His Forever Family(5)

"What do you hope to gain out of this?" That's what his mother would  say in her simpering voice, because that's what life was to her.  Everything, every single human interaction, had a tally associated with  it. You either gained something or you lost.

Warrens were never losers.

And his father? The man famous for his affairs with his secretaries?  "If you want her, just take her." That's what his father would say.

He didn't want to be that man. He didn't want to use Liberty because he  had all the power in their relationship. He was not his father.

Still, his father cast a long shadow. Marcus had gone to the university  his parents had picked. His girlfriends had been preapproved daughters  of their friends. Hell, even his company, Warren Capital, had been his  father's idea. What better way to curry power and favor than to  literally fund the businesses of tomorrow?

It had taken him years to loosen the ties that bound him to his  parents, but he'd managed to separate his life from theirs. Liberty was a  part of that, too. His mother had some friend of a friend she'd wanted  him to hire-someone she could use to keep tabs on Marcus. Instead, he'd  defied her by hiring a young woman from a family no one had ever heard  of based on the strength of her recommendations and her insistence that  she jogged regularly.

Marcus had paid for that act of defiance, just as he'd paid for  refusing to marry Lillibeth Hanson. He may have lost favor with his  parents, but he'd gained much more.                       
       
           



       

He'd gained his independence.

Still, he couldn't have his parents finding out about this. It simply  wouldn't do for them to interest themselves in his life again.

"Mr. Warren?" Liberty stuck her head through his office door. He didn't  miss the way that he was "Mr. Warren" again, as if she hadn't called  him Marcus by the side of the jogging trail this morning.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Chabot is on the line." Marcus must have looked at her blankly,  for she went on, "The producer for Feeding Frenzy? He wants to confirm  the meeting when you're in Los Angeles after the wedding."

Right. Marcus had spent his entire morning tracking down  someone-anyone-who knew about the little baby. He did actually have work  to do.

"What did you tell him?"

She notched an eyebrow at him. "I put him on hold." The panic-stricken  woman from the run this morning was gone and in her place was his  competent, levelheaded assistant. Ms. Reese was impeccably dressed in a  gray skirt suit with a rose-colored blouse underneath. Her hair was  neatly pulled back into a slick bun and her makeup was understated, as  always.

He'd wanted to kiss her this morning. The impulse had come out of  nowhere. He'd watched her hold that child and felt her palpable grief  when the ambulance had driven off. He'd wanted to hold her, to let her  know it'd be okay. And then she'd looked up at him with her deep brown  eyes and...

"Thank you, Ms. Reese," he said because what he needed right now was  not to think about that impulse or how he'd joked that he should take  her to the wedding only to realize he hadn't been joking. Which was a  problem. She was an assistant-not part of his social circle. If he  showed up with her, people would talk. Marcus Warren, slumming with his  secretary. Or, worse, they'd assume that Liberty was manipulating him  just as Lillibeth had.

But he wanted to take her. She was safe and trustworthy. And she was the one telling him to do what he wanted.

She gave him a little nod and turned to go.

"Liberty," he said.

She paused for a beat before she turned back around. "Yes?"

"I've made some calls about the baby. I'll let you know when I hear anything."

Her face softened and he was struck by how lovely she was. Underneath  that executive-assistant mask was a beautiful woman. He just hadn't  realized how beautiful until this morning. "Thank you."

He had nothing to gain by tracking down that baby. The child wouldn't  bring him more power or money. The baby boy wouldn't be able to return a  favor when Marcus wanted.

But he'd made a promise to Liberty.

He was going to keep it.

* * *

The ad mock-up for Rock City Watch drifted out of focus as Liberty  wondered about that little baby. It'd been four days since she'd held  him to her chest. Was he still in the hospital? Was he okay?

She shouldn't be this worried, she decided as she tried to refocus on  the ad. Worrying wasn't going to help anything. And besides, Marcus had  promised he'd look into it and she had to have faith that he'd keep that  promise to her.

Of course it'd also been four days since Marcus had wrapped his strong  arms around her and told her he'd find the baby because the child was  important to her and she was important to Marcus.

Since that time, there'd been no hugs, no long looks. There'd been no  more mention of the wedding, although that would have to change soon. If  he continued to insist on going, he needed to pick a date. A safe date,  she mentally corrected herself. Someone who wouldn't look at him and  see nothing but a hot body and a huge...

Bank account.

The phone rang. "Warren Capital Investments. How may I assist you?"

"Ms. Reese." The coquettish voice of Mrs. Marisa Warren floated from  the other end of the line. Liberty gritted her teeth. So this was how  today was going to go, huh? "How is my son today?"

"Fine, Mrs. Warren." But Liberty offered no other information.

When she'd first been hired, Marcus had made it blisteringly clear that  she worked for him, not for Laurence or Marisa Warren. If he ever  caught her passing information to his parents about his business, his  prospects or his personal life, well, she could pack her things and go.  End of discussion.

Luckily, Liberty had gotten very good at telling people what they wanted to hear without giving anything away.

"I was wondering," Marisa simpered, "if my son has settled on a date  for the Hanson wedding? It's a few weeks away and he knows how important  it is."

When she'd first started fielding these nosy calls, Liberty hadn't  entirely understood why Marcus was so determined that nothing of his  life leak out to his parents. After all, she'd grown up dreaming of  having a mother and a father who cared about her. And Marisa Warren  seemed to care about her son quite a lot.                       
       
           



       

But appearances were deceiving. "Mrs. Warren," she said in her most  deferential tone because it also hadn't taken her long to realize that  while Marcus might treat her with respect and dignity, to his parents  she was on approximately the same level as a maid. "I couldn't speak to  his plans for the wedding."

"Surely you've heard something..."

Liberty focused on keeping her voice level. "As you know, Mr. Warren doesn't share personal information with me."

She wasn't sure at what point this wedding had crossed from personal to  business and back again. When Marcus's relationship with Lillibeth had  blown up in the media, she'd read what she could-but he'd never once  broached the topic during office hours. It was only when they were  running that he'd even touch on the subject-and even that was more about  damage control than "feelings" and "sharing."

He'd asked her to prepare a roster of acceptable women with whom to  attend this wedding. And then he'd asked her-however jokingly-to be his  date.

"Hmph," Mrs. Warren said. It was the least dignified sound she was  probably capable of making and, in her honeyed voice, it still sounded  pretty. "Have him call me when he's free." She never asked to speak to  Marcus when she called his office number. That was the thing that  Liberty had realized about that first call. Mrs. Warren wasn't calling  to talk to Marcus. She was calling to talk to Liberty about Marcus.

Liberty knew where her loyalty lay, even if Mrs. Warren didn't. "Of course, Mrs. Warren."

She hung up and finished analyzing the Rock City Watch ads. If Marcus  was going to push them as a high-end luxury good, then the ads needed to  be slicker. There was too much text talking about Detroit's revival,  and the photography needed to give off a more exclusive vibe, she  decided.

What rich people wanted was exclusivity. That's what she'd learned in  the three years she'd worked in this office on North LaSalle. Not only  did they want the best, they wanted to be damned sure that it was better  than what everyone else had. It wasn't enough to own a great watch or a  fancy car or live in an expensive building. Rich people wanted to make  sure that theirs was the only one. She figured that was why they spent  so much money on artworks. By definition, those were one of a kind.