or would come before the best interests of this child. Though she couldn’t imagine it now, someday, somewhere, she hoped to find someone who believed in her dream as much as she did. But she would never compromise. She’d rather be alone.
After the kiss trailed away, Armand searched her face. Seeing her resolve, he frowned and tried a different tack.
He rearranged a length of hair back over her shoulder. “I understand why you don’t trust me, but this isn’t about believing whether I’m willing or able to change.” He scratched at the side of his head, cleared his throat. “What I feel, what I know is real between us, is about who I’ve always been. But that part of me was smothered, almost crushed, beneath a ton of baggage from my past.”
He moved his palms to cup her face, imploring her with his eyes to understand. “You’ve moved on, mending fences with Elaine and already putting aside any grief over the man who didn’t acknowledge you.”
She tried to shrug away from his compliment, but he stopped her with a finger pressed to her lips.
“Tamara, today I discovered how far I’d come, too.” The line between his brows faded. “Let me show you something.”
Every cautious cell in her body cried out, warning her not to follow him down any path that might lead to the dangers of renewed seduction. But his words just now—the ones she’d so longed to hear—kept whirling through her mind, pushing her to bend, prodding her to forgive.
Armand’s hopeful expression sobered. “Do this and if you still want to go, I’ll step aside and never bother you again.”
Despite his vow sounding like a death knell, she let her shoulders sag and nodded.
On a mission, he drew her to the television and pressed a couple of buttons. When a picture of her baby flicked up on the screen, Tamara’s throat swelled. Somehow a bubble of emotion still managed to squeak out.
Totally entranced by the movements, as she had been earlier that morning, Tamara forgot her company. When she finally did remember, she found that Armand’s attention was riveted not on the screen, but on her.
While he faced her, she faced the monitor square on. Cheeks flaming, she compressed her lips then tried to divert his interest back to the images. “How did you get the DVD?”
“Friendly fairies?” He moved closer and she caught the grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “It was delivered to my office instead of here.”
With great effort, she tugged her gaze away from the purpose blazing in his to watch her little man suck his thumb. She smiled, remembering her burst of happiness when Marion had confirmed she believed it was a boy.
Tamara tipped her chin. “D
idn’t you want to watch this?”
“I’d hoped we might be able to catch it again later.”
His arms wrapped around her waist and the semihard exterior of her resolve warped like a mirage as warmth poured over and through her. Her huge day, this big screen, Armand’s overwhelming charm kidnapping her all over again…
Tears, born of confusion and forbidden desire, flooded her eyes. She couldn’t cope with anything more.
His breath stirred the hair at her ear. “That’s our child. No matter what happens, I’ll always look after him.”
While she held herself tight and gazed with loving eyes at her baby, he moved closer still.
“You’ll be pleased to know this afternoon I had my lawyers destroy that will,” he said. “If you’d like, we can go together and make sure everything is exactly as it should be in the next, whether we own a billion dollars or ten cents.” His lips brushed her hair while his hot woodsy scent tantalized her senses. “I’d be happy with nothing as long as I have the two most important people in my life.”
Clogged up and unable to speak for stupid desperate hope, she blinked and two salty drops rolled down each cheek.
He groaned. “I love you, Tamara. Adore you. And there are only two things you can do about it. Walk out that door—or trust me.” He pressed in extra close so his chest wedged up against her shoulder and his deep rich voice washed over her. “Please, trust me.”
Her resolve shook, almost toppled, but one question still burned bright. Avoiding his eyes, she studied the white knuckles of her clasped hands. “What if I decide to relaunch my business?”
She was almost finished with her degree and she’d always meant to apply her knowledge in a practical way. She couldn’t foresee the future, but neither could she see herself giving up that goal.
He shrugged. “Then I’d have added reason to get serious about sharing the responsibilities of child care, which I intend to initiate as soon after the birth as possible.”
Heartbeat crashing at her ribs, she tossed him a dumbfounded glance. “You’re kidding me.”
His brow buckled, but his eyes twinkled. His hands on her hips, he pivoted her around to face him. “I confess, I’m not so convinced about dirty diaper changes, but I’m in for everything else. I want to do the parties, and the homework, and the aches and pains, and football practice.” His thumb and crooked finger caught her chin and tilted it up. “You believe me, don’t you, Tamara? You have to, because I’ve never meant anything more in my life. Nothing will ever be more important to me than you and our family…every member, everyone equal, everyone loved.”
As he moved to gather her in, she found a kernel of courage and arched a brow. “I’m still not wholly convinced.”
He blinked and pulled back. “You’re not?”
She fanned her hands over his white shirtfront then tugged the loosened knot of his tie toward her. “Maybe I should test-drive some of this new you before I make up my mind?”
Grinning, he bundled her in. “Sounds good. Let’s start in low gear.”
He dropped a series of exquisitely light, incredibly right kisses on first her top, then bottom lip, then each corner of her mouth until she discovered her arms were threading round his neck and she was kissing him back, enjoying his caress more and more each soul-lifting moment.
When they finally surfaced, she felt as if her feet hovered inches off the ground. Her hands winged around from behind his neck to cup each side of his jaw. She couldn’t hold it back a moment more. “I love you, Armand. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”
He blinked several times, his smile soft with gratitude, gaze intense and clear. He pressed a kiss to her temple before he tucked her head under his chin. “If you want another test run, I’m available the rest of the day. In fact, the rest of your life.”
Overflowing with joy and hope and so much love, she moved to gaze up at her husband’s handsome face. “I’m thinking we should start right about now.”
He smiled before his head lowered again. “Amen to that.”
Epilogue
Tamara eased out a satisfied sigh as her gaze ran over the Happy Birthday banner that spanned her kitchen’s archway. A year already. Where had the time gone?
A hand on her arm broke Tamara’s thoughts.
Hair set in a stylish chignon, Elaine smiled. “Quick, sweetheart. Ruth’s bringing out the cake.”
Tamara dimmed the lights before they moved together to a large timber table. Looking relaxed in blue jeans and T-shirt, Armand stood blowing a party whistle while his son bounced in a highchair, squealing with delight. When Tamara joined him, Armand automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. A moment later, Ruth set down a cake, topped with a single sparkler that rained shooting stars.
Ruth thrust both hands into her apron pocket. “There you go, little man. A great big one today!”
The four adults broke into song while Maxem De Luca beamed and clapped his dimpled hands.
On the last of three cheers, Armand dropped a kiss on the toddler’s crown then gently ruffled the toffee-colored curls. As Elaine helped Ruth cut the cake, he swept his wife close and smiled into her adoring eyes. “Looks like Maxem got his wish.”
Tamara laughed. “You put in the request for chocolate cheesecake, not Max.”
“I was talking about the swing set.” He inspected the palm of one hand. “Took half the night putting that monster together.”
She kissed his palm where the spanner had worn a blister. “You could’ve paid someone to fit it.”
He nuzzled close. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
The kitchen extension rang. As Ruth crossed to answer it, Armand leaned over to collect two plates and hand one to his wife. “Whoever it is, Ruth, I’m unavailable.”
Everyone was seated, the lights switched back up, when Ruth reappeared. Armand stopped feeding Maxem as she offered him the phone. Ruth’s voice was grave. “You might want to take this.”
On the other side of the table, Elaine took over feeding duties while Armand listened, frown growing deeper. By the time he disconnected, Tamara was knotted up inside. This was it.
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Your lawyer?”
Armand nodded before he arched a wry brow and grinned. “Seems Matthew Mohill has finally backed down.”
The breath Tamara held came out in a whoosh. “Oh, thank God.”
Armand covered both her hands and squeezed. “Might have something to do with his own boy’s birthday this week, but Matthew apparently wants to end the war and simply get on with his life.”
Tamara’s thoughts jumped ahead. “Then all systems are go with China?”
Armand winked. “Next week the interim contracts can be replaced with something more permanent.” He scooped up the whistle and blew at Maxem, who squealed as if it were a brand-new game.
While congratulations and thanks were lobbed back and forth across the table, Tamara pressed her lips together. She’d planned to tell her husband in private but now, this moment, seemed the best time to make her announcement. “I have some news of my own.”
Elaine looked over expectantly. “You’ve decided to do more study?”
Armand guessed next. “You want to restart your business? We’ll keep each other busy, won’t we, son?” He tickled Maxem’s tummy and the baby grabbed his index finger and shook it like a hand.
“Both wrong.” Tamara’s heart felt set to burst. “We’re going to be parents again. Max is going to have a baby brother or sister.”
The room fell silent. Even Maxem sat still, bright blue eyes wide and waiting. Then Armand sprang to his feet, scooping Tamara up along on the way. He twirled her around so her feet arced through the air. When he set her gently down, he speared a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Out of breath, she laughed. “I just did.”
His contented gaze probed hers. “Soon we’ll have a Georgia.”
“Or Daniela. Or another little boy.” She shrugge
d. “Doesn’t matter which.”
The crook of his finger trailed her cheek. “I love you so much. Don’t think I’ve told you today.”
Throat thick with emotion, she softly smiled. “It was the first thing you said when you woke up this morning.”
“And the last thing I’ll say before we sleep tonight.”
“Da-dad.” They both stopped to look. Maxem stretched forward, holding out his arms.
Armand’s lips brushed hers. “Hold that thought,” he murmured. “I’ll definitely be back.”
As Tamara watched him slip Maxem from the highchair, chuckling as he held his son high, she hugged herself and silently gave thanks. Miracles came in all shapes and sizes. Big and small, she cherished both of hers more and more each day.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0973-6
THE MAGNATE’S MARRIAGE DEMAND
Copyright © 2007 by Robyn Whitehead
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