Demanding His Secret Son. Louise Fuller

time to meet his son.

      ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said gently, making sure that none of the emotions roiling inside his head were audible in his voice as he smiled at his son for the first time.

      ‘But you don’t need to worry.’ Skewering Teddie with his gaze, he took a step closer. ‘Mommy and I are going to have a chat, aren’t we?’

      He turned to Teddie, making sure that the smooth blandness of his voice in no way detracted from the blistering rage in his eyes. Hearing her small, sharp intake of breath, he felt the glacier in his chest start to scrape forward. It had been barely audible, but it was all the confirmation he needed.

      Forcing herself to meet his gaze, Teddie nodded mechanically, but inside her head a mantra of panic-stricken thoughts was beating in time to her heartbeat. He knows. He knows George is his son. What am I going to do?

      Clearing her throat, she smiled. ‘Yes, that’s right. We’re going to have a grown-ups talk. And you, young man, are going to be taken back to bed.’

      Although, given that her legs felt as though they were made of blancmange, that might be easier to say than do.

      Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘But not before you’ve introduced me, of course.’

      Her chin jerked up, but his glittering gaze silenced her words of objection.

      ‘This is my son, George,’ she said stiffly.

      ‘Hello, George.’ Aristo smiled. ‘I’m very honoured to meet you. My name is Aristo Leonidas, and I’m an old friend of your mommy’s.’

      Gazing into his son’s eyes—dark eyes that were almost identical in shape and colour to his own—he felt his stomach tighten painfully. George had his jawline and his high cheekbones; the likeness between them was remarkable, undeniable. At the same age they would have looked like twins.

      As George smiled uncertainly back at him he felt almost blinded with outrage at Teddie’s deceit. His son must be three years old. How much had he missed during that time? First tooth. First word. First steps. Holidays and birthdays. And in the future, what other occasions would he have unknowingly not attended—graduation, wedding day…

      He gritted his teeth.

      Maybe he’d not actually thought about becoming a father, but Teddie had unilaterally taken away his right to be one. How was he ever going to make good the time he’d missed? No, not missed, he thought savagely. Teddie had cheated him of three years of his son’s life. Worse, not only had she deliberately kept his son a secret from him for all that time, she had clearly been planning to keep him in ignorance of George’s existence for ever.

      Hell, she’d even lied to him tonight, telling him that he had to be quiet because of her elderly neighbours.

      Glancing up, he refocused on his son’s face and, seeing the confusion in George’s eyes, pushed his anger away. ‘I know you’re not ready to shake hands yet and that’s a good thing, because we need to get to know each other a bit better first. But maybe we could just bump knuckles for now.’

      Raising his hand, he curled his fingers into a fist, his heart contracting as his son copied him, and they gently bumped fists.

      ‘Hey, what’s that? Is that a boat?’ Aristo watched as George uncurled his fingers.

      ‘It’s my boat,’ he said solemnly.

      ‘I love your boat.’ Aristo glanced at it admiringly. ‘I have a real boat like that. Maybe you could come for a ride on it with Mommy. Would you like that?’

      George nodded, and Teddie felt her chest hollow out with panic.

      Watching the sudden intimacy between her ex-husband and their son, she felt something wrench apart inside her, for the two of them were so close—not just physically but in their very likeness. It was both touching and terrifying, almost overwhelmingly so.

      Clearing her throat, she smiled stiffly. ‘That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, George? Right now though, it really is time to go back to bed.’

      In his bedroom, she tucked him under his duvet, keeping up a steady stream of chatter until his eyelids fluttered shut.

      If only she could just crawl in beside him and close her eyes too. Remembering the look on Aristo’s face as he’d worked out that George was his son, she felt her pulse begin beating in her neck like a moth against glass. Despite his outer calm, she knew that he was angry—more angry than she had ever seen him, more angry than she could have imagined possible.

      Not that she could blame him, she thought, guilt scraping over her skin like sandpaper. Had their roles been reversed she would have been just as furious. And the fact that part of her had always wanted to tell him the truth didn’t feel like much of a defence.

      She really should be relieved, though, for it had been getting harder and harder to keep lying.

      But now she would have to pay the price for those lies and face his anger. That was bad enough, but more terrifying still was the sudden knife-twist of realisation that Aristo had both a moral and a legal right to be in his son’s life. It didn’t matter about their divorce. George was his son, and if he wanted to press that point home he had the power and the money to do so emphatically—not just here in her apartment but in court.

      The thought of facing Aristo in court made her want to throw up.

      So face him now, she ordered herself. And, taking a deep breath, she stood up and made her way back to the living room.

      He swung round towards her, and her heart began beating so fast she thought it would burst through her ribs. She had thought he was angry before, but clearly each minute that had passed during her absence had increased his fury exponentially, so that now, as he walked towards her, it was the arctic blast of his contempt that held her frozen to the spot.

      ‘I knew you were shallow and unscrupulous,’ he said, his eyes gleaming like black ice, ‘but at what point exactly did your morals become so skewed that you decided to keep my son a secret from me?’

      ‘That’s not fair—’

      His black eyes slammed into hers. ‘Fair? You’re really quite something, Teddie. I thought you just stole money from me. Turns out you stole my son.’

      ‘I didn’t steal him—’ she began, but he cut her off.

      ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ve post-rationalised it. What did you tell yourself? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him?’ he imitated her voice. ‘It’ll be for the best.’

      ‘I did do it for the best.’ Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were level with his. ‘I did what was best for me, Aristo, because there was only me.’

      He felt his breathing jerk. ‘Not true. You had a husband.’

      ‘Ex-husband,’ she snapped. ‘We were divorced by then. Not that it would have made any difference. You were never there.’

      His eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘You really can’t help yourself, can you? It’s just lie after lie after lie.’

      Teddie swallowed. It was true—she had lied repeatedly. But not because she’d wanted to and not about the past. It wasn’t fair of Aristo to judge her with hindsight. He might be in shock now, but she’d had just the same shock four years ago when, thanks to him, she’d been homeless and alone.

      ‘I was going to tell you—’ She broke off as he laughed, the bitterness reverberating around the small room.

      ‘Of course you were.’

      ‘I didn’t mean now—today. I meant in the future.’

      ‘The future?’ He repeated the word slowly, as though not quite sure of its meaning. ‘What’s wrong with the present? What was wrong with this morning?’

      ‘It all happened so quickly.’ She looked at