by Tamie Dearen
“How dare you!” Carina’s outrage didn’t convince Branson of anything.
“Sorry to offend you, Carina.” He yawned and stretched as he rose from his desk and strolled to the coffee maker in the corner of the room. “Yet, I seem to remember a conversation where you expressed that we needn’t be exclusive, even if we were married. Doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in the child’s paternity. There’s that, and the fact that I took precautions.”
“Precautions aren’t one hundred percent effective,” she declared. “Hope you don’t plan to wait until your child is born before we get married.”
It occurred to Branson she might not be pregnant at all. She’d flashed a sonogram at his friends, but what proof did he have that it was hers? In his pocket, his cell phone vibrated. He slid it out and checked the message from Finn. Then his lips curled into the first genuine smile he’d worn all day.
“Carina, why don’t you sit down for a minute? You’re pregnant, so you shouldn’t be on your feet, right?”
“Fine,” she grumbled, settling heavily into the chair across the desk. “At least you’re showing some consideration… for the first time.”
“Have you seen the newest version of the prenup agreement? The one that nullifies any exchange of property in the event the child’s paternity isn’t confirmed.”
He heard the surprise in her voice. “Mark didn’t say anything—” She coughed, an awkward choking noise. “No, I haven’t seen the new one.”
“Mark? Since when are you on a first-name basis with my attorney?”
Or should he say ex-attorney. Mark Johnson had left at least a dozen messages since yesterday, urging immediate action and proposing alternate solutions, all of which involved a quick marriage.
“We’ve exchanged a lot of phone calls and emails over the past few weeks,” she defended.
Had Mark and Carina exchanged more than phone calls?
“I mentioned the paternity test, because I’ve decided I want one, immediately.”
“Now?” she squeaked. “You can’t do that. Not without risking the baby’s life.”
“Actually, there’s a simple test available. If the results say I’m the father, I’ll marry you within a week. I want my son or daughter to be legitimate.”
No sound answered him, except her rapid breaths. Then a sniffle. And another.
“It’s not fair,” she cried. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to be pregnant.”
“The test won’t hurt,” he elaborated. “It uses a blood sample from the pregnant mother and a cheek swab from the father.”
“And I’m stuck being a single mom with a baby I never wanted.” She sniffed and took a shuddery breath. “That’s what’s going to happen.”
His chest clenched. What if this is truly my son or daughter?
“I’ll take the baby,” he blurted out. “I’ll be the primary caregiver, and you can go back to your normal life. I’ll take custody.”
“No, you won’t,” she sobbed. “It’s not even yours. I wish it was, but it isn’t.”
“You’re positive I’m not the father?” His heart flew about, beating against his ribcage.
“I’m only twelve weeks along.”
I’m not the baby’s father. An incredible feeling spread throughout his system—elation. He was free. Free to be with Stephanie. Free to love her and be loved by her. He couldn’t wait to get Carina out of the room so he could call Steph. Nothing else mattered. Not the Parker-Aston stocks or his father or the attempted takeover of his own company. Nothing mattered except being married to Stephanie.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said, incredulous to find he meant it. Now that he was free of her, he had no desire to hold her sins against her.
“You’re a good man,” she said, her voice cracking. “If the baby was yours, I’d give you custody. I know you’d be a good father.”
“Maybe the baby’s real father will marry you,” he suggested. Perhaps, if Mark was the father, Bran could put pressure on him to marry her. The man might be on the take from Bran’s father, but he still ought to take responsibility for his actions. “Have I met this man?”
“You could say that.” She gave a bitter laugh. “He said he loved me. He made me feel special. You never did that.”
“Neither one of us was in love.”
“I think…” Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “I think I could’ve loved you. I tried not to, because… you know… my pride was hurt. You rejected me, Bran. I pretended not to care, but I did. Guess that made me vulnerable when someone came along and said the words I wanted to hear. Only, he was lying.”
“I’m sorry, Carina.” How could he have been so thoughtless? He prided himself on being hyper aware of people’s emotions, interpreting the slightest change in tone. “I’ve tried to be honest.”
“Yes, I know,” she admitted. “But it’s too late, now. I suppose I could get an abortion, but I don’t feel good about it.”
A repulsive thought occurred. She’d mentioned Stephanie’s ex-husband one time, speaking as if she’d heard personal testimony from him. And someone had told Jeff where he could find Stephanie. If Carina believed Bran had been sleeping with Steph all this time, she might’ve slept with Jeff in retribution.
He swallowed, steeling himself against the answer before he asked the question. “Jeff Caldwell? Was it him?”
“No. He’s attractive, but I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. No goals. No aspirations.”
Good. He let out the breath he was holding. “Then… was it Mark Johnson?”
She didn’t respond.
“I promise it won’t make any difference to me if Mark’s the father,” he assured her. “I’ve already decided to do business with a different law firm.”
“It’s not him.”
Then who? From her attitude about Jeff’s future, Bran knew it wasn’t one of his employees. Obviously, it must be someone he didn’t know well.
“That’s okay. I don’t need to know.”
“I’m so alone,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be a single mother. Who’s going to marry me when I have a kid?”
“If someone loves you, it won’t matter to him that you have a kid.” Bran thought of Ellie. He barely knew the child but already loved her, simply because she belonged to Steph.
“That’s not how it works in our social circle. You should know that. People are so judgmental.”
“You’ll find another circle,” he encouraged. “A better one.”
“My family will disown me,” she said in a flat tone, pronouncing an inevitable death sentence. “Their position in society is everything. Dad really wanted this match with the Knight family. I thought I was going to give it to him.”
“I can’t marry you, Carina. You know that, whether you admit it or not.”
“I know.” She sounded like she was already dead.
“Maybe you should talk to a counselor.”
“It wouldn’t help.” Her trembly tone told him she was on the verge of tears again. “He said he loved me, and I believed him. He said I was beautiful. Exquisite. He said he’d been looking for me all his life. He was going to marry me. Then I got pregnant, and everything changed.”
“You deserve better, Carina. Good riddance to him.” I can’t believe I’m comforting her, after all she did.
She ranted on, sniffling between phrases. “He got this bright idea that we could pass the baby off as yours. He said we could still be together after you and I divorced.”
Her rambling didn’t make any sense. “Why would he do that? If he was planning to marry you anyway, why would he want you to marry me first? Was he hoping I’d pay child support?”
“It was all about you. Grabbing the stocks. Public humiliation. Everything. It was all about hurting you.” A raw sob escaped. “It was never about me. Only you. I thought he loved me, but he didn’t care at all.”
“Who was it?” The words tumbled out of his wooden mouth in a garble. In hi
s gut, he already knew the answer.
“Martin Knight,” she whimpered. “Your father.”
Chapter 23
Steph planted a tender kiss on her sleeping daughter’s cheek, tiptoed out, and shut the door with barely a sound. With a lingering tenderness in her ankle, she limped into the room and collapsed on the couch. She noted Finn and Laurie, standing nose to nose—as much as possible, considering their height disparity—glaring at each other, their furious expressions a mirror image, but for the sharp contrast between Finn’s fair complexion and Laurie’s golden brown.
“What’s going on?” Steph asked, wondering how Laurie had the energy to stand up after their grueling fourteen-hour drive. She couldn’t begin to guess why her friend was angry at Finn, who’d been gracious enough to meet them at the complex at one a.m. with a crew who had their car unloaded and in their apartment in fifteen minutes.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on.” Laurie whipped her head around, coal black eyes flashing. “This man had the gall to blame you for Branson’s problems. We all know that man brought this on himself. Having a disability doesn’t give you a license to be careless and not take responsibility for your actions.”
“I never said Steph was at fault.” Finn’s face glowed red to the tips of his ears, his hands flexing with tension. “I only said I think she’s running away instead of dealing with the issues, and her timing is particularly bad.”
“You called her a selfish coward,” Laurie snapped her glower back to Finn. “Nobody calls my friend a selfish coward and gets away with it. If you knew half of what she’s done, you’d never say that. She’s braver than you’ll ever be, and all that woman does is sacrifice herself, on a daily basis.”
Finn lifted a finger. “No. I’m sorry. But you’re wrong. I never called Stephanie a selfish coward. I simply said moving off to another state without even giving him a chance to talk to her was a selfish act of cowardice. I was referring to something she did, not calling her a name. Those are two entirely different things.”
Stephanie yawned and stretched. “Hey, can we put this World War III off until tomorrow? We’re all exhausted, and Finn probably has to work tomorrow.”
“Fine by me.” Laurie stepped back and crossed her arms. Her chin jerked toward the door. “See ya later, Finn.”
“Are you going to tell her what I told you?” Finn asked, his chin lifted in defiance.
“It can wait until tomorrow,” Laurie snapped.
“What?” Steph was suddenly awake, adrenaline surging through her arteries. “Did something happen to Branson?”
“Yes,” Finn said.
“Nothing important,” Laurie added. “All week you told me Branson was better off without you there. You said he had a lot of decisions to make, and he needed to make them without you. You told me if you were there, he would just feel guilty, and he might make the wrong choice.”
“Yes, but—”
“If you hadn’t convinced me this was the right thing to do, I never would’ve let you drive us all the way to New York City.”
Stephanie groaned. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to him.”
“You can’t fix this,” Laurie said with a note of finality. “There’s nothing you could do, even if you were there.”
“What happened?” Her mouth went dry.
“I’ll tell you.” Finn stepped in front of Laurie. “He found out he’s not the father of Carina’s baby.”
Steph almost clapped her hands for joy, but something in Finn’s eyes told her there was more. “And?” she asked, holding her breath.
“The baby’s father is Bran’s dad.”
Steph slapped both hands over her mouth and moaned, “No. Oh, poor Bran.” Before she realized what she was doing, she was on her feet, hobbling down the hall to find her purse. “I need my keys. Laurie, you stay here with Ellie, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Better pray that hunk of metal doesn’t break down on the drive.”
“No, no, no, no, no.” Laurie blocked the way, grasping both her arms. “Be sensible about this. You can’t go back there. You made a decision, and you have to stick to it. Anyway, you’re in no condition to drive, right now. You’re exhausted. You’d fall asleep on the highway and kill yourself. And probably kill someone else, too.”
“You can go with me. I’m flying out in the morning.” Finn wore a smug grin that seemed to irritate Laurie.
“Finn… you weasel! I’m not letting her go. Not unless you promise you’re bringing her back with you. I can’t handle moving three times in two weeks.” As her hands flailed about, she scanned the room. Then she dashed off and returned, holding out a magazine. “Swear on this. Swear you’ll bring her back. Right now. Do it.”
“On a Good Housekeeping magazine?” His mouth curled with merriment.
“You’re gonna have to pretend it’s a Bible.”
Her eyes narrowed to dark slits, and Finn’s face sobered. He laid his left palm on the magazine and lifted his right hand. “I do solemnly swear, when this short trip is concluded, I will reunite Stephanie with her family, forthwith. How’s that?”
Laurie threw the magazine into the air, spun on one foot, and flounced down the hallway, calling, “I know you’re up to something, Finn Anderson. You better not double cross me.”
“I take that as more of a challenge than a threat,” Finn quipped, his laughter following after her.
Steph put a hand on his arm. “Tell me the truth… How’s he doing? I know how he feels about his father. I’m sure this is killing him.”
“No. You killed him, Stephanie. You killed him when you left him. You took the air right out of his lungs.”
“That’s not fair. I left him so he could do what’s best for him without worrying about me.”
“Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Finn’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. “He loves you. What could possibly be best for him without you in it?”
She rubbed her temples, trying to relieve the throbbing behind her eyes. “I’m too tired to argue about this. My head hurts. My foot hurts. And I haven’t slept in a week. So listen to me… I’m going with you tomorrow because Branson needs me right now. But you have to keep your promise and bring me back here.”
“I promised no such thing. I vowed to reunite you with your family. If I’m not mistaken,” Finn said, with a wink, “that would include your husband.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Are you going to lie in bed all day, Mr. Knight?” Fordham’s voice could hardly be heard over the blaring bagpipe and drum core music he’d apparently chosen as Branson’s wakeup call.
“It’s ten a.m., Fordham,” Branson shouted, pulling a pillow over his ears. “That hardly qualifies as ‘all day.’”
The volume dropped a few notches. “You have a point. Yet, I feel compelled to bother you, like a proverbial burr in your saddle, until you stop wallowing in self-pity.”
“Leave me alone. I like wallowing.”
“It’s more than five hours past your normal wakening time. I believe that’s sufficient time to consider all the ways life has dealt you a raw deal. It’s time to rise and play the game, Mr. Knight, while you still have opportunity to win.”
“I’m afraid my father has flopped the nuts,” said Branson, hoping to throw him off with unfamiliar jargon.
“You believe your dad has drawn an unbeatable hand?” Fordham responded without hesitation. “How can you say that when so many parts of his plan have failed? He didn’t manage to purchase enough shares of Escapade Resorts to attain voting control or pull off a hostile takeover. Nor did he acquire the needed shares through Carina. You have broken the relationship with both Carina and Mark Johnson, both of whom, we presume, have provided your father with inside information.”
“Yes, but he fathered a child with Carina. That’s enough. A slap in the face. He succeeded in the place where it hurts me most.”
“You are piteous indeed if you cannot see where that plan has not only failed to achieve its purpose, but als
o saved you from marital disaster.” The music quieted, and Fordham continued. “Had Carina not pushed you toward a rapid matrimony, you might have continued with your original plan to marry her in exchange for controlling stock shares in Parker-Aston—a foolish scheme which you conjured without any help whatsoever from your father.”
“It would never have happened.” Bran sat up in bed and threw his feet over the side. “Not after I realized—” He stopped in mid-sentence, before accidentally revealing too much. Only Finn knew the truth about Stephanie.
“I assume you were about to say something regarding Ms. Caldwell. Am I correct?”
“Fordham, sometimes it’s creepy when you read my mind like that.”
“I’m no mind-reader, Mr. Knight. The entire staff is well-aware of your foul mood, which has risen in direct correlation with the length of time since Stephanie resigned as your personal assistant.”
“She’ll be difficult to replace,” Branson muttered, as he trudged into his closet to find his clothes.
“I agree. And as such, I’d recommend you not do so.”
“I need an assistant, Fordham. You can’t do all the things Steph did for me.” Branson raised his voice to be heard outside the closet.
“Nor would I ever desire to do so,” he replied, drolly. “I’m afraid I’m not physically attracted to you, in the least.”
“Very funny.” Bran didn’t affirm or deny Fordham’s implication as he emerged from the closet, with his shirt unbuttoned, and sat down to put on his socks and shoes. “What am I supposed to do, if I can’t replace her?”
“What to do. Indeed, that is the question. Perhaps you should anticipate your father’s next move.”
“Next move? He’s already played his hand.” The moment Bran made the statement, he realized how shortsighted he’d been. Of course his father wouldn’t make a play without a backup plan.
“Though the game may be over for you, I seriously doubt your father feels the same. I’ve been vigilant on your account, but he’s escalated the scope of his attack. I believe Jeff Caldwell’s appearance is a prime example.”
