Chapter 3

He was just lifting the glass of champagne to his mouth when he realized the shift of attention from the group of men he had entered into a desultory, if somewhat tedious, conversation with.

A few of them were his friends; the others, he knew, were men determined to pick his 'brain' to find out his 'supposed secret' - the one the various financial magazines are constantly referring to when they call his unprecedented success, surpassing the 'American Dream.'

He knew some of these men resented his rise to power and wealth and hid it beneath vapid smiles and forced joviality.

He did not care who accepted him; he had attained the impossible and intended to stay right where he was.

A touch of anger and annoyance shimmered through him as some of the men standing next to him started murmuring as they took in the stunning woman who had glided into the large and overcrowded ballroom on the arm of a man who could easily pass for a model.

Giving him a cursory glance, Flynn let his gaze wander over the exquisite curves of the woman he hoped would agree to provide him with an heir.

The dress was of a metallic blue color, shimmering from the dozens of dazzling chandeliers hanging from the concave roof. Even from several feet away, he could see the flawlessness of her cocoa-brown skin. Her shoulders were bare, the dress snugly highlighting her curves.

"Glen must have been blind." A rather dull banker murmured as he sipped pricey champagne and watched the couple venture further into the room. "With an exquisite creature like that, how could he possibly prefer the company of a man?"

"Unless she was cold in bed-" Another snickered, unaware that Flynn had to curb the instinct to ram his fist down the bastard's throat.

"She is excellent in the courtroom." Another murmured. "I have seen her in action, and she takes no prisoners."

"Gentlemen," Liam interrupted smoothly, his expression urbane as he smiled at the group. He had seen the icy displeasure on Flynn's face and was very sensibly trying to avoid a scene. "The speech is about to begin. Why don't we retire to the front so we don't miss our cues?"

"Ah, yes."

"We will be right behind you." Touching a restraining hand on Flynn's immaculate black jacket, he waited until the crowd had dispersed. "They are vicious and narrow-minded and not worth making a scene over." Putting down his champagne glass, Liam gave him a curious glance. "Friend of yours?"

"No." Flynn bit out. "I just hate it when men gossip."

"That's what the rich and entitled do best," Liam told him with a grin. "We have a lot of money, and we get bored, so we feed off people's lives and live for any bad thing that happens. It prevents us from focusing too much on our own aimless lives."

Switching his amber eyes to his friend, he gave the man a mocking look. "Speaking from experience?"

Liam's grin widened. "Before I met my beloved wife, I would have said yes. Now, I am the soul of discretion." His gaze wandered over to the woman who was by now surrounded by several others. "She is holding up well."

"Why shouldn't that be the case?" Flynn retorted, his eyes swinging back to Ryleigh. "Ritchie was not man enough for her anyway. He proved it by keeping his other life a secret to cloak it in respectability. She is better off."

Liam agreed. "Although some might say that he is not feeling the bitter taste of the breakup. He is still a sitting senator, and people are determined to give him a shot at the Oval Office."

"Not if I have anything to say about it.'

The resolute tone in his friend's voice had Liam eyeing him curiously. "I thought you were not a friend of the young lady."

"She is a friend of my mother's." Flynn silently cursed himself for revealing too much. Liam was a perfect friend, but he was also a notorious gossip. But from the speculative look on the man's face, he knew he was not buying any of it. Seeking a quick diversion, he sighed silently in relief when he saw his mother approaching them.

"Saved by the bell," Liam told him wryly, eyes gleaming. "To be continued."

"Hi, Liam," Julia smiled at him charmingly. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Of course." Taking her hand in his, he kissed it lavishly before taking his leave.

Flynn noticed in amusement at the blush staining her porcelain cheeks. He threw her a knowing look, laughter curving his lips.

"He is such a charmer." She murmured, brushing her hands over her slender hips.

"I wouldn't know." His amber eyes searched for her lovely face. "What is it?"

"I spoke to Ryleigh."

"And?" He was not aware he was holding his breath until the warmth of her smile beamed at him. "She has agreed."

"Just like that?"

Julia nodded, amber eyes sparkling. "Oh darling, I am so happy."

His head lifted to stare at the woman having an animated conversation with the DA. Her escort was hovering next to her, one hand draped around her shoulders. Flynn knew who the man was, of course. He had done his research and knew they were excellent friends and nothing more.

"Darling?"

Tearing his eyes off her, he gave his mother his attention.

"Yes?"

"Are you happy?"

"Immensely."

*****

"I am ready if you are," Michael told her quietly as the hours passed. He had seen the fixed smile on her face as people continued to whisper behind their hands and send her curious looks.

"I am not running out like a scared rabbit," she told him loftily, lifting her chin and staring at a couple who were looking at her down.

"I admire your fortitude and courage, but the smile on your face is about to crack wide open. Honey, you are as stiff as the proverbial steel. I think it's time to bow out gracefully."

"I-" her voice trailed off, her fingers automatically digging into his jacket.

"What-" Michael felt his body stiffening, the anger coming to the fore as he stared at the man striding towards them. "That goddamned son of a bitch!" He hissed. "I am going to forget that I am carrying a badge and a gun-"

"No." Mustering up a strength she never knew she possessed, she faced the man, whom she had considered a friend and her former colleague, as he stopped right in front of them, a tentative smile on his beautiful face. She knew the drop in conversation around them and that people were straining to hear what was said.

"Ryleigh. Michael-" Jerome recoiled from the murderous look the other man was giving him and swung his gaze to look at her. "I know you are thinking that I shouldn't be here, but I -" he spread his hands in a pleading gesture.

"I am one of the presenters here tonight and could not get out of it." He started to reach for a hand, dropping his when she subtly stepped back. "I just want to tell you how sorry I am about what happened. I never meant to hurt you. We were friends, and I have the utmost respect for you-"

"So much so that you were carrying on with my fiancé. I understand perfectly." Reining in her temper, she took a breath. "I am not going to accept your apology. I would like to say that I am woman enough to move past this, but I am having a difficult time doing that."

She looked around and felt like a deer caught in the headlights as people stood there, peering at them curiously. "I suggest you go on about your business and get out of my face."

"Now." Michael gritted. "Before I forget, I am supposed to uphold the law."

Jerome took one look at the set look on his face, turned, and hurried away without another word.

For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Ryleigh was so acutely conscious of the stares and the bursts of conversation that she wanted to find a room, lock the doors, and never return.

"Take me home." She whispered to Michael in a suffocated voice.

"With pleasure."

Across the room, Flynn watched in helpless fury as the scene unfolded. He knew who the son of a bitch was, of course, and his first instinct had been to march over there and wrap his fingers around his neck.

The fierce protectiveness he was feeling towards the woman startled him, and that was what kept him in check. If he intervened, he would make a difficult situation much worse, and he did not want to do that to her.

So, he stood there and watched the scene unfold, hating the busybodies salivating over her misery. Tossing back the scotch he had switched to, he had just decided that he could not stomach much more when he watched the man hurrying away, his head bent, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself invisible.

Flynn felt his hands clenched into fists and had to turn away before he gave in to the urge to do some bodily damage.

Unaware of the reaction she was evoking in him, Ryleigh said her goodbyes to several people she considered her friend and gracefully made her way out of the room, her head held high.

*****

She held it together long enough to get to her place. Michael was her best friend, but even so, she did not relish having her naked emotions on display, not even to him. The shock of seeing Jerome at the function had taken its toll, and the humiliation had started again. Not to mention the pain of losing a man she had been in love with.

Stepping out of the dress, she hung it carefully inside the closet and went to the vanity mirror to clean off the little makeup she had on. Then she just sat there, staring at her image in the mirror. People were always admiring her skin tone. "You have such flawless skin, Ry."

She had always been told. She had inherited the shape of her face, the arched brows, and the small pointy nose from her mother. Her thick hair was an inheritance from her dad. She blinked as she recalled comparing Glen to him. And she had told him so.

"You remind me of him." She had said after one of their gentle lovemaking sessions. "He was an honorable man, and I did not think I would be saying this about a politician, but you have changed my point of view." They had discussed policies and the changes he wanted to invoke.

"I don't just want votes, darling." He looked so sincere, his light blue eyes shining. "I want to change the way people see us as public servants. So many things need to be done, and I want to make a difference. I hope you are preparing yourself to go straight to the White House." He had told her half teasingly.

"It's not something I am looking forward to, but I will make the sacrifice for you."

"Damn you!" She whispered tearfully. "Damn you for making a fool of me and making me believe you."

She was supposed to be acutely sensitive to people and their varying emotions. She had been called a shark in the courtroom. She could reduce a witness to a puddle and always tell when someone was lying.

That aspect of her character and tangible work ethic has been commented on several times in various society rags. An astute prosecutor like herself had no idea what was happening under her nose.

Her self-esteem had taken a severe beating, and for a few days, she had been unsure of herself. When it was time to go back inside the courtroom, she balked, but Rosalyn and Michael had boosted her confidence. Now, it was shattered again.

Seeing Jerome had destroyed her carefully reconstructed self-confidence and reduced her to a weeping lost soul. She hated victims and had vowed that she would never become one—until now, she thought bitterly.

Pressing a hand against her stomach, she closed her eyes. If she had been uncertain about becoming a surrogate before, that was no longer the case. She wanted something outside of work, and this was it.

*****

Grounding the cigar into the ashtray, Flynn lifted the glass of bourbon to his lips and took a contemplative sip. He was on his balcony enjoying the solitude.

He had left the function a few minutes after Ryleigh, deciding that he had had enough of the crowd and forced conversation. And if truth be told, he had spent the minutes following her humiliation simmering with righteous anger.

What he felt was confusing, considering that this woman meant nothing to him. He was entering into a business relationship with her; it was that simple. What would happen between them was a business transaction that would benefit- he frowned as his thoughts went blank.

Why was she agreeing to something like this, and why did he care? Because he did not want any surprises. She has been through a hell of a lot, and he empathizes because he knows what it does when someone you care about a great deal rears up and bites you in the ass.

He had felt the pain of rejection searing through his very soul when he discovered the woman he had been planning on marrying had been screwing with his uncle.

His heart was hardened, encased by steel bars he had erected after discovering the massive betrayal. He had opened his life to a woman who had turned around and trampled on it without mercy.

His money had not prevented her from screwing around on him. She was from the society he now belonged to and had told him laughingly that it did not matter. "It's not how you begin; it's how you end. And you have proven to the world that you have it in you to make something of yourself."

He had believed her, of course, and had damned well glowed from the compliment she had paid him. He had showered his wealth on her, buying her trinkets until she had protested that it was too much. "I just want you, darling." And he had believed her. Stretching his legs out, he drew a deep breath, his expression ferocious.

This was the perfect arrangement. He was acquiring an heir this way—no emotional attachment. Ignoring the spike in his heart rate as he recalled the vulnerable look on Ryleigh's face, he took another swallow of the liquor.

He would have his lawyers draw something up and start immediately. As his mother had often pointed out, he was thirty-five and wasn't getting any younger.

Tossing back the rest of the drink, he rose and entered his bedroom.

*****

The effect of the half bottle of brandy she had imbibed had taken its toll. After lying in bed for a full hour without falling asleep, she had gotten out of bed in frustration and went for the brandy.

The alcohol had managed to dull her senses and sent her into a deep slumber. But now, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, jammed tight with no space in between.

After the first month of drinking herself to sleep, when the disaster struck, she had vowed that she would not allow that son of a bitch to turn her into an alcoholic.

But last night had been unexpected, and her emotions were unprepared to see a blast from the past. Damn and blast fate for sending Jerome to the function last night, one that she never wanted to go to in the first place.

Sitting in bed, she grabbed her head as the room spun. Swallowing the nausea that had surged into her throat, she tentatively stretched her legs out and climbed out of bed. Clutching the headboard, she steadied herself for a few minutes before attempting to go to the bathroom.

For once, the elegant, cool green and blue room did nothing to soothe her senses. Putting the paper cup under the tap, she filled it to the brim and drank thirstily, managing to keep it down. Moving slowly to the commode, she put the seat down and sat, her head cradled between her hands.

This was punishment, she thought wearily. God was punishing her for some unknown reason. Unwittingly, she felt the tears burning the back of her eyes as self-pity seized her in its vicious and unrelenting grip. She congratulated herself on accomplishing success in her work and personal life.

People stared at her in envy whenever she stepped into a room with Glen on her arm. His smooth, handsome face, the wholesomeness of his looks, the light blue eyes, superbly cut sandy brown hair, and his tall, rangy build had made her proud to be his. But that had all been a lie.

Swallowing the bile rising to her throat, she rose slowly and made her way over to the sink to splash cold water on her face. Filling the cup again, she drank more slowly and felt the pounding inside her temples lessening.

*****

"Mother?" Flynn looked up from the blueprint he was studying as she entered his home office.

"I was hoping we would have breakfast." She looked doubtfully at the pile of documents on his desk. A pot of coffee was at his elbow, and from the looks of things, he had already gone through half of it.

"I want to finish this before I get to the meeting at three."

"Darling, you have to eat."

He sent her a brief, distracted smile as he emailed his very efficient assistant, instructing her to reschedule several meetings he had lined up for the morning. "I have things to attend to," he said.

"Well, if you won't join me-" They both looked up at the sound of knocking on the door.

"Come in," Julia called out.

Flynn squelched a sigh of impatience when a maid came in, wheeling a splendid tea service.

"It's fine, Margaret; I will do the serving."

With a nod, the woman hurried out of the room and closed the doors behind her.

"I don't have time-"

"I suggest you make some." Julia wheeled the tray towards a low-slung green and gold brocade sofa beneath a large bay window. In front of the couch was a sturdy oak table polished to a high sheen.

"I asked Mrs. Gunther to prepare blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs." She looked at him with a beaming smile as she poured the freshly squeezed orange juice into two glasses. "Remember when you turned fourteen, and we could scarcely afford oranges?"

His expression softened, and he felt the annoyance melt away. She had done so much to make his life easier; surely, he could put aside work for half an hour to have breakfast with her.

Pushing away from his desk, he joined her on the sofa, a smile touching his stern mouth. "You stopped at the corner store and asked the proprietor to give you the oranges that were not fit to be sold. Then you came home and squeezed oranges, minus the pulp."

Taking the chilled glass from her, he sipped the delicious citrus drink, his smile deepening. "It was a far cry from what we have now."

Passing him a plate laden with food, she smiled at him proudly. "You made that happen, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you are my son."

He felt the lump clogging his throat and had to put aside his juice. Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips. "I am the fortunate one." he countered softly. "I have you for a mother, and you never gave up on me."

Julia felt the tears burning the back of her eyes. "Now you are on the verge of having your child, hopefully, a son, and you will discover that there is nothing you wouldn't do for him."

Squeezing her hand, he reached for his plate and ate in companionable silence with her.