Claiming his Secret Baby & Blackmailed by The Spaniard

by Connelly, Clare

  He opened his mouth to say something but her angry glare forestalled him. Now that she’d started speaking, she needed to finish. She needed to tell him what weight had been pressing on her for four years. “When I saw you’d had an accident, I was beside myself. I raced to the hospital. I sat beside you all night, scared half out of my mind. And then your fiancé arrived. Your family. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but yes, you were engaged. She sat with you, in the chair I’d occupied, her hand on your chest, your ring on her finger, and she cried because she loved you and you were hurting. And I watched and I realized that this was all just a game to you.”

  He paled, and closed the distance between them.

  “I don’t remember you, but I know that cheating is abhorrent to me.”

  “Apparently, it wasn’t then,” she snapped.

  He shook his head. “You didn’t tell Arabella what had happened?”

  She thought back to the hospital, the awful scene with his parents, the grief on Arabella’s beautiful face.

  “No.” The word was weary. Defeated. She sucked in a breath, rallying her anger. “I had no interest in making trouble for you, nor in fighting for you. You weren’t worth the fight,” she hurled at him, glad to see her insult hit its mark. “I saw what kind of man you were and ran the hell away,” she said. “And I’m going to do it again now.”

  4

  SHE DREAMED OF HIM that night. But not just of Xavier. She dreamed of him with Joshua, holding him, laughing at him, teasing him, loving him. She dreamed of him from the outside, looking in, and her heart was heavy when she woke, sometime before dawn.

  Her body was stiff, muscles she’d forgotten she possessed twinging inside of her, begging to be pushed into service once more.

  She was in limbo. Penance and pain.

  She stepped out of bed, looking around the townhouse she’d moved into shortly after Eleanor had relocated to Greece. Nell’s husband was far too generous, but there was no denying him. You are Eleanor’s sister, which makes you my sister. Of course I shall take care of you.

  In the year and a bit since Nell and Apollo’s marriage, Ellie had tried to curtail his generosity, but to no avail.

  He’d insisted, again and again, arranging for the purchase of a townhouse in Elizabeth’s name, close to good schools and playgrounds, restaurants and a library that Elizabeth spent hours whiling away time in.

  Joshua was flourishing in this beautiful neighbourhood. But he was getting bigger – already at nursery school, and soon he’d be old enough to notice that he didn’t have a father.

  That his friends did, and that he was without.

  Guilt simmered beneath the surface, but she ignored it, dressing for the day ahead and focusing only on what she had to get done. She dressed Joshua in his little winter uniform, adding a school beret and jacket for warmth, made him breakfast (‘dippy’ eggs and toast soldiers with a weak cup of tea, ‘just like mummy’) and caroling him out of the door just in time for the scooter ride to school.

  She didn’t see the dark car parked across the street. Sleek and black, with tinted windows and an all-too-familiar frame at the wheel.

  She walked beside Joshua, listening to his chatter, smiling distractedly, until they reached the Victorian townhouse that held his school.

  “Love you, mummy,” he said, stepping off the scooter and handing it to her as always.

  “I love you, too.” And she crouched down, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight to her chest, and breathing him in.

  This was her truth.

  He, right here, was her everything.

  Xavier had broken her heart and had ruined her for all men, for any future love or relationship. He’d made her see only the worst in people, so that no matter how wonderful life turned out to be, it never touched her heart.

  But he’d given her Josh, and for that she had to feel a degree of gratitude. She had to feel something like gladness. Because Josh was her life.

  “Have a great day.” She pressed a kiss against his thick dark curls, and straightened, watching as he walked into the building. His teacher, Miss Lane, stood at the top, waving as she reached down to say ‘good morning’ to Josh.

  The tuition fees were covered by Apollo as well. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Nell, and by extension, for Ellie and Josh. He was their savior, their knight in shining armour, and though Elizabeth had grappled with allowing him to help, there really had been no refusing. “If you don’t let him help you, then I will,” Nell had said with a grin and a lift of her shoulders.

  But deep down, though she was grateful, she hated it. She hated feeling like a charity case, and she hated Xavier for turning her into that.

  What had her life been like before she’d met him? What had she wanted to do with herself?

  She could barely even remember.

  She stopped at a café on the short walk home, grabbing a take away latte, making banter with the barista. “Scooter safe,” he grinned as she walked out the door.

  She laughed, a slightly brittle sound given her emotionally turbulent state. She wasn’t concentrating, she certainly wasn’t looking where she was going. Which was why she walked straight into six and a half feet of pure muscle.

  “Oh, I’m …” the words died on her lips when she looked up (and up) to see Xavier staring back at her as though he would quite like to strangle her.

  He was angry. More than angry.

  “Xavier?” She swallowed, trying desperately to reclaim her own dark emotions, her own resentments and bitterness – and failing. In that moment, she felt only the drugging sensual pull of their connection.

  “Get in,” he muttered, nodding towards the kerb. A sleek black sports car was parked right beside them, on a double yellow line, of course.

  “No.” She sipped her coffee, desperate to appear nonchalant. “And does it ever occur to you to ask instead of demand?”

  “Would you get in the car so we can discuss the matter of my son?”

  Her fingertips were numb; her coffee slipped right through them, dropping to the pavement. Caramel-coloured liquid spilled out, running in all directions. She stared down at it, her pulse firing, her mind racing.

  He’d seen Joshua.

  He’d seen their son.

  He knew.

  All of these conclusions hammered into her. She lifted her gaze to his face and there was not an ounce of understanding there. Not a hint of the vulnerabilities that had played in his eyes the night before. He took advantage of her shock the lift the scooter from her fingertips.

  “Get in the car.”

  She made a noise of protest but her feet moved, carrying her to the vehicle of their own volition. He snapped the door open, not meeting her eyes as she slid into the front passenger seat. Her heart was pounding, her mind chaotic, spinning through all the truths and doubts and questions of the past.

  He placed the scooter into the boot then swung into the seat beside her. “When does he finish school?” He demanded, the question like granite.

  She swallowed, the world exploding around her. She wasn’t ready for this. It was all happening too fast, without giving her a chance to make sense of any of it.

  “When?” He repeated through clenched teeth.

  She jerked her eyes to his face. “At two.”

  “Fine. So we have time.”

  He pulled the car into traffic swiftly, thundering down the street with a powerful roar.

  Her heart was hammering. “Time for what?”

  “To sort this goddamned mess out.” He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles glowed white and she tried not to react to his description of their son as ‘mess’.

  “How did you find me?” She whispered, turning to face him, and wishing she hadn’t. His face was like nothing she’d ever seen. His anger was a palpable force.

  “Damn it! That’s really what you’re worrying about? How the hell I found you?” He reached behind her seat, then dropped her clutch purse on her lap.
“You left this last night. Your drivers licence is inside.”

  She swept her eyes shut. She hadn’t even realized.

  “He’s mine. Si?”

  She let out an unsteady breath and nodded, then, because he was driving, she whispered, “Yes. He’s yours.”

  “And were you ever going to tell me?”

  “I … probably,” she said, and to her own ears it sounded weak.

  “Damn it, Elizabeth!” He pulled the car to a stop at the front of her building – of course there was a parking space despite the fact she could never find one. That was how things worked for Xavier. “How can I believe that? Our son is, what? Three? Almost three and a half?”

  She nodded.

  “And I knew nothing about him.”

  “You were married,” she repeated, staring straight ahead, the moral certainty of her position crumbling all around her, so she was standing on an island that was being steadily eroded by doubt.

  “That changes nothing.”

  “It changes everything,” she demurred urgently. “You cheated on your fiancé with me and here Joshua is living proof of your infidelity. If I told you about him, it would have ruined your marriage.”

  “My marriage was long over!”

  “I didn’t know that!” She intoned angrily. “You were engaged and then you were married…”

  “And you were pregnant, and you chose to keep it from me, why? As some sick form of payback.”

  “No!” She reacted harshly, pushing her car door open and standing, needing to suck in deep gasps of air. “It was never to punish you. Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me? How hard it’s been to raise a child on my own? Thank god for Apollo or I would never have managed…”

  “Who the hell is Apollo?” He fired back, dark colour slashing his cheeks. He slammed his car door shut, and pressed a button, bleeping it locked. He stalked towards the door to her townhouse, waiting there impatiently.

  “My sister’s husband.” She was numb. “Apollo Heranedes.”

  “Heranedes Enterprises?”

  “Yes. He’s been wonderful. Very supportive.”

  “That is my son!” He shouted, and then made an effort to lower his voice. “I should have been the one to support him! Open the damned door.”

  She was tempted to point out that he was doing it again – using commands when questions would have been more appropriate, but she understood his anger. She felt his pain, and she knew that he was simply expressing it however he could.

  She dialed the code into the lock – an addition Apollo had insisted on when Joshua had locked himself in the house, along with Elizabeth’s keys, giving rise to a very frantic twenty minutes while Ellie broke a window and pushed the glass inwards, allowing her to climb through and find Joshua (in the kitchen, playing with the pots and pans).

  The door clicked open and Xavier swept inside, moving into her house as though he had every right. He stalked from the hallway to the living area, to the kitchen at the back, and then to the stairs.

  Then, he paused, turning to pinpoint her with his heated, accusatory stare.

  “How could you think I didn’t have a right to know?”

  “For all I knew, you were busy starting a family of your own with your wife,” she spat.

  “So this was punishment?” He demanded.

  “No!” She locked the door behind herself. “It was never that! Can’t you see that if I’d wanted to punish you, I would have told your wife the truth? I would have broken up your marriage just to spite you?”

  “You think a love child would have broken up my marriage?”

  She winced, not wanting to contemplate this evidence of how strong his bond was with the other woman. Arabella had been hauntingly beautiful – Elizabeth had envied her for long enough.

  “I think you have no right to stand there in judgement of me. I think he’s my son and I’ve been doing the best I can. And now I think you should leave, and come back when you’re less emotional.”

  “Less emotional?” He repeated, and his face was a mask of complete calm. It terrified her, more than shouting, more than anything.

  “I am not emotional,” he responded. “I am thinking clearer than I have in years.”

  “Then think clearly somewhere else,” she muttered.

  “Oh, no. If you think I’m going anywhere, then you are crazy, Elizabeth Jones.”

  She blinked, a frown curving her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He spoke with cold determination. “I have a son – and I am going to raise him.”

  Ellie blinked, her enormous caramel eyes showing all her emotions, all her worries. But Xavier pushed on regardless. “I’m based in Madrid, but I can move here for the interim. I have a place in Kensington.” He looked around her townhouse. “You can rent this place out.”

  “Hold up a second.” She lifted the palm of her hand, needing to physically reinforce what she was saying. “What are you talking about?”

  “It will take thirty days to acquire the necessary wedding approvals,” he pulled a pod from a canister and inserted it into her coffee machine. As though he’d done so a thousand times. As though he belonged in her home.

  “Wedding?” She blinked, finally catching up with what he’d said.

  “Wedding.” He confirmed, pulling a mug from the bench and placing it in the machine, pressing the button. Dark liquid began to fill the cup. “Is my name on the birth certificate?”

  Her mouth was dry. She hadn’t expected this juggernaut of thoughts and ideas. “You’re going too fast,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “So try to keep up.” The words were clipped. “Is my name on the birth certificate?”

  “No.” She said it without apology, but the look he sent her drove barbs of ice through her heart. “I didn’t want anything to link us to you.”

  He swore, harsh and guttural, then lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “You didn’t think my son should know who his father is?”

  “One day,” she said, frowning. “I hadn’t…”

  “You hadn’t?” He demanded, impatiently.

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” And then, more defensively, “I had to take each day as it came, okay?”

  “No. Not okay. Nothing about this is ‘okay’. I find your actions to be reprehensible – and that is using the most polite word I can think of.”

  “Oh!” She let out an angry retort. “You’re one to talk! You who went around sowing his wild oats all the while having promised yourself to a perfectly nice woman? Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?”

  “So apparently I used you for sex!” He said, the words grim, his expression guarded. “I cheated on my fiancé who, I agree, is the best woman I’ve ever known.” Pain ripped through Elizabeth’s body. “I was a bastard. But nothing, nothing, nothing gave you the moral right to keep my son from me! I do not care what you think of me personally. He is my son.” He pointed a hand at his chest, his eyes flaying her with the strength of their pain. “My flesh and my blood make up his small body, and you wanted to keep that from me. Nothing conferred upon you that right.”

  Uncertainty was a tidal wave and she was caught inside of it, unable to ride above it, sinking through the water, tumbling to the bottom. She was lost, and she could only stare at him. She tried to hold onto her reasoning, to remember the motives behind her choices.

  “You were getting married. I had no idea I was pregnant. By the time I discovered the truth, you’d left England.”

  “So you kept track of me? Why?”

  She swallowed past the bitterness curdling inside her throat. Because I loved you. “I don’t know. A sick obsession,” she spat angrily. “But you married and as soon as I saw those photos, I gave up.”

  “But you were pregnant.”

  “Yes. I was pregnant and alone!” She turned it on him, angrily. “I didn’t know you’d lost your memory! I thought you were simply choosing to forget me. To ignore me. You ne
ver called. You never texted. I thought – at the time – that you might have wondered if there’d been consequences to our passion and not bothered to check.”

  “You thought me capable of that?”

  “You were capable of cheating on your fiancé with me,” she pointed out. “So I didn’t exactly hold your actions in high regard.”

  He recoiled as though she’d slapped him. “I’d lost my memory. I would like to think that, had it not been for the accident, I would have contacted you to ensure you were… well, after our time together.”

  She let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, yes. I’m sure you have protocols for that kind of thing well established. No doubt I would have received some kind of ‘dear Jane’ break up text and flowers as well. Instead, there was only worry, and deafening silence, and then the discovery that I was having your baby. Your baby! The baby of a man who didn’t want me, who was committed to another woman. What was I meant to do?”

  “Tell me!” He said, the sentence grim, his eyes clashing with hers. “Tell me regardless of what you feared. Move heaven and earth to ensure I had this information. You should have done all that you could to bring my son to me after his birth. This is not a question of opinion. You were wrong. No circumstance on earth justifies your actions.”

  “Don’t you dare say that,” she rebuffed. “Walk a mile in my shoes before you criticize.”

  He took another drink of his coffee and then placed the cup down, a little more firmly than was necessary, so a loud noise cut through the silence of her house. A drawing was on the fridge – one of Joshua’s latest masterpieces. It was of a pussy cat and a cloud, though it looked a little more like swirls and triangles.

  “What is my son’s name?”

  She swept her eyes shut, pain in her heart. “Joshua.”

  “Joshua what?”

  “Joshua Xavier Jones.”

  Xavier spun around. “You gave him my name after all?”

  She blinked. “Yes. Not his surname,” she whispered. “But… a part of you.” A part no one could trace.

  His own eyes closed now, and he nodded, as if dismissing all of the past for the moment. “When we are married, it will not matter. He’ll take my name, as will you.”