by Tessa Radley
“She was created for your brother and my sister—to satisfy their desire for a family. By assisting with her conception and bringing her into the world I’ve kept my part of the agreement.” Damn Keira and Dmitri. “In fact, I’ve gone way beyond what was expected of me.”
His mouth slanted down. “That is your opinion.”
“And I’m entitled to it.” Ella drew a steadying breath, felt her stomach rise under her hands, then calmness spread through her as she slowly exhaled. “You shouldn’t expect me to even consider keeping the baby. Keira and Dmitri changed their minds about becoming parents—not me.” She’d had enough of being blamed for something that wasn’t her fault. And she was furious with Keira, and Dmitri, for landing her in this predicament—probably because the man standing beside the bed had caused it with his initial resistance to the baby in the first place.
But before she could confront him with his responsibility for this mess, he was speaking again, in that staccato rattle that hurt her head. “Stop making excuses. It tells me a lot about the kind of person you are—that even in these circumstances you can abandon the baby you’ve carried for nine months...the baby you’ve just given birth to.”
What was the man’s problem? Hadn’t he listened to one word of what she’d been saying? She drew a shuddering breath. “Let’s get this straight. Regardless of the position in law, this is Keira’s baby, not mine.” Where was her sister? She’d landed Ella in this mess, now Keira had disappeared. She’d been here a few minutes ago, but now Ella couldn’t even hear her voice in the family room next door. The loneliness that seared her was as unexpected as it was alien. For once in her life, she could do with her younger sister’s moral support. But of course, that was too much to expect. “I never intended to have children.”
“Never?”
“That’s right. Never.” Under the bedcovers she clenched her hands into fists.
He shook his head and this time the look he gave her caused Ella to see red.
“And what about your precious brother?” It burst from her. “What about his part in this? He’s the baby’s biological father. Why don’t you harangue him about his responsibilities? Why pick on me?”
For the first time, his glance slid away. “This has nothing to do with my brother.”
Her anger soared at the double standard. “Of course not. He’s male. He gets to donate his seed and walk away scot-free from all responsibility. It’s the woman who carries the baby—and the blame, right?”
Yevgeny shot her a strangely savage look. “I’m not discussing this any further. I will absolve you from all blame and responsibility—I will adopt the baby.”
* * *
“She will become my responsibility,” continued Yevgeny, rather enjoying seeing cool, icy Ella looking uncharacteristically shaken. “And I do take care of my responsibilities.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Yevgeny’s pleasure grew. How satisfying to discover that the always eloquent Icicle Ella, like other mere mortals, could suffer from loss of words.
“You...you live in a penthouse. Y...you’re not married...” she finally stuttered out. “A baby ought to be adopted by a couple who will care for it.”
It was a great pity she couldn’t have remained speechless for a while longer.
“I can buy a house.” Yevgeny was determined to ignore the jab about a wife. “And the baby is not an it,” he rebuked gently.
Her brown eyes were wide, dazed. “What?”
“You said the baby should go to a couple who love it—she’s not an it.”
“Oh.” A flush crept along her cheeks. “Of course she isn’t. I’m sorry.”
It was the first time he’d ever heard Ella McLeod apologize...and admit she was in the wrong. Yevgeny refused to acknowledge even to himself that he was secretly impressed. Or that it made him feel a little bit guilty about enjoying her confusion.
He studied her. To be truthful her eyes were luminous. Gold-brown with a hint of smoke. Like smoky honey. And the flush gave her pale cheeks a peachy warmth he’d never noticed before. She looked almost pretty—in an ethereal, fragile way that did not normally appeal to him.
In the spirit of reconciliation he felt compelled to add, “And I will care for her.”
“A procession of big-bosomed careworkers is not what I had in mind.”
Reconciliation was clearly not what Ella had in mind. He suppressed a knowing smirk at how quickly the fragile act had lasted and gave in to the urge to provoke her. “You have something against motherly, homely women?”
The look she gave him would’ve frozen the devil at fifty feet. “I wouldn’t describe a Playboy centerfold model as homely.”
This time he allowed himself to smile—but without humor. “I will need some help with the baby...but you may rest assured the criteria for hiring her caregivers will not be physical attributes. I will make sure that the women I employ will be capable of providing her—” he glanced at the baby and realized he didn’t yet know her name “—with all the womanly affection the infant will require.”
“You will need a wife.”
Yevgeny forced a roar of laughter as Ella repeated the ridiculous suggestion. “The child will have far more than a young, struggling couple could ever give her—I don’t need a wife to provide it.”
“I’m not joking.” Ella pressed her lips together. “And I’m not talking about the possessions you can give her—I’m sure you could provide a diamond-encrusted teething ring. But she deserves to have two parents who love her unreservedly.”
His laughter ceased. “You’re living in a dream if you think that happens simply because a child has two parents.” His own mother was living proof of that. To ease the turmoil that memories of his mother always brought, Yevgeny stretched lazily, flexing his shoulders. He noticed how Ella looked away. “She will have to make do with me alone.”
That brought her eyes back to him. “Forget it. It’s not going to happen—I won’t let it.”
“It’s not only your decision. Fathers have rights, too.” He lifted his lips in a feral, not-very-amused grin. “I’m stepping into my brother’s shoes.”
“As you pointed out, I’m the mother. The legal birth mother.” Did she think he’d missed her point? Yevgeny wondered. “I get to make the decisions,” she was saying now. “I need only to consider the best interests of the child.”
The look on her face made it clear that his solution was not what she considered in “the best interests of the child.”
He froze as he absorbed what she was getting at. “How can that be true? This is the twenty-first century!”
“Quite correct. And a child is no longer a chattel of the head of the household.”
The eyes he’d been admiring only minutes earlier gleamed in a way that caused his hackles to rise.
“So I have the final say in who will adopt the baby,” she continued, “and it won’t be an arrogant, unmarried Russian millionaire!”
“Billionaire,” he corrected pointedly and watched her smolder even as his own anger bubbled.
“The amount of money you have doesn’t change a darn thing. She’s going to a couple—a family who wants her, who will love her. That’s what I intended when I agreed to be a surrogate for Keira, and that’s what I still want for her— I’ll make sure the adoption agency is aware of that requirement. You’re not married—and you’re not getting the baby. End of story.”
Her bright eyes glittered back at him with the frosty glare of newly minted gold.
A challenge had been issued. And he fully intended to meet it.
Ruthlessly suppressing his own hot rage, he murmured, “Well, then, it seems I’ll just have to get married.”
Yevgeny watched with supreme satisfaction as Ella’s mouth dropped open.
War, Yevgeny susp
ected, had been declared.
* * *
Ella did a double take. “You? Get married? So that you can adopt a child?”
She hadn’t thought Big Brother Yevgeny could surprise her. She’d thought she had his number. Russian. Raffish. Ruthless. But this announcement left her reeling. What would this playboy Russian billionaire want with a child, a girl child at that?
Which led her to say, “But you don’t even want a girl.”
Something—it couldn’t be surprise—sparked in the depths of those light eyes. “What made you think that?”
“I heard you...” Ella thought back to that moment of tension when she’d heard his voice in the family room next door.
“When?”
“As you came in.” She searched to remember exactly what he’d said. Slowly she said, “You asked where the boy was. You never even considered that the baby might be a girl.”
“Aah.” He smiled, a feral baring of teeth. “So obviously that meant I wouldn’t welcome a girl, hmm?”
Sensing mockery, Ella frowned. “Why would you want a child? Any child?” Wasn’t that going a little far—even for Yevgeny—to get his own way?
Yevgeny shrugged. “Perhaps it is time,” he said simply.
“For a trophy toddler?”
“No, not a trophy.”
“Not like your girlfriends?”
That dangerous smile widened, but his eyes crinkled with what appeared to be real amusement. “You yearn to be one of my trophies?” he asked softly—twisting her insides into pretzels.
An image of his latest woman leaped into Ella’s mind. Nadiya. One of a breed of supermodels identified by their first names alone. Ella didn’t need a surname to conjure up Nadiya’s lean body and perfect face that were regularly featured in the double-page spreads of glossy fashion magazines. Barely twenty, Nadiya was already raking in millions as a face for a French perfume, which she wore in copious amounts that wafted about her in soft clouds. Six foot tall. Brunette. Beautiful. With slanting, catlike green eyes, which devoured Yevgeny as though he were a bowl of cream. Enormously desired by every red-blooded man on earth. A trophy any man would be proud to show off. So why should Ella imagine Yevgeny would be any different?
“That’s a stupid question,” she said dismissively.
“Is it?”
“Of course, I don’t want to be any man’s trophy.” Ella was not about to be dragged into the teasing games he played. She gave him a cool look—mirroring the one she’d caught him giving her earlier—and let her eyes travel all the way down the length of his body before lifting them dismissively back to his face. “Anyway, you’re not the kind of man I would ever date.”
He was laughing openly now. “That’s not an insult. From my observation, there is no kind of man you date.”
The very idea that he’d been watching her, noting her lack of romantic attachments, caused a frisson to run along her spine. She refused to examine her unease further, and focused back on the bombshell he’d delivered. “You can’t adopt this baby.”
He came another step closer to the bed. “Why not?”
“I’ve already told you. You’re not married.”
“That’s old-fashioned.” He leaned over her. “Ella, I never expected such traditionalism from you.”
His closeness was claustrophobic. He was so damn big. “Everyone knows you’re a workaholic—you’re never home.” Yevgeny had less time for a kitten than she did.
At that, he thrust out his roughly stubbled chin. “I’ll make time.”
Right.
Somewhere between his twenty-hour workday and his even more hectic X-rated nightlife? The man obviously never slept—he didn’t even take time to shave. His life was littered with women—even before his latest affair with Nadiya, she’d seen the pictures in the tabloids. Keira and Dmitri remained fiercely loyal and insisted the news was all exaggerated but Ella ignored their protests. They’d been brainwashed by the man himself. Ella knew his type—she’d seen it before. Powerful men who treated women like playthings. Men who kept their women at home, manacled by domesticity and diamonds, before stripping them of everything—including their self-respect—when the next fancy caught their eye.
“Sure you will.”
“Damn right I’ll take care of her.”
As if the baby felt his insistence, she made a mewing noise and stirred. The pretzel knot in Ella’s stomach tightened, yet thankfully the baby didn’t wake. But at least it got rid of Yevgeny—he’d shot across to the cot and was staring down into the depths.
Ella breathed a little easier.
“Money doesn’t equal care.” She flung the words at the back of his dark head.
At her comment, his dark head turned. Ella resisted the urge to squirm under those unfathomable eyes.
“What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have one.” Ella had no intention of picking out a name—that would be a fast track to hell. Attachment to the baby was a dark and lonely place she had no wish to visit.
“Keira didn’t choose one?”
“Not a final name.”
It had puzzled Ella, too. Keira had spent weeks pouring over books, searching websites for inspiration. But she’d never even drawn up a short list. Now Ella knew why: Keira had been dithering about motherhood. Choosing a name would’ve been a tie to bind her to the baby.
To rid herself of that critical, disturbing gaze, Ella said, “I can ask Keira if there’s one she particularly liked.”
Yevgeny’s gaze didn’t relent. “You were supposed to be the baby’s godmother, yet you have no idea of the names your sister might have been considering?”
She was not about to air her theory about why Keira hadn’t picked a name in order to jump to her own defense. She simply stared back at him wordlessly and wished that he would take his big intimidating body, his hostile pale blue eyes and leave.
“Why don’t you ask Dmitri what they planned to name the baby?” Let him go bully his brother. Ella had had enough. “Anyway, the baby’s new parents will probably want to pick one out. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day. I’m tired, I need to rest.”
The baby chose that moment to wake up.
At the low, growling cry, Yevgeny scooped her up in his arms and came toward the bed.
No. Panic overtook Ella. “Call the nurse!”
“What?”
“The baby will be hungry. Call the nurse to bring a bottle—they will feed her.”
He halted. “The nurses will feed her? From a bottle?”
Ella swallowed. “Yes.”
Disbelief glittered for an instant in his eyes, then they iced over with dislike. He thrust the waking baby at her. “Well, you can damn well hold her while I go and summon a nurse to do the job that should be yours.”
“She’s not my baby...” Ella’s voice trailed away as he stalked out of the private ward leaving her with the infant in her arms.
Three
The baby let out a wail.
Ella stared down at the crumpled face of the tiny human in her arms and tried not to ache.
How dare Keira—and Dmitri—do this to her?
She’d barely gotten her emotions back under control when, a minute later, Yevgeny swept back into the ward with the force of an unleashed hurricane. Ella almost wilted in the face of all that turbulent energy. In his wake trailed two nurses, both wearing bemused, besotted expressions.
Did he have this effect on every woman he encountered?
No wonder the man was spoiled stupid.
At the sight of the baby in her arms, the nurses exchanged glances. Ella looked from one to the other. The baby wailed more loudly.
“Feed her,” Yevgeny barked out.
Instead of rebuking him for his impatien
ce, the shorter nurse, whom Ella recognized from the first feed after the baby’s birth, scurried across to scoop the baby out of her arms, while the other turned to the unit in the corner of the room and started to prepare a bottle in a more leisurely fashion. Freed from the warm weight of the baby, Ella let out a sigh of silent relief...and closed her eyes.
They would take the baby to the nursery and feed her there. Ella knew the drill. All she needed to do was get rid of Yevgeny, then she could relax...even sleep...and build up the mental reserves she would need for when the baby returned.
“Do you want the bed back raised higher?”
That harsh staccato voice caused her eyelashes to lift. “If you’ll excuse me, I plan to rest.”
“No time for rest now.” He gestured to the nurse holding the bundle. “You have a baby to feed.”
Ella’s throat tightened with dread.
“No!” Ella stuck her hands beneath the covers. She was not holding the baby again, not feeling the warm, unexpected heaviness of that little human against her heart. “I am not nursing her. She will be bottle-fed. The staff is aware of the arrangement—we’ve discussed it.”
The nurse holding the baby was already heading for the door. “That’s right, sir, we know Ms. McLeod’s wishes.” The other nurse followed, leaving Ella alone in the ward with the man she least wanted to spend time with.
* * *
Yevgeny opened his mouth to deliver a blistering lecture about selfish, self-centered mothers but the sound of light footsteps gave him pause. Ella’s gaze switched past him to the doorway of the ward.
“Can I come in?”
The tentative voice of his sister-in-law from behind him had an astonishing effect on the woman in the bed. The tight, masklike face softened. Then her face lit up into a sweet smile—the kind of smile she’d never directed at him.
“Keira, of course you may.” Ella patted the bedcover. “Come sit over here.”
Yevgeny still harbored resentment toward his brother for the shocking about-face on the baby—not that he’d ever admit that to Ella—and he found it confounding to witness her warmth to her sister. He’d expected icy sulks—or at the very least, reproach. Not the concern and fondness that turned her brown eyes to burnished gold.
