Avenging Christa: A Billionaire Romance (Irresistibly Mine Book 2)

by Tracie Delaney

  The elevator pinged. I held my breath as the doors smoothly opened. Sutton strode out first, the court-appointed chaperone trailing behind, a stick-thin woman in her late forties, early fifties, with wispy gray hair tied up in a loose bun. She did have a kindly face, though. I prayed that she’d be able to see through Sutton’s façade, that she wouldn’t be taken in by the charm I knew he could turn on when it suited him.

  I crouched to Max’s level. “Max, this is the friend of Mommy’s that I told you about,” I said, every word cutting through me. My tongue felt too big for my mouth, and my throat was full of razorblades. “His name is Sutton, and he’s going to take you out for a couple of hours. And this lady is his friend.” I didn’t know how else to describe her.

  “Wendy,” she helpfully added.

  “Hey, Max,” Sutton said, crouching as he held out a stuffed animal. “I brought you this.”

  Max’s little face lit up. “Lion,” he said, reaching for it. “Momma, look.”

  I forced my face into a smile. “He’s just like the ones we saw at the zoo, huh, Max?”

  “There’s plenty more where that came from,” Sutton said. “We’re going to have a lot of fun today, Max. In fact, we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.”

  I could sense the tension rolling off Dayton, the heat from his anger burning like a furnace. Max shot me a puzzled look. I glared at Sutton.

  Dayton took Max from me. “Come on, Max. Let’s go fetch your backpack while Mommy talks to her friend.”

  “Okay, Dada.”

  Sutton’s eyes widened. I shot him a glare that must have spoken volumes because he kept his mouth shut, very unlike him. I waited until Dayton had gone inside, and then I turned on Sutton.

  “You’re confusing him,” I hissed. “I only told him about today, not any future visits.”

  “Well, you should have,” Sutton said, taking a step in my direction.

  I held my ground. He couldn’t hurt me here, with the court official standing right beside him and Dayton a mere few seconds away. “You’d better get used to what’s going on here, Sienna, because he’s my son, and I have a right to see him and spend time with him, no matter what you and your boyfriend think. And another thing, I’d advise you to tell Max pretty damn quick that your fuck buddy is not his father. If you don’t, I will.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I spat, poking my finger in his direction. “You wanted nothing to do with him, so don’t you come around here pretending to play the loving father. You belong in jail, Sutton. Far, far away from me and my son.”

  Wendy cleared her throat. “Why don’t we all calm down?”

  I ignored her. “You can pretend in front of Wendy, the judge, your lawyer, but I know you. You might be giving the performance of your life pretending you give a shit about Max, but remember, I know the truth. And the truth will come out… You mark my words.”

  The affronted expression he sent in my direction forced a laugh from my chest, but before our argument could continue, Dayton returned with Max in tow. He was wearing his favorite Minions backpack and clutched the lion Sutton had brought.

  Sutton held out his hand and smiled at Max. “Ready to go, buddy?”

  Max nodded, but as he tilted his head back and his beautiful eyes settled on mine, his chin wobbled.

  Putting aside all my anger, all my hate, I crouched and kissed the top of his head. “You’re going to have a fantastic time with Sutton and Wendy, Max. When you get back, I want to hear all about it, okay?”

  My brave boy nodded. Sutton took Max’s hand and walked away with my son. I held it together until the elevator doors closed, and then I broke down. My knees buckled, and Dayton caught me. He swept me up into his arms and carried me through to the living room. I sobbed, my face buried in his neck, as he gently laid me down on the couch.

  He let me cry it out, saying nothing, doing nothing other than occasionally rocking me, as if I, too, was a child. After a few minutes, I pulled myself together, blew my nose on a tissue Dayton produced from his pocket, and dried my eyes.

  “I’m okay,” I said, my gaze falling on his concerned face. “I just needed to get that out. But he’ll be fine. Wendy is with him, and she’s hardly going to let anything bad happen, is she? Besides, it’s two hours. I can do two hours.” I got to my feet and paced, biting the skin around my thumbnail. “Two hours will pass by like that.” I clicked my fingers, then shot a look in Dayton’s direction, searching for reassurance. “Won’t it?”

  Dayton came to stand beside me. He caressed my face, his touch so soft and tender that more tears came. “It will.”

  Two hours did not pass quickly. In fact, every minute might as well have been a day. I didn’t know how I was going to do this all over again next week. Agony spread through my chest every single second my son was with that monster. An hour and fifty minutes after Max had left with Sutton, I decamped to the entranceway, my eyes fixed on the elevator, waiting for the comforting sound of its arrival. Dayton waited with me, his arm around my trembling shoulders.

  “I love you,” I said, because I didn’t say it nearly enough. I wanted him to know that his quiet reassurance the last two hours hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t by my side.”

  He tightened his hold and kissed my hair. “You’re amazing. Strong, resilient, beautiful. Max is so lucky to have you as his mom, and I thank God every day that you’re in my life. It kills me that I can’t fix this for you, that I can’t take away your pain, but I’ll always be here. Always.”

  Before I could tell him how every word he said gave me a little more strength, the elevator arrived. It seemed to take forever for the doors to open, but when they did, and Max was standing there next to Sutton with a big beaming smile on his face, adrenaline rushed through me, sending me lightheaded. My baby was okay.

  I bent down and held out my arms. Max sprinted toward me and threw his arms around my neck, his excitement palpable. He chattered at me, telling me all about his new best friend, Sutton, and how he’d taken him to lots of places and bought him toys and candy. I met Sutton’s gaze over the top of my son’s head. He was staring at me, his eyes cold, dead almost, like a great white shark’s. I shuddered.

  “Max, why don’t you go with Dayton while I talk to Sutton,” I said, careful not to use the term ‘Dada.’ The last thing I needed was Sutton having another hissy fit.

  Sutton bent down, resting on one knee, and held out his arms to Max. My heart squeezed, and not in a good way, when Max hugged him.

  “See you next week, buddy, just like we talked about,” Sutton said.

  “Bye,” Max said, happily taking Dayton’s hand.

  Dayton and I locked eyes. His expression said it all. He wanted to kill Sutton at least as much as I did. I waited until they’d disappeared, then I lifted my chin and glared at Wendy.

  “Is he allowed to do that?” I asked. “Surely it should be up to me to talk to my son about what’s happening.”

  “Except you haven’t, have you?” Sutton said before Wendy could even open her mouth. That faux aggrieved look he’d perfected clawed at my last remaining nerve. “All I want is to see my son, Sienna. To have him know me, and to know I made him.”

  I clenched my fists. How I didn’t punch him remained a mystery. I could see in his eyes the game he was playing, and boy had he mastered it. I should have remained aloof, but my brain was a few seconds behind my tongue.

  “My name is Christa, you sorry excuse for a human being. I stopped being Sienna the day you sent that guy to my apartment. You remember, the guy you paid who almost killed me, who nearly made me miscarry. And let me be clear: you didn’t make Max, Sutton. You fucked me one night—badly as I recall—and the condom broke.” I poked myself in the chest. “I made him. I brought him up. I struggled to make sure he had a roof over his head and food on the table. Me! I did all those things.”

  “With my money, according to Rochelle,” he drawled, turning his attention t
o Wendy. “I hope you’re logging how difficult Christa is making this for me. I want it noted for the record that I have been completely exonerated of any wrongdoing toward her, and the only reason I haven’t been a part of my son’s life until now is because she had me arrested and I spent almost a year in jail for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  I barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, you’re good, Sutton. Real smooth.”

  He was standing slightly in front of Wendy, so she missed the faint glimmer of a smile that reeked of triumph.

  “I’ll see you next week, Christa. Give Max a kiss from me.”

  He strolled into the elevator, Wendy in tow, his trademark swagger sending red-hot fury racing through my veins. This time, he stood slightly behind the court chaperone, and as the doors closed, he blew me a kiss.

  I rammed a fist into my mouth because if I hadn’t, I’d have screamed. I felt trapped, backed into a corner, forced into this terrible situation. Realization rained down on me. I’d never break free of Sutton Atwood. We were inextricably linked.

  The only escape would be death.

  9

  Dayton

  “As you can see from the court-appointed chaperone’s report, Your Honor, Max has shown no signs of distress during the last two visits. In fact, he continues to build a very positive relationship with his father. At this time, I would like to move for a more formal arrangement, including overnight visitation until such time as the court is willing to accept a petition for custody by Mr. Atwood.”

  “Over my fucking dead body,” I muttered under my breath, glaring at the back of Atwood’s head. “Or preferably yours.”

  Francesca glanced over her shoulder and widened her eyes. Clearly she’d heard me. I returned her reproachful stare with an unapologetic one of my own. This wasn’t an unexpected outcome, but I hated it all the same. Christa remained stoic, silent, elegantly sitting with her hands in her lap accepting a horrendous fate. The thought of Max not sleeping in his own bedroom, the idea of waking the next morning and not being able to cuddle him, play with him, watch as he licked every trace of maple syrup off his fingers… It slayed me.

  Judge Houghton nodded and bent his head to make a few notes. I got the impression he wasn’t unsympathetic to Christa’s cause but was penned into a corner by the law of the land.

  “If it helps the court, Your Honor,” Atwood’s pompous—if brilliant, I grudgingly admitted—lawyer continued, “I’d like to bring to your attention at this time Mr. Atwood’s continued concern for his son’s current living arrangements.”

  I snapped my head to the left. Oh, here it comes. Francesca held a hand behind her back, a signal for me to be quiet, to remain composed. I’d anticipated this move. In fact, I was surprised Atwood hadn’t made a point of bringing it to the judge’s attention earlier. It had been in the court papers, but I guessed he’d just been biding his time. Francesca was prepped with a rebuttal; I had to trust her professional acumen.

  “As you are aware, and as we have already petitioned, a business associate of Mr. Atwood’s was subjected to a violent and unprovoked attack by Mr. Somers, Ms. Adams’ boyfriend whose home she and Max reside within. I would like the court to note that we believe this puts Max in harm’s way, and as such, move for the court to instruct the immediate removal of Max from the home of Mr. Somers.”

  I clenched my hands into fists, and I had to clamp my jaw shut before I said something I wouldn’t regret, but that would add credence to Atwood’s claims. I swallowed the growing anger burning through my gut, when all I wanted to do was send the flames hurtling into Atwood’s face.

  Francesca got to her feet. “Your Honor, I have here a set of sworn statements from several attendees at the function where this event occurred. Each one of these statements testifies that Mr. Kawalski, the gentleman in question, called Ms. Adams a whore, as well as acting in a very threatening manner toward her. While Mr. Somers’ response to such vile commentary cannot be condoned, I’m sure the court understands his reaction to protect Ms. Adams’ reputation. This is especially poignant when this heinous word was, in fact, scored onto Ms. Adams’ stomach during a vicious assault for which a man is currently serving a significant prison sentence and a crime for which Mr. Atwood himself was originally convicted of commissioning—”

  Atwood’s lawyer leaped to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “Although Mr. Atwood has since been fully exonerated of any wrongdoing,” Francesca added.

  I suppressed a grin. Fucking amazing lawyer. I could have kissed her. Although she shouldn’t have done it, once heard, never forgotten.

  “Be careful, Ms. Hale,” Judge Houghton warned.

  “My apologies, Your Honor. I would also like to add that each of these witnesses have provided glowing character references for Mr. Somers, a man who is a well-respected member of the Manhattan business community, and who provides gainful and worthwhile employment for a significant number of American citizens. Therefore, I would put to the court that Max is exactly where he should be, with his mother and Mr. Somers, a man who has been like a father to Max for almost a year.”

  Oh, she’s better than amazing. With considerable effort, I managed to keep a triumphant grin from inching across my face, but I wouldn’t pretend it was easy. I cut my gaze to the judge.

  Atwood’s lawyer scrambled to his feet. “Your Hon—”

  “Sit down, Mr. Brandon. I’ve listened to the arguments on both sides and I have sympathy for both parents. However, my primary concern, and the concern of this court, is for Max and only Max.” He fixed his attention on Christa.

  I held my breath.

  “Ms. Adams, it’s clear to me that you are a wonderful and caring mother, and as such I have no intention, at this time, of removing Max from his loving home. However,” he continued as Christa’s shoulders sagged in relief, “his father has the right to spend time with his son. Therefore, my decision is that Max will spend every third weekend with his father, starting this coming weekend, as well as one day per week.” He looked over at Atwood. “All visitations are to take place within the state of New York. I am aware your permanent residency is in Seattle, Mr. Atwood, but I want to make it very clear that Max is not to be removed from this state without the express approval of the court. At this time, I am not inclined to approve such a petition.”

  “Absolutely, Your Honor,” Atwood said. “I am already in the process of buying a permanent home here in New York. It’s taking me a little longer than planned as my original purchase fell through.” He twisted his head and met my gaze. I sneered in response, although I did have an inkling of surprise that he hadn’t tried to call me out in front of the judge. Then again, he’d sound rather petulant, and I’d already prepped Francesca with my reasoning. Manhattan real estate was a good investment, right?

  The judge turned his attention back to Christa. “While you are free to travel with Max within the continental US, Ms. Adams, any international trips will require similar approval from the court. Understood?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Christa said, her voice coming across strong and clear despite the blow—albeit not an unexpected one—of the weekend visits.

  “Ms. Hale, please ensure the statements you referred to are filed with the court.”

  Francesca inclined her head. “Already submitted, Your Honor.”

  Judge Houghton nodded, then rose from his seat and left the courtroom. I shot around to Christa and caught her trembling hand. “Let’s go, angel,” I said, keen to get her away from Atwood and his vile sister who hadn’t taken her eyes off Christa the whole time we’d been in court. “I’ll call you,” I added to Francesca.

  We were halfway toward the exit when Atwood called out Christa’s name. I spun around, shielding her with my body. “You got what you wanted, now fuck off,” I said.

  Atwood held his hands in the air. “Whoa there, buddy. I just want to talk to Christa, for Max’s sake.”

  I let go of Christa’s hand, despite her desperately trying to hold on
, and stepped right up to Atwood. I had an inch or so on him, and I used it to the greatest effect, thrusting out my chest and narrowing my eyes. Rage hissed through my body, the same anger that boiled up every time I came into contact with this worthless piece of shit. One day, I’d find a way to exact the proper revenge on him, but today was not that day.

  “Firstly,” I gritted out, “I am not your buddy. Secondly, you don’t get to talk to Christa. You don’t get to even breathe the same air as her. You act like you care about Max.” I snorted. “You couldn’t give a shit about him. But I’m warning you. If you harm a single hair on Christa’s or Max’s heads, I’ll make you sorrier than you ever thought possible.”

  A malicious sneer curled Atwood’s lips. “Is that a threat?” He glanced over at his lawyer. “You got that, right?”

  “Dayton, come on.” Christa tugged on my arm once more. “Let’s go, please.”

  “Yeah, it’s a threat.” The red mist had truly descended. My vision blurred, and a roaring sound thundered through my ears. “Watch your fucking back, Atwood. I’m coming for you.”

  He barked a laugh. “I look forward to it, Somers. Just remember, she and I have something you don’t have. A child. That connects us in a way you can’t understand. You may not like it, buddy, but you’d better learn to live with it.” He leaned around me. “We need to talk, Christa. I’ll wait until your guard dog isn’t around.”

  I made a fist, but as much as I wanted to break his face, the practical corner of my brain knew I’d be playing right into his hands. Atwood grabbed his sister by the elbow and steered her outside. She managed to send a final hateful glare at Christa who, sensibly, kept her gaze fixed to the floor. The door to the courtroom slammed shut.

  “Dayton, please,” Christa pleaded once they’d gone. “I just want to go home.”

  Francesca glowered at me. “Well done, Dayton. Next time, keep your thoughts to yourself.” She swept past us and disappeared through the same door as Atwood.