Claiming His Secret Son(47)
“I wasn’t.” Before her heart could contrarily implode with dismay, he added, “I was flabbergasted.”
That astounded her. “I didn’t know anything could even surprise you.”
“Finding a seven-year-old replica of my dead brother on my ex-lover’s threshold? That’s the stuff strokes are made of.”
The “ex-lover” part felt like a blow to her heart.
Sure, she’d walked away this time, saying it was over. But was that what he already considered her? What he’d decided she was? When they’d made love...had earth-shattering sex...just yesterday? If he wasn’t here to pursue her, then why was he here?
“I walked out of here intending not to come back.”
“And that was the right decision. Why are you back?”
“Because the facts have been rewritten. Now instead of wanting to end your friendship with Rose, I want to be your and your family’s...ally.”
Ally? Ally? That was downright...offensive after what had happened the past couple of days. Not to mention in the past.
“I don’t need allies.”
“You never know when and how you might. Having someone of my influence on your side can be more potent than magic.”
She tamped down the need to blast his insensitive hide off his perfect body. “I have no doubt. But I don’t need magic. I work for what I have. And I have more than enough to give my son the best life and to secure his future.”
“Even if you don’t want or need my alliance, you don’t have the right to make that decision for Mauricio. The fact remains, he’s my flesh and blood. And my only heir.”
After a moment of gaping at him, her nerves jangling at his declaration, she choked out, “Are you here because you decided to tell him that?”
Mauri chose this crucial moment to stampede into the living room. “I got all my drawing stuff!”
Before she could say anything more, Richard turned his attention to Mauri.
Brain melting with exasperation and trepidation, she could only watch as father and son ignored her and got engrossed in each other. She had to wait to get her answer.
A no would mean resuming her life as it was. A yes would turn it upside down. And it was all up to Richard.
As it had always been.
* * *
Richard had swung around at Mauricio’s explosive entry, infinitely grateful for the distraction.
As heart-wrenching as the sight of him, the very idea of him, still was, right now he’d take anything over answering Isabella’s question. Since he didn’t have an answer for it.
He had no idea what he was doing here, or what he would or should do next.
In the distraction arena, Mauricio was the best there was. The boy—his son—wrenched a guffaw from his depths as he hurled himself at him, dropping his armful of drawing materials in his lap.
Crashing to a kneeling position at his feet, Mauricio anchored both hands on his knees and looked up at him with barely contained eagerness. “Tell me your opinion of my work. And teach me to draw something.”
“You can draw?”
That was Isabella. She would have asked if he could turn invisible with the same incredulity.
Richard slid her a glance. “I have many hidden talents.”
“I’m sure.” She impaled him on one of those glances that made it an achievement he hadn’t dragged her out of that kitchen and buried himself inside her.
Mauricio dragged his focus back, and his angelic face, overflowing with inquisitiveness and determination, sent a different avalanche of emotions raging through him.
His throat closed, his voice thickened. “Why don’t you show me your best work?”
Mauricio rummaged through the mess on his lap, then pulled out one sketchbook and thrust it at him. “This.”
With hands he could barely keep from trembling, Richard leafed through the pages, his heart squeezing as he perused each effort, remarkable for a boy of his age, testimony to great talent...and turmoil.
Had the latter manifested itself in response to their lifestyle, as Isabella kept relocating them to keep them safe? He was sure she’d shielded her son and family from the reality of their situation. But he believed Mauricio was sensitive enough he’d felt his mother’s disturbance, and felt the dangers she’d paid so much of her life to protect him and their family from.
There was also a searing sense of confusion in the drawings, an overwhelming inquisitiveness and the need to know, what he’d experienced firsthand. Was that a manifestation of his growing up fatherless? Was he constantly wondering about the father he’d never known, or even known about? Did a boy of such energy and intelligence miss a stabilizing male influence, no matter how loving and efficient the females in his life were?