Her 24-Hour Protector(57)
“Please,” she said, very quietly. “Will you sit?”
Lex glanced at the virginal cream sofa, the matching chairs. “I’d prefer to stand—this shouldn’t take long.” He didn’t like the look in her eyes, the unease he was feeling. Something big was coming down the pike here, and he had no idea what it was.
She walked to the bar counter, moving smoothly on impossibly high heels. She reached for a bottle of mineral water, uncapped it. “I knew Sara,” she said as she poured a glass. “What do you want to know about her?”
“She was my mother.”
Mercedes put the glass to her painted lips, sipped slowly, eyes intent on his. She set the glass down, a small chink of crystal on the black granite surface of the counter. “No, she wasn’t, Lexington.”
“I…excuse me?”
“Sara Duncan was not your mother.”
He stared at her blankly.
She inhaled. “I’d really prefer you to sit, Lexington.”
“Right about now, I really don’t want to sit.”
She nodded, turned away from him, looked down on the activity on the Strip thirty-three stories below. “It’s been such a long time, so much in between. A lifetime really.” She paused. “I had a one-night stand, Lexington. Just over thirty-five years ago.”
Roman Markowitz had called Frank Epstein immediately upon encountering Special Agent Duncan in the private elevator. Epstein’s driver had rushed Frank back to his hotel. He now sat in his private viewing room, watching the video feed into his own penthouse apartment. Markowitz stood at his side.
“You think he recognized you?” said Epstein, eyes glued to the monitor.
“Not a chance. He has no idea who I am.”
Epstein nodded his head. “Keep it that way.”
“How do you want to play this?”
Epstein studied his beautiful wife. “Let’s hear what she tells him and see how he reacts. We’ll take it from there,” he said quietly. “What happened the other night with the tail on the Rothchild heiress by the way?”
“We lost her in a car chase. Someone else was following her. Caused the freeway pileup.”
“You see who it was following her?”
“Negative.”
“Interesting,” Epstein mused.
“What does your one-night stand have to do with Sara Duncan?” Lex wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what was going to come out of Mercedes Epstein’s mouth next.
She ignored his question. “It was a crazy, impulsive and very dangerous thing to do, because I had recently married Frank, and Frank was a very, very possessive man.” She was quiet for a few seconds, staring down at the tiny cars far down in the street. “I’m sure you know the rumors about Frank in those days.”
She spun round suddenly. “I fell pregnant that night, Lexington. And do you want to know what the irony is? The irony is that Frank has always been unable to sire children. As much as I needed to hide the affair, I couldn’t even begin to think of passing off my baby as his. And I couldn’t get rid of my unborn child. It was not in me to do so.”
Nausea rose in Lex as the meaning behind her words burrowed into his brain. “Who…did you have this affair with? Who was the father of your child?” His voice came out hoarse.
“A man by the name of Tony Ciccone. He worked for Frank. He was—”
“I know who he was.”
Pain twisted into her features, and her eyes glimmered. “Tony told me to get rid of the child. He said Frank would murder us both if he found out, and I believed him. But I could not go through with an abortion. I…” Her voice hitched. “I…I just couldn’t.”
Lex didn’t trust himself to speak.
“So I arranged to go on an extended tour. I was a dancer back then, and Frank was very busy with a major project at the time and wanted to keep me happy. He’d have given me the world if he could. He has given me so much—”
“The baby?”
She moistened her lips, nodded. “I timed my tour so that I could carry my child to term, and I gave birth in secret, where Frank wouldn’t find out.”
“A boy.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “And I named him Lexington.” Her eyes misted over, and her voice grew thick. “I named him for my hometown in Kentucky because I had a desperate need to root my son with some part of myself, my history, before I had to give him away.”
Lex ran his hands over his hair. Feeling hot. He needed air. He needed to get the hell out of this place. He didn’t want to hear what he was hearing. Didn’t want to believe it…couldn’t process it. “I…I am that son.”