Claiming His Secret Heir

by Joanne Rock

  “I’m confused. What does that have to do with my old notes?”

  “Nothing.” Damon shifted closer, the blue leather cushion creaking softly as his knee brushed against hers. “But if I know the extent of the research on Transparent your father has access to, I might be able to shift the final product to ensure he can’t ambush it once it hits the market.”

  “He wouldn’t—” She stopped herself as she saw Damon’s gaze darken. Even in the dim glow of light reflected from the street lamps outside, she could see the glint of frustration in his eyes. “Okay, maybe he would.”

  “Do you really believe that, Caroline? Or are you just saying it for my sake?” His words were clipped, his tone brusque.

  “I understand that he resents you for marrying me.” She didn’t comprehend the depth of her father’s fury with Damon, however. She remembered his adamant refusal to attend their wedding. “I know he was frustrated with you before we even met, because you wouldn’t accept his help or expertise—only his financial support.”

  “I made it clear that’s all I needed.”

  She recalled how Damon’s intractable ways angered her dad. “He’s used to being a valuable asset when he supports a new business.”

  Damon abruptly rose from the couch. He stalked the short distance to the windows overlooking the street. “Not to me. I wouldn’t let him beat me at business. But then it got much, much worse when he realized I’d won you, too.”

  The words hit her with unexpected force. She shot to her feet to face him.

  “I’m not a prize for the taking, Damon.” Fuming, she folded her arms.

  “And that’s not how I see you. But make no mistake, your father views your affection for me as a betrayal.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it, but nothing else can explain the way he tried to shut me out of Lucas’s life. The way he misled the police when you disappeared.”

  Caroline didn’t want to believe it. Her head hurt just thinking about all the ways her dad had tried to keep her and Damon apart. Had her therapist been correct when she gently suggested she’d been a victim of gaslighting?

  Had her father tried to undermine her recovery from amnesia by lying about not knowing the father of her child?

  “I don’t claim to understand his motives. But I know I won’t be manipulated anymore.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Not by him. And not by you.”

  “I’m trying to protect you.” Damon’s hands moved to her shoulders, his touch gentle. “And I’m ensuring Lucas’s future is secure by introducing Transparent to the market in the most successful way. The company is his legacy.”

  Some of the anger thrumming through her eased. She understood his point.

  “I want that, too.” She’d always hoped for Transparent to succeed. She’d been a fan of the concept even before her father had gotten involved with the company. Now, there was far more riding on Damon’s public launch, since Lucas would one day inherit whatever his father built.

  “Do you?” He let the question hang between them for a moment. “Because if you want the business to succeed in spite of your father, I would appreciate it if you would share your notes. I need to know how much inside information he has.”

  “I’ll do it.” She bit her lip, hating being torn between someone she’d felt loyalty toward for the last twenty-plus years of her life and the man she’d married. “If you can tell me how it makes any sense for Dad to sabotage a business that he has an enormous stake in.”

  “I think revenge has become more important to him than walking away with a profit this time. Especially when he has investments in plenty of other lucrative ventures.”

  He let go of her shoulders, so that it was only his powerful words that kept her close to him.

  “You think he wants revenge enough to ruin his own grandson’s future?” She didn’t want it to be true. But she couldn’t deny all the ways her father’s actions had hurt her in the past year.

  “Lucas is a McNeill now.” Damon straightened. “He might not feel any loyalty to our son.”

  But she knew for certain Damon would protect their child no matter what. Even if he didn’t love her.

  “Very well.” She nodded, her mind made up. “I’ll send you all of my research. Everything that I shared with my father.”

  Eight

  Damon hated that Caroline was under such tremendous stress. Thank goodness she’d agreed to his idea for a break from it all, a chance to unwind and let the pieces of life slide back into place.

  “I didn’t think sledding was possible in New York City,” Caroline called to him as they crossed Fifth Avenue the next morning, a bodyguard trailing them.

  Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her brown eyes bright as they trudged the snowy path already worn from early morning visitors to the park. She wore black ski pants and a bright aquamarine parka with a pair of insulated boots left behind by another guest of his grandfather’s. The maids had produced the clothes within minutes of his asking about winter gear. Caroline had brought her own gloves and a white knit hat for the trip, so she’d been well equipped for the outing he’d suggested. He wanted to smooth things over between them after the talk about her father last night.

  While she’d complied with his request and sent him the files he’d asked for via email before midnight, Damon had sensed that she was upset. No doubt, she wished things had turned out differently in regard to her father. But in time, she would have to see that Stephan Degraff was far more ruthless than she knew.

  “It’s the City that Never Sleeps, not the City that Never Plays.” Damon juggled the brightly colored inflatable tube under his arm, an item he’d had specially shipped from a local seller capitalizing on the snowstorm. He hoped his own son would one day be as industrious as the teen who’d showed up at the mansion this morning on a fat-tire mountain bike, five more sleds strapped to a wagon on the back.

  “But are there hills?” Her gaze swept the bright terrain where a flood of early risers built snowmen along the park paths.

  “Seriously?” He draped his free arm around her shoulders to steer her where he wanted to go. “You didn’t ever leave your office while you lived here?”

  She gave him a sheepish grin and he was glad he’d come up with the sledding idea. He hadn’t enjoyed needling her about her father last night. More than anything, he wanted to start their relationship over and cement things between them as a couple. But he had a duty to protect his investment at Transparent, too, for investors but also for his family’s financial security. With the public launch around the corner, he needed to ensure the product was protected from Stephan Degraff.

  “I told you, I was very focused on work. I loved my job consulting for entrepreneurs. I would have gladly stayed in that field for years if my father hadn’t tapped me to help with his venture capital investments.” She pointed to a group of evergreens with boughs weighed down to the ground from the snow. “This is all so pretty.”

  Damon liked the feel of her under his arm, the scent of her shampoo right through the crocheted wool cap she wore.

  “Seems like a good time for you to have some fun.” He remembered how easy it was to be with her in Italy on their honeymoon. Not just because they’d been in love and eager to spend every second together. But because simple things made her happy. She was unpretentious despite her family’s wealth. She’d counseled struggling women entrepreneurs through her work in the financial industry, helping female business owners win grants, negotiate complicated financial regulations and win more capital backing. Damon had always considered her work history a far cry from her father’s business interests even though she’d stepped into Transparent as his representative.

  Damon had been impressed by her savvy from the first day. She’d been helpful without being overbearing. She’d genuinely facilitated his company’s move forward.

  “I will admit, Lucas
appears to be in very good hands.” She held up her phone in front of Damon as they passed a vendor selling hot chocolate along with hot pretzels. A small crowd clutched steaming foam cups.

  Her nursery app showed the two college grads his grandfather had hired. Lucas sat in a baby bouncer on the floor while one of the young women—Marcie, he thought—danced an impromptu ballet to the classical music playing, using a stuffed elephant as her partner. At the same time, her colleague assembled a baby swing in the middle of the room. Wide-eyed, Lucas kicked happily in his seat.

  Damon could rest easy leaving their son behind when Lucas had a second security guard assigned to his safety.

  “He certainly seems entertained.” They trooped through fresh powder to one side of the path as a troop of kids ran by them, squealing and throwing snowballs. “I asked the caregivers to bring him to the park after we finish sledding. In another hour, the plows will have swept through again and it should be easy to push the stroller on the paths.” He could see the crowd at the top of Cedar Hill already. “We’ll trade off the sled for a baby and a winter picnic. The girls might enjoy trying out the tube once we’re done.”

  “That sounds great and—oh! Look!” Caroline halted as they turned a corner and got a good view of Cedar Hill crowded with sledders.

  A mish-mosh of music drifted up from competing external speakers on a variety of electronic devices. An eighties tune, pop music and some sort of funky electronica overlapped with squeals and laughter even as the fresh snow muted the sounds to a dull, vibrant hum. Toboggans, plastic saucers and a few pieces of cardboard all carried people down the hillside.

  “New York sledding at its finest.” He let go of her shoulders to hold up the inflated tube. “Are you ready to set the new land speed record?”

  “Very.” Caroline tugged her knit hat lower on her ears. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  He watched a family at the bottom of the hill tip their sled into a snowbank, upending the whole group.

  “Have you been sledding before?” He knew she’d spent most of her childhood in southern California, but her father’s wealth had probably allowed for ski vacations.

  “I’ve gone tubing behind a boat.” She dug a pair of sunglasses out of her pocket and slid them on her nose. “How different can it be?”

  She headed toward the highest crest where a few groups of people took turns careening down the hill. Damon took a moment to give their security detail a thumbs-up, letting the guy know they would remain in this location for a while. Then he followed Caroline.

  “Seriously? You’ve never ridden a sleigh down a hill?” Damon wended his way through a mob of parents supervising smaller children on sleds, following Caroline to where a group of teens filmed one another using an empty refrigerator box for a makeshift snowboard.

  “This will be a first.” She flashed him a smile and pointed out an available spot for the inner tube.

  He laid it in the snow. “Didn’t you take the obligatory rich-kid trip to the Alps as a teenager? There must be some sledding hills somewhere in all those mountains.”

  His own teen years had been marked by his mother’s death and the emptiness it left behind. He and his brothers had worked their asses off to make something of the property that had been their legacy, the historic plantation house and land in Martinique. They’d kept a portion for living space and they’d turned the rest into an exclusive corporate retreat and private party facility. The income had helped fund his start-up.

  “Any cold-weather trips we took were devoted to ski lessons.” Caroline seemed to track the progress of a young woman on a tube similar to theirs, watching as she sped down the hill and no doubt cataloging the technique. “My father considers skiing, tennis and golf the most ‘business-friendly’ sports that any upwardly mobile executive should know.”

  “Right. Remind me to brush up before I meet you on the links.” It should come as no surprise that Caroline had been groomed to take over the man’s business interests from an early age, but it bugged Damon to think that Stephan Degraff couldn’t be bothered to let her have any fun as a kid.

  Time to remedy that.

  “Have any pointers?” She dropped down onto the tube and took a seat in the middle.

  “Sure I do.” He sat down behind her and straddled her. “Be prepared to get close,” he said into her ear through the knit hat.

  The feel of her curves nestled against his lap reminded him how very much he wanted to visit her bed again. And the ski pants she wore were sexy as hell. He resisted the urge to hug her hips with his thighs—if only for a moment.

  “Um. Duly noted.” She reached over his knees to grip the handles on either side of the tube. “How do we get going?”

  Damon already had his hands planted on the snow behind them. “When we get better at it, I’ll get a running start and hop on. But for now, we’ll just focus on getting down the hill.”

  “No land speed record this trip.” She nodded. “Got it.”

  “Ready?” Planting his gloved fingers deeper in the snow, he did something similar to crunches with the tube, letting the sled slide up and down on the slight incline as a warm-up. He flexed his arms and damned if he didn’t find himself hugging her hips with his thighs.

  It did help him move the sled. The fact that he enjoyed it mightily was a bonus.

  “Ready!” She leaned forward, her skiing skills clearly paying off as she pointed them in the right direction on the slope while Damon pushed off with one last shove.

  Their combined weight helped them to gain momentum. The inner tube was the perfect choice for the soft conditions. Snow sprayed up from either side, dotting their faces and covering their legs. Caroline whooped with joy as they passed a teenager on a thin plastic sled. With her competitive nature, she clearly loved the thrill of it.

  They were almost at the end of the run when they hit an icy patch and picked up speed, spinning sideways and out of control. Tipping precariously, Damon let go of the handles to hold on to Caroline so he took the brunt of the fall. They ended up in the same snowbank as the family he’d watched earlier.

  A cloud of snow dusted up from their landing. His shoulder was buried deepest, with Caroline’s spine curved against his stomach. Her hips still nestled against his.

  “Are you okay?” He shifted his leg off hers.

  She shook gently against him.

  “Caroline?” A moment of panic punched him in the chest. Had she gotten hurt?

  He shouldn’t move her if she’d landed badly...

  But then, she straightened up on her own, laughter wracking her slender form. Her cap was perched cock-eyed on her head, her one cheek red from being pressed in the snow. A crust of icy flakes covered her collar and the side of her hat.

  Even her glasses were crooked.

  “That was the best!” she managed between laughs that—in his defense—sounded a lot like sobs.

  “You scared me.” He slumped back against the snowbank while a sled full of little kids tumbled out a few feet away from them.

  Four of them were on their feet almost before they’d finished falling, charging back up the hill on short legs while the youngest of the group screeched at the others to wait for her.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Caroline pulled the glasses off along with the hat. “My favorite part was the out-of-control three-sixties we were doing at the end.”

  “You’re a madwoman, that’s why,” he said dryly, his heartbeat only just now slowing back down after the nanosecond when he was convinced she’d broken her neck.

  “I mean it. I loved it.” She shoved the glasses inside her inner coat pocket. “Let’s do it again.”

  He watched her shove to her feet to dust off the excess snow and a little more of his tension melted away. Because not only was she safe, but she was also having fun.

  That put him one step closer t
o his goal of winning her back this week. Before he removed her father from his business and their lives.

  * * *

  Caroline’s legs were sore from climbing the hill again and again by the time Marcie and Dana arrived with the baby carriage and a picnic hamper on an old-fashioned sled with red metal runners. She noticed the careful eye Lucas’s bodyguard kept on the trio, as did the security guard who had trailed her and Damon all day. An inconvenience, perhaps, but it gave her peace of mind. The two young women traded the baby and the picnic provisions for the inner tube, promising to meet them back at the McNeill home in two hours in case they were needed.

  Inside the carriage—a fancy stroller with multiple settings for pushing a baby—Lucas was dressed in a tiny winter papoose with a hood. The outfit looked like a dark, insulated bag with a zipper up the front, leaving plenty of room for his legs to kick freely inside. The hood tied with a ribbon under his chin and had tiny dark ears sewn on top, making him resemble an elfin mouse. Or maybe a mousy elf.

  Whatever it was, he looked adorable with his bright blue eyes and gummy smile. A reflex smile, according to the baby books she’d read, but so cute nonetheless.

  “Are you still up for a winter picnic?” Damon asked, propping his aviators on top of his head.

  He practically oozed sex appeal in his dark jeans, red flannel shirt and insulated gray vest. It was West Coast grunge meets New York style. His boots and hiking socks were as snow-covered as hers, but despite the cold, he’d unfastened his vest an hour ago, impervious to the chill in the air now that the sun was shining brightly.

  “I’m game.” She pointed toward a quieter section of the huge park, away from the hill that had gotten far more crowded since they’d first arrived. “I hope there’s plenty of food in there since I’ve worked up a major appetite.”

  Damon pulled the sled toward where she pointed. The snow had settled and packed down a bit, making the trekking easier. The baby carriage had rugged wheels, making it easy to handle, if a bit slow. The noise receded the farther they got from the sledding.