CHAPTER SIX

I'VEHADONE serious concussion in my life from a skiing accident when I was fourteen. Back then I lost three hours but right now I'm more stunned and confused than when I woke up and found myself in a hospital hundreds of kilometres from the ski field. Today it seems I've lost months. I can't see straight, let alone think. My thundering pulse deafens me to anything—any excuse—she might try to make.

She's had a baby. My son. And this is the first I've heard about it and that's only because I happened upon them by accident.

I barely register the walk back to the café. She leads me through the crowded tables to the rear. Behind a door marked Private there's a narrow flight of stairs. Climbing them, I feel the echo of that small storeroom where we first met. The room at the top of these stairs is even smaller. The first thing I see is a narrow bed. A baby bassinet is pulled up beside it. Everything is clean and neat but spare—it's minimal in decor, devoid of luxury. Bare necessities only.

Anger churns but desire adds a vicious twist right at the most wrong of moments. I want her on that bed. With me. Which is ridiculous because it's nowhere near big enough for the both of us. Yeah, cognitive function is fully impaired and anger is the safest option.

‘How long have you lived here?' I growl.

‘I need to change Lukas,' she mutters.

I watch. She's efficient as she cares for the baby. Of course she is. She's done this hundreds of times. I wouldn't know where to begin. My anger sharpens as she picks him up again. The betrayal is intense and when she smiles at the baby I snap.

‘You need to start packing,' I hiss and shove my hands into my jacket pockets.

‘Packing?'

‘You can't stay another night here.'

It's noisy. It's tiny. Which is probably why she has to go for walks during the café's busiest hours. It's appalling.

She stares at me with such mistrust it burns. What did I ever do to deserve it? But I rein my resentment in. I need her to agree with me.

‘We can't talk properly here. Not with people trying to enjoy their coffee downstairs.' And not in front of the child. ‘Did I ever give you reason not to trust me, Talia? Because right now I feel like I'm the one who can't trust you, given you never told me I have a son.'

‘I tried—'

‘Exactly where did you supposedly send all those messages?' I ask.

‘Don't you believe I sent them?' she whispers furiously. ‘Why don't you check?'

‘Why do you think I'm asking?' I snap back. ‘A forensic IT search is about to be launched.'

She looks down at the baby and I see her striving to steady her breath. ‘There isn't a direct email for you listed on your company website. You have no phone number. Your social media profiles are non-existent. You're very well protected from the public.'

She's right. I push for as much privacy as possible. ‘So you sent them to...?'

Coming from one of Australia's most wealthy families—plus being single—provides challenges. All emails are filtered but surely hers should have been flagged.

‘I sent them to the information address.'

What did she say? How blunt was she? How many did she send? I can't shake the feeling that it wasn't as many as possible. ‘You should have tried harder.'

She lifts her chin defiantly. ‘Perhaps I should have gone to the media? Sold my story? Shamed you by saying we had sex in the middle of a thunderstorm and that as a result...' Her eyebrows lift.

I'm on fire inside at the thought of that—I'm too aware of the ravenous public appetite for personal drama. I would have loathed it but the truth would've got to me at last. ‘Perhaps you should have,' I say more calmly than I'm feeling. ‘It would have got my attention.'

‘And destroyed my reputation—my career—in the process. I'd have become known as Dain Anzelotti's baby-mama. As far as I could tell, you weren't interested. I needed to protect my own earning potential.'

‘You're a waitress.'

She glares at me but I'm unapologetic. ‘No doubt you'll think it arrogant if I suggest that your being linked with me would only enhance your earning potential,' I add.

‘You don't know anything about me.'

Not entirely true. I know some things. Quite a lot. I know the sound she makes when she's so hot she can't stand it any more. I know her scent. I know how tightly her hand can squeeze mine. I know her taste. But I don't trust her. I don't trust anyone.

‘Right, and you know little about me—'

‘I know plenty. I looked up who you were.'

I see condemnation in her eyes and my skin prickles. Has she seen the past—some of those stories about my parents? Is this why she's kept Lukas secret, because she's afraid I'll be as awful as my own parents were? ‘And whatever you discovered put you off trying harder to contact me?'

‘You don't want to settle down. You're used to getting what you want. Who you want. When you want.'

‘And these are such insufferable qualities you think I shouldn't have any part in my son's life?'

She whitens.

But I'm angry with her judgement. Only at the same time she's right. I'm used to people doing what I ask them to. I'm used to being in charge of pretty much everything. Yet Talia Parrish only has to enter my mind and I lose control of my own damned body. I'm hard for her. I'm always hard for her. Only hard for her. And I hate it.

Stupid, stupid chemistry.

Once was not enough. That's all.

Memories flood my mind. That night was a set of circumstances where adrenalin was pumping and the satisfaction—a life-threatening moment made earthly pleasure extreme. I had to hurriedly get rid of that condom. There was no time to check it properly but I've often remembered her tension when I first entered her. Crazy as it is, I suspect she was a virgin. But surely not.

She lifts her chin. ‘I don't want him confused by all the women in your life.'

I narrow my gaze. ‘Neither of us will parade lovers in front of him. I don't want him to have a revolving door of people he thought might care about him only to be disappointed.'

Her eyes widen. ‘I agree.'

‘Fancy that,' I say coolly. ‘We might agree on more once we really get going.' I drag in a breath. ‘I can adjust accordingly, Talia. I hope you're able to do the same.' Her assumptions about my character annoy the hell out of me. ‘Why did you stop trying to reach me?'

She stands stiffly. ‘It was clear you weren't interested.'

‘I didn't know.' I bite the words.

She could have tried again. Tried harder. I'm furious with myself for ignoring that nagging feeling about her for so long.

‘I want you to come to Australia with me.' I blurt, losing the ability for fine negotiations.

I need privacy and time to get my head around this and there's only one place I know where I'm sure I can get it. My place is a fortress.

‘No.' Shock whitens her face. ‘Not possible.'

I just stare at her.

‘I don't have a passport. Nor does Lukas.' She squares her shoulders. ‘That's why I couldn't travel to try to see you when I realised I was pregnant.'

She's determined to throw roadblocks up. She didn't have the money either. That's evident. Defensive as hell and I'm not coping with it as well as I should.

‘We'll get them expedited.'

‘That'll make them more expensive.'

‘Hardly a problem for me.'

‘Billionaire. Right,' she says scornfully. ‘I'm not leaving New Zealand. My life is here.'

My gaze drops to the baby and I see her defensively tighten her hold on him. She looks scared.

‘And my life is there.' I pause. ‘Lukas belongs to us both.'

‘So what are you suggesting? Should we chop him in two?'

I dislike myself intensely at this moment. She really didn't want me to know. She doesn't want my input with Lukas. That hurts. I'm independent. In control. I've had no control here in this. I grit my teeth at the realisation that I'm not going anywhere without her. ‘I'll delay my return to Australia. We need time to sort this out. But I'd like you to stay with me so we can take advantage of Lukas's nap times to talk.' I look down at her. ‘I'm trying to compromise, Talia.'

She hesitates. ‘It'll take me a while to pack. Give me the hotel address and I'll meet you there.'

‘I'll sit down and hold him while you get on with it.'

She doesn't expect that. Honestly, I've surprised myself too. I'm not exactly an experienced baby-handler and I give a mutter of thanks that one of the women in HR returned recently to show off her new baby and they made a deal of me cradling her baby. It means I've the smallest notion of what to do now.

Honorary fun uncle was the extent of what I was aiming for in life. I have no siblings, so real uncle was never going to happen. Nor was having a wife. That last one still isn't.

Talia doesn't move and I stare at her. Frustration surges at her obvious reluctance. I take a seat on the edge of that too small bed and hold my arms out. She finally steps forward. Our hands brush as she places Lukas into my arms. I look down at him and it's a good thing I already took a seat because my legs suddenly empty of strength.

He's a beautiful boy. Curling eyelashes. Unblemished pink cheeks. He's tiny and so light that I'm terrified I'll crush him—my son.

My heart stalls. I never wanted this—never so much as imagined it. But now he's here and in a split second of clarity I know I'll never, ever give him up. He's mine. I'm awash with a feeling unlike any other. Protectiveness obliterates all other emotion. I'll do anything to ensure his safety. He'll be with me. Always. Involuntarily I glance up at her and our gazes mesh.

So will she.

A whisper of equal clarity that I want to reject. Other feelings surge. I focus on the anger. I can't trust her but I need her—Lukas needs her. And I'm going to need defences to deal with her.

Her deep brown eyes are like pools—sombre and intense.

‘Something wrong?' My voice has roughened to sandpaper.

‘No.' Abrupt, she glances away.

It's a lie.

‘Talia—' I raise my voice but break off as I remember. I look down at the innocent baby in my arms and then look back up at her. ‘I'm not fighting with you in front of Lukas. Not ever.'