The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child. Rachel Bailey

of the endearment, the one he’d whispered so often on lazy afternoons in her parents’ hammock, or in the heat of passion when she lay under him.

      “If we have to talk, then not here. I’ll meet you somewhere.” Her voice betrayed nerves—and determination.

      “Are you telling me I’m not welcome in my own brother’s house?” He didn’t bother to hide the irony in his tone—he knew his brother would have stabbed him in the back rather than invite him into his home. Their lifelong, bitter rivalry had reached its peak after Kent’s marriage to Beth. She had been immediately whisked overseas to sever all ties with her past, but even worse, to maintain the estrangement, Kent’s son had never seen his grandfather or his Uncle Nico. A situation Nico intended to rectify.

      He ran his gaze over Beth again. Kent had probably been wise to be paranoid about his wife. Had Beth strayed across Nico’s path after her marriage, he wouldn’t have thought twice about poaching on his brother’s territory. Kent hadn’t bothered with those rules.

      But Kent was gone.

      Beth darted another look inside and raised a hand to circle her throat. “Nico, do this for me. If we have to talk, meet me another day, somewhere else.”

      What was she hiding? Was she continuing Kent’s plan to keep his son from his family? Or did she have a lover stashed away? Perhaps both.

      “Five minutes alone and you’re already asking favors, bella.” Nico let his hand fall from the door, considering his options. Despite his determination to harden his heart, the plea in her eyes tugged at him, made it almost impossible to refuse her anything. But he must remember she was a good actress. This was the woman who’d strung him along for eleven months and then left him as soon as she got a better offer from his richer half brother.

      And yet …

      Deciding to grant this one favor, Nico blew out a breath. “I’m here only for the weekend, so we’ll talk today, in one hour. At my hotel room.”

      “In one hour?” She reached behind and grasped the door to support herself. “That will be difficult. Perhaps tomorrow?”

      He’d conceded enough. He turned to go. “If you’re not there in one hour, I’ll be back. I’ll also make a petition to the court that your son has access to his grandfather. The papers are drawn up and in the car ready to be lodged.”

      He and this small boy were the only family his father had left, which was tragic for a family man like Tim Jordan. Nico had always been exceptionally close to his father and he’d do whatever it took to bring some joy to the older man, especially now he was so ill.

      “Nico, you don’t understand—”

      Her voice, fraught with panic, didn’t move him. He had no time to listen to her excuses.

      “One hour, Beth. I’m staying at The Imperial.” He strode toward his car, not looking back.

      One hour later, Beth stood outside Nico’s penthouse suite, barely able to get her fuddled brain to think clearly.

      Nico, the only man she’d ever loved, was back. The man she’d protected by sacrificing her own hopes for happiness.

      As soon as his car had left her drive, she’d run to find her son and taken him to her parents’ house nearby. Kent had bought the place for them, not out of the goodness of his heart, but to ensure she had no reason to visit Australia again. They were already set to have him for the night and following day, allowing her to attend the launch of Kent’s final white wine blend this evening. They’d been thrilled to have the extra morning with little Marco—or Mark, as Kent had christened him.

      Only she called her four-year-old son by the name she used in her heart.

      Her parents must have guessed her baby’s true parentage, though—her reddish blond hair and fair skin mixed with Kent’s ruddy complexion could never have made a child with strong Mediterranean coloring. Marco’s olive skin, chocolate eyes and dark hair were so obviously the coloring Nico had inherited from his own mother. However Beth’s parents had never said a word and she’d silently thanked them for that.

      But if Nico saw him …

      No. Not yet. Beth wrapped her arms around her waist. She couldn’t let him near his own son until it was safe. The consequences for Nico were still too great to tell him. She just needed to keep the secret while he was here on this trip. It wouldn’t be long before she could come clean about everything.

      In the meantime, convenient or not, if Nico wanted to see her today, then she’d go along with it. She knew what the stakes were—he didn’t.

      With a heavy heart, she rapped on the door.

      She heard footfalls across tiles, then the door dragged open.

      He stood there, tall and broad and darkly beautiful, and her pulse raced into overdrive without him doing a single thing. His face gave her no indication of his thoughts, no encouragement, but she needed none. The mere sight of him made her a little dizzy with joy, just as it had an hour ago. As it always had when they were younger.

      “Give me your coat.” He held out a strong bronze hand.

      Beth untied the belt of her long black coat and let it fall to her wrists. He took the garment and hung it from a hook on the wall, then heat flared in his dark eyes as he surveyed her thoroughly. Finally, he smiled in satisfaction and his gaze rested on hers.

      She glanced down at her loose, ankle-length, woolen pink dress. Her clothes were all similar—none were fitted, none accentuated her as a woman. For five years, she’d avoided calling sexual attention to herself. For five years … ever since she’d lost Nico.

      Although, the hunger in his glittering eyes now seemed to make a mockery of her efforts to disguise herself.

      He opened the door wider and let her through.

      As she walked across the opulent room to the window, the hair at the back of her neck stood on end and she knew he’d watched her progress. She’d always known when Nico was looking at her. She turned slowly from the bird’s eye view of the wintry vineyards to find him blatantly staring. Her skin tightened and her breasts begged for his skilled touch—but too much was at stake to be swayed by her body’s physical responses. Nico could lose his inheritance, his career, even his identity.

      He held up a bottle of champagne. “Drink?”

      Now of all times, she needed a clear head. “No, thank you.”

      He poured something from the bar for himself. If his tastes hadn’t changed, it’d be a pinot noir.

      While he was distracted with his task, she drank in the sight of him—the thick, dark hair she’d once slid her fingers through; face a little too long to be symmetrical, but still more dear to her than anything … except the same face in miniature. Their precious son.

      Oh, God, she couldn’t stand this tension one minute longer—she had to know. “Tell me what you came to New Zealand to say, Nico.” Being able to say his name again gave her heart wings, but she wouldn’t let herself forget what she risked by being here.

      Seemingly relaxed, he leaned a hip on the galley-kitchen counter. “I want several things, but let’s start with my nephew.”

      Her heart stalled and she felt the blood drain from her head. “You want Mark?”

      Nico looked down his proud nose, appearing every inch the Italian aristocrat that his mother had been. “He’s of my blood and he’s lost his father. I’d like to build a relationship with the boy.”

      For a crazy moment, she’d thought he wanted to take her son away. But—she swallowed—this was almost as bad. “You know that’s not what Kent would have wanted. You two had sworn to never set eyes on the other again.”

      It’d been the breach that sent Nico off on his own for three years—making his own millions on the stock market, becoming a tabloid darling as one of Australia’s