The Secret Baby Scandal Read online

  Théo almost laughed aloud. She looked so pleased with herself—as if she really thought she’d injure him, stiffing him with a high credit card bill. The truth was that he cared little about the fortune he’d amassed over the years. Although spending it certainly had its enjoyable moments, for him money was primarily a way of keeping score in business, of knowing when he’d won. He didn’t mind sharing his money…as long as she shared his bed. But he feared it would take far more than money to convince her to be his wife.

  It was strange. Usually he did everything he could to convince his mistresses not to love him. He had no experience trying to convince a woman to stay.

  But he would. He must.

  His hunger for her would soon be satisfied. But seducing her into becoming his mistress was no longer enough. Because of what he’d just learned about the baby, he would make Carrie his wife. By any means necessary.

  “I probably spent a thousand dollars today.” Carrie looked down with satisfaction at all the piles of brightly colored bags surrounding her on the Turkish carpet. “And in a minute I’m going to use your phone,” she added smugly. “It’s an overseas call. Likely will cost you a bundle.”

  He barked an amused laugh. “Go right ahead.”

  “Now you’ll know never to cross me.” She looked so happy, so mischievous, so young. Théo was unable to look away from her beautifully glowing face, her chestnut hair falling in waves down her shoulders. Sitting in the rocking chair near the enormous stone fireplace sculpted with his family’s coat of arms, holding their child with such pride and love, Carrie already looked like the Countess he soon would make her.

  Coming closer, Théo brushed her hair off her shoulders and said, smiling, “A thousand dollars is nothing. We spent almost that much just on our lunch, with the wine.”

  She gasped aloud. “A thousand—on lunch?”

  “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  “Those foamy quail eggs?” she said in shock.

  Hmm, he thought. It didn’t sound like she’d enjoyed the elegant lunch quite as much as he’d hoped. “I only mean that I want you to enjoy spending my money as you please. It’s your money as much as mine. Or it will be once you’re my wife.”

  The light mood between them evaporated. She pulled away from his hand.

  “Sorry,” she said stiffly. “Not interested.”

  “I’m not trying to buy you, Carrie,” he said, exasperated. “I just want you to be happy here.”

  Her hazel eyes were cold. “I won’t be happy until we leave.” She turned away, rising to her feet. “It’s time for Henry’s nap.”

  Smooth. Very smooth, he thought, irritated at himself. Where was his usual finesse when he needed it most? He set his jaw. “Eh, bien, I’ll start making our dinner.”

  She paused at the hallway, turning back to face him. “And, to answer your question, no. I didn’t like the quail eggs. I’m a simple girl. I don’t need all that fancy stuff.”

  “What do you need?” he asked quietly.

  She paused, and he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “Something you can never give me.”

  Théo’s hands tightened as he watched her take his son down the hallway. For Henry was his son. There was no longer any question. Théo had gotten the results from the lab two hours after they’d taken the test, when he’d left Carrie alone to shop in the busy town. He’d paid a fortune to get the technicians to drop all their other work and make his test their priority, but it had been worth it.

  “The child is your son, Monsieur le Comte,” the head technician had told him gravely in his private office, showing him the printed data. “There can be no doubt.”

  Théo’s son. Carrie hadn’t lied. She’d tried to tell him the truth many times over a span of months, with messages left on his cell phone and even with his secretary at his office in Paris.

  “Théo, please call me. We need to talk.”

  “When will you be in Seattle again? I have something to tell you.”

  “Why won’t you answer me? Please, Théo, it’s important!”

  But he’d ignored them all until she’d stopped trying. He’d done his best to forget her, to pretend she didn’t exist. And so he’d unknowingly abandoned his own child.

  All because he’d been so afraid of Carrie loving him. Well… Théo gave a low, ironic snort. No chance of that now. He would have been grateful for that fact, except she also no longer trusted him. Now it would be difficult to make her believe he could be a decent father. It was a miracle she’d even given him the chance to meet his son. But then, Carrie’s kind heart had always been her weakness.

  “I’ll die before I’ll become your wife—paternity test or no.”

  He set his jaw. Now he knew Henry was his son, there was no way he’d allow her to take the baby back to Seattle, to be raised in a country on the other side of the ocean. There was no way he’d allow some other man to claim Carrie as his wife, to proudly call Henry his son.

  A low growl came from the back of his throat. Carrie would be his wife. As of this moment she belonged to Théo and no other man.

  But until she accepted that destiny he could not let her know he’d gotten the paternity test results. She’d only agreed to remain in France until he got proof. If Carrie discovered Théo already knew he was Henry’s father she’d flag down a car to take her to the nearest airport and take his son with her back to Seattle.

  She expected the test results to take about a week. He would use that time to convince her a loveless marriage was the best and only choice for her life, and their son’s. Théo would have to execute a full-scale onslaught of seduction to possess her. But he was arrogantly confident he would win.

  It was time to be ruthless.

  Théo walked down the hall to the large, remodeled kitchen, with its restaurant-grade appliances, all shining stainless steel. He unpacked the fresh ingredients they’d purchased earlier that day from the outdoor market, and with a sardonic twist of his lips pulled on an apron over his black shirt and trousers. Glancing out the window to the garden, he set his jaw. This would work. It had to work.

  He began to chop carrots against the wood cutting board.

  He heard Carrie enter the kitchen. “Where’s the—?” Her voice ended with an intake of breath. “What are you doing?”

  “Cooking,” he said.

  “I thought you were joking.”

  He glanced at her, his eyebrow lifted in cool amusement. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs from her mind. “Where’s the phone?”

  Chopping up steak and putting it to marinate in red wine, he nodded toward his hip pocket. “It’s there.”

  She stared at his hip pocket, then bit her lip. “Um. I’d rather use the house phone.”

  “I only use my cell at the castle. I’d get the phone for you myself, but…” He showed her his hands, all covered with the marinade he had just made for the beef.

  “Fine,” she mumbled. Blushing, she reached the barest tips of two fingers into his jeans pocket. As soon as she had his phone in her hand, she exhaled and backed up to the other side of the kitchen.

  “Calling your parents?”

  “I called them yesterday. If you must know, I’m calling my boss.”

  Saying nothing, Théo started to chop onions and tomatoes for the boeuf en daube. As he added bits of orange peel, fresh thyme and cognac, he heard her call the bayside restaurant in Seattle where they’d first met.

  “Hey, Steve?” Her voice was nervous and she paused, biting her lip. “This is Carrie. Um, I won’t be able to come to work tomorrow. Really I need the whole week off, if that’s all right…?”

  Théo heard shouting coming from the other end of the line. Apparently her boss was none too pleased.

  Carrie took a deep breath. “I know it’s a huge inconvenience for you. I’m so sorry.” There was a pleading note in her voice that Théo didn’t like one bit. “I’m not in Seattle. I’m
in France for a…a family emergency. Please don’t fire me. I’ll do anything. I’ll work two nights for free when I get back.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “Okay, all right, a week…”

  Guilt and shame ripped through Théo. While he had squandered an extra ten million euros on the steel company in Brazil, for the fleeting satisfaction it gave him, Carrie had been working on her feet for low wages, trying desperately to support their child. He suddenly couldn’t handle the pleading, fearful tone of her voice for another second.

  His hands shook with fury as he wiped them on the apron. Crossing the kitchen, he ripped the cell phone from her hands.

  “Carrie’s not coming back. Ever,” he said to the unseen boss in cold rage. “Find another waitress. She’s too good for you!”

  Théo hung up. Tucking the cell phone back in his pocket, he calmly poured olive oil into two cast-iron pans over the gas burner.

  “What have you done?” Carrie sounded shocked.

  “You’re not working there. Not anymore,” he replied coolly. He dumped the beef into the larger pan, where it almost immediately began to sizzle. “You never have to work there again.”

  Her mouth was agape in fury and grief. “He was going to let me have the week off!”

  “So you’d work for free when you got back?” His lips set in a grim line. “No.”

  “You don’t know how lucky I was to have that job!”

  “Lucky to be on your feet all day and serve salmon platters for four dollars an hour?”

  “Ten dollars! When you count tips…”

  “You’re not going to work anywhere you’re not appreciated,” he ground out, chopping bacon with more force than necessary and putting it into the smaller pan. “You never have to work again if you don’t wish it.”

  She barked out a laugh. “And just what do you think I should do to earn money? How will Henry and I live?”

  He couldn’t believe she’d even asked. He glared at her. “I will provide for you both.”

  She stared at him with her mouth open, then stumbled back a step in the kitchen. “Is that some kind of joke?”

  He hadn’t expected that.

  “Why?” he demanded. “I can afford it.”

  “You think I would trust you to take care of us?” She drew herself up with furious dignity. “Why would I ever give up myself and my child to your power?”

  It was like a knife-blade in his gut.

  “You can trust me, Carrie,” he ground out. “I never would have left you if I’d known you were pregnant.”

  “Right. You’re not even sure he’s your son, or you wouldn’t have demanded a paternity test.”

  “I shouldn’t have doubted you,” he said in a tight voice.

  “So you’ll cancel the paternity test?”

  In her suddenly hopeful tone of voice he heard her real question: When could she leave?

  “You can’t leave until the week is through.” He set his jaw. “We’re going to wait for the official results.”

  “Of course. You don’t just believe I’m telling the truth,” she said glumly. She shook her head. “How could I ever trust you to take care of Henry when I know—I know!—you don’t have the loyalty or commitment necessary to love him forever?”

  He glowered at her. “You should know the love of a parent is different from—”

  She cut him off. “The only reason I’m even still here is because I know that by the end of this week you’ll grow weary of the novelty of a child and give me full custody.”

  “I won’t.”

  Her eyes glittered. “We both know you don’t have what it takes to commit to anyone. Or anything.”

  He put down the knife. As the meats cooked in the two pans on the wide eight-burner stainless-steel stove behind them, he stalked toward her. Folding her arms, Carrie stared up at him, clearly nervous but standing her ground.

  Inches away, he looked down at her.

  “I’m ready to commit to you,” he said. “Right now.”

  “Now?” she taunted. “When you don’t even know for sure Henry’s your son? I’m probably lying. I’m also clearly stupid and blind—since I once loved you.”

  Clenching his hands into fists, Théo glared at her. Then, slowly, he exhaled.

  “You’re not stupid, Carrie. You just believe the best of people. You dream of a world that does not exist.”

  “Don’t worry.” Her voice was bitter. “I don’t think you’re a knight in shining armor anymore.”

  He took a deep breath, fighting to contain the feelings of guilt and regret that boiled inside him, churning into anger. “I know I treated you badly. But I want to make it up to you. Starting with…this.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small velvet jewelry box.

  He heard Carrie’s intake of breath as he held it out to her. Her eyes fell upon the black velvet box as if it were a poisonous hissing snake. “What is that?”

  He pushed it into her hands. “Just open it.”

  Biting her lip, she slowly opened the box.

  The facets of an enormous canary-yellow diamond, surrounded by white diamonds, sparkled in the afternoon sunlight of the kitchen, moving flickers of colored light against her creamy skin.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s the one I saw you looking at in the window of the jewelry shop.”

  “It’s an engagement ring.”

  “Yes.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes huge. “That’s where you went when you left me in town?” she breathed. “To the jeweler’s?”

  “The jeweler said it once was part of the dowry of Empress Eugénie,” he evaded. “Now it will belong to the new Comtesse de Castelnau.” He wrapped his hands over hers. “It will belong to you.”

  Her cold fingers trembled beneath his. He wanted to warm her hands. He wanted to keep her warm and safe forever—to show her he wasn’t the man she thought.

  Carrie lifted her gaze, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Why are you doing this, Théo?” she whispered. “To punish me?”

  “Punish you?” With a diamond? His forehead creased. “I want to be a father to my son. I want Henry to have two parents and the security of a real home.” He looked straight into her eyes and said in a low voice, “And I want you in my bed, Carrie. I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

  She sucked in her breath, searching his gaze. He felt her tremble again, then, with a gasp, she ripped her hands away. Snapping the box shut, she pushed it back into his hands. She looked out the kitchen window, with its bright view of vineyards and sunflowers. “I can’t be your mistress. I won’t be your wife.”

  Théo set his jaw. Forcing himself to relax, not to show her how much her words stung, he tucked the jewelry box back in his pocket. He turned away, grabbing an expensive bottle of red Châteauneuf-du-Pape wine he’d brought up from the cellar. Opening the bottle, he poured it into two glasses. He held out a crystal goblet. “Here.”

  She stared at the glass he held out, then took it. He waited, staring between her and the wine. With a sigh, she took a sip.

  “Delicious,” she said sadly.

  “Better than foamy quail eggs?”

  She snorted a laugh. “Anything is better than that.”

  “Wait until you see what we’re having for dinner. Help me cook?”

  “Help you? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly desperate to spend time with you.”

  He lifted a dark, sardonic eyebrow. “But, hating me as you do, surely you would not wish me to slave over a hot stove alone? You don’t wish to owe me a favor.”

  She stiffened. “Absolutely not.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “So help me.” He held out a second apron. When she didn’t move, he gave her a wicked half-grin, lifting an eyebrow suggestively. “Unless you’re afraid to be close to me…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she bit out. She took a long gulp of wine before she set down the glass. She held out her hand. “Give it here.”

  But i
nstead of giving her the second apron he reached out and lifted up her hair softly. Putting the apron over her shoulders, he tied the belt around her slender waist. Then he turned her around in his arms to face him. He kept his arms around her waist, her body snug against his in the kitchen as the beef and bacon continued to sizzle on the stove behind them.

  Hot desire rushed through Théo like adrenaline as he held her. Her hair felt like cornsilk, her skin soft and smooth as satin. He ached to touch and kiss every inch of her, to rip off her clothes, to stroke and caress and taste her naked skin. He wanted her so badly he shook with it. He wanted to possess her completely and bring her to gasping fulfillment as he plunged himself deeply inside her. He was overwhelmed by the memory of the last time he’d had her in his bed…

  He felt her shiver in his arms, and knew she was remembering the same.

  She licked her lips, and her wide gaze locked with his. “I won’t let you seduce me, Théo,” she choked out. “I won’t. I can’t.”

  But he saw the desperation in her eyes, and knew she was speaking the words to try to convince herself they were true. He saw her tremble, saw the hot flush on her skin, saw the way her teeth gnawed at her full, pink bottom lip. And he knew nothing would stop him from having her.

  Tonight.

  He cupped her chin in his hands.

  “Love doesn’t last.” He looked down at her beautiful face. “But let me show you what we could have in our marriage. Let me show you what you’re tossing away. Security. Comfort. Beauty. And passion,” he breathed in her ear. “A lifetime of pleasure.”

  As he pulled away, her eyes flashed up at him in an expression of fear and desire. “No, Théo.” Her voice was barely audible, a small cry from the heart. “Please. Don’t do this to me…”

  But he was beyond mercy. Holding her tight in his arms, he ruthlessly lowered his mouth to hers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HEAVEN. She’d fallen into heaven.

  Carrie’s eyes closed as she felt his lips, so hot and wet, moving hard against her own, drawing her back into the memory of desire. She felt the roughness of his jawline, like sandpaper against her skin. She felt his hands move against her cheek, her neck, her hair. His body towered over hers, making her feel small and cherished in his powerful arms. She wanted to surrender. But she knew where this kiss would lead. She could not allow it to happen. Could not—