The Beaumont Children. Sarah M. Anderson

firmly.

      “But—”

      “No buts, Leona. You’ve had to cover everything for a year. It’s my turn to step up to the plate. It’s the least I can do.”

      God, that sounded so good. She could live with him, let him take care of her, of Percy, with his part of the Beaumont fortune. She wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of genteel poverty anymore. Things like doctor’s visits and ear drops wouldn’t be monumental mountains she struggled to climb. Byron had the ways and means to make that part of her life easy.

      Of course, if she’d wanted easy—if she’d wanted to step back and let someone else call all the shots in her life—she’d still be living under her father’s roof. She’d still be subjected to his rantings and ravings about the Beaumonts in general and Byron in specific.

      Yes, that was easier. But it was not better.

      She couldn’t allow herself to be dependent on a man again, especially a man who’d already left her high and dry once. Byron could not be trusted, not on a kiss and a promise. Because this time it wouldn’t just be her heart in danger. It’d be Percy’s, too.

      “May,” Leona managed to say without her voice cracking. “She watches him. I can’t just leave her.” It was the best defense she had. May was twenty, yes—but she was a fragile young woman who was not ready to be thrown out on her own because a billionaire’s son demanded it.

      “Percy loves her,” she offered, hoping that would help.

      It didn’t. Byron sighed wearily. Then, unexpectedly, his grip loosened. He didn’t lean back, though—he just skimmed his hands up and down her upper arms. “Is that the deal? I have to provide accommodations for your sister before you’ll move in with me?”

      Once, they’d talked about moving in together. She’d been staying over at his place more and more—which had run the risk of drawing her father’s attention to her activities. She’d known then that when her father found out, it would be a problem. But Leona hadn’t cared because waking up in Byron’s arms was worth the risk.

      Of course, once she’d been sure that he’d marry her right away, when she told Byron she was pregnant. It wouldn’t have mattered who her father was because Byron loved her and she loved him. She’d been sure that once she told him the truth he’d realize she hadn’t been trying to hide anything. She’d just wanted someone who didn’t care about her last name. She’d thought she’d found that man.

      She was still paying for that mistake. She couldn’t afford any more.

      “I won’t move into the mansion.”

      “Fine. I was going to look for a place close to the restaurant anyway.” His hands were still moving up and down her arms and dang it all, she was leaning into his touch. “Is that all right with you? Or do you need to be closer to your job?”

      She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. It wasn’t much of a choice, not after he’d demanded that she uproot her whole life to be with him for the sake of their son. But he’d still thrown her a small bone. “The office is downtown. As long as we’re not too far out, it should be about the same travel time.”

      “I’ll make some calls in the morning. We’ll move as soon as possible.”

      What was she going to tell her sister? No, I’m not going to let him break my heart again, but by the way—pack up everything you own because we’re all going to set up house together.

      May would be furious.

      Still, Leona didn’t think she could refuse. What were the alternatives? Byron was not interested in coming by to visit Percy here and, as far as she could tell, the only other possibility was Byron suing for custody. She couldn’t let that happen—where would she get the money to defend herself? Lawyers weren’t cheap, that she knew. She couldn’t ask her parents for help, either. If her father knew Byron wanted the boy... It’d be an all-out war.

      And if she lost? Once, she’d thought she knew Byron. But he’d turned out to be more of a Beaumont than she ever would have guessed. She had no idea what lengths he would go to, and she didn’t really want to find out the hard way.

      It was a risk she couldn’t take. It’d be a short-term solution, she tried to tell herself. Just until they could get a formalized custody agreement arranged.

      Byron’s arms went around her, holding her to his chest. “I don’t want to punish you, Leona,” he said. None of the coldness was left in his tone. “But he’s my son, too.”

      “I know.” That’s what she wanted to believe.

      “It won’t be bad, will it?” He swallowed. “At least, better than living with your parents?”

      She shuddered at the thought. “We’ll have to have rules. No fighting or anything in front of the baby.”

      “Okay,” he agreed. “But I’m not looking for a fight.”

      If only she could believe that. There was one other important detail that had to be settled before she agreed. “We’ll sleep in separate bedrooms. Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean I want you back.”

      His hands stilled and then he snorted. “This is for Percy. You can have your own bedroom. I don’t expect you to sleep with me.” There was a brief pause. “It’d probably be best if we keep things simple between us until we decide on what to do next.”

      “Agreed,” she said. Which completely disregarded the fact that, at this very moment, he was holding her in a highly not-simple way. Could she really expect either of them to maintain a respectable distance? “Simple is better.”

      “And you’ll keep helping me with the restaurant?”

      “Yes.” The absolute last thing she could do now was quit her job. Even if Byron was covering the rent, she still needed to maintain her independence. He might not be looking for a fight—and she wasn’t exactly spoiling for one, either—but if things went wrong, she needed to be able to pick up and start over again.

       Again.

      He swallowed. “And your parents? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want my son anywhere near your father.”

      “They’re not a part of this. I cut ties when we left.”

      He leaned back and looked her in the eye again. “Why did you leave? I mean, we’d talked about getting our own place or you moving in with me—but you wouldn’t do it then.”

      The corners of her mouth turned down as she pushed back against tears. She hadn’t moved in with Byron before because moving in would mean telling him who she really was and she hadn’t wanted to risk it. Looking back, she should have. But instead, she’d convinced herself that once she finished college and got a job—that would be the time to leave home. But she didn’t explain any of that. Instead she said, “May and I had to get out. My father was...unbearable.” She shuddered again at the memory of her father’s completely unfiltered rage.

      “Did he hit you?” Byron demanded, a fierce look in his eyes.

      “No.” But there are other ways to make a person hurt. “He threatened to have me declared unfit and to take the baby after he was born.”

      “He did what?”

      “Because it was you.” This time, she couldn’t push the tears back. “Because of who you are. He wanted to make sure you’d never get the baby.”

      For years, her father had berated Leona, her sister, her mother. All of them bore the brunt of his rage. And she’d put up with it for far longer than she should have because she hadn’t known any better.

      Until she’d met Byron. Until he’d shown her that there was a different way to live, that people could actually care for each other. If only she’d been brave enough before...

      But