Chapter 1

"I want ice cream!" the little girl's shrill voice echoed through the small salon as she prepared for a full-blown tantrum.

"Now, darling," her grandmother's gentle voice intervened as she tried to prevent that from happening. "You know we cannot have sweets for breakfast."

"I want ice cream!" The shriek became louder, accompanied by foot stamping.

Rachel St. Clair was about to use a firmer voice when her granddaughter went still, her rounded blue-gray eyes trained on the doorway.

"I could hear you down the hall." The little girl's father leveled her with a steely look that caused her to step back against the wall.

Turning to the nanny who had jumped to attention, he said harshly. "Take her into the dining room and see that it's properly fed." Turning back to his daughter, who was looking at him with wide eyes, he snapped.

"You are getting something nutritious for breakfast, and because of your atrocious behavior, there will be no ice cream for a week. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Daddy." She whispered.

"Come along, Madison," The nanny hurried over to take her hand and led her out of the room.

"Darling, she is just a child," Rachel said quietly, watching as the tall, athletically built man with blue-black hair strode to the cabinet to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"And you spoil her rotten."

"Someone has to," Rachel muttered as she gathered up the notepad and papers she had been working with before the interruption. "You are taking out your anger and bitterness on her. She had nothing to do with what her mother did."

Royce's hands jerked a little as he brought the cup to his lips. His back was turned towards her as he stared out the window, his gaze captured absently by the gardeners trimming the hedges along the perimeter fencing. Roses bloomed, and many colors burst from the ground in a contained and landscaped beauty.

It was summer, the brilliance of the sunbathing in the area, the sunlight dappling the delicate petals. But all that was lost on the man standing with the coffee cup in his hand, his blue-gray eyes- the shade passed to his daughter, glittering with cold anger.

Even after five years had passed, he was still unable to shake the bitterness and rage whenever he recalled how he had been tricked by the treacherous bitch who mothered his daughter.

Fortunately, Madison was the spitting image of him, with the same shade of blue-black hair and blue-gray eyes. While his skin was the golden tan usual for his coloring, hers was a delicate cream and rose complexion inherited from her natural blonde mother.

Taking a sip of the coffee, he turned to face his mother, a forbidding expression that spoke volumes. "I will not have you spoiling her," he told her coldly.

"I am doing my best-"

"If that nanny is not firm enough with her, I will fire her and hire someone else. Am I clear?"

Rachel stared at him in dismay. "Glenna is very good with her!"

"If she is that good, Madison would not be causing a scene and thinking she is entitled to whatever she thinks she should have. The next time she throws a tantrum, the nanny will be out of here."

"Darling, she is only five."

"And smart enough to know she can pitch a fit to get what she wants. I am not going to tolerate such behavior." Tossing back his coffee, he put the cup down and headed toward the door.

"Royce?" Her soft, cultured voice stopped him at the door.

"Yes?"

"You are letting her win."

The only reaction he revealed was the stiffening of his broad shoulders. They both knew she was not referring to his daughter. Without a word, he left, closing the door behind him.

Slumping back against the cushions, Rachel closed her blue eyes wearily. Her son was right; she spoiled Madison rotten, but that was because she tried to make up for the little girl"s lack of parental love.

Even before the ink had dried on the substantial check she had received, her mother had left her without a backward look, and Madison's father buried himself with work.

Royce had changed almost overnight as soon as he discovered that Marilyn had tricked him into getting her pregnant. In eight months, she started showing her true self, making all sorts of demands. She was carrying the St. Clair's heir and realized she held the upper hand.

Royce had accommodated her outrageous demands and still held onto the hope that they would be a family after the baby was born. Marilyn told him the awful truth a few minutes after the delivery. She never wanted to be a mother and would relinquish all ties to their daughter if she were paid enough to make it worthwhile.

Her callousness had turned Royce embittered and cynical, conditions which had only increased over the years. He always worked and considered women with only one thing in mind.

He did not want a relationship, and his affairs were legendary. He was beautiful, and that, combined with the fact that he was one of the wealthiest men in the real estate business and his aloof disdain, made him fodder for much female attention.

The more insulting and insolent he was, the more they pursued him, thinking that one of them would break through that coat of ice layering his heart.

But his disdain was not just for the women shamelessly pursuing him; it was also extended to his daughter. He barely tolerated her, and when he spoke to her, it was to reprimand and admonish.

Madison was afraid of him and would try to get his attention. The more distant he was, the more she wanted to get him to notice her. Rachel would look at the entire scene and feel her heart breaking. Whenever Royce ignored her or reprimanded the little girl, Rachel felt more like she had to make up for it.

Her eyes flew open, and she forced a smile as a subdued Madison slowly entered the room, her nanny trailing behind her. "Is Daddy gone?"

"Yes, darling."

"Is he still mad?"

"Not anymore." She gestured towards Glenna. "Why don't you take the afternoon off and leave Madison and me to sit by the pool?" She looked at her granddaughter. "You would like that, right darling?"

Madison nodded and belatedly added. "Yes, grandma. I would like that very much."

The little girl looked so miserable that Rachel was sorely tempted to call her son and give him a piece of her mind.

"All right, sweetheart, let's go."

*****

Indie smiled at her enthusiastic customer and added the black Barbie doll to the pile of things in her cart.

"You have no idea how thrilled I am to finally find this line of jewelry that will go with that African outfit I will wear to my sister's wedding. And, honey-" The woman touched the side of her smooth cocoa-brown complexion. "That foundation you sold me a few days ago works wonders."

"I am happy to be of service," Indie told her as she carefully tallied up her purchases and took the card from her.

"You don't wear much makeup-" The woman stared at the caramel complexion with envy.

"You have what people would call a flawless complexion. Are you sure you do not use anything on your face?"

"Soap and water," Indie said with a smile as she carefully placed the items into the"Everything Black" tote.

Jenny stared at the plus-sized girl, wondering what made the woman so beautiful. Maybe it was the combination of large dark brown eyes, dimples in round cheeks, or voluptuous curves.

Indie Blair wore a chic black and red blouse over black slacks. Her jewelry, matching black and red earrings, matching bangles, and rope beads added to the outfit. And she had a serene look that spoke of true inner beauty.

Jenny wondered how she managed to look so attractive every single day.

"It's working for you." Taking the bag, she glanced at the people milling around. The three employees were on the floor helping the customers and chatting with them. The beautiful June afternoon had brought out the shoppers in droves, and the store was doing a thriving business.

"You have something great going on here," Jenny added.

"I do." Indie was about to say something else when she saw the little girl approaching the glass case below the cash register.

"Amy, come back here!"

"Oh no." Indie shook her head. Moving around the case, she took the little girl's hand and smiled at her. "Hey, sweetie, what would you like to see?"

"The dolls." She pointed to the display.

"Are you sure? They look priceless." Her mother protested.

"I am sure there is no harm in her seeing them, right, Amy?"

The little girl stared at the dazzling smile and twin dimples and smiled in return."I will be careful."

Lifting her head to the mother hovering behind, Indie lifted a tapered brow, and the woman nodded. Taking the little girl's hand, she led her around the counter, took out a tiny key, and inserted it into the lock to open the door. An exclamation of delight and had the child's eyes going round. "They are so pretty."

"Aren't they, though?" She took a glossy black doll with tight curls on her head and gave it to Amy.

"It feels warm," the little girl said in wonder. "Her hair is pretty." Amy touched the tight curls and glanced at Indie's close-cut curls. "Like yours."

"You are so right." Indie grinned at her.

"I bet this is expensive." There was a wistful note in the child's voice.

"I am afraid so. This is a collection of dolls made in Africa, and people mostly buy them for their collections." She looked up at the mother.

"We are not buying that, darling." The woman told her firmly. "You are too old for dolls anyway."

"I am only ten." Amy protested.

"I still have dolls in my bedroom," Indie whispered.

The girl looked at her with rounded eyes. "You do?"

She nodded with a laugh. "My brother thinks I am weird."

"Boys." Amy rolled her dark brown eyes, making her laugh.

"Exactly." Looking at the mother, she gave the woman an assessing look, taking in the designer outfit and the large, expensive purse. "For the summer months, we have a massive sale throughout the store."

"No dolls." She said firmly. "Her Daddy would never allow it. Pick out some outfits and some jewelry."

Hiding her disappointment, Amy smiled at Indie. "Will you help me?"

"I am sure she does not have the time." The mother began.

Straightening up, Indie beckoned one of her staff to come and take over. "I am all yours, sweetie."

"Are you okay?" A few minutes later, Miriam handed her a cup of coffee, stepping into the small but elegantly appointed office.

"Why?" Taking the foam cup, Indie pushed back from her desk, where she had been attacking some paperwork.

"I saw you with that little girl."

Miriam was not just an employee; she was also a friend and could get away with certain privileges.

"I am fine."

"Are you?"

Indie rolled her dark brown eyes and shook her head. "I had fun with little Amy."

"You spent almost half an hour with her." Miriam entered the room and sat on the padded visitor's chair.

"And that sacrifice had her mother shelling out almost a thousand dollars. Time well spent."

"I saw the look on your face."

"Don't start." She put the cup on her desk and reached for the folder she had been working on a few minutes ago.

"It breaks my heart. You would make such a wonderful mother-"

"Miriam, don't!" Closing her eyes when the woman jumped at her sharp tone, she forced a smile. "I have to get this done."

Rising, her friend gave her a speculative look before heading for the door. "I worry about you."

"There is no need. I will be out in a few minutes. Mrs. Gladstone will drop in sometime in the afternoon."

"Thanks for the warning," Miriam told her dryly.

Indie waved a hand, a smile touching her lips. "What are friends for?"

The smile vanished as soon as Miriam left and closed the door behind her. She did her best to hide her feelings from her staff, but whenever she saw a child, she had to do her best not to go to pieces.

Things had gotten so bad that she no longer went to the park across the street. She had told herself that was okay, that she was no longer yearning for the privilege of becoming a mother. She had even told her brother that very thing last night when she had reluctantly agreed to have dinner with him and his current girlfriend.

"How are you?" He asked her bluntly.

"I am fine."

"Are you?"

"Yes, Mother." She shook her head as he continued searching her face, looking for answers she was unwilling to give him. "The shop is doing well, and my life is full-"

"I know you better than anyone. And I don't need the party line."

"We are doing this here and now?" She hissed. "With a stranger in the next room?"

"We will have lunch, and then I am going to make it my duty to grill you until I get the truth," he warned her. She knew he meant every word. Joshua Blair was a successful accountant and a partner at his firm. He was two years older than her and took his job as her brother very seriously.

She could not hide anything from him and dreaded spending time with him. With a beleaguered sigh, she dove into sorting out the shipment.

*****

Royce rolled off the woman with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction and disgust. She had praised his expertise as a lover while breathing in his ear and asking him to go harder and faster. Of course, he had accommodated her and could feel her acute enthusiasm by the marks on his chest and back.

Bianca was trying to prove to him that she was all in and that it was not just for the sex or the money. She had been hinting at getting an invitation to have some sort of an outing with him and his daughter, and he had refused to give that any response.

"Darling?"

Rising to his feet, he went over to the sofa where he had placed his clothing and began to put them on.

"You are leaving?"

She was flushed, her dark brown hair tumbling around her shoulders in an attractive disarray. Her lips were parted and rosy, her breasts puckered. "It certainly looks that way, doesn"t it?"

"I thought you would stay for dinner." She pouted.

"I have another engagement." He was already bored with the conversation. He always entered a relationship, letting the female know it was physical and no questions asked. It was a take-it-or-leave-it deal, and there was no room for negotiation.

"Can't you reschedule?" Bianca knew she was treading on dangerous and forbidden ground, but she had to try. She wanted so much to get through the layers of cynicism and disinterest in him that she was going overboard.

"No." Shoving his feet into his shoes, he tugged at the laces and stood up to grab his sports jacket. "And next time you need to put your mark on me, it will be the last."

"I am sorry-"

"Apology accepted." He told her curtly. "See that it does not happen again."

Without another word, he turned on his heels and left. Pulling the sheets over her, Bianca closed her eyes in defeat.

*****

Deciding to go for a drive to clear his head, Royce touched the left turn signal and headed north. He had initially thought about going to his club, but after the scene at the manor, he accepted Bianca's invitation to visit. But that had been a mistake.

The relationship had run its course. He would get his assistant to send her an expensive trinket and be done with it. The man was used to handling breakups and was an expert at it.

Pushing the button, he let the top of his BMW down and relished the warm breeze on his skin. His mind drifted to the scene this morning. He had been descending the stairs when he heard the temper tantrum.

It had pissed him off so much that he had almost marched in there and taken a belt to her. He had never struck her before and abhorred even the idea of it. His mother was probably right. He did not feel anything other than tolerance for his flesh and blood, and he knew it was because of that unconscionable bitch.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he reflected on how cleverly he had been played. He had loved her or thought he had.

She had appeared to be different, pretending not to be awed by his money and his name"s status. St. Clair's had been in the real estate business for more than sixty years, and the intricate designs on the buildings they restored were their trademark for all those years.

But Marilyn had appeared unimpressed by the sumptuous wealth and the fact that Royce was frequently featured in several magazines.

"You work too hard," she chided him. "You don't know how to relax." She introduced him to picnics in out-of-the-way places and repeatedly told him she wanted four children.

"Four?" He had asked her indulgently.

"Yes. We both grew up without siblings, so I want our child to have siblings for company." He had fallen under her spell until he was sure she was who she pretended to be. He had been contrite or pretended to be when she discovered she was pregnant.

He had proposed to her, of course.

"I was about to anyway." He had told her.

But she had insisted on having the baby first, which he had thought was very strange but had gone along with it. His mouth twisted bitterly.

She had done him a favor by refusing his offer of marriage. The thought of being tied to that soulless bitch had kept him up at night. He had learned his lesson. It had been a painful one, but one he appreciated.

He supposed he would have to find a way to get along with his daughter. Whatever happened between him and her mother was not her doing. But he could not shake the disillusionment and ravages from the encounter with Marilyn. She was somewhere in Italy, living off the substantial settlement he had given her.

He kept a check on her through his security firm, not because he gave a damn what she was doing, but to make sure she stayed there. She had to sign a binding contract that kept her out of the country, agreeing never to contact him or their daughter again.

She was dead to him after what she had done, and even if she came back crawling on her hands and knees, he was never going to have anything to do with her. The last report he had heard was that she was shacking up with some Italian asshole. He felt sorry for the poor moron who had no idea what kind of monster he was involved with.