Читать книгу The Beaumont Children: His Son, Her Secret - Sarah M. Anderson - Страница 17

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Eleven

The next thing Byron knew, Leona was stomping away from him. Why was she being so damn stubborn?

He had the entire buyout from the sale of the Beaumont Brewery sitting in a bank account, completely untouched. Seventeen million dollars—plus compounded interest—was waiting for him and if he wanted to buy himself a nice house, then damn it, he would.

He thought Leona was just going to cool off in a different room—but then he heard the front door slam.

“Leona!” he yelled, running after her. He got the front door open as she was belting Percy into his seat. “Leona, wait!”

She shot him an incredibly dirty look, but she did not wait. She got into the car and fired it up.

Before Byron could give chase, his phone rang with the tone he’d selected for Matthew. What the hell... He had to talk to Matthew. If anyone could fix this mess that Byron kept making worse, it was his older brother. So, with a groan of frustration, he let Leona go.

“Yeah,” he said.

“For the love of God, tell me you’re not backing out of the restaurant.” Byron could almost see Matthew pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

The Realtor poked her head out. “Is everything okay?” she asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “Did your wife change her mind about the house?”

“Hang on,” Byron said. Then, to Sherry, he said, “No, we’ll still take the house. But I have an important—and private—call to take, if you don’t mind.”

The Realtor’s eyes lit up with commissioned dollar signs. “Oh, of course! I’ll be inside.”

Byron waited until the door shut. “No, I’m not backing out of the restaurant. And hello to you, too. Where the hell have you been? I called you three days ago!”

“You didn’t say it was an emergency and Chadwick didn’t call in a panic, so I figured it could keep. I unplugged for a couple of days.”

“Since when do you unplug in the middle of the damned week? I thought you were always working.”

“Not always. Not anymore.” Something in his voice changed. “I took a trip with Whitney. We got married.”

Byron was almost too stunned to speak. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” was the terse reply.

“Well, congratulations, man. I would have come out for it.”

“I know. But we wanted to keep it quiet.”

Byron snorted. Usually, Matthew was all about maintaining the family image—public relations was his thing. But he’d gone and fallen in love with former wild-child star Whitney Wildz who, in real life, was a very private woman named Whitney Maddox. Matthew would do anything to protect her from the paparazzi. Including, apparently, getting married in complete secrecy.

“Did you at least tell Mom? You know she’ll be heartbroken if you got married without telling her.”

There was a short pause before Matthew said, “I flew her out for it. She was our witness.”

“Good.” And it was. Their mother had had enough heartbreak in her life. Byron didn’t want to add to it. Still, the fact that Matthew had seen fit to invite their mother but not Byron or Frances stung, if only a little.

“So, yes,” Matthew went on, “I am capable of unplugging for a little honeymoon with my wife. She’s working with a horse, and I’ve got an hour to deal with the priority issues. If you’re not bailing on the restaurant, what’s up?”

Okay, so even if Matthew had gotten married without telling Byron, at least he was still a priority. “I have a problem.”

“I’m listening.”

Was there any good way to say this? Probably not. “You remember how I wanted you to invite Leon Harper to Phillip’s wedding reception?”

“And his family, if I recall correctly. A request that struck me as so odd that I looked into Harper a little more. Apparently he has two daughters.” Matthew sounded as if this were no big deal.

“And you remember how I went to Europe for a year?”

“Paris and then Madrid, yes. Are you telling me these two facts are connected?”

Byron kicked at a pebble in the driveway. He just had to get this out. It was his mess, but he needed help cleaning it up. “Three days ago, I discovered that Leona Harper—Harper’s oldest daughter—gave birth to my son about six months ago. His name is Percy.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line—a silence that lasted more than a few moments.

Byron couldn’t take it. He plunged ahead. “I’ve asked her to move in with me and—”

“Into the mansion?” Matthew spluttered. “Are you insane? A Harper living in the Beaumont Mansion?”

“As I was going to say before I was interrupted,” Byron said, trying not to snap at his brother, “I’m buying a house for us. And I’ve asked her to marry me. For our son’s sake.”

Again, there was another painful silence. “Jesus, Byron,” Matthew finally muttered. “I’d have thought, after our father left bastards scattered to the four winds, that you would have been a little more careful than that.”

The condom failure from last night popped into his mind. “I was careful. But sometimes things don’t work like they’re supposed to. I need a prenup. We have to get married as soon as possible to make sure her father can’t declare her incompetent and take my son away.”

“No,” Matthew replied flatly. “You absolutely cannot marry her. She’s Harper’s daughter for God’s sake! Frances didn’t tell me the details, but she made it pretty clear that someone had broken your heart and that’s why you left.”

“I am well aware of what happened. But I am not leaving any bastards to be scattered to the winds. He’s my son and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. Even marry a Harper.”

“Are you into pain or something? You enjoy being Harper’s punching bag? Because if you tie your horse to his wagon, that’s all you’re ever going to be,” he groaned in exasperation again. “I don’t think there’s a prenup in this world strong enough to stand up to Harper’s sharks. He could use you to take down the entire family. He already took our business from us, Byron.”

“I know that,” Byron snapped.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Just take the boy. Legally, I mean. She didn’t tell you about the baby, I take it?”

“No, but I’m not going to—”

“So we’ll sue for full custody on the grounds that she’s unfit to be a mother. And for the love of everything holy, do not sleep with her again.”

Byron winced. He couldn’t bring himself to deny it, but he couldn’t confirm it, either.

“You already have, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Matthew let out a long, low growl of pure frustration. “Did you at least use protection?”

“We did. It failed. Again.”

There was a noise in the background that could have been Matthew kicking or throwing something. “You have got to be freaking kidding me. Come on, Byron! Stop thinking with your dick for once!”

“I am not thinking with my dick, damn it. I am trying to make things right. I thought you’d appreciate that—isn’t that what you do? I got her pregnant. I wasn’t there when the baby was born. I missed the first six months of my son’s life. I’m trying to make up for lost time. I don’t care what you think about her—Leona and Percy are already my family. I want to make it official. And if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself.”

Another long silence. Byron would bet money that Matthew was now rubbing his temples and grimacing comically.

“Does Harper know you’re back?”

“I don’t think so. Leona took her sister and basically ran away from home after I left. They don’t have any contact with their parents. But she was worried her father would try to take the boy.”

“He wouldn’t win,” Matthew said decisively. “You’re the boy’s father.” Then, a moment later, he added, “There’s no doubt about that?”

“None. The boy looks like me. Red hair and everything.”

Matthew sighed heavily. “There’d need to be blood tests to confirm, but you must realize Harper wouldn’t win. You’re the child’s father. You don’t have to marry her to protect the baby.”

“But he’d try,” Byron insisted. “Harper would sue anyway and that would be almost as bad. He’d drag Leona through court and smear her name in every patch of mud he could find. Not to mention how much it’d cost to defend against him.” When Matthew didn’t immediately respond, Byron added, “You know what Dad did to Mom.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m not saying the situation is ideal,” Byron went on. “But I can’t let that happen.”

“And—despite all the facts of the matter—you trust her not to turn you over to her father? Not to use this kid to bankrupt the entire Beaumont family?”

Byron hesitated. Deep down, he believed that she wouldn’t turn back to her father again. But...did he really trust her not to rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and hold it up for him to see? Especially after the way she’d driven off and stranded him here with the Realtor, all because he wanted to buy a nice house?

“That’s not a good silence over there,” Matthew observed.

Byron started pacing. “We’re still working through a few issues.” There. That was something that Matthew would understand.

“A ‘few issues,’ huh? And you want to marry a ‘few issues’? Man, you are nuts.”

“It runs in the family,” he shot back. “You’re the one who wanted me to get arrested to distract the press so you could canoodle in private with an actress.”

“That’s not exactly what happened, but that’s neither here nor there,” Matthew replied calmly. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I want a prenup that protects the rest of the family from Leona’s father and guarantees that she and I will always have joint custody of Percy.”

“You always did act impulsively,” Matthew said in an offhand way. “Running off to Europe, now getting married. What’s the kid’s full name?”

“Percy Harper Beaumont.”

Matthew sighed heavily. “And her middle name? I assume she’s still Leona Harper at this point.”

Byron had to think about that. “Margaret. And before you ask, mine is still John.”

“I hadn’t forgotten. Okay, fine. I’ll talk to the lawyers and get them working on something. But for the love of God, don’t marry her until the prenup has been signed, sealed and delivered, okay? If I were you, I’d think long and hard about marrying her at all. Even if you think this is a short-term solution and even if you have a prenup, the divorce would be a huge mess.” Byron swore he heard Matthew shudder. “The press would eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We need to keep the whole thing as quiet as possible.”

Byron looked back at the house, where no doubt the Realtor was on her phone. “Understood. But I’m buying the house anyway.”

“Fine. Dare I ask how the restaurant is coming along?”

“Uh...”

“Byron,” Matthew said in warning.

“No, it’s coming along fine. I hired Leona to do the interior design.”

There it was again, that noise that sounded like Matthew was breaking something. “Are you kidding me?”

“That’s what she does,” Byron quickly defended. “That’s what she went to school for. She’s got a lot of really good ideas—we’re going to call it Caballo de Tiro, which is Spanish for draft horse. I’ve been testing out menu options and we’ve started lining up contractors. It’s going to be great. Really.”

“Caballo de Tiro?”

“It plays off the Percheron Drafts name but pulls in the European influences,” Byron explained.

“Yes, I get it. So let me see if I have this straight—you hid in Europe for a year to get away from a woman, only to come back and hire her, move in with her, and marry her—all at once?”

“Don’t forget the baby.”

“Oh, no—who could forget the baby?” Matthew scoffed. “Got any other surprise children hidden anywhere? Didn’t leave anyone knocked up in Spain, did you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Didn’t sleep with anyone, if you must know. So yes, I’m sure. No more surprises.”

“Fine,” Matthew huffed, making it plenty clear that it was anything but. “I’ll deal with the lawyers. Stay out of the headlines, Byron.”

“Thanks,” Byron said, but Matthew had already hung up on him.

He stared at his phone. Well. That had probably gone as smoothly as possible.

Now he just had to convince Leona that this house and a wedding were all for the best. No matter what Matthew said, Byron knew that marrying her was not only the right thing to do, but the best for all parties involved. And he had to do it all without letting her break his heart again.

No problem, right?

Yeah, right.

* * *

If there was one valuable lesson that Byron had learned growing up as a Beaumont, it was that money talked. Loudly.

He told Sherry that he’d pay full price—and full commission—if everything was settled within two weeks and she kept quiet about both his new address and the people with whom he’d be living. Within a week, he was the proud owner of a fabulous family home. Now he just needed the one thing that money couldn’t apparently buy—a family.

His life was a strange dichotomy right now, and he wasn’t having much luck merging the two halves back into a recognizable whole.

During the daylight hours, he worked side by side with Leona. They met with contractors, finalized design plans and ate, of course. Byron kept tweaking the dishes or trying something that might work better—something that Leona might like better. They had long discussions about rotating menu items, which local sources to use for beef and herbs and exterior landscaping. She had no problem talking to him during the day.

But at night? At night she kept the distance between them. Even when he came over to the apartment to play with Percy, she made sure she was far more than an arm’s length away.

“I can move into the house next week,” he told her a week later. He was lying on the floor of her living room, rolling a ball to Percy and making happy noises when the baby got anywhere near it. He could hear music coming from May’s room, where she’d basically locked herself every time Byron came over. “I’ve got some basic furniture, but I wanted you to pick out what you liked.”

From where she sat at the kitchen table, staring at her computer she glared at him. “I am not moving into that ridiculous house.”

“And you have yet to give me a good reason why not,” he shot back at her. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You already agreed to move in so that we could raise our son together. I provided an adequate living space.”

She snorted and continued to scroll.

“And I’m basically giving you a blank check to decorate it any way you want. Explain to me again how this makes me the villain here.” When she said nothing, he sighed.

She shut her computer with a bit more force than was necessary. “You want to know what the problem is? Aside from the fact that I already told you once and you didn’t pay any attention?”

“I am not trying to buy your complicity,” he replied, trying mightily to keep his voice calm. “I’m not trying to buy your loyalty. I’m trying to provide for my family. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “Byron...”

Percy squealed as the ball went rolling wide to the right. “Whoa, buddy—now what are we going to do?” Byron asked him.

Percy flopped over and tried to crawl toward the ball, but when it turned out to be only unproductive wiggling, he howled in frustration.

“You can do it!” Byron said encouragingly to the baby. Then he looked back at Leona. Her head was still in her hands. Was she crying? “Leona?”

He got up off the floor and gently kicked the ball closer to Percy. Then he went to her. She was crying. Damn.

“I just want to know that you’re going to be here,” she whispered, her voice muffled by her hands. “And I don’t.”

Oh, come on. He fought this sense of frustration. “Leona. We have a child together. I’m buying a house for us—not even a rental. And in case you’ve forgotten it, we’re working on this restaurant that will keep me in the greater Denver area. Are these the actions of a man who’s going to bail?”

“No,” she sniffed. “But that’s not what I asked for, none of it is.”

“I asked you to marry me. What other reassurances do you want? Do I have to open a vein and sign my name in blood?”

As if on cue, May’s music got louder. Leona’s shoulders tightened in response. But she hadn’t answered yet.

He found a knot in her muscles and began to rub it. “I don’t mean to add to the stress. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do.” Her voice, however, wasn’t terribly convincing. But then she tilted her head to the side, stretching her shoulders for him. He found another knot and began to rub that one. “Oh, that’s good.”

It’d be better if Byron could lay Leona out on a bed. Then he could give her a proper massage, one that would work out all the knots. Maybe that was what she needed—to know that he would take care of her in every respect, not just the material ones.

Her body started to relax under his touch and, as he focused on the base of her neck, she let out a low moan of relief. That moan took all of his noble intentions and did something less than noble to them. A full body massage was just what she needed, complete with candles and massage oil. Yeah, it’d be better if he could take his time and get her body nice and relaxed and then...

No, stop it. The last time he’d thought with his dick, he’d wound up using a compromised condom. Plus he’d sort of promised Matthew he would keep his damned zipper zipped until the prenup was signed.

Besides, there was that little issue of her making him guess what the hell was holding her up. What did she mean, she wanted to know he’d be there? How was he not showing her that? He didn’t get it.

Percy fussed and she got up to get him. One thing was clear. Byron was going to have to figure it out—and fast.