“You want to get married—again?”

He’ll do anything to secure his shock child!

By the time Theodora realized she was pregnant, her turbulent marriage to Greek hotel magnate Aristotle Leonidas was already over. Since then, she’s zealously guarded her secret… Until Aristotle discovers his heir—and demands Teddie marry him again! But even with their chemistry as red-hot as ever, Teddie wants more this time. Now to claim his son, Aristo must reclaim his wife!

A reunion romance with a secret baby twist.

LOUISE FULLER was a tomboy who hated pink and always wanted to be the Prince—not the Princess! Now she enjoys creating heroines who aren’t pretty push-overs but strong, believable women. Before writing for Mills & Boon she studied literature and philosophy at university, and then worked as a reporter on her local newspaper. She lives in Tunbridge Wells with her impossibly handsome husband Patrick and their six children.

Also by Louise Fuller

Vows Made in Secret

A Deal Sealed by Passion

Claiming His Wedding Night

Blackmailed Down the Aisle

Kidnapped for the Tycoon’s Baby

Surrender to the Ruthless Billionaire

Revenge at the Altar

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Demanding His Secret Son

Louise Fuller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08740-7

DEMANDING HIS SECRET SON

© 2019 Louise Fuller

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Archie:

for sticking at the hard stuff and making life easier

for everyone around you, especially me.

Louise x

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

LEANING FORWARD, TEDDIE TAYLOR spread the three playing cards out swiftly, then quickly flipped them over, covering them with her hand and rearranging them. Her green eyes gave away none of her excitement, nor the jump of her heart as the man sitting opposite her pointed confidently at the middle card.

He groaned as she turned it over, holding his hands up in defeat. ‘Incredible,’ he murmured.

Rising to his feet, Edward Claiborne held out his hand, a satisfied smile creasing his smooth patrician features.

‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re on board.’ His blue eyes fixed on Teddie’s face. ‘I’m looking forward to having a little magic in my life.’

Teddie smiled. From another, younger, less urbane man, the remark might have sounded a little cheesy. But she knew Claiborne was far too well-bred to do anything as crass and inappropriate as flirt with a woman half his age to whom he had just given a job at his new prestigious private members’ club.

‘I’m looking forward to it too, Mr Claiborne—no, please—’ she stopped him as he reached into the pocket of his jacket ‘—let me get these.’ She gestured towards the coffee. ‘You’re a client now.’

Watching him walk away to talk to someone in the hotel lounge, she took a deep breath and sat down, resisting the urge to pump the air with her fist in time to the victory chant inside her head. She’d done it! Finally she’d netted a client who saw magic as more than just an amusing diversion at a party.

Across the lounge, Edward Claiborne was shaking hands, smiling smoothly and, leaning back in her armchair, she let elation wash over her. This was what she and Elliot had been chasing, but this new contract was worth more to them than a paycheque. Claiborne was fifth generation New York money and a recommendation from him would give their business the kind of publicity they couldn’t buy.

Pulling out her phone, she punched in Elliot’s number. He answered immediately, almost as though he’d been waiting for her to call—which, of course, he had.

‘That was quick. How did it go?’

He sounded as he always did, speaking with that casual west-coast drawl that people sometimes mistook for slowness or lack of comprehension. But to Teddie, who had known him since she was thirteen, there was a tension to his voice—understandably. A three-nights-a-week job of bringing magic and illusion to the brand-new Castine Club would not only boost their income, it would mean they could employ someone to do the day-to-day admin. And that would mean they wouldn’t end up with a repeat of today’s last-minute panic when Elliot had realised he’d double-booked himself.

For a moment, she considered making him sweat, but she was too happy and relieved. ‘He’s in!’

Hearing Elliot’s triumphant ‘Surf’s up, baby!’ she laughed.

It was one of the things she loved most about her business partner and best friend—the way he reverted to his Californian roots when he was excited. Her heart swelled. That and the fact that, no matter how unjustified it was, he always had complete faith in her.

‘I’m not saying I thought it was guaranteed, but honestly—I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who loves magic so much.’

‘So what clinched it? No, let me guess. The three-card Monte. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Teddie could practically picture the familiar wicked grin on Elliot’s face.

‘Yes! But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for throwing me in at the deep end.’

He laughed. ‘So how about I take you and George to Pete’s Grill at the weekend? To make amends and celebrate?’

‘You’re on.’ She frowned. ‘How come you’re talking to me, anyway? I thought the whole reason I had to do this was because you had a meeting.’

‘I do—I’m waiting to go in. Actually, I’m going to have to go—okay, babe? But I’ll drop round later.’ He whooped. ‘I love this job!’

He hung up, and Teddie grinned. She loved her job too, and Elliot was right: they should celebrate. And George loved Pete’s.

Thinking about her son, Teddie felt her heart tighten. She did love her job, but her love for George was fierce and absolute. From the moment she’d held him in her arms after his birth, her heart had been enslaved by his huge dark eyes.

He was perfect, and he was hers. And maybe, if this job went well, in a couple of years they’d be celebrating here.

Leaning back against the smooth leather upholstery of a chair that probably cost more than her car, Teddie glanced around the hotel lounge. Well, maybe not here. The Kildare Hotel was new, and completely beyond her pay grade, oozing a mixture of old-school comfort and avant-garde design that she might have found intimidating if she hadn’t been feeling so euphoric.

It was clearly the place to be seen, judging by the mix of hip, moneyed guests, although—she stared critically at the two huge Warhol prints that dwarfed one wall—wasn’t it a bit corny to have all these copies of famous paintings hanging everywhere. Why not use originals by local artists?

Glancing over to where Claiborne was still chatting, she felt her pulse skitter forward. Really, she should be over there too, networking. It didn’t have to be too obvious. All she had to do was smile as she passed by and her new boss would definitely call her over to introduce her to his companion.

She couldn’t see the man’s face, but even at a distance his glamour and self-assurance were tangible. Silhouetted against the industrial-sized window, with sunlight fanning around him like a sunburst, he looked almost mythical. The effect was mesmerising, irresistible—and, catching sight of the furtive glances of the other guests, she realised that it wasn’t only she who thought so.

She wondered idly if he was aware of the effect he was having or if he was worthy of all the attention. Maybe she should just go and see for herself, she thought, emboldened by her business triumph.

And then, as she began picking up the cards that were still strewn all over the table, she noticed that Claiborne was gesturing in her direction. Automatically her lips started to curve upwards as the man standing beside him turned towards her.

The welcoming smile froze on her face.

She swallowed thickly. Her heart felt hard and heavy—in fact, her whole body seemed to be slowly turning to stone. Her euphoria of just moments earlier felt like a muddied memory.

No—no way! This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be here. Not here, not now.

But he was. Worse, having shaken hands with Claiborne, he was excusing himself and walking—no, swaggering towards her, his familiar dark gaze locked with hers. And, despite the alarm shrieking inside her head, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his cold, staggeringly handsome face and lean, muscular body.

For just a split second she watched him make his way across the room, and then her heart began pounding like a jackhammer and she knew that she had to move, to run, to flee. It might not be dignified, but frankly she didn’t care. Her ex-husband, Aristotle Leonidas, was the last person on earth she wanted to see, much less talk to. There was too much history between them—not just a failed marriage, but a three-year-old son he knew nothing about.

Snatching at the rest of the cards, she tried to force them into the box. Only, panic made her clumsier than usual and they slipped out of her hands, spilling onto the floor in every direction.

‘Allow me.’

If it had been a shock seeing him across the room, seeing him up close was like being struck by lightning. It would have been easier if he’d developed a paunch, but he hadn’t changed at all. If anything, he was more devastating than ever, and it was clear that he had risen to such a point of power and wealth that he was immune to such earthly concerns as appearances.

But, to Teddie, his beauty was still hypnotic—the knife-sharp bone structure and obsidian-dark eyes still too perfect to be human.

Feeling her pulse accelerate, Teddie steeled herself to meet his gaze.

It had been four years since he’d broken her heart and turned his back on the gift of her love, but she had never forgotten him nor forgiven him for deleting her—and by default George—from his life like some unsolicited junk email. But evidently she had underestimated the impact of his husky, seductive voice—or why else was her pulse shying sideways like a startled pony?

It was just shock, she reassured herself. After four years she was obviously not expecting to see him.

Pushing aside the memory of that moment when he’d dismissed her like some underperforming junior member of his staff, she frowned. ‘I’m fine. Just leave it.’

He ignored her, crouching down and calmly and methodically picking up each and every card.

‘Here.’ Standing up, he held out the pack, but she stared at him tensely, reluctant to risk even the slightest physical contact between them.

Her body’s irrational response to hearing him speak again had made her realise that despite everything he’d done—and not done—there was still a connection between them, a memory of what had once been, how good it had been—

Ignoring both that unsettling thought, and the tug of his gaze, she sat down. She wanted to leave, but she would have to push past him to do so, and sitting seemed like the lesser of two evils. He watched her for a moment, as though gauging the likelihood of her trying to escape, and then she felt her pulse jolt forward as he settled into the chair recently vacated by Claiborne.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said stiffly.

After they’d split up he’d moved to London—or that was what Elliot had been told when he’d gone to collect her things. The apartment hadn’t been part of the divorce settlement, and she’d always assumed he’d sold it. But then, he had no need of money, and it probably had no bad memories for him as he’d hardly ever been there.

His level gaze swept over her face. ‘In New York?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m living here. Again,’ he added softly.

She swallowed, stung at the thought of him returning to their home and simply picking up where he’d left off. She wished she could think of something devastating to say back to him. But to do so would only suggest that she cared—which she obviously didn’t.

She watched warily as he slid the pack across the table towards her.

Catching sight of her expression, he tutted under his breath, his dark brown eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,’ he said coolly. ‘It’s me who should be worried. Or at least checking my wrist.’

His gaze hovered on her face and she blinked. She’d thought her body’s unintended and unwelcome response to his was a by-product of shock, but now, beneath the politeness, further down than the hostility, she could feel it still—a thread of heat that was undiminished by time or reason. It made no sense—she doubted that he’d given her as much as a passing thought in the last four years—but that didn’t seem to stop her skin from tingling beneath his gaze.

Watching the fury flare in her fabulous green eyes, Aristo gritted his teeth. She was still as stubborn as ever, but he was grateful she hadn’t taken the cards from him. If both his hands had been free he might have been tempted to strangle her.

He hadn’t spotted Teddie when he’d first walked into the lounge, partly because her dark brown hair was not falling loosely to her shoulders, as it had done when he’d last seen her, but was folded neatly at the back of her head.

In the main, though, he hadn’t spotted her because, frankly, he hadn’t ever expected to see his ex-wife again. He felt a tiny stab of pain in his heart like a splinter of ice.

But then, why would he?

Four years ago Theodora Taylor had ensnared him with her green eyes, her long legs and her diffident manner. She had breezed into his life like the Sirocco, interrupting his calm and ordered ascent into the financial stratosphere, and then just as quickly she had gone, an emptied bank account and his lacerated heart the only reminders of their six-month marriage.

He gave her a long, implacable stare. Teddie had taken more than his money. She had stolen the beat from his heart and taken what little trust he’d had for women and trampled it into the ground. It had been the first time he’d let down his guard, even going so far as to honour her with his name, but she had only married him in the hope that his money and connections would act as a stepping stone to a better life.

Of course he hadn’t realised the truth until he’d returned from a business trip to find her gone. Hurt and humiliated, he had thrown himself into his job and put the whole disastrous episode behind him.

Until he’d bumped into Edward Claiborne a moment ago. He knew Edward socially, and liked him for his quiet self-assurance and old-school courtesy.

Walking into the hotel lounge, he’d noticed him laughing and chatting with uncharacteristic animation to a female companion. But it had only been when Edward had invited him to the new regular magic slot at his club, and then mentioned that he’d just finished having coffee with the woman who’d be running the shows, that he had turned and seen Teddie.

The muscle in his jaw had flexed, kick-starting a chain reaction through his body so that suddenly his heart had been pounding so hard and fast that he’d felt almost dizzy.

He studied her silently now, safe in the knowledge that his external composure gave no hint of the battle raging inside him. His head was telling him there was only one course of action. That a sensible, sane man would get up and walk away. But sense and sanity had never played that much of a part in his relationship with Theodora Taylor, and clearly nothing had changed—because despite knowing that she was the biggest mistake he had ever made, he stayed sitting.

His lip curled as he glanced down at his wrist. ‘No, still there. But maybe I should double-check my wallet. Or perhaps I should give Edward Claiborne a call…make sure he still has his. I know you were only having coffee, but you were always a quick worker. I should know.’

Teddie felt her cheeks grow warm. His face was impenetrable, but the derision in his voice as much as his words was insultingly obvious.

How dare he talk to her like that? As though she was the bad guy when he was the one who had cut her out of his life without so much as a word.

Not that she’d ever been high on his list of priorities. Six months of married life had made it clear that Aristo had no time in his life for a wife. Even when she’d moved out and they’d begun divorce proceedings, he’d carried on working as though nothing had happened. Although no amount of his neglect and indifference could have prepared her for how he’d behaved at the end.

It had been a mistake, sleeping together that last time.

With emotions running high after a meeting to discuss their divorce, they’d ended up in bed and she’d ended up pregnant. Only, by the time she’d realised that her tiredness and nausea weren’t just symptoms of stress, the divorce had been finalised, and Aristo had been on the other side of the world, building his European operations.

Although he might just as well have been in outer space.

Remembering her repeated, increasingly desperate and unsuccessful attempts to get in touch, she felt her back stiffen. She’d been frantic to tell him she was pregnant, but his complete radio silence had made it clear—horribly, humiliatingly clear—not only that he didn’t want to talk to her, but that he didn’t want to listen to anything she had to say.

It had been during a call to his London office, when an over-officious PA had cut short her stumbling and not very coherent attempt to speak to him, that she had decided doing the right thing was not going to work.

It certainly hadn’t worked for her parents.

Sometimes it was better to face the truth, even if it was painful—and, truthfully, she and Aristo’s relationship had had pretty flimsy foundations. Judging by the mess they’d made of their marriage, it certainly wasn’t strong enough to cope with an unplanned pregnancy.

But it had been hard.

Aristo’s rejection had broken her heart, and the repercussions of their brief and ill-fated marriage had lasted longer than her tears. Even now, she was still so wary of men that she’d barely gone out with anyone since they’d parted ways. Thanks to her father’s casual, cursory attitude to parenting, she found it hard to believe that she would ever be anything more than an afterthought to any man. Aristo’s casual, cruel rejection had confirmed that deep-seated privately held fear.

Much as she cared for Elliot, it was as a sister. Aristo was still the only man she’d ever loved. He had been her first love—not her first lover, but he had taught her everything about pleasure.

Her green eyes lifted to his. And not just pleasure. Because of him she’d become an authority on heartache and regret too.

So what exactly gave him the right to stand there with a sneer on that irritatingly handsome face?

Suddenly she was glad she hadn’t turned tail. Fingers curling into fists, she glared at him. ‘I think your memory must be playing tricks on you, Aristo. Work was always your thing—not mine. And, not that it’s any of your concern, but Edward Claiborne is a very generous man. He was more than happy to pay the bill.’

She knew how she was making it sound, but it wasn’t quite a lie. He had offered to pay. And besides, if it made Aristo feel even a fraction of her pain, then why not rub it in? He might not have thought her worthy of his attention and commitment, but Edward had been happy to give her his time and his company.

‘And that’s what matters to you, isn’t it, Theodora? Getting your bills paid. Even if it means taking what isn’t yours.’

He didn’t really care about the money—even before his ruthless onwards-and-upwards rise to global domination, the amount she’d taken had been a negligible amount. Now it would barely make a dent in the Leonidas billions. At the time, though, it had stung—particularly as it had been down to his own stupidity.

For some unknown reason he hadn’t closed their shared accounts immediately after the divorce was finalised, and Teddie had wasted no time taking advantage. Not that he should have been surprised. No matter how pampered they were, women were never satisfied with what they had. He’d learned that aged six, when his mother had found a titled, wealthier replacement for his father.

But knowing Teddie had worked her ‘magic’ on Edward hurt—and, childish though it was, he wanted to hurt her back.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘It was mine,’ she said hotly. ‘It was ours. That’s what marriage is about, Aristo—it’s called sharing.’

He stared at her disparagingly. The briefness of their marriage and the ruthless determination of his legal team had ensured that her financial settlement had been minimal, but it was more than she deserved.

‘Is that what you tell yourself?’

She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as he shook his head slowly.

‘Just because it was still a joint account that didn’t mean you had the right to empty it.’

‘If it bothered you that much you could have talked to me,’ she snarled. ‘But I was only your wife—why would you want to talk to me?’

‘Don’t give me that,’ he said sharply. ‘I talked to you.’

‘You talked at me about work. Never about us.’

Never about the fact that they were basically living separate lives—two strangers sharing a bed but never a meal or a joke.

Hearing the emotion in her voice, she stopped abruptly. What was the point of having this conversation? It was four years too late, and their marriage couldn’t have mattered that much to him if all he wanted to discuss now was their bank account.

And was it really that surprising? His whole life had been dedicated to making money.

She breathed in unsteadily. ‘And, as for the money, I took what I needed to live.’

To look after our son, she thought with a sudden flare of anger. A son who even before his birth had been relegated to second place.

‘I’m not going to apologise for that, and if it was a problem then you should have said something at the time, but you made it quite clear that you didn’t want to talk to me.’

Aristo stared at her, anger pulsing beneath his skin. At the time he had seen her behaviour as just more evidence of his poor judgement. More proof that the women in his life would inevitably turn their backs on him.

But he was not about to reveal his reasons for staying silent—why should he? He wasn’t the one who’d walked out on their marriage. He didn’t need to explain himself.

His heart began to thump rhythmically inside his chest, and an old, familiar feeling of bitter, impotent fury formed a knot in his stomach. She was right. He should have dealt with this years ago—because even though he had succeeded in erasing her from his heart and his home, he had never quite managed to wipe her betrayal from his memory.

How could he, though? Their relationship had been over so quickly and had ended with such finality that there had been no time to confront her properly.

Until now.

Teddie stared at him in appalled silence as, leaning back, he stretched out his legs. Moments earlier she had wanted to throw George’s existence in his face. Now, though, she could feel spidery panic scuttling over her skin at the thought of how close she’d come to revealing the truth.

‘So let’s talk now,’ he said, turning to nod curtly at a passing waiter, who hurried over with almost comical haste.

She nearly laughed, only it was more sad than funny. He didn’t want to talk now any more than he had four years ago, but he knew that she wanted to leave so he wanted to make her stay. Nothing had changed. He hadn’t changed. He just wanted to get his own way.

‘An espresso, please, and an Americano.’ He gave the order without so much as looking at her, and the fact that he could still remember her favourite drink, as much as his arrogant assumption that she would be joining him, made her want to scream.

‘I’m not staying,’ she said coldly. She knew from past experience that his powers of persuasion were incomparable, but in the past she had loved him to distraction. Here, in the present, she wasn’t going to let him push her into a corner. ‘And I don’t want to speak to you,’ she said, glancing pointedly past him.

He shrugged, a mocking smile curving his mouth. ‘Then I’ll talk and you can listen.’

Cheeks darkening with angry colour, she sat mutinously as the waiter reappeared and, with a swift, nervous glance at Aristo, deposited the drinks in front of them.

‘Is there anything else, Mr Leonidas?’

Aristo shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’

Teddie stared at him, a beat of irritation jumping in her chest. It was always the same, this effect that Aristo had on people. When they’d first met she’d teased him about it: as a magician, she was supposed to be the centre of attention. But even when his wealth had been visible but not daunting, he’d had something that set him apart from all the other beautiful rich people—a potent mix of power and beauty and vitality that created an irresistible gravitational pull around him.

She could hardly blame the poor waiter for being like a cat on hot bricks when she had been just as susceptible. It was still maddening, though.

Some of her feelings must be showing on her face, for as he reached to pick up his cup, he paused. ‘Is there a problem?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Other than you, you mean?’

He sighed. ‘I meant with your drink. I can send it back.’

‘Could you just stop throwing your weight around?’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I know it must be difficult for you to switch off from work, but this isn’t one of your hotels.’

Leaning back, he raised the cup to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Actually it is,’ he said mildly. ‘It’s the first in a new line we’re trying out—traditional elegance and luxury with impeccable sustainability.’ He smiled at the look of frozen horror on her face. ‘And a constantly rotating collection of contemporary art.’

She felt her breathing jerk as out of the corner of her eye she noticed the tiny lion’s head logo on the coaster. Cheeks burning, she glanced furtively over at the Warhols.

Damn it, but of course they were real. Aristo Leonidas would never have anything in his life that wasn’t one hundred per cent perfect—it was why he’d found it so devastatingly easy to abandon her.

Her heartbeat stumbled in her chest. No doubt he’d only wanted her to stay here so he could point out this latest addition to his empire.

Cursing herself, and Aristo, and Elliot for being so useless at managing their schedule, she half rose.

‘Sit down,’ he said softly.

Their eyes clashed. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Why? Are you scared of what will happen if you do?

Was she scared?

She felt her insides flip over, and she suddenly felt hot and dizzy.

Once she had been in thrall to him. He’d been everything she’d wanted in a lover and in a man. Caught in the dark shimmering intensity of his gaze, she had felt warm and wanted.

And now, as the heat spread outwards, she was forced to accept again that, even hating him as she did, her body was still reacting in the same way, unconstrained by logic or even the most basic sense of self-preservation.

Horrified by this revelation of her continuing vulnerability—or maybe stupidity—she lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing, muscles tensing as though for combat.

‘I’m not, no. But you should be. Or maybe you like your suits with coffee stains?’

His dark eyes flickered with amusement. ‘If you want me to get undressed, you could just ask.’

He was unbelievable and unfair, making such a blatant reference to their sexual past. But, despite her outrage, she felt the kick of desire. Just as she had that night four years ago, when her body had betrayed her.

Her heart thudded. How could she have let it happen? Just hours earlier they’d been thrashing out their divorce. She’d known he didn’t love her, and yet she’d still slept with him.

But she could never fully regret her stupidity for that was the night she’d conceived George.

She glowered at him. ‘I don’t want you at all,’ she lied. ‘And I don’t want to have some stupid conversation about coffee or art.’

He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay. Look, this is hard for both us, but we share a history. Surely if fate has chosen to throw us together we can put our differences behind us for old times’ sake,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you can spare a couple of minutes to catch up.’

Teddie felt her heart start to pound. If only if was just the past they shared. But it wasn’t, and hiding that fact from Aristo was proving harder than she’d ever imagined.

But how could she tell him the truth? That he had a three-year-old son called George he’d never met. She caught her breath, trying to imagine how that conversation would start, much less end.

More importantly, though, why would she tell him? Their marriage might have been short-lived, but it had been long enough for her to know that there was no room in her ex-husband’s life for anything but his career. And, having been on the receiving end of her father’s intermittent attention, she knew exactly what it felt like to be a side dish to the main meal, and she was not about to let her son suffer the same fate.

‘I just told you. I don’t want to stay.’ But, glancing up into his dark eyes, she felt a flare of panic, for they were cold and flat like slate, and they matched the uncompromising expression on his face.

‘I wasn’t actually giving you an option.’

She felt the colour leave her face. Had he really just said what she thought he had?

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Instantly her panic was forgotten, obliterated in a white-out of fury. ‘Just because this is your hotel, Aristo, it doesn’t mean you can act like some despot,’ she snapped.’ If I want to leave, I will, thank you very much, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Aristo stared at her in silence. Was this why he had sought out her company instead of simply retreating? To force a confrontation so that, unlike in their marriage, he would be the one to dictate when she left? Would that heal the still festering wound of her betrayal? Quiet the suspicion, the knowledge, that he had been used like a plaything to pass the time until something, or more likely someone, better came along?

He shrugged dismissively. ‘That would depend, I suppose, on how you leave and whether you value your reputation. Being removed by Security in front of a room full of people could be quite damaging.’ Leaning back in his seat, he raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine what your new boss would think if he heard about it.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said softly.

His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Try me!’

He could see the conflict in her eyes—frustration and resentment battling with logic and resignation—but he knew the battle was already won. If she was going to leave she would already be on her feet.

With immense satisfaction he watched her sit back stiffly in her seat. This wasn’t about revenge, but even so he couldn’t help letting a small, triumphant smile curve his mouth.

‘So…’ He gestured towards the pack of cards. ‘You’re still a magician, then.’

Teddie stared at the cards. To anyone else his remark would have sounded innocuous, nothing more than a polite show of interest in an ex’s current means of employment. But she wasn’t anyone. She had been his wife, and she could hear the resentment in his voice for she had heard it before.

It was another reminder of why their marriage had failed. And why she should have confronted the past head-on instead of pretending her marriage had never happened. She might have been strong for her son, but she’d been a coward when it came to facing Aristo.

Only, she’d had good reason not to want to face him. Lots of good reasons, actually.

In the aftermath of their marriage he’d been cold and unapproachable, and later she’d been so sick with her pregnancy, and then, by the time she’d felt well again, George had been born—and that was a whole other conversation.

She was suddenly conscious of Aristo’s steady, dark gaze and her heart gave a thump. She had to stop thinking about George or something was going to slip out.

‘Yes,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m still a magician, Aristo. And you’re still in hotels.’

Her heart was thumping hard against her chest. Did he really want to sit here with her while they politely pretended to be on speaking terms? Her hands felt suddenly damp and she pressed them against the cooling leather. Clearly he did. But then, he didn’t have a secret to keep.

He nodded. ‘Mostly, but I’ve diversified my interests.’

She gritted her teeth. So even less time for anything other than work. For some reason that thought made her feel sad rather than angry and, caught off-guard, she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

Aristo looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘You must have done well. Edward Claiborne doesn’t often go out of his comfort zone. So how did you two meet?’

His eyes tangled with hers and he felt a stab of anger, remembering Edward Claiborne’s proprietorial manner as he’d turned and gestured across the room towards Teddie.

She shrugged. ‘Elliot and I did some magic showcases at a couple of charity balls last year and he was there.’

Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘You work with Elliot?’

For some reason her defiant nod made a primitive jealousy rip through him like a box-cutter. In his head—if he’d allowed himself to picture her at all—she had been alone, suffering as he was. Only, now it appeared that not only had she survived, she was prospering with Elliot.

‘We set up a business together. He does the admin, front of house and accountancy. I do the magic.’

He felt another spasm of irritation—pain, almost. He knew Teddie had never been romantically or sexually involved with Elliot, but he had supported her, and once that had been his job. It was bad enough that his half-brother, Oliver, had displaced him in his mother’s affections—now it appeared that Elliot had usurped him in Teddie’s.

‘From memory, he wasn’t much of a businessman,’ he said coolly.

For the first time since she’d sat down Teddie smiled and, watching her eyes soften, he had to fight an overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke her cheek, for once her eyes had used to soften for him in that way.

‘He’s not, but he’s my best friend and I trust him,’ she said simply. ‘And that’s what matters.’

It was tempting to lie, to tell him that she’d found love and unimaginable passion in Elliot’s arms, but it would only end up making her look sad and desperate.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely what matters is profit?’

She’d always known he felt like that, but somehow his remark hurt more than it should, for it was the reason her son would grow up without a father.

Her fingers curled. ‘Some things are more important than money, Aristo.’

‘Not in business,’ he said dismissively.

She glared at him, hating him and his stupid, blinkered view of life, but hating herself more for still caring what he thought.

‘But there’s more to life than business. There’s feelings and people—friends, family—’

She broke off, the emotion in her voice echoing inside her head. Glancing up, she found him watching her, his gaze darkly impassive, and it was hard not to turn away, for the heartbreakingly familiar masculine beauty of his face seemed so at odds with the distance in his eyes.

‘You don’t have a family,’ he said.

It was one of the few facts she’d shared with him about her life—that she was an orphan. Dazed, Teddie blinked. She was about to retort that she was a mother to his son, when abruptly her brain came back online and she bit back her words. Given how he’d behaved, and was still behaving, she certainly didn’t owe him the truth.

But George was his child. Didn’t he deserve to know that?

Her heartbeat stalled, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her stomach seemed to be turning in on itself. Wishing that she could make herself disappear as effortlessly as she could make watches and wallets vanish, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

‘No, I don’t,’ she lied.

And suddenly she knew that she had to leave right there and then, for to stay would mean more lies, and she couldn’t do it—she didn’t want to lie about her son.

Neither could she carry on lying to herself.

Up until today she had wanted to believe that she was over Aristo. But as she stared into his dark, distant eyes, the pain of pretending erupted inside of her, and suddenly she needed to make certain this never happened again.

She’d made the mistake of letting him back into her life before—made the mistake of following her heart, not her head. And although she didn’t regret it—for that would mean regretting having her son—after that one-night stand she’d accepted not only that their marriage was over, but that it was the best possible outcome.

Only by staying out of his orbit would she be safe—not just from him, but from herself.

She lifted her chin. This meeting would be their last.

Ignoring the intensity of his dark gaze, and the full, sensuous mouth that had so often kissed her into a state of helpless bliss, she cleared her throat. ‘Fascinating though this is, Aristo, I don’t really think there’s any point in us carrying on with this conversation,’ she said. ‘Small talk—any kind of talk, really—wasn’t ever your strong point, and we got divorced for a reason—several, actually.’

He held her gaze. ‘Are you refusing to talk to me?’

‘Yes, I am.’

But she didn’t want to explain why. Didn’t want to explain the complex and conflicting emotions swirling inside her.

Her heart was banging against her ribs and, breathing in deeply, she steadied herself. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a pen and a notebook and scrawled something on a page inside it. Tearing the page free, she folded it in half and slid it onto the table.

‘I don’t expect to hear from you again, but if you have to get in touch this is my lawyer’s number. Goodbye, Aristotle.’

And then, before he’d even had a chance to react, let alone respond, she turned and almost ran out of the hotel lounge.

Left alone, Aristo stared at the empty seat, a mass of emotions churning inside him. His heart was beating out of time. Teddie’s words had shocked him. But, although she had no doubt intended her curt goodbye to be a slap in the face, to him it felt as though she’d thrown down a gauntlet at his feet.

And in doing so she’d sealed her fate. Four years ago she had waltzed out of their marriage and his life and he’d spent the intervening years suppressing hurt and disappointment. Now, though, he was ready to confront his past—and his ex-wife.

But he would do so on his terms, he thought coldly. And, reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his phone.

* * *

Three hours later, having fed and bathed George and tidied away his toys, Teddie leaned back against the faded cushions of her sofa and let out a long, slow breath. She felt exhausted. Her apartment—her wonderful apartment—with its bright walls and wooden floors, which was usually a place of sanctuary, looked shabby after the high gloss of the Kildare Hotel. And, although her son was usually a sweet-tempered and easy-going toddler, he must have picked up on her tension. Tonight he’d had a huge tantrum when she’d stopped him playing with his toy speed boat in the bath.

He was sleeping now, and as she’d gazed down at her beautiful son she had felt both pride and panic, for he so resembled his father. A father he would never know.

She felt a rush of guilt and self-pity. This wasn’t what she’d wanted for herself or for her son. In her dreams she’d wanted to give him everything she’d never had—two loving parents, financial security—but she’d tried marriage and it had been a disaster.

Even before Aristo’s obsession with work had blotted out the rest of his life she had felt like a gatecrasher in her own marriage. But then what had they really known about one another? How could you really know someone after just seven weeks?

Maybe if their marriage had had stronger foundations it might have been possible for them to face their problems together. But they’d had no common ground aside from a raging sexual attraction which had been enough to blind both of them to their fundamental incompatibility. He had been born into wealth. She, on the other hand, had grown up in a children’s home with a mother dosed up on prescription drugs and a father in prison.

And sex wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship—not without trust and openness and tenderness.

Divorce had been the only option, and, although she might be able to face that fact she still wasn’t up to facing Aristo. Thankfully, though, she would never have to see him again.

Her pulse twitched as she remembered telling him to talk to her through her lawyer. She could hardly believe that she’d spoken to him like that. But she’d been so desperate to leave before she said anything incriminating about George, and even more desperate to ensure that he would be out of her life for good.

Stifling a yawn, she picked up her phone and gazed gloomily down at the time on the screen. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the duvet over her head and forget about the mess she’d made of her life.

Unfortunately Elliot was dropping round to discuss the Claiborne meeting.

For a moment she considered calling him to cancel. But being on her own with a head full of regrets and recriminations was not a great idea.

Anticipating Elliot’s partisan comments as she relayed an edited version of the day’s events, she felt her mood lighten a fraction and, standing up, she walked into the tiny kitchen that led off from the living room.

She was just pulling a bottle of wine from the rack when she heard the entryphone.

Thank goodness! Elliot was early. Buzzing him up, she picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Don’t be thinking we’re going to finish this—’ she began as she yanked open the door.

But her words trailed off into silence. It wasn’t Elliot standing there, with that familiar affectionate grin on his face. Instead it was Aristo, and he wasn’t smiling affectionately. In fact, he wasn’t smiling at all.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I WOULDN’T DREAM of it,’ he said softly.

He held out his hand, his eyes locking with hers, and his sudden, swift smile made her heart lurch forward.

‘You forgot these, and I was passing so…’

It was the pack of cards she’d left at his hotel.

She felt her breathing jerk. For a few seconds she couldn’t answer—couldn’t find the words to express her shock and confusion at finding him on her doorstep. Actually, not on her doorstep—he was already leaning against the frame, one foot resting negligently over the threshold so that shutting the door wouldn’t just be a challenge, but a virtual impossibility, given the disparity in their respective weights.

‘You were passing?’

She felt a shiver run over her skin as his dark gaze made a slow inspection of her, from the damp hair tumbling over her shoulders to her bare toes. Even if she’d been fully clothed she would have felt naked under his intense scrutiny, but she was wearing nothing but a T-shirt that was barely covered by her bathrobe.

There was a pulsing silence and then, tilting his head slightly, he glanced past her into the apartment. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or do you always entertain your guests in the corridor?’

‘You’re not a guest. Guests are invited, and I didn’t invite you.’ She stared at him suspiciously. ‘And I didn’t tell you where I lived either, so how did you find me?’

‘I looked up “beautiful female magician” in the phone book.’ His dark eyes glittered with amusement. ‘You were there—right at the top.’

Her skin was suddenly prickling, her stomach flipping over in response to his words. She’d spent so long remembering his flaws that she had forgotten he could make her laugh and it was an untimely reminder of why she’d fallen in love with him.

Only, even as her mouth began to curl upwards she knew she was making a mistake. The last thing she needed right now was to give him any hint of her continuing vulnerability where he was concerned so, tuning out the erratic beat of her heart, she shook her head. ‘Aristo—’

‘Okay, that was a lie.’ He shifted against the doorframe. ‘I actually looked up “angry, beautiful female magician”.’

Heart banging against her ribs, she took a deep breath, a rush of panic swamping her as she tried to gauge his mood. Surely if he’d found out about George he would be the angry one.

‘Did you follow me?’

His smile widened. ‘Of course. I have a second job as a private detective.’

Resisting the overriding urge to slam the door on his obviously expensive handmade shoes, she held his gaze. ‘Very funny. So you had somebody find out where I lived?’ She shook her head again. ‘That’s classy, Aristo.’

‘You gave me no choice. You left before we’d finished talking.’

His complete inability to understand what had happened back at the hotel sucked her breath from her lungs.

‘No, I had finished talking, Aristo,’ she said irritably. ‘That’s why I gave you the number of my lawyer.’

‘Ah, yes, your lawyer.’ Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder and frowned, pretending concern. ‘Are you sure you want everyone hearing about your private business?’

Teddie stared at him helplessly. She could tell from the glint in his eyes that he was not going to leave without saying whatever it was he wanted to say, and she couldn’t physically remove him herself.

Maybe she should call for back-up. But who would she call? Her maintenance charge for the apartment included a caretaker who was nominally responsible for security, but she had no idea how to get in touch with him, and Aristo might make a scene and wake George.

So that left her with the choice of having a conversation in the hallway or in her apartment. Her heart contracted with apprehension. Every instinct she had was screeching at her like a banshee not to let him into her apartment, but what if he met one of her neighbours and they mentioned her son?

Maybe there were other options, but right now she was too tired and strung out to work them out—and besides, she wanted him out of the hallway and her life.

Quickly she did an inventory of the apartment—thankfully she had tidied George’s toys away, and the only photos of him were in her bedroom. Her skin felt suddenly hot and tight, but of course there was no way Aristo would be going within a mile of that particular room.

‘Fine. You can come in,’ she said briskly. ‘But you can’t stay long.’

Mentally crossing her fingers, she hoped that tonight wouldn’t be the one occasion when Elliot was on time. She had, of course, given him an abridged version of her ill-starred marriage, only she had carefully edited out all mention of the tangle of unresolved feelings she still carried around with her.

But Elliot would only have to walk through her front door to know that she was upset, and right now she had enough going on with Aristo. She certainly didn’t want to have to deal with Elliot as well.

‘Ten minutes, Aristo, that’s all. And you’ll have to be quiet. I have elderly neighbours,’ she lied, ‘and I don’t want to disturb them.’

His dark, unwavering gaze fixed on hers and she felt a sudden rush of panic, for it seemed as though he could not only sense her lies, but also the reason behind them—as if the T-shirt she was wearing was printed with the truth.

‘I can do quiet, Theodora. Or have you forgotten?’

Her pulse fluttered, cheeks suddenly burning. No, she hadn’t forgotten. They had often been caught out by the strength of their desire, and on one particularly memorable occasion in a park they had satisfied their passion beneath the shade of a tree, hidden from passers-by. Quickly she pushed the thought away, wishing her brain hadn’t chosen to save that particular memory for posterity, but not even divorce proceedings had weakened the devastating pull of desire between them.

Ignoring the quivering tension of her body, she lifted her chin and smiled at him coolly. ‘It must have slipped my memory.’

Turning, she let the door fall back on his foot, his grunt of pain giving her a momentary but sharp satisfaction.

Stopping what she considered a safe distance away from him, she watched as he strolled into her living room, his assessing gaze travelling over the modest interior and no doubt contrasting it with the luxury of the apartment they’d once shared. But who cared what he thought? He was only here under sufferance, and she needed to make that clear to him.

‘I gave you my lawyer’s number for a reason. So why are you here?’ she asked stiffly.

She didn’t much care, but now that he was standing in her living room she realised there was no such thing as safe for her where Aristo was concerned. He was still wearing his suit, but he’d unbuttoned his shirt and lost the tie. Only, instead of making him less intimidating, his more relaxed appearance only seemed to emphasise his natural authority.

Add to that the fact that they were completely alone, it was no surprise that her head was starting to swim.

But it wasn’t just the tantalising temptation of his nearness that was making her hold her breath. Earlier she’d been so concerned about inadvertently revealing something about George that she’d been able to ignore her guilt at not doing so. In the unfamiliar surroundings of the Kildare Hotel it had felt almost like someone else’s life.

Now, though, it felt real, personal, and she could feel herself wavering. Could she really go through with this? Could she really cheat him out of knowing his son? Shouldn’t she at least give him the chance? And what about George? He’d already asked her why he didn’t have a daddy.

So far he was too young to really focus on the issue, but that would change…

‘I didn’t speak to her.’

It took her a moment to realise that he was replying to her question about her lawyer.

He was standing with his back to her, studying the books on her shelves, and she stared tensely at him, remembering how he’d loved to lie with that same head on her lap and how she’d loved to run her fingers through the thick, black hair…

She jumped slightly as he turned, her cheeks flushing with colour as his all-seeing dark eyes fixed on hers.

‘There was no point,’ he said blithely. ‘Why pay legal fees when we can talk for free?’

Her skin felt suddenly too tight. There was a long, steady silence as she stared at him incredulously. If she hadn’t been so stunned, she might have laughed. ‘Are you giving me advice?’

There was another long silence, and then he shrugged. ‘Somebody has to. Clearly whoever has been doing so up until now can’t have had your best interests at heart.’

He watched her green eyes widen, feeling childishly but intensely gratified that his words had clearly scored a direct hit. And then he caught sight of the two glasses and abruptly his mood changed, for clearly she hadn’t been planning on spending the evening alone.

Ever since she’d more or less fled from him, he’d been questioning her motives for doing so. Although he knew their relationship was purely professional, Edward Claiborne and Teddie had looked good together, and it had got to him—for, just like his mother, Teddie was not the kind of women to be alone. Despite her denial, he had no doubt that somewhere in the city there was a nameless, faceless man who had stepped into his shoes.

In fact that was why he’d found himself standing on her doorstep. Even just imagining it made a knot of rage form in his stomach, and that enraged him further—the fact that she still had the power to affect him after all these years.

His shoulders tensed. ‘Or perhaps they have their own agenda.’

Teddie felt a rush of anger spread over her skin like a heat rash. ‘Nobody has been giving me advice. I make my own decisions—although I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.’ Heart thumping, she lifted her gaze to his. ‘It was always a difficult concept for you, wasn’t it, Aristo? My being an independent woman?’

His eyes flickered, and she could almost see the fuse inside of him catch light.

‘If by “independent” you mean self-absorbed and unsupportive, then, yes, I suppose it was.’

She caught her breath. The room felt suddenly cramped and airless, as though it had shrunk in the face of his anger—an anger which fed the outrage that had been simmering inside her since meeting him earlier.

‘You’re calling me self-absorbed and unsupportive?’ She glared at him, the sheer injustice of his statement blowing her away. She could feel her grip on her temper starting to slip. How dare he turn up here, in her home, and start throwing accusations at her?

But even as she choked on her anger, she wasn’t really surprised. Back when she’d loved him, she’d known that he had a single-minded vision of the world—a world in which he was always in the right and always had the last word. Her refusing to talk to him now simply didn’t fit with that expectation.

Her motives, her needs, were irrelevant. As far as he was concerned she had merely issued him with a challenge that must instantly be confronted and crushed.

Queasily, she remembered his cold hostility when she’d refused to give up her job. Was that when their marriage had really ended? It was certainly the moment when she’d finally been forced to acknowledge the facts. That marrying Aristo had not been an act of impulse, driven by an undeniable love, but a mistake based on a misguided hope and longing to have a place in his life, and in his heart.

But Aristo didn’t have a heart, and he hadn’t come to her apartment to return a pack of cards. As usual, he just wanted to have the last word.

Crossing her arms to contain the ache in her chest, she lifted her chin. ‘If you believe that, then perhaps I should have given you the number for my doctor, as you’re clearly delusional,’ she snapped. ‘Wanting to carry on doing a job I loved didn’t make me self-absorbed, Aristo. It was an act of self-preservation.’

Aristo stared at her, his shoulders rigid with frustration. ‘Self-preservation!’ he scoffed. ‘You were living in a penthouse in Manhattan with a view of Central Park. You were hardly on Skid Row.’ He shook his dark head in disbelief. ‘That’s the trouble with you, Teddie—you’re so used to performing you turn every single part of your life into a stunt, even this conversation.’

They were both almost shouting now, their bodies braced against the incoming storm.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘You think this is a conversation?’ she snapped. ‘You didn’t come here to converse. I bruised your ego so you wanted—’

‘Mommy—Mommy!’

The child’s voice came from somewhere behind her, cutting through her angry tirade like a scythe through wheat. Turning instantly, instinctively, Teddie cleared her throat.

‘Oh, sweetheart, it’s all right.’

Her son, George, blinked up at her. He was wearing his pyjamas and holding his favourite toy boat and she felt a rush of pure, fierce love as she looked down into his huge, anxious dark eyes.

‘Mommy shouted…’

He bit his lip and, hearing the wobble in his voice, she reached down and curved her arm unsteadily around his stocky little waist and pulled him closer, pressing his body against hers. ‘I’m sorry, darling. Did Mommy wake you?’

Lifting him up, she held him tightly as he nodded his head against her shoulder.

Watching Teddie press her face against the little dark-haired boy’s cheek, Aristo felt his stomach turn to ice.

He felt winded by the discovery that she had a child. No, it was more than that: he felt wounded, even though he could come up with no rational explanation for why that should be the case.

His pulse was racing like a bolting horse, his thoughts firing off in every direction. He could hardly take it in, but there could be no mistake. This child was Teddie’s son. But why hadn’t she told him?

Thinking back to their earlier conversation, he replayed her words and felt an icy fury rise up inside of him. Not only had she said nothing, she’d lied to his face when he’d asked her about her family. Of course he’d been talking about siblings, cousins, aunts—but why hadn’t she told him then? Why had she kept her son a secret?

At that moment the little boy lifted his face and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. At the periphery of his vision he could see Teddie turning to face him, and then he knew why, for her green eyes were telling him what her mouth—that beautiful, soft, deceiving mouth—had failed to do earlier.

This was his son.

Like a drowning man, he saw his whole life speeding through his head—meeting Teddie at that dinner, her long dark hair swinging forward half-hiding a smile that had stolen his breath away, the echoing emptiness of his apartment, and that moment in the Kildare when she’d hesitated…

He breathed out unsteadily, and abruptly his pulse juddered to a halt.

Only, he wasn’t drowning in water, but in lies. Teddie’s lies.

The resentment and hostility he’d felt after she’d left him, the shock of bumping into her today—all of it was swept aside in a firestorm of fury so blindingly white and intense that he had to reach out and steady himself against a bookcase.

But the luxury of losing his temper with Teddie would have to wait. Right now it was time to meet his son.

‘I’m sorry too,’ he said gently, making sure that none of the emotions roiling inside his head were audible in his voice as he smiled at his son for the first time.

‘But you don’t need to worry.’ Skewering Teddie with his gaze, he took a step closer. ‘Mommy and I are going to have a chat, aren’t we?’

He turned to Teddie, making sure that the smooth blandness of his voice in no way detracted from the blistering rage in his eyes. Hearing her small, sharp intake of breath, he felt the glacier in his chest start to scrape forward. It had been barely audible, but it was all the confirmation he needed.

Forcing herself to meet his gaze, Teddie nodded mechanically, but inside her head a mantra of panic-stricken thoughts was beating in time to her heartbeat. He knows. He knows George is his son. What am I going to do?

Clearing her throat, she smiled. ‘Yes, that’s right. We’re going to have a grown-ups talk. And you, young man, are going to be taken back to bed.’

Although, given that her legs felt as though they were made of blancmange, that might be easier to say than do.

Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘But not before you’ve introduced me, of course.’

Her chin jerked up, but his glittering gaze silenced her words of objection.

‘This is my son, George,’ she said stiffly.

‘Hello, George.’ Aristo smiled. ‘I’m very honoured to meet you. My name is Aristo Leonidas, and I’m an old friend of your mommy’s.’

Gazing into his son’s eyes—dark eyes that were almost identical in shape and colour to his own—he felt his stomach tighten painfully. George had his jawline and his high cheekbones; the likeness between them was remarkable, undeniable. At the same age they would have looked like twins.

As George smiled uncertainly back at him he felt almost blinded with outrage at Teddie’s deceit. His son must be three years old. How much had he missed during that time? First tooth. First word. First steps. Holidays and birthdays. And in the future, what other occasions would he have unknowingly not attended—graduation, wedding day…

He gritted his teeth.

Maybe he’d not actually thought about becoming a father, but Teddie had unilaterally taken away his right to be one. How was he ever going to make good the time he’d missed? No, not missed, he thought savagely. Teddie had cheated him of three years of his son’s life. Worse, not only had she deliberately kept his son a secret from him for all that time, she had clearly been planning to keep him in ignorance of George’s existence for ever.

Hell, she’d even lied to him tonight, telling him that he had to be quiet because of her elderly neighbours.

Glancing up, he refocused on his son’s face and, seeing the confusion in George’s eyes, pushed his anger away. ‘I know you’re not ready to shake hands yet and that’s a good thing, because we need to get to know each other a bit better first. But maybe we could just bump knuckles for now.’

Raising his hand, he curled his fingers into a fist, his heart contracting as his son copied him, and they gently bumped fists.

‘Hey, what’s that? Is that a boat?’ Aristo watched as George uncurled his fingers.

‘It’s my boat,’ he said solemnly.

‘I love your boat.’ Aristo glanced at it admiringly. ‘I have a real boat like that. Maybe you could come for a ride on it with Mommy. Would you like that?’

George nodded, and Teddie felt her chest hollow out with panic.

Watching the sudden intimacy between her ex-husband and their son, she felt something wrench apart inside her, for the two of them were so close—not just physically but in their very likeness. It was both touching and terrifying, almost overwhelmingly so.

Clearing her throat, she smiled stiffly. ‘That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, George? Right now though, it really is time to go back to bed.’

In his bedroom, she tucked him under his duvet, keeping up a steady stream of chatter until his eyelids fluttered shut.

If only she could just crawl in beside him and close her eyes too. Remembering the look on Aristo’s face as he’d worked out that George was his son, she felt her pulse begin beating in her neck like a moth against glass. Despite his outer calm, she knew that he was angry—more angry than she had ever seen him, more angry than she could have imagined possible.

Not that she could blame him, she thought, guilt scraping over her skin like sandpaper. Had their roles been reversed she would have been just as furious. And the fact that part of her had always wanted to tell him the truth didn’t feel like much of a defence.

She really should be relieved, though, for it had been getting harder and harder to keep lying.

But now she would have to pay the price for those lies and face his anger. That was bad enough, but more terrifying still was the sudden knife-twist of realisation that Aristo had both a moral and a legal right to be in his son’s life. It didn’t matter about their divorce. George was his son, and if he wanted to press that point home he had the power and the money to do so emphatically—not just here in her apartment but in court.

The thought of facing Aristo in court made her want to throw up.

So face him now, she ordered herself. And, taking a deep breath, she stood up and made her way back to the living room.

He swung round towards her, and her heart began beating so fast she thought it would burst through her ribs. She had thought he was angry before, but clearly each minute that had passed during her absence had increased his fury exponentially, so that now, as he walked towards her, it was the arctic blast of his contempt that held her frozen to the spot.

‘I knew you were shallow and unscrupulous,’ he said, his eyes gleaming like black ice, ‘but at what point exactly did your morals become so skewed that you decided to keep my son a secret from me?’

‘That’s not fair—’

His black eyes slammed into hers. ‘Fair? You’re really quite something, Teddie. I thought you just stole money from me. Turns out you stole my son.’

‘I didn’t steal him—’ she began, but he cut her off.

‘Oh, I’m sure you’ve post-rationalised it. What did you tell yourself? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him?’ he imitated her voice. ‘It’ll be for the best.’

‘I did do it for the best.’ Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were level with his. ‘I did what was best for me, Aristo, because there was only me.’

He felt his breathing jerk. ‘Not true. You had a husband.’

‘Ex-husband,’ she snapped. ‘We were divorced by then. Not that it would have made any difference. You were never there.’

His eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘You really can’t help yourself, can you? It’s just lie after lie after lie.’

Teddie swallowed. It was true—she had lied repeatedly. But not because she’d wanted to and not about the past. It wasn’t fair of Aristo to judge her with hindsight. He might be in shock now, but she’d had just the same shock four years ago when, thanks to him, she’d been homeless and alone.

‘I was going to tell you—’ She broke off as he laughed, the bitterness reverberating around the small room.

‘Of course you were.’

‘I didn’t mean now—today. I meant in the future.’

‘The future?’ He repeated the word slowly, as though not quite sure of its meaning. ‘What’s wrong with the present? What was wrong with this morning?’

‘It all happened so quickly.’ She looked at him defensively. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’

Aristo stared at her in disbelief. ‘And that’s a reason, is it? Reason enough for my son to grow up without a father? Or have you got some surrogate daddy in mind? Is that why you ran out on me this morning?’

The thought stung. He might not have been celibate, but dating—certainly anything serious—had been the last thing on his mind for the past four years. Work—in particular the expansion of his empire, and more recently his upcoming flotation on the stock exchange—had taken up so much of his time and energy. On those occasions when he’d needed a ‘plus-one’, he been careful to keep her at a distance.

Clearly Teddie had found him far easier to replace.

His eyes narrowed. ‘I mean, it’s just what you do, isn’t it, Teddie? That’s your real act! Not all this nonsense.’ He held up the box of cards. ‘You set it all up.’ Set me up, he thought savagely. ‘Then take what you want and move on.’

‘If you’re talking about our marriage, I had plenty of reasons to leave. And I didn’t take anything.’

She felt a sudden sharp pang of guilt as she thought of her son—their son—but then she repeated his sneering reference to her work as ‘nonsense’ inside her head, and pushed her guilt aside.

Glaring at him, she shook her head, whipping her dark hair like a horse swatting flies with its tail. ‘And not that it’s any of your business but there is no man in my life, and there’s certainly no daddy in George’s.’

The outrage in her voice sounded real, and he wanted to believe her for his pride’s sake, if nothing else. But, aside from the faint flush of colour creeping over her cheeks, she had already told so many different lies in such a short space of time that it was hard to believe anything she said. Clearly lying was second nature to her.

His heart was suddenly speeding and his skin felt cool and clammy with shock—not just at finding out he was a father, but at how ruthlessly Teddie had played him.

‘So let me get this clear,’ he said slowly. ‘At some unspecified point in the future you were planning on telling me about my son?’

Teddie hesitated. If only she could plead the Fifth Amendment but this was one question that required an answer. Actually, it required the truth.

‘I don’t know. Honestly, most days I’m just trying to deal with the day-to-day of work and being a mom to George.’

And grieving for the man I loved and lost.

Blocking off the memories of those terrible weeks and months after they’d split, she cleared her throat. ‘We were already divorced by the time I found out I was pregnant. We weren’t talking, and you weren’t even in the country.’

His eyes bored into eyes. ‘And so you just unilaterally decided to disappear into thin air with my child? He’s my son—not some prop in your magic show.’

Stung, and shocked by the level of emotion in his voice, she said defensively, ‘I know and I’m sorry.’

He swore under his breath. ‘Sorry is not enough, Teddie. I have a child, and I fully intend to get to know him.’

It wasn’t an outright threat, more a statement of intent, but she could see that his shock at discovering he was a father was fading and in its place was that familiar need to take control of the situation.

She felt a ripple of apprehension run down her backbone. Where did that leave her?

Last time she and Aristo had gone head to head she’d been cast out from his kingdom, her unimportance in his life no longer just a private fear but an actuality.

But four years ago she’d been young and in love, unsure of her place in the world. Now, though, she was a successful businesswoman and a hands-on single mother—and, most important of all, she understood what she’d been too naive and too dazzled to see four years ago.

Aristo had no capacity for or interest in emotional ties. She’d learned that first-hand over six agonising months spent watching his obsession with work consume their marriage and exclude her from his life.

She brought her eyes back to his. Yes, she should have told him the truth, but he’d given her no reason to do so—no reason other than biology for her to allow him into George’s life.

And now? Maybe if Aristo had been a different kind of man she would have caved, but she knew that no matter how insistent he was now about wanting to get to know their son, it was only a matter of time before he lost interest—like her own father had. But George would not grow up as she had, feeling as though he was at the bottom of his father’s agenda.

‘Our son is not some chess piece you can move about on a board to suit you, Aristo. He’s a person with feelings and needs—’

He cut her off. ‘Yes, he is, and he needs to see me—his father.’

Folding her arms, Teddie glared at him, anger leaping over her skin in pulses. ‘He needs consistency and security—not somebody offering him trips on a speedboat and then disappearing for days.’

He shook his head dismissively. ‘I’m standing right here, Teddie.’

‘For how long?’ she countered. ‘A day? A week? I mean, when exactly is your next business trip?’

His jaw tightened. ‘That is irrelevant.’

‘No, it’s not. I’m being realistic about your limitations.’

Looking away, she clenched her fists. And her limitations. Her life might be bereft of romance and passion, but it was peaceful. The thought of having Aristo flitting in and out of her and George’s life was just too unbearable to contemplate.

‘I have rights, Teddie,’ he said quietly, and something in his voice pulled her gaze back to his face. ‘I’m guessing you can live with ignoring that fact—you’ve managed it for four years. But George has rights too, and I’m wondering what’s going to happen when he realises that he has a father—a father you kept at arm’s length. Can you live with that?’

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