CHAPTER EIGHT

INEVERDISCUSS my family, but this morning has been shock after shock and my new reality is so far from normal I'm spinning. I glance at Lukas to ground myself and remember the priority here. He has my eyes and colouring. But knowing that Talia stopped trying to contact me grates nerves already stripped raw. Instinct screams at me to scoop him up and squirrel him to the safety of my own home. But instinct doesn't eliminate ignorance—I've no idea how to care for a baby, how to create the safety I fundamentally crave for him. It's all emotion and no experience. I don't like it. I don't like any of it. Especially the fact that I can't do this without her. And I'm angry with her. Yet every damn time I glance at her every damn atom within me heats. I can't lose control. She hasn't allowed me any in all this and that's not something I can tolerate. Family drama upended my life before and I'll never let it happen again.

She says she doesn't want anything from me, yet I see that same heat I feel in her eyes when she looks at me. She can't hide it and I'm tempted to use whatever power I might have to engineer an advantage. But then I remember how quickly she ran that night. Was it me or is it something within herself?

It must be me. And it must be bad. Because it's unbelievable that not even my money was a motivation for her to try harder.

Lukas begins to cry. While I freeze, Talia steps forward to pick him up.

‘I need to top him up and hopefully he'll sleep again.' She looks around for a chair to nurse him in.

I can't stand to watch that sweet intimacy again so I walk away. I check the rooms, fiddle with the heating, attending to the basics—shelter, warmth...food? I grab my phone, start a list and make an order. Gradually I feel calmer. I call my legal team then my primary assistant. There's a huge amount to arrange and not a lot of time to do it.

As I finish the fourth call I see a car pulling into the driveway. Relieved, I head out to meet the delivery guy and carry the bags back to the kitchen.

Talia appears in the kitchen just as I'm serving up. The shadows beneath her eyes have deepened since I first saw her this morning, plus she has a pinched look as if she has a headache. While Lukas is thriving, she needs replenishing. I clench my jaw to crush back my growl of frustration. ‘He's asleep?'

She nods and I glimpse how bony her shoulders are.

I jerk a thumb towards the kitchen counter. ‘Sit. Eat.'

She glares but mercifully doesn't argue.

Lunch is a simple spread—warm soup, crunchy bread, soft butter. As she eats, I watch colour slowly return to her cheeks. I eat as well. But it feels more dangerous to be around her without Lukas.

‘You should rest,' I mutter as soon as she's done. ‘You look like you need it.'

She looks startled, then indignant.

‘Go,' I say gruffly. ‘Take a break.'

She meets my gaze. Yeah, it's definitely more dangerous to be near her without Lukas. But apparently she feels the same because she scuttles away.

In the late afternoon my team get in touch. They've expedited the information I requested and I print the file they've sent. The space for the father's name is blank but the baby's name gives it all away. Lukas Dain Parrish.

Just as she said. It would have been easy enough for her to discover my grandfather's name. It's in the brief family history I allowed on the company website to sparsely furnish the company's ‘story'.

An hour later I put the printout on the kitchen table in front of her. ‘You didn't name me on the birth certificate. I understand that if I were named, then I would be a guardian. As guardian I'll then have some say in my own child's upbringing.' I breathe out but my chest is tight. ‘My lawyers filed a declaration of paternity.'

Her hands tremble, and my teeth clench because I hate her obvious fear of me.

‘I want to establish Lukas's legal rights as well as my own. If anything happens to me, Lukas inherits.' I try to explain my reasons. ‘No question. No delay. Plus he gets everything he should have had from the start.'

‘We don't need things.'

‘You don't have to have anything from me,' I say pointedly. ‘Lukas, however, is different.'

‘You sure you don't want a DNA test?'

My skin tightens. She thinks I have any doubt? ‘Eventually. My lawyers will insist on it but you and I already know.'

Her eyes widen.

‘What's weird to me is that you wanted him to have a family connection yet barely tried to contact me. It's hard to understand.' Was money really no motivation? Because that's not how it usually works in my world.

She bites on her lip. ‘I don't like having to rely on anyone.'

Trust issues. Yeah, we have those in common. I offer the faintest smile. ‘You're still a control freak, then?'

‘Leopards. Spots.' She drops her gaze.

‘Born that way or forged?' I ask.

She freezes.

‘I was forged,' I mutter.

‘Your parents?' She jerks a nod, answering before I do. ‘Ditto.'

Right, we have dysfunctional families in common too. ‘What is it you don't like about me, Talia?' I can't believe I've asked.

‘You're used to being in charge.' She doesn't deny it.

I bristle. ‘So are you.'

Her glance is pointed. ‘Not on the same level.'

Lukas cries and she goes to him before I can blink.

I make more arrangements. Sort flight schedules. Offload my over-full diary for the next couple of weeks.

Dinner is desultory. She glances at me a few times but doesn't break the silence. I glance at Lukas and don't know where to begin with him.

She takes him to bathe and get ready for bed and I don't interfere. Given I'm going to need time away from the office, I draft a tonne of instructions. It's late when I turn out the light and the house is silent.

Three hours later I'm lying there still wide awake when I hear him crying.

I get up and pull on my jeans. The house is warm enough not to bother with anything else. I step into the doorway and see her pacing around the small room with him. She looks exhausted. And beautiful.

‘Is it like this every night?' I ask with clenched teeth.

‘He's a little baby.' She defends him with quiet ferocity. ‘He has no concept of time. And he's hungry. He's growing fast.'

There's a proud tilt to her head. I didn't mean to be critical, just curious. But we seem to read the worst into every interaction we have. I turn and stalk to the kitchen. Lukas can only keep growing like that as long as Talia is well rested and well-nourished herself. I grab a few crackers, slice cheese, slice an apple, make a milky hot chocolate and throw the lot onto a tray I find. It's hardly pretty but it's something.

I stomp—silently—back to the bedroom we're using as his nursery. Now Talia's curled up on the narrow bed and Lukas is in her arms. I clench my fists to ride out the urge to drop to my knees at her damned feet in awe and instead set the tray beside her so she can reach it easily.

‘I don't need—'

‘Don't,' I say sharply.

She glances at me—equally sharply—and says nothing more.

I lean back against the wall and glare at her. She sighs heavily, rolls her eyes and grudgingly picks up a cheese-topped cracker. My muscles don't ease any until she's onto her third. She sips the warm milky chocolate.

Eventually she puts him back into the small bassinet. He stirs and she rests her hand on him for a moment of reassurance. Then she straightens and silently steps out of the room. I follow her. Before I think I reach out and take her arm, turning her to face me. In the dim light of the hallway her eyes are huge. They draw me in—so rich and unfathomable.

Desire engulfs me. Paralyses me. She basically hid my son from me. Because of her I've missed out on so much. But her soft skin is beneath my fingertips and I can't resist stroking her lightly with my thumb. Just the once. I see her skin flush, hear her breathing race. Her response is instant—just like that night in the gondola.

I can't speak. I just stare at her and inwardly battle the overpowering desire to pull her close and kiss her and touch her everywhere.

‘You don't have to get up every time he cries,' she mumbles.

Rejection. Denial. Again. It's as aggravating as hell that she won't let me help her.

‘You do.' I flinch. ‘You have. For months.'

As she stares up at me something changes in her expression. Her whole body seems to tremble. ‘I'm sorry.'

The words I've been waiting for all day finally emerge from her but weirdly I don't want to hear them. Not now. Because they make me feel something—want something—that I know in my bones is dangerous. I'm suddenly, sharply vulnerable. I cannot trust her. I cannot take her in my arms. But I'm so tempted. Frustration is an inferno.

‘Go to bed,' I growl.

I release her too roughly. I almost push her away. I have to because in the next heartbeat I'd have hauled her close and damned myself.

Her swift steps are silent on the soft carpet. Her door closes with the faintest click. The speed with which she leaves me is both relief and agony.

I slowly uncurl my fist—holding back from grabbing her again has my hand cramping. I have no idea how I'm going to get through this.