Читать книгу The Beaumont Children: His Son, Her Secret - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 16

Ten

They met outside the brewery. Leona was exhausted. Between the three times Percy had gotten her up in the middle of the night and the wild dreams she’d had about Byron, she’d gotten very little rest.

But here she was anyway, picking Byron up at the restaurant site instead of the Beaumont Mansion so his family wouldn’t see him leaving in her car.

“How are you?” he asked as he climbed into the passenger seat. But before she could answer, he’d pulled her into a light kiss.

In the back, Percy shook his rattle.

“Sorry,” Byron said, clearly not sorry at all.

And that, in a nutshell, was her problem. If she were to find herself pregnant again, she’d have to marry him.

An insidious voice in her head that sounded a lot like her father whispered, Maybe that was his plan the entire time. Get you pregnant again to force your hand.

She shook that thought out of her head. “Tired. He woke up a couple more times last night.”

Byron frowned. “How long do those drops take to work?”

“A couple of days. Where are we going?”

Byron gave her the address and they headed out. “Do I take it May’s still not interested in relocating to stay closer to you two?”

“No, not particularly.” Which was the diplomatic way of saying it. At breakfast, May had been quite upset that Leona was spending the day with Byron—and was taking Percy with her.

They drove in silence. The weight of what had happened between them last night hung heavy in the air. She could always buy the plan B pill, just to make sure she didn’t get pregnant—but she didn’t want to do that without discussing it with Byron, and she had absolutely no idea how to begin that conversation.

So, instead, she would look at real estate with a man she still wasn’t convinced she should live with. Because last night he’d told her in all seriousness that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

She liked to think she was no fool. Oh, sure, she had made some foolish choices. But this?

Living together meant sleeping together, no matter what either of them said about separate rooms. If she agreed to this trial, they’d be together in every sense of the word.

Part of her thought that was a grand idea. It’s what she’d wanted, after all, back before she got pregnant the first time and Byron abandoned her and it all blew up in her face. The other part of her couldn’t get past the part where Byron had abandoned her.

Even though Byron had laid her out last night and made her orgasm like no time had passed between them, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen next. She wanted Byron but...she had to put her son first.

Of course, Percy should know his father. That was nonnegotiable.

God, her head was such a mess. Maybe if she’d gotten more than four hours of nonconsecutive sleep she’d be able to think.

They arrived at the Realtor’s office, and she came out to greet them. “Hi! I’m Sherry!” the woman said in a way-too-bright voice. Leona winced. It was still far too early for this level of enthusiasm. “I don’t want you to have to unstrap that little cutie so we’ll just head out, okay?”

“That’s fine,” Byron said. “We’ll follow you?”

“Sure!” Sherry said with a blindingly white smile.

Leona turned to Byron. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.” He gave her a sly grin. “Just that I was a Beaumont and I expected a high level of service. That’s all.”

“Oh, Lord,” Leona muttered, following Sherry’s car out of the parking lot. “Let the upselling begin.”

Byron chuckled.

They drove into Littleton, which was not a town that Leona had spent a lot of time in. Her family lived in Cherry Hills in an old mansion behind a gated fence.

Although Littleton looked like a nicer place than the section of Aurora where she and May lived, it didn’t come close to Cherry Hills. At least, not until the Realtor made a couple of turns and May found herself driving past a country club. “Byron?” she asked. “I thought you were just going to get us an apartment or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed as the Realtor pulled into the driveway of a truly stunning house. From the outside, it looked as if it was maybe half the size of her family’s mansion—and easily five times the size of her current apartment, if not more.

Leona opened her car door and gaped. The house was built to look like a log cabin, but this was no primitive home. The red tile roof gleamed in the morning sunlight and the foundation plantings were lush—obviously well watered despite the lingering drought conditions.

“Here we are!” said Sherry with an even bigger smile.

“How much?” Leona demanded.

Sherry blinked and said, “It’s $1.3 million, but it’s been on the market for a few months so I think there’s negotiating room.”

“No.”

Sherry’s megawatt smile faltered. “I’m sorry?”

“No,” Leona said, ignoring the Realtor and turning back to Byron, who had the nerve to look innocent. “This was supposed to be a temporary thing, a three-bedroom apartment—not a—” She turned back to Sherry. “How many square feet?”

“Nine thousand, if you account for the maid’s room over the garage.”

Nine thousand square feet of luxury. Not a cozy little apartment. This place had a maid’s room, for God’s sake. This felt wrong. Everything about it was off. She’d spent the past year scrimping and scraping. She didn’t want this situation to even suggest that she could be bought—that her affection was for sale. That’s what her father would do if he admitted he’d screwed up. He’d throw an insanely expensive gift at her and expect that to make everything okay.

Well, this was not okay. Her affection could not be bought and that was final. Yes, she wanted stability for Percy but this was so far beyond stable that it wasn’t funny. “No, Byron. This isn’t what we agreed on.”

She started to get back in the car, but Percy began to fuss and before she could do anything, Byron had the back door open and was unbuckling the baby. “You want out? This place has a swing set in the back,” he told the boy. “And a big lawn where you can run around and we could even get a puppy! Would you like a puppy, Percy?”

Percy squealed in delight, although Leona was sure he didn’t really grasp what puppy meant. She glared at Byron. What the hell was he trying to do here—bribe a six-month-old?

“Come on, little man,” Byron said. He shut the back door and walked to the front of the car. “Let’s wait for Mommy.”

Leona had several choice things she wanted to say, but Percy squealed and clapped his hands and he looked...happy. She was stuck in a very real way. She couldn’t drive off without her son—but she didn’t like this bait and switch. It felt as though Byron was steamrollering her and she didn’t like it. If she wanted to be steamrollered, she’d go home and her father would be happy to run roughshod all over her.

“We’re only looking,” Byron said. He turned to Sherry, who was not wearing any kind of smile at all. “We have other places to look at that are at other price points, correct?”

“Yes!” Sherry replied enthusiastically.

Byron leaned down and kissed the top of Percy’s head while he kept his eyes fastened on hers.

“Fine. But I don’t have to like it,” Leona snapped as she got out of the car.

“Duly noted. I want to see the kitchen.”

Sherry unlocked the house and led them inside. The place had a grand feeling to it, but it wasn’t the same sort of cold, sterile feeling Leona’s parents’ mansion had given her—or, for that matter, that the Beaumont Mansion had given her, kitchen notwithstanding. Instead of severe colors and harsh lighting designed to make everything look as expensive as possible, this entryway was filled with the warmth of the early-morning sun.

“Oh,” she couldn’t help but whisper.

“Beautiful,” Byron agreed. “Which way’s the kitchen?”

Sherry went on and on about the specifications of the house—the number of bedrooms and bathrooms and the view and so on. All Leona could do was trail along behind them, trying to take in the magnitude of the place.

She hadn’t allowed herself to be disappointed with her apartment because she’d been desperate and only had so much money. It was the best she could do on short notice and, for that, she was grateful for it.

But for the first time in a year, she allowed herself to think about living in a place that was above good-enough. Byron spent twenty minutes in the kitchen, examining the appliances and discussing a “work triangle” with the Realtor, who was back to full-on perkiness. While they talked, Leona held Percy and they walked through the living room again. Wide French doors opened onto a tree-lined yard. And, as Byron had promised, there was a swing set—although this was closer to the equipment one would find in a park.

They toured the four bedrooms, including a master suite that had a huge whirlpool tub, and then they looked at the office. “This would be yours,” Byron said in a low voice as he opened the door for her.

Leona couldn’t help but gasp. The room was mostly windows and looked out onto the green expanse of the golf course. Behind that, the mountains broke rank and raced up to the sky. The morning light gleamed deep purple off the mountains’ sides. There wasn’t a parking lot or Dumpster in sight.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“I thought that, if you ever quit working for that Fish guy—”

“Lutefisk,” she corrected, staring at the built-in bookcases and filing cabinets that made up the interior wall.

“Yeah, him. If you wanted to quit working for him, you’d need an office space for your business.”

She’d always talked about opening her own design firm—how she’d design his restaurant and then build her clientele from there. She turned to face him. “You remembered.”

“I never forgot. Not you,” he replied, holding his gaze with hers. “I want to make it up to you.”

She wanted to believe that—to believe him. But Percy squirmed in her arms and she thought of all the long months without Byron, of being completely on her own.

“By buying me an extravagant house?” She forced herself to walk back out into the hall, away from the beautiful office and the stunning views.

“I’ve got to live somewhere—somewhere that doesn’t involve my extended family,” he replied, following her out. “And you requested your own space, did you not?”

Sherry gave them a sideways glance. “Let’s go check out that playground!” she said, leaning forward to speak directly to Percy.

“I requested separate bedrooms. Not a freaking nine-thousand-square-foot mansion, Byron. It feels like you’re trying to buy my loyalty. Or at least my complicity. And I don’t like it.”

He stared at her. “What on God’s green earth are you talking about?”

“It just feels like this is something my father would do. Throw a lot of money at a problem—”

“You are not a problem,” he interrupted. “Percy is not a problem.”

“No? Maybe not right now, but how long before you remember you’re still mad at me? Or when Percy has a rough day, a rough night and won’t stop screaming? Then it’ll be a problem, all right. Mine. When the going gets tough, you’ll get going.”

Sherry poked her head back around the corner. “Everything all right?” she asked.

Byron fixed Leona with a hard glare. She fought the urge to step back, to agree with him—to go along to get along. Those days had passed. She had to stand firm—this was her life, too. So what if the house was beautiful? So what if it had everything she could ever want in a home?

It would still be bought and paid for by Byron. He’d control the money, the house—and her. She was only useful as long as Percy needed her. Oh, Byron could dress it up with a pretty office or whatever, but still—she’d be dependent on him. And after she’d left home, she’d vowed to never be dependent on another man for as long as she lived.

After all, if it was his house on his terms, what would happen to her if it didn’t work out? Would he show her the door? He might not disappear into the night again—but there were other ways to be abandoned. Wasn’t that what his father had always done? Hardwick had never gone anywhere, but as soon as he’d tired of his wife, out she went without a penny to her name. If that wasn’t abandonment, she didn’t know what was.

She couldn’t handle the rejection, not a second time. So she stood firm. She didn’t back down and she didn’t apologize for having an opinion. She was in control of her destiny, damn it all. If only destiny would stop throwing her curveballs.

Byron turned to the Realtor, who waited with an expression that made Leona think of a golden retriever.

“We’ll take it,” he said decisively.

Another freaking curveball.

Destiny had a funny sense of humor.