Chapter 22

The driveto Bozeman took well over an hour. Scarlett found the hotel Malcom had given her and parked at the far end of the lot. She'd borrowed her brother's huge truck, it took up two spots, but she didn't care. She cut the engine, sat back, and exhaled. It was midafternoon and the sun was high, the blacktop practically sizzled.

The hotel was one of the priciest places in town and catered to folks with hefty bank accounts. There were expensive vehicles coming and going, large SUVs with blacked out windows or sleek sports cars in cherry red or silver.

She pulled down the mirror and had a critical look at herself. She hadn't slept at all, and it had taken mad skills to cover up the bruises under her eyes. She'd applied mascara and gloss, but that was it. Happy that she didn't look as terrible as she felt, she flipped the mirror back up and before she chickened out and changed her mind, slid out of the truck.

She'd chosen a long skirt, a wrap around in a cheetah print, and paired it with a plain white T-shirt and tennis shoes. Her hair was in a knot on top of her head, and with a headache on the horizon loosened it, letting the waves fall as she crossed the street and headed inside hotel.

The interior was cool, and she shivered as she crossed the large, bright foyer, then paused near the concierge. She'd told Malcom she would meet him in the bistro at four o'clock. She glanced at her watch; she had twenty minutes to spare.

A young woman smiled as she walked into the restaurant. "Table for two?"

"A booth please?"

"Sure thing."

Scarlett was led to a corner booth near the back of the room. Half obscured by a large potted plant, it gave her the privacy she needed, and thankful for that, she sat down and ordered an orange juice and a glass of water. She checked her phone, but there was still no response from Taz. She stared at his name, willing him to message her back and tell her everything was going to be all right, instead a text popped up from Lacey. Simple and to the point.

Thinking of you.

She was about to reply when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she glanced up. Malcom was at the bar, his dark eyes on her, a slow smile spreading across his face. The bartender—a female—was chatting in his ear and he nodded at whatever she was saying but didn't take his eyes off of Scarlett.

Her nerves already on high alert, ballooned, and she broke out in a sweat. She wanted desperately to look away, but a part of her knew she couldn't back down or show any kind of weakness. So, she mustered up as much of the Bridgestone stubbornness and strength that she could and lifted her chin in a subtle fuck you.

Malcom's eyebrows rose in surprise, then he grabbed two wine glasses and sat down across from her.

Score one for Scarlett.

"A nice Pinot Grigio, just as you like." He pushed one of the glasses her way.

"I'm not here to drink." Carefully, she moved the wine glass to the side and placed her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together to form a triangle. "What do you want?" Her question was blunt.

If Malcom was once more surprised at her attitude he didn't show it. Instead, he made a show and swished the wine in his glass, then held it high and peered closely at its legs. Once satisfied he took a generous sip before setting it down.

"It's nice. You should try it, luv."

His voice was smooth, the accent like butter, and she noted the interest from every single woman in the bistro. But so did he. He'd always known the power of his good looks because he'd reaped the rewards. She'd been a prize once, and now? Now she had no idea what he was really up to.

"Do I need to repeat my question?"

"Come on, Scarlett." He leaned closer and it took every ounce of strength she had not to wince and pull back. "Don't make this hard on me. I'm here to apologize, of course. For my bad behavior."

"Bad behavior?" she retorted hotly. She grabbed up her glass of water and took a good long drink, mind reliving thoughts and images from that dark time. She set down the empty tumbler and glared at him. "You disappeared from the flat. Your cell number didn't work. I couldn't find you anywhere. You left me alone and pregnant in a country that wasn't mine, and you call that bad behavior?"

Her raised voice drew looks, but she didn't care.

"I don't mean to underestimate your pain. I behaved badly. But Scarlett, you have to understand, you caught me unawares. There were things going in my life and you became a?—"

"An unwanted complication."

He nodded and actually smiled as if she'd just won a prize. "Exactly."

God, she wanted to break his perfect nose, or run her nails across his cheek and leave a trail of blood behind. He was everything wrong in a man, wrapped up in a handsome package.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Malcom. I don't want to rehash the months we spent together because I know they weren't real. Not for you anyway. I've made a life for myself and you're not a part of it, so I will ask you one last time, why are you really here?"

She was tense, her knuckles white as she gripped the tumbler, not because she wanted a drink, but because she needed to hold on to something or she just might break.

"I want a second chance."

"Not happening."

Something shifted in his eyes, something dark. Fear curled in her belly as she stared across the table at him, and she hoped like hell he couldn't sense it.

Malcom angled his head to the side, as if considering his next move. He slowly brought the wine glass to his lips and took another long sip before meeting her gaze.

"I should make you aware of a few things."

Okay, that fear was now a big lead ball. She felt nauseous.

"My full name is Malcom David Kingsley."

"Shocking. I never would have guessed you to be the misleading type." She kept her tone light, but inside she was fighting a war to keep her shit together.

He ignored her quip. "I'm next in line to be the Earl of Kingsbury, a seat in Ireland that my family has held for centuries."

That was news. She kept her face still and said nothing.

"What that means is that I have the time and resources to make your life…" He paused and softened his eyes. "Difficult in certain areas that pertain to our son."

She tried to swallow the knot in her throat. "He's mine," she whispered fiercely.

"Yes," Malcom said softly. "But he's also mine and I want to get to know him."

Scarlett glanced to the side, her mind whirling in a million different directions. "I don't understand," she finally said, raising her head again.

"I love you, Scarlett. I always have and I think," he paused dramatically. "I always will. Yes, I made a mistake all those months ago."

"Year and a half."

"What's that?" He frowned.

"It's been a year and a half, Malcom. I've moved on."

"I see." He watched her closely and she saw the question in his eyes before he asked it. "Who's the man from the barbecue?"

"There were a lot of men there."

"Don't play games. It doesn't suit you. The man who wasn't your brother."

"He's not your concern."

"Fair enough," Malcom replied. "But Hank is." At her surprised look he shrugged. "I know his full name, Hank Brecken Bridgestone. His weight at birth, seven pounds four ounces. I know that he was twenty-two inches long. I know?—"

"How do you know these things?" She leaned closer. "How did you find me? I never told you I was a Bridgestone. I used my mother's maiden name when I traveled."

"I told you. I have money and resources. I want to know my son," Malcom said. "We will spend the next week together and once you calm down, you'll see that it's in your best interest to let me in."

"I'm not going to spend one more minute with you." She grabbed her purse, anger and confusion making her head spin.

"I'm not asking, luv." Malcom got to his feet before she could and smiled down at her. "We well spend the next week together."

"That's fucking crazy." If he was shocked at her language Malcom didn't show it.

His voice changed, pumped up by an underlying band of steel. "If you do not agree to spend this one week together, which is not a lot to ask for, I will unleash such legal fury upon you, that you will not survive it. You can't keep me from the boy."

"You don't care about him," she lashed out. Hot tears poked the corners of her eyes, and she could barely keep it together.

Malcom stepped back. "I'm here until tomorrow night. I'll wait to hear from you. Don't take too long in your answer."

He moved away and threaded his way through the tables, then disappeared from sight. For a few moments Scarlett sat there, stunned at a conversation she hadn't seen coming. None of this made sense, but she was too wired and upset to unravel the puzzle.

Slowly, she got to her feet and took exactly two steps when the bartender hailed her.

"Miss?"

She turned back. "Yes?"

"Um, the bill?"

Scarlett stared at the woman for a few seconds, and then couldn't stop the hysterical giggles that bubbled up. Seriously? She grabbed some bills from her purse and handed them over, then marched outside and hopped into the truck.

Her phone pinged and she checked it, her heart skipping a beat when she spied Taz's name. He'd finally answered her text message with a simple reply.

Scarlett: I'll drop by later.

Taz: Good. We need to talk.

She stared at the words until they blurred and then called Lacey. Her friend picked up on the first ring.

"How'd it go?" Lacey asked.

"Can I swing by?"

"Of course. Johnny is taking Punk to the park in a bit. Are you okay?"

"I'm…I don't know what I am." She eased out of the parking lot. "Does your cousin still practice law?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I'll be an hour or so. I'll explain everything then."

Scarlett ended the call and headed back to Big Bend. She made good time and Lacey met her at the door. "They're gone but I don't know how long they'll be at the park. Do you want anything?"

"No."

"You look terrible."

"I feel worse."

"What's going on?" Lacey asked, pointing to a chair in the living room. Scarlett was too nervous to sit. She paced back and forth.

"He says he wants to get to know Hank."

"Is that so awful?" At Scarlett's dark look, Lacey gentled her voice. "He is the father. Don't you want Hank to know him?"

No. Scarlett knew this was all wrong.

"I know there's more to it than what he's saying. He's acting like how he thinks he's supposed to act. He doesn't care about Hank. He's not asked me one question about him. Not one. Not even for a photo to see what his son looks like. And why now? Why after all this time is he here? Why does he want to spend a week with me?"

"He what?"

"He wants us to spend a week together and if I don't agree to it, he'll start all kinds of legal proceedings for some kind of custody of Hank. He told me he's actually an Earl or going to be an Earl. His full name is Malcom David Kingsley, and he has a lot of money and he'll use it."

"Oh, Scarlett," Lacey murmured, obviously shocked at her revelations.

"He is the father, so why wouldn't a court give him partial custody? What if they give him full? What if he lies and says things that aren't true?" A sob escaped her. "How would that work with Malcom in Ireland and me here?"

"I don't know," Lacey said softly.

"I grew up without a mother and I won't let Hank live one day without me. I can't send him to Ireland for weeks or months at a time to live with a virtual stranger. I won't do it. I can't do it."

"You're not seriously considering this."

"What choice do I have? He's up to something. He's not being honest." Scarlett's mind went off in a million different directions. "Maybe time away with Malcom will make it easier for me to figure out what he's hiding."

"Maybe he thinks he can charm you back into his bed. Maybe that's his plan."

"There's only one man I want and it's not Malcom."

"Are you going to tell Taz?"

"What?" Alarmed at the thought she shook her head vigorously. "No. If Taz knew that Malcom was blackmailing me into spending the week with him, he'd kill him. He'd do something stupid, and I can't have that kind of blowback come at him. I love him too much."

Oh.Her eyes widened as her friend approached. Shit. She'd actually said the words out loud.

"Don't worry," Lacey said. "I won't tell."

"I love him," she whispered fiercely. "But I need to take care of this part of my life before I can tell him."

"Where will you go."

"To New York City. But before I do, I'm hoping your cousin can draw up some papers, a custody type thing. If I can figure out his real reason for this week together, maybe I can get him to agree to give me full custody. He can visit Hank here in Montana, but he will not take my son away from me. Can you call your cousin?"

"Yes." Lacey pulled her into a hug. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"Thank you." Scarlett stepped away. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Are you going to see Taz before you leave?"

She nodded. "I'm headed there now."

"What are you going to tell him?"

A tear slid down her face. "I don't know."

"If he doesn't know the whole truth he might not take kindly to your way of handling things."

Her world was about to turn on end, and she had no idea if it would ever recover. "I know," she whispered, then strode out to her truck.