Gilded Secrets. Maureen Child

of type.

      I know who you really are. Forward to this address all of V. Waverly’s files for the last five years of business or risk facing charges of being an unfit mother.

      “Unfit?” Her stomach churning, Charlie lifted one hand to her mouth as the tidy little world she’d built around herself crumbled.

      Fear was roaring inside her and it was hard to breathe. She wasn’t an unfit mother. She loved her son and she would fight anyone who said differently. But while her fear and fury pumped hot through her veins, a voice in her mind whispered, The past is there, Charlie. You can’t change it. Can’t hide it. If someone finds out …

      “Someone has. But who?” She heard the icy dread in her voice as chills snaked along her spine. This couldn’t be happening. It just wasn’t possible. No one in New York knew anything about her—where she’d grown up, who her family was. Except for …

      Realization dropped on her like rocks rolling down the side of a mountain. All thunder and fury, crashing into her system and leaving her shaken, as she realized that the only person who knew about her past was Jake’s father. A man she hadn’t seen since she’d told him she was pregnant.

      A man, she had found out when she’d started looking for him, who didn’t even exist.

      God, she’d been such an idiot. So young and stupid and trusting. Fresh off the bus from a small town upstate, she’d taken her entry-level job at Waverly’s and felt … sophisticated. She had been a walking cliché. Young woman arrives in big city, doesn’t know anyone. Gets overwhelmed by the possibilities of a world far wider than she’d ever known before.

      She found a tiny apartment in Queens. Rode the subway every day into Manhattan. She had felt like part of the bustling, exciting city and, looking back, she could see what easy prey she had been for the man who had romanced her.

      In a blink, she saw it all again. Felt the rush when she’d dropped her phone and a tall, handsome man had picked it up for her. She’d taken one look into those smiling brown eyes and had lost every ounce of common sense her grandmother had spent years instilling in her.

      “He hadn’t even had to work that hard,” she whispered, ashamed to admit even now how susceptible she had been to the flattery. To the attention.

      He had swept her off her feet, and in a few short weeks had her in his bed and convinced that it was true love. Charlie had had stars in her eyes, thinking that an important architect like Blaine Andersen wanted to be with no one but her. He’d told her that it was his great-grandfather who had designed the Waverly building. He’d been doting and kind—stopping by her office to bring her flowers and candy—helping her find her BlackBerry both times she had lost it. He was the fairytale prince and Charlie had believed in him.

      Until she’d told him she was pregnant and he’d disappeared. Until she’d tried to find him and discovered that there was no Blaine Andersen. That the Andersen who had long ago designed the Waverly building had never had children. That she had swallowed a tangle of lies in her pathetic need to be loved. Accepted.

      All those thoughts and more raced through her mind in seconds, leaving her shaken, but still furious. This had to be Blaine. He was the only one she’d told about her past. The only one she’d trusted with that information.

      “Well, he’s not going to make a fool of me twice,” Charlie muttered and set her fingers on the keyboard.

      Hitting Reply, she typed in, Who are you?

      The answer came in an instant. Doesn’t matter. I know you. And I will see you lose your baby.

      Fresh fear erupted. Just seeing those words on the screen twisted her heart and sent what felt like a lead ball dropping into the pit of her stomach. Whoever it was had included a link in the email. Dreading what she was going to find, she clicked on it.

      An old newspaper article flashed onto the screen. A story about her father and how he’d died. Quickly, she shut it all down, as if afraid that article might somehow etch itself onto her computer screen and remain there like a stain for anyone to read.

      Clenching her hands together, she squeezed until her knuckles went white. She didn’t know what to do. If she had to go to court and fight for her son, she would lose. She knew that. Charlie didn’t have the kind of money it would take to hire a shark of a lawyer. Besides, what could she say? She couldn’t even name Jake’s father. She had no idea what the guy’s real name was. And if the court looked into her past—where she was from, who her family was …

      “Oh, God.”

      “Problem?”

      She jumped and spun around. Vance Waverly was standing in the doorway. Did she look as guilty as she felt? Could he see the panic in her eyes? How long had he been there? What had he seen? What had he heard?

      He took a step into the room and he seemed to fill the space. The man was so tall, so broad-shouldered, and his eyes were sharp enough to see inside a woman’s soul. She hoped to heaven he wasn’t looking that deeply at the moment.

      “No,” she blurted out when she could find her voice again. “No problem.”

      The lie came easily, though it tasted bitter. She didn’t want to lie to him. She didn’t want to live a life where lying was necessary. But what choice did she have?

      “Good,” he said, still watching her. “Do you have the paperwork on the Ming vases ready?”

      “Yes, I’ll bring it right in.”

      “You’re sure everything is fine?” He was studying her and his brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

      Get a grip, Charlie. She couldn’t let him know how shaken she was. Or that someone, somewhere, was trying to blackmail her. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out anything about her—at least, not until she’d found a way out of this mess. She’d think of something. All she needed was time. Just a little bit of time.

      Charlie took a short, sharp breath and nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll just get those papers for you.”

      When he walked into his office, her bravado dropped away. What was she going to do? If she sent the files to whoever was threatening her, she could lose her job. If she didn’t send them, she could lose her son. But if she sent the files and got caught, she’d go to jail and lose her son anyway.

      Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but she fought them back. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t the naive young thing she had been when Jake’s father had conned her. She was older. Wiser. She’d been burned and learned her lesson. And now she wasn’t just protecting herself. She was a mother. And no one was going to take her son from her.

      No one.

      For the next few days, Vance kept an eye on his new assistant. Granted, he didn’t know her well, but even he could see the change in her. She was jumpy. Nervous. She opened her email as if she were half expecting the computer to explode.

      “Something’s going on with her,” he said.

      “So,” Roark urged him, “find out what it is.”

      “What a great idea. Wonder why I didn’t think of that?”

      Oblivious to the sarcasm, Roark shrugged. He shifted his gaze to pedestrians rushing up and down Fifth Avenue. Summer was here and the sun was making sure everyone knew it. The sky was clear blue, the heat was blistering and the biggest sellers from the street cart vendors were icy bottles of water.

      Under a wide umbrella, Vance still felt the heat. His suit coat was stifling, but he’d insisted on eating at the sidewalk café so he and his brother could talk without risk of being overheard. The cacophony of sound outside provided enough white noise that no one would be able to listen in on their conversation.