The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child

Two

Nico gave her twenty minutes head start before jumping into his rented Alfa Romeo, gunning the engine, and following.

Twenty wasted minutes where he’d thought she was genuinely upset. His first impulse had been to follow her, make sure she was okay, but he’d tamped that down, knowing he was the last person she’d want to see. Given their estrangement and current situation, he’d only distress her more.

Then he’d remembered what a consummate actress she was.

Any woman who could make him believe she was in love with him—and he’d believed it to the bottom of his soul for almost a year—was a world-class performer.

He thumped the heel of his hand on the steering wheel as he sped past fields of bare grapevines. He couldn’t believe he’d been taken in again, and so quickly!

Hot air blasted from the heater; already boiling from the inside, he jabbed the off button. Her show of distress had called to a fiercely protective streak—one he thought had died five years ago—and he’d let her walk out. But from now on he wouldn’t let his guard down even an inch. He was here to meet his nephew, find Kent’s copy of the Deed of Gift … and lure the woman who haunted his dreams back into his bed. For one night.

The torment of Beth’s betrayal had never left—through each successful venture, each new woman that came and went within days or weeks, the pain of losing the woman he’d loved had buried itself deeper inside his chest, festering. And the occasional news through the family grapevine—such as the birth of her son to his brother—had ensured the humiliation, the pain, never healed.

Nico ground his teeth as he held the steering wheel in a death grip. He knew it’d been slowly killing him—so it was essential he purge it all now. He needed to make love to her one last time.

He roared into her tree-lined driveway deep in the winery’s estate, and cut the engine.

Striding to the entry, he reined in his emotions. The key to success was to stay on top of his game. No outbursts from his hair-trigger temper.

He thumped on the door. “Beth, let me in.”

Noises came from inside the house but none from the other side of the door. More noises, more movement—she was home, just not letting him in.

He thumped on the heavy wooden door again. “Beth, I’m not going away.”

The door wrenched open to reveal Beth barefoot, in the same shapeless pink dress. Though it was shapeless, it nevertheless showed enough of her figure to fire his passion, as it’d done at his hotel room door.

She seemed troubled, but not surprised, to see him. “Nico, please leave me alone. The papers can be dealt with by our lawyers.”

Not a chance. He strode past her into the warmth of her house.

Turning, he took in the room with its roaring fireplace, decorated in colors that were pure Beth—delicate pinks, pale greens and ivory. Either Kent had trusted her sense of style, or he hadn’t cared.

His gaze rested on the woman who’d closed the door, but still gripped the handle behind her, as if for support.

The want, the need for her that always lurked below the surface surged up to flood his system. “I can’t leave you alone, even if I wanted to.”

“W-why?”

She’d seen it in his eyes, he knew she had—the unadulterated lust he felt had made her stammer. He took a step toward her, slowly, softly. “Because we have unfinished business.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Nico, people break up all the time. Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“Here’s the thing, bella. I don’t remember us breaking up. I remember making love to you in the vineyards under the light of a full moon.” He took another step forward. “I remember you pledging yourself to me for eternity, and I remember driving you home.”

“Nico, please—”

He held up his hand to stop her, then he snapped his fingers in her line of vision. “The next thing I know, you’ve left the country to marry my brother.”

Her face twisted in an impersonation of guilt. “I wish I could have talked to you—”

“I can see why you didn’t, though. Wouldn’t want any messy situations with Nico.” He planted his hands on his hips, the agony and shame of that day still raw in his chest. “Wouldn’t want him to ask for an explanation or, God forbid, plead with you not to leave.”

And the disgrace of it was, he would have pleaded. At least he’d been spared the indignity of baring his weakness. Now he would not be weak.

“Nico, I—”

“One thing I wondered, though—” he prowled another step closer, eyes narrowed “—was it a spontaneous decision when a better offer came up? Or were you using me all along to get to the richer brother?”

Like a switch had been flicked, her eyes became arctic. “Which did you decide I’d done?”

“Kent told me that he offered you money to marry him, so I’m thinking it was probably a combination of the two.” And hadn’t Kent been gleeful in delivering that news? In delivering the final checkmate in their lifelong rivalry. “You must have thought all your Christmases had come at once when your target offered you money to do something you’d been planning anyway.” He laughed but it sounded bitter even to his own ears.

The color drained from her face—a reaction she couldn’t have faked, so he’d obviously hit the nail on the head. Pain ripped through him—more pain, when he’d thought he’d felt all the agony he could. He pushed it away so he could continue and took a step forward. “He bought you fair and square. So tell me, Beth, what will it cost me to get you into my bed? I expect the price has gone up since then.”

She pressed her hands to her chest. “Nico, don’t do this, please.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow and closed the last distance between them, leaving their bodies almost touching. “Is it purely a cash transaction, or do you prefer real estate and jewels?”

She slid sideways, moving across the room to put a couch between them as a teardrop fell and traced a path down her cheek. “Nico, I’m sorry.”

He swallowed, making himself remember that crying was an easy feat for an actress.

A second tear followed the path of the first. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for what you went through.”

He watched her hands turn white as they clasped together. So, perhaps she had a conscience about betraying him after all? But words came easily, and these did nothing to assuage the ache in his chest.

He took off his suit coat and threw it over the couch she was hiding behind. “You’re sorry.” He shook his head slowly. “You finally said it. For all it’s worth.”

Beth heard the dismissal in his tone and bit down on her lip. She’d once known Nico as well as she’d known herself—but this man was a stranger. “Will you accept my apology?”

Nico walked through an archway into her living room and paced before coming to lean a shoulder in the doorway to the hall leading to Marco’s room. Thank God her son was gone for the weekend.

Nico crossed one polished black shoe over the other. “You wounded my pride by leaving with my brother. That’s not an easy thing to forgive.”

“I understand that.” She softened her voice. “Honestly, I do.”

He pushed off the doorway to stand tall and proud. “Do you really? You’re sorry for humiliating me in front of my family? For selling yourself to a man who hated me from the day I was born?”

She knew the real hurt that he wouldn’t voice. For breaking his heart.

If her heart hadn’t stopped bleeding since being wrenched from its home with his, how much worse must it have been for him to be left behind?

Then, as if a veil lifted from before her eyes, she glimpsed deep inside him to the real Nico, so loving and sweet beneath the hard man. The Nico he hid from everyone, even himself.

Before she could change her mind, she went to him, but she didn’t do it for the bitter man before her. She did it for the Nico she’d loved more than life itself—for the pain she’d unwillingly caused. She did it for the Nico who was still somewhere inside him, hurting.

An arm’s length away, heart racing, she stopped.

He watched her closely, face inscrutable.

Being this close to him made her ache to move the last step. To touch him. To taste his skin. To feel his touch. Her body reacted to him as if no time had passed. As if they still belonged to each other.

But that time of belonging was long gone. And she was more sorry for that than he could ever know.

She held out her hand, a peace offering, trying to convey the regret that overwhelmed her without using words, which he now distrusted.

Heat flared in his brooding eyes and his jaw clenched, but he didn’t move.

He felt it, too.

The explosive sparks they generated when they were together. It’d been there again since he’d knocked on her door earlier this morning. Perhaps what she was doing would set a match to the tinder, but she remained standing, arm outstretched, offering him her hand.

Then his gaze softened and he came to her, wrapping her in his embrace and pressing her close. His body felt different to her memories—more solid, he’d filled out beautifully. She felt him shudder as she wound her arms around his neck, and they stood there, motionless for timeless minutes.

But then she pulled away, not meeting his eyes.

He didn’t make a move to stop her.

She turned and walked away, needing space from the waves of emotion and desire still rolling through her.

“Beth,” he rasped, but she couldn’t turn back or she knew she’d take him to her bed and that would only make everything so much more difficult … make his leaving utterly unbearable.

She’d always worn her heart on her sleeve with him, and if she was to keep the secret from him about his illegitimacy until after his father passed away, then shemust keep emotional distance.

She’d apologized, and that was the last time she could afford to drop her guard around him.

If he caught her in a moment of vulnerability, and asked her the right question—could she be sure she wouldn’t blurt out the secret that could hurt him and his father so deeply? She’d been incredibly fond of Tim Jordan, and for him to lose the son of his heart while he was terribly sick would be cruelty. The only solution that was fair to Tim and Nico was to wait.

The phone rang in the next room and she had to restrain herself from running to the kitchen for the salvation of the call.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Jordan, it’s Noela from the winery.”

Kent’s secretary. As Beth leaned back against the bench, she caught sight of Nico from the corner of her eye. He stood in the doorway, leaning a hand against the top of the frame, watching her.

Beth swallowed and looked away. “What can I do for you, Noela?”

“I’m just checking to see if you’re coming to the launch of Trio tonight.” Noela paused, then continued in a gentle tone. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, losing Mr. Jordan, and we’d understand if you decided you’d rather not come.”

Beth grimaced at the thought of attending the grand event tonight—the last place she wanted to be was with a huge crowd now Nico had turned her world upside down. All she really wanted to do was crawl into bed with a tub of chocolate ice cream. But she’d made a promise. “I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jordan. I know the staff will appreciate it.”

Beth hung up the receiver and poured herself a glass of water. She needed Nico out of here, now, before he found out about the festivities at the winery.

Knowing Nico, if he’d heard about the evening he’d have mentioned it by now, and she thanked the fates she’d be able to attend alone. This impromptu reunion was hard enough to handle without it being played out in front of one hundred of New Zealand’s high society.

Nico pushed off the doorframe. He took three steps forward and leaned his hands on the bench on either side of her, trapping her with his body. “You walk away from me too often.”

Heat radiated from him, reaching out and encircling her. Something she’d never forgotten about their precious time together was that she was never cold with him—his body heat had been enough for both of them when he held her.

Would it be so bad to close her eyes and sink into his heat now? To forget the crazy situation they were in and let herself have one more night with the man who still owned her unwise heart?

His breath was warm against her ear, and she heard the moment it changed to a shallower, more uneven rhythm.

No matter what tricks her body was playing on her, she couldn’t let herself forget this wasn’t her Nico. This was a different man, one she had no future with. She couldn’t survive their separation a second time. She might be protecting him by not telling the truth about her marriage, his son, his heritage, but she had to protect herself, too. Guard her heart.

She placed her palms flat on his muscular chest, feeling his racing heart beneath, and looked up into his unfathomable, black-lash-fringed eyes. “Nico, you have to go. You’ve got your apology, now we have to move on with our lives.”

Slowly, he straightened. Then he smiled. “You’re right. It’s time for me to go. I know you’ll need plenty of time to get ready for tonight’s launch. Shall I pick you up at seven?”

The blood drained from her head. He knew! But of course he knew—the head office of Jordan Wines in Australia would know about any event one of the wineries held, let alone one on this scale. It seemed Nico was better at holding his cards close to his chest these days.

But she couldn’t go through with her final performance as Kent’s wife if Nico attended. Playing Kent’s wife was difficult at the best of times, but with Nico in the same room, affecting her so intimately, it would be near impossible.

Nico would be a center of attention—there hadn’t been a visit from Nico or Tim Jordan to this winery in over five years, despite their regular visits to the other Jordan Wines’ estates. And people would be watching her, concerned for her. So any interaction between her and Nico would be witnessed by everyone present. Any undercurrents between them would be seized upon.

She schooled her features to casualness. “You don’t need to put in an appearance.”

“And forfeit a chance to honor my late brother? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He smiled with no hint of humor. “I did read the amendment to the program correctly, didn’t I?”

The confident set of his shoulders, the raised eyebrow told her that he knew very well that the winery had changed the publicity for the launch of the new wine, Trio, into an event to both celebrate Kent’s life and unveil what had become his final blend.

She moistened lips that were suddenly dry. “The seating arrangements and catering have been finalized.”

“I sent an RSVP before I left Australia,” he said over his shoulder as he strode into the receiving room and picked up his jacket. “Seven o’clock, or do you have to be there earlier?”

She followed, with rising panic scrambling her thoughts. She only had one line of reasoning left. “Nico, we can’t go together.”

He slid his arms into the jacket and straightened his tie. “Nonsense. We’re Kent’s family, they’ll expect us to arrive together.” He checked his watch. “It’s two o’clock now, I’ll be back in five hours.”

In two steps he was beside her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. It lasted a little long to be platonic, and his lips moved almost imperceptibly on her skin, but before she could react he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Beth collapsed into the couch and dropped her head to her hands. The hundred guests attending tonight would include Kent’s grieving friends and colleagues. Nothing improper could happen.

And her reaction to their embrace had proven one thing: if resisting Nico was her strongest line of defense, she was in deep trouble.

Three

The sound she’d been dreading came at precisely one minute to seven. Beth walked on trembling legs to the front door. She knew it was Nico—no one else could make a simple knock so commanding. As her hand rested on the brass knob, she took a last glance at herself in her full-length peach gown. It was hardly a dress of mourning, but she loved the skirt of gossamer layers and sheer sleeves in the same shade of peach—and she needed every thread of help she could get tonight to feel strong. Between the celebration of her late husband’s life and her wildly unsettling escort, she’d be lucky to still be sane by the end of the evening.

She smoothed a trembling hand over the bodice, took a deep breath, then opened the carved wooden door.

In an instant, her mouth went dry. Nico stood before her, tall and broad, wearing a tuxedo and a come-to-bed smile. The only time she’d ever seen him in a tuxedo before now was in magazine photos—when they were younger, he’d mainly worn jeans and T-shirts, the clothes he worked in at the vineyards.

But now he was a mature man, and the intense reality of the promise in him called to a place deep inside her, the girl she’d been and the woman she was now. His jaw was shadowed, despite having been freshly shaved. His thick, black hair, though neatly combed, still twisted in the rebel waves she remembered so intimately.

His eyes swept over her, and every square inch of flesh he touched with his gaze quivered, begged for his hands to follow, then his mouth.

“You’re a princess.” His voice was low, husky.

She couldn’t speak, could barely think. Then he leaned in to kiss her cheek, and her eyes drifted closed to savor the feel of his lips as they lingered. In a distant corner of her mind, she was surprised by his tenderness but she refused to spoil the moment by dwelling on his about-face. When he broke the contact, her eyes opened and rested on his mouth.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make an appearance at all tonight. Which is fine by me.” His head angled and began another descent.

Without thinking, she raised her face to meet his kiss, then froze. What was she doing? She blinked once, twice, then pulled back, slowly shaking her head. This was a bad idea on so many levels, from Nico’s coldness since his arrival this morning, to her attending the launch tonight—the winery staff had worked hard for months to put this event together, and since Kent was gone, the least she could do for them was attend.

“We should go.” Her voice was a cracked whisper.

He lifted a brow, yet gave no other reaction, just stood there, filling the doorway with his intensely masculine presence.

Ignoring the heavy lassitude of arousal in her belly, she grabbed her coat and bag from the entrance table and closed the door behind her. Nico didn’t say a word, but his eyes smoldered. She swallowed, then, knowing it was now or never, she headed for his car.

In the ten feet to the passenger side, he overtook her and held open the door.

Careful to avoid touching him in case she set off another sexual showdown, Beth slid into the seat then watched him walk around to the driver’s side, mesmerized.

He moved with such a casual confidence, as if he was so sure of his place in the world. Yet, what would happen when she revealed the secret she held? He could lose that place, lose everything he held dear.

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. In some ways she wished she never had to tell him at all. He was the only man she’d ever loved. He meant too much to her to be unaffected by his pain. At least by waiting until his father passed away, she was saving him from heartache on that score … but only if she made no slips between now and then, and not let herself forget the stakes for even one moment. She had to ignore the fact she desired him like no other and keep her distance, stay out of his bed.

As he took his seat, he raised an eyebrow at her. “I told you to be careful about looking at me like that.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap, trying to bring her emotions under control. Five years ago, she’d shared her every thought, her every emotion with him, but now was the time for self-discipline. If she let herself fall under his thrall again, she might ruin everything.… One lapse when she wasn’t thinking straight, one careless comment about things that couldn’t be spoken, and he’d know there was more. And he wouldn’t rest until he knew everything.

He started the Alfa and pulled onto the private road around the vineyards. They traveled in silence for several minutes before he causally said, “Tell me about Mark.”

The air leeched from her lungs. Did he know? His eyes remained on the road, as if he hadn’t asked a loaded question.

“Why would you want to know about my son … Kent’s son?”

He spared her a hard glance. “Regardless of my feelings about his parents, that boy is my nephew. There’s nothing more important than family.” He squared his shoulders.

“Nico—”

“Tell me about Mark.”

Her hand snaked up to circle her throat. “He turned three last April.” Luckily, she’d remembered to lower his age by a year to maintain Kent’s story, and keep the secret of Marco’s paternity safe for now. “He’s bright and full of energy. He loves my parents’ Dalmatian, Misty—I suspect he’s conned them into letting Misty sleep on his bed tonight. He usually does.”

“Why doesn’t he have his own dog?”

She owed Kent no loyalty, but she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead. “It hasn’t been … suitable for us to have a dog yet.”

Nico’s jaw tightened. “Kent wouldn’t let him.”

She shrugged. “Kent didn’t like dogs much.”

“Every boy should have a dog.” He smoothly took a corner, then glanced over at her. “I noticed something strange at your house today.”

Dear God, the trip from her house to the winery on the other side of the estate had never seemed so long. “You did?”

His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel and a frown line appeared between his brows. “There wasn’t one photo on display of your son. I know Kent wouldn’t send photos to our father, but none in your own home? That strikes me as odd for a woman who had albums full of us when we were together. And albums more of family—and your dog.”

Her stomach clenched painfully. She’d rushed around and taken down all photos of Marco when she’d arrived home from Nico’s hotel room. She knew chances were high he’d follow her—he always had when they had fought. He’d never let anything between them remain unfinished. Now she suspected he’d always follow, because he had to win. And the only way to protect Marco from this mess was to keep him hidden—in reality and in photos—until all secrets were out.

Kent had been careful that Nico or his father had never seen a photo of Marco. The seemingly petty denial had been the last straw leading to the complete breakdown of his relationship with Tim Jordan—but completely necessary for Kent’s twisted plans of blackmail.

She clasped her hands together in her lap until her knuckles went white. Just a weekend. Nico would be gone soon, and in a year or so all secrets would be out in the open.