Australia: Wicked Mistresses(83)

His father started to interrupt but Nick stopped him. “You’re afraid of being left alone. Mom’s gone. Adam’s in London. With this illegal adoption…hanging over your head all these years…so many years building a business that you want to live on after you’re gone.”

He sipped his Scotch, his gaze steady. “I may not be your blood, Randall but I’m in this for the long haul. You’ve taught me—us—well. You need to have faith that you’ve done your job. Have I ever let you down?”

Randall shook his head at the quick question, subdued. “You never have.”

“I won’t leave you,” Nick said firmly. “Nor will Adam. That’s a promise. It’s time you stopped worrying about this.”

Randall was old school, brought up to keep his emotions carefully hidden. But Nick saw the love and support—for him—on his father’s aged face and knew he was on the mark. “I may not be your blood, Randall,” he repeated, “but I’m your best—no, I’m your only— option to take this place, keeping all your values and integrity intact, and grow it to pass on to my kids one day.”

The old man’s eyes gleamed and he suddenly found something very interesting in the bottom of his glass.

“And you’ll be around to see it,” Nick finished.

Randall sat for a minute, swallowing several times, his aged throat bobbing. Then he slowly got to his feet and came around to Nick’s side of the desk. “Nick. Son.” He extended his hand. Nick rose and they clasped hands. “I couldn’t bear to lose you,” his father mumbled, clapping him hard on the back in a semblance of an embrace.

Nick thought that might be the only time in his life his father had hugged him and he knew playing hardball and declaring his loyalty had been the right thing to do.

“Right, then,” Randall huffed, drawing back, patting pockets, buttoning his jacket and generally doing a good impression of businesslike busyness. “You’d better start packing in here in preparation for your move to the corner office.” He stepped back and raised his glass. “I’ll announce it at the birthday party next week. Get yourself a new suit and bring a date.”

Nick nodded. A date…since it was a day for revelations, he could do better than that, couldn’t he? “Sit down, Dad. I have something else to say.”

Jordan sat on the couch, leaning on Elanor’s shoulder. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

Elanor nodded. “He’ll appeal, just to be bloodyminded, but deep down he knew he’d lose. Even the lawyers warned him this was the likely outcome.” She slipped her hand through her daughter’s arm. “I’m more worried about you, rushing off like that.”

Jordan heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I just felt so ill.” She hadn’t been able to face going back into the courtroom after Nick’s cold, hard put-down. His words his face—her throat closed and she was overwhelmed at last by the tears that had backed up for days, threatening to choke her.

She threw herself into her mother’s lap and sobbed out the whole story, while Elanor stroked her hair and murmured comforting platitudes. Then, with typical pragmatism, she phoned her specialist and got Jordan an appointment immediately. “Home pregnancy kits aren’t always accurate. We have to be sure.”

Jordan washed her face and helped her mother into the car.

“Do you love him?” Elanor asked quietly.

That started a fresh round of crying. “With all my heart.”

Mopping her face with tissues, she heard her mother sigh, and looked up. Elanor’s yes were very troubled. “Oh, Jordan.”

“I know. I’m spoiled and selfish, just like he said. He’s the son of Dad’s worst enemy, but did I let that stop me?” She shook her head miserably.

“Darling, it’s not that. We can’t always control these things.” She took Jordan’s hand. “I have a confession to make. I warned Nick off last week, insisted he stop seeing you.”

Jordan’s head jerked up. “How did you…?”

“I had you investigated,” her mother said quietly.

Speechless, Jordan could only stare, wondering if she’d heard correctly.

“I’m sorry. Your social life until a few months ago was well documented. At least I had an idea of what was going on. But there has been no one for months, nearly a year. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. And when I found out who it was, I tried to scare him off.”

“I can’t believe you’d…” Jordan reeled with the revelation that her kind, sweet mother would go to these lengths. That sounded like something Syrius might do, but…another thought twisted through her over-loaded brain. “What—what did he say? Nick?”

Her mother bit her lip. “That he cared for you.”

That should have elated her. It didn’t. After the altercation earlier, it only intensified the ache.

“I didn’t realize the extent of your feelings,” Elanor continued. “With the court case going on, your father would have exploded if he’d found out. But if I’d known how you felt about him, I would never have spoken to him…told him…” Her voice trailed off.

“Told him what?”

Her mother hesitated. “That’s better coming from him. You need to talk to him.”

“Except he doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Jordan said, sniffing. “Apart from your interference, I’ve spent the last week childishly trying to make him jealous. He thinks I’m sleeping with every man and his dog.”

“I’m sure once he calms down and gets over the shock, he won’t believe that.”

The car turned into the consultant’s car park. Jordan took out her compact and checked her face. “You sound almost hopeful.” She grimaced at her red, swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks. If she was seen going into a private ob-gyn clinic looking like this, the press would have a field day. She tied her hair back hurriedly and slid her sunglasses on. “But the fact remains that Dad will never accept it.”

“Let me deal with Syrius,” her mother said grimly.

As they waited to be seen, Jordan tried to make sense of it all. If Nick had refused her mother’s demands, what had happened between then and now, when he could barely look at her without disgust?

She had happened. Hurt by his silence, she had lived up to his expectations of her, as she so often did. What had he said? That she always had to be the center of attention.

The consultant took a blood test, which their on-site lab rushed through. Less than two hours later, they returned to the car. Exhausted after the stress of the day—and of the last week or so—Jordan leaned back in the seat and turned her tear-streaked face to her mother. “Oh, Mom, it just hurts so much.”

Elanor stroked Jordan’s hair and wiped away her tears, her own eyes glistening.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Jordan felt so helpless, so out of control. She needed the comfort of her old room, familiar surroundings, the arms and love and sympathy only a mother could provide.

“Of course you can,” her mother murmured. “For as long as you like.”

Nick tossed and turned all night, despite the whiskey sedative that should have ensured sleep. What was the matter with him? He’d achieved his goal. He would be named as the managing director of Thorne Enterprises the following week. He’d made peace with his father over his parentage and gotten to know his mother a little. Surely he had everything he wanted.

Except…the woman carrying his baby thought he wanted nothing to do with her. The pain in her eyes as he’d heaped insults and scorn upon her haunted him. He tried to justify his behavior by remembering the publicity of her partying up with her new/old lover. And she hadn’t denied it—not that he’d given her much of a chance.

He should have called her; he knew that now. With her insecurities and mystifying low self-esteem, his lack of communication must have hurt. She wasn’t responsible for what his personal life had served up to him. All she knew was that he’d stayed away.

The sunrise began to streak the sky with gold. Nick gave up on sleep, pulled on some track pants and sat on the step of his large, modern town house, cradling a mug of black coffee. Looking out over the easy-care garden, across the busy road that ran alongside the bay, he suddenly wondered if this house would be suitable for a child. Built on three levels, not fenced in—Lord, it was a death trap!

A baby. He allowed his mind to process the word, but found he couldn’t assimilate it quite yet, couldn’t conjure up a picture in his mind. But Jordan pregnant—now that was easier. She would make a beautiful mother-to-be. His mind wandered back to waking snuggled up behind her on the boat, and then he imagined his arms around her swelling middle, feeling the baby move, sharing the appointments, buying…whatever prospective parents bought in preparation for the event.

A ripple of exhilaration swept him from head to toe, and he threw his head back at the lightening sky. A baby. A chance to right the wrongs of the past. To stamp his identify on another human and show him or her that they were precious, wanted, loved.

Suddenly he could hardly wait to start sharing the experience. He had to wait, thought, since it was only five-thirty. He dragged on a T-shirt and some trainers and set off for a run along the stony beach, needing physical exertion to curb his growing elation at the thought of becoming a father.