Demanding His Secret Son. Louise Fuller

rose.

      ‘Sit down,’ he said softly.

      Their eyes clashed. ‘I don’t want to.’

      ‘Why? Are you scared of what will happen if you do?

       Was she scared?

      She felt her insides flip over, and she suddenly felt hot and dizzy.

      Once she had been in thrall to him. He’d been everything she’d wanted in a lover and in a man. Caught in the dark shimmering intensity of his gaze, she had felt warm and wanted.

      And now, as the heat spread outwards, she was forced to accept again that, even hating him as she did, her body was still reacting in the same way, unconstrained by logic or even the most basic sense of self-preservation.

      Horrified by this revelation of her continuing vulnerability—or maybe stupidity—she lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing, muscles tensing as though for combat.

      ‘I’m not, no. But you should be. Or maybe you like your suits with coffee stains?’

      His dark eyes flickered with amusement. ‘If you want me to get undressed, you could just ask.’

      He was unbelievable and unfair, making such a blatant reference to their sexual past. But, despite her outrage, she felt the kick of desire. Just as she had that night four years ago, when her body had betrayed her.

      Her heart thudded. How could she have let it happen? Just hours earlier they’d been thrashing out their divorce. She’d known he didn’t love her, and yet she’d still slept with him.

      But she could never fully regret her stupidity for that was the night she’d conceived George.

      She glowered at him. ‘I don’t want you at all,’ she lied. ‘And I don’t want to have some stupid conversation about coffee or art.’

      He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay. Look, this is hard for both us, but we share a history. Surely if fate has chosen to throw us together we can put our differences behind us for old times’ sake,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you can spare a couple of minutes to catch up.’

      Teddie felt her heart start to pound. If only if was just the past they shared. But it wasn’t, and hiding that fact from Aristo was proving harder than she’d ever imagined.

      But how could she tell him the truth? That he had a three-year-old son called George he’d never met. She caught her breath, trying to imagine how that conversation would start, much less end.

      More importantly, though, why would she tell him? Their marriage might have been short-lived, but it had been long enough for her to know that there was no room in her ex-husband’s life for anything but his career. And, having been on the receiving end of her father’s intermittent attention, she knew exactly what it felt like to be a side dish to the main meal, and she was not about to let her son suffer the same fate.

      ‘I just told you. I don’t want to stay.’ But, glancing up into his dark eyes, she felt a flare of panic, for they were cold and flat like slate, and they matched the uncompromising expression on his face.

      ‘I wasn’t actually giving you an option.’

      She felt the colour leave her face. Had he really just said what she thought he had?

      ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Instantly her panic was forgotten, obliterated in a white-out of fury. ‘Just because this is your hotel, Aristo, it doesn’t mean you can act like some despot,’ she snapped.’ If I want to leave, I will, thank you very much, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

      Aristo stared at her in silence. Was this why he had sought out her company instead of simply retreating? To force a confrontation so that, unlike in their marriage, he would be the one to dictate when she left? Would that heal the still festering wound of her betrayal? Quiet the suspicion, the knowledge, that he had been used like a plaything to pass the time until something, or more likely someone, better came along?

      He shrugged dismissively. ‘That would depend, I suppose, on how you leave and whether you value your reputation. Being removed by Security in front of a room full of people could be quite damaging.’ Leaning back in his seat, he raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine what your new boss would think if he heard about it.’

      ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said softly.

      His eyes didn’t leave her face. ‘Try me!’

      He could see the conflict in her eyes—frustration and resentment battling with logic and resignation—but he knew the battle was already won. If she was going to leave she would already be on her feet.

      With immense satisfaction he watched her sit back stiffly in her seat. This wasn’t about revenge, but even so he couldn’t help letting a small, triumphant smile curve his mouth.

      ‘So…’ He gestured towards the pack of cards. ‘You’re still a magician, then.’

      Teddie stared at the cards. To anyone else his remark would have sounded innocuous, nothing more than a polite show of interest in an ex’s current means of employment. But she wasn’t anyone. She had been his wife, and she could hear the resentment in his voice for she had heard it before.

      It was another reminder of why their marriage had failed. And why she should have confronted the past head-on instead of pretending her marriage had never happened. She might have been strong for her son, but she’d been a coward when it came to facing Aristo.

      Only, she’d had good reason not to want to face him. Lots of good reasons, actually.

      In the aftermath of their marriage he’d been cold and unapproachable, and later she’d been so sick with her pregnancy, and then, by the time she’d felt well again, George had been born—and that was a whole other conversation.

      She was suddenly conscious of Aristo’s steady, dark gaze and her heart gave a thump. She had to stop thinking about George or something was going to slip out.

      ‘Yes,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m still a magician, Aristo. And you’re still in hotels.’

      Her heart was thumping hard against her chest. Did he really want to sit here with her while they politely pretended to be on speaking terms? Her hands felt suddenly damp and she pressed them against the cooling leather. Clearly he did. But then, he didn’t have a secret to keep.

      He nodded. ‘Mostly, but I’ve diversified my interests.’

      She gritted her teeth. So even less time for anything other than work. For some reason that thought made her feel sad rather than angry and, caught off-guard, she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

      Aristo looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘You must have done well. Edward Claiborne doesn’t often go out of his comfort zone. So how did you two meet?’

      His eyes tangled with hers and he felt a stab of anger, remembering Edward Claiborne’s proprietorial manner as he’d turned and gestured across the room towards Teddie.

      She shrugged. ‘Elliot and I did some magic showcases at a couple of charity balls last year and he was there.’

      Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘You work with Elliot?’

      For some reason her defiant nod made a primitive jealousy rip through him like a box-cutter. In his head—if he’d allowed himself to picture her at all—she had been alone, suffering as he was. Only, now it appeared that not only had she survived, she was prospering with Elliot.

      ‘We set up a business together. He does the admin, front of house and accountancy. I do the magic.’

      He felt another spasm of irritation—pain, almost. He knew Teddie had never been romantically or sexually involved with Elliot, but he had supported her, and once that had been his job. It was bad enough that his half-brother, Oliver, had displaced him in his mother’s affections—now it appeared that Elliot had usurped him in Teddie’s.

      ‘From