‘It would have been better for him if you had held him in your arms and fed him yourself,’ he said harshly. ‘Breastfeeding is a crucial time, when the special bond between a mother and her child is formed.’
‘I had no idea you were such an expert in childcare,’ Lauren snapped, infuriated by his arrogance. ‘I hate having to leave Matty, but I have no choice…’
‘Yes, you do. You have always had a choice,’ Ramon said bitterly. ‘If you had told me you were expecting my child I would have ensured that you received the best care. My son would have been born in Spain and would have spent the past ten months at the Castillo del Toro, surrounded by his grandmother and his aunts and cousins—not here in this poky flat, farmed out to a nursery all day while you pursue your precious career.’
Poky flat…farmed out…Ramon’s scathing indictment of the way she was bringing up Mateo rendered Lauren speechless with fury. But before she could formulate a reply he spoke again—this time in a cold, implacable voice that she found more frightening than his explosive temper.
‘I want my son. And I will have him; do not doubt it, Lauren.’
The moment Ramon had laid eyes on his son he had realised he did not give a damn if the baby was not deemed to be of true Spanish noble blood because he had been born to an English mother. Mateo was his child, and he felt fiercely possessive and protective of him.
‘It is obvious from Mateo’s striking similarity to me that he is a Velaquez, but if you deny that I am his father I will demand a DNA test, and then I will take him to Spain, where he belongs.’
‘You can’t do that.’ Lauren shook her head, and winced as starbursts of pain shot through her skull. She could not stop shivering, yet two minutes ago she had been burning up. Her legs must be trembling because she had a fever, but as she stared at Ramon’s hard face fear swept through her, and she sank weakly onto the sofa. ‘You have no right to take him,’ she said shakily.
He slammed his hand down on the table, his temper exploding once again. ‘Don’t you dare talk to me about rights! What right did you have to keep my son from me? And what right did you have to deny Mateo his father? This is not about us,’ Ramon said grimly. ‘The only important thing is what is best for Mateo.’
‘How can taking him away from me be best for him?’ Lauren held her hand to her throbbing head and tried to think clearly. ‘I may not have specialised in family law, but no court would separate a baby from his mother.’
‘We’ll see,’ Ramon said coldly. ‘I think it is entirely likely a judge would agree that it would be better for Mateo to live with his father, who is prepared to devote his life to him, within a huge extended family who will welcome him and love him, than with a mother who is at work all day while he is left in the care of nursery staff. A child of Mateo’s age needs the security of being cared for mainly by one or two family members, and I will be there for him night and day.’
‘Really?’ Lauren said disbelievingly. ‘What about when you are jet-setting around the globe for work? Or attending numerous social functions? I suppose you’ll leave Matty with a nanny?’
‘I intend to cut my business trips to a minimum, and to be frank I’m bored with parties. I would much rather spend my time with my son.’
He stared at Lauren’s white face and hardened his heart against a faint flicker of sympathy. She had coldbloodedly denied him his child, and she did not deserve his compassion.
‘What you did was unforgivable,’ he said harshly. ‘You had better start praying you win that promotion Alistair Gambrill told me you are in line for, because you are going to need all the money you can get to pay for the custody battle—and for the appeal if I lose the first round, and then the next appeal. Do you get the picture, Lauren? I will never give up fighting for my son because I genuinely believe he will have a better life with me. Mateo is the Velaquez heir, and I don’t understand how you could want to deny him his birthright.’
Lauren suddenly sneezed violently, and could not stifle a groan as pain tore through every muscle in her body. She still could not stop shivering, but when she pushed her hair back from her face her brow felt clammy with sweat. She rested her head against the back of the sofa, unaware of Ramon’s sharp scrutiny.
He frowned when he saw that her skin was a strange grey colour. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he demanded tersely. ‘You look terrible.’
She gave a mirthless smile. ‘You don’t think that might have something to do with the fact that you’re threatening to take Matty from me?’ Her throat felt as though she had swallowed shards of glass, and talking was agony. ‘I must have picked up the flu virus that’s been doing the rounds at work.’ She dropped her gaze from the blazing fury in his. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I honestly believed you would want nothing to do with Matty—or, worse, consider him an obligation. But, whatever you think, I swear I have done my best to be a good mother to him.’