Inherited: Baby

‘Guess I wasn’t missed then.’ She couldn’t keep the irony from her voice though she couldn’t fathom the answering flicker of something dark and mysterious in his eyes.

‘Joe knew you loved him. He wouldn’t have needed to see you schmoozing with his phoney mates to prove that.’

‘I guess you’re right,’she said, guilt piercing her soul. She could hardly face the truth even in the deepest part of her, too horrified to admit that she hadn’t loved Joe.

She had at the start. At least, she’d thought she did. Maybe it had been infatuation, maybe it had been a plain old-fashioned crush. She’d been so naïve, so clueless when it came to men that she’d fallen for the first classy guy to look her way, wanting to believe his smooth lines, wanting to believe that he loved her. For someone who’d never known real love growing up, it had been a heady experience.

‘Look, this isn’t any of my business but I know you two had problems and I hope you’re not beating yourself up over them. Joe was fun and spontaneous and affectionate but he could also be a selfish brat.’

Maya didn’t question how Riley knew about her relationship troubles with Joe. She didn’t have to. It hung unspoken in the tense, awkward silence between them and she jumped in relief when the kettle whistled.

‘Joe and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues but then I guess that’s part of being a couple,’ she said, pouring boiling water into the mugs, grateful to concentrate on such a mundane task and not have to see the look of judgement on Riley’s face.

Riley was a smart guy and a smart guy would’ve read between the lines and known the argument he’d overheard the night of Joe’s death had only been tip of the iceberg stuff.

A smart guy would’ve twigged that things had been worse. A lot worse.

She’d wanted to explain, to smooth things over with the brother-in-law she never knew but her good intentions had blown up in her face. More to the point, Joe had blown up in her face.

‘Why did you come around that night?’

No use glossing over it. Riley had brought up the subject; she may as well finish it.

He shrugged, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug she handed him and staring into the strong black liquid like a wizard looking for answers in a cauldron.

‘I hadn’t seen Joe in a while. Guess I was worried about him. And you and Chas,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘But you’d never visited before,’she persisted, driven by some strange need to get Riley to talk, perhaps to give her some answers to Joe’s irrational behaviour that night.

‘I know, my fault. Business keeps me busy. I’m pretty much chained to my desk or travelling.’

He sipped at his coffee and Maya couldn’t decide if he was giving her the brush-off or not.

‘Joe never mentioned you much.’

Until he’d gone out with Riley that night, arrived home two hours later reeking of alcohol and spewing forth a torrent of vile accusations that hadn’t made sense. She hadn’t even known Riley, let alone fancied him.

‘Joe and I weren’t as close as I would’ve liked, probably both our faults.’ Riley glanced away, a sad expression on his face before his gaze returned to hers, melancholic, uncertain. ‘He seemed pretty out of control that night. Was that a one-off?’

She wished. ‘Joe wasn’t happy. His behaviour the last few months was erratic.’

Riley frowned. ‘Erratic?’

‘He didn’t spend much time here.’

Major understatement. That night had been typical: with Chas screaming in the nursery at Joe’s escalating abuse, she’d fired back, taunting Joe, hitting his vulnerable spots, knowing it would enrage him further and he’d do what he always did.

Run.

Not come home for days.

Seek and find comfort wherever he could as long as it wasn’t with her.

‘Joe didn’t seem too stable when we chatted that night and I wondered if his death was purely accidental.’

Maya stiffened, understanding Riley’s need to have answers but resenting his inference and the intrusion into her privacy nonetheless.

‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Joe’s car crash was an accident. Joe was too cocky, too full of himself to end his own life.’

Despite her certainty, she would live with the guilt for the rest of her life—that her words had pushed Joe to get behind the wheel of his car when he clearly could barely walk, let alone drive.

She should’ve stopped him.

But she hadn’t.

And it had killed her fiancé, the man who had told her that same night that he’d never had any intention of marrying her, ever, and the humiliating reasons why.

‘You must’ve had a rough time with Joe…’He trailed off, having the grace to look uncomfortable.

‘And what are you trying to do? Make me relive the tough stuff just for old times’ sake?’

The words slipped out before she could stop them and she could see she’d hit below the belt.

‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to say I understand.’

Pity. Stark, obvious pity shone in his eyes and she hated it. She didn’t need Riley’s pity. She didn’t need anything from him.

‘Thanks, but I’m fine. You’ve helped with the funeral and I appreciate it, but now Chas and I would like to be left alone.’

Hot, angry tears threatened her composure. Tears of shame that she’d given him short shrift when he’d been the one person to stand by her the last few days, tears of guilt that a confrontation with Riley could make her cry when she’d been dry-eyed over Joe’s death.

Riley took a sip of coffee, his steady regard never leaving her. Even in the face of her rudeness, he didn’t flinch or fire back.

‘Fine, but Chas is my nephew and I’d like to play a part in his life.’

His calm words embarrassed her, made her feel like a petulant child. ‘Why now? You’ve never shown any interest before.’

Her barb hit home if the faint pink staining his high cheekbones was any indication. However, he still didn’t falter or lose his cool and she had a silly urge to push him, to punish him for being so calm in the face of her offensiveness.

‘Besides, how do you think you’re going to do that? You said business keeps you busy.’

‘I can offer you financial support,’ he said, draining his coffee and rinsing the mug while she glared at his back, irrationally noting the perfect fit of his designer business shirt stretched across his shoulders.

Money. He was offering money.

She should’ve known.

The Bourkes had been born with a silver spoon in their well-fed mouths, had never known a day’s hunger or the desperate, clawing empty feeling of knowing there was no money to buy food for the next week. The yearning for an ice cream cone or the craving for new shoes so that you could be like the other kids.

Uh-uh, guys like Joe and Riley had no idea what it was like to be poor.

Chas needed love and affection and the presence of a stable male influence in his young life—three things she would’ve killed for when growing up.

Instead, Riley was offering money. Cold, hard cash to go along with his cold, hard heart. Just like his brother.

‘You didn’t answer my earlier question. Why the sudden interest in Chas now?’

She kept her voice steady with effort. She couldn’t let him see how rattled she was by his offer of money, how cheap it made her feel.

‘I want to do everything I can for my nephew. He had Joe in the past but Joe’s not here any more.’

Riley glanced away as if he was hiding something but she was too drained to fathom his motives. ‘Besides, if I’m not around a lot, you can use the money to buy him things, keep him occupied, raise him the way Joe would’ve wanted.’

Her eyes narrowed as exhaustion battled with anger, fatigue with confusion. ‘Which way is that? Like a Bourke, you mean?’

Rich, pampered, spoiled? Joe had hardly looked at Chas since his birth and, as for Riley marching in here like some do-gooder bestowing benevolence on a charity case, she had news for him.

‘Well, yes,’he said, thrusting his hands in his pockets as if reaching for a cheque book there and then.

Suddenly, a sinister thought flashed through her head. What if Riley’s newfound interest in Chas was because he wanted to take her precious son away? He had the money, the connections and the power. Perhaps this whole thing tonight was about buying her off, trying to see how she’d react?

Maybe it was her suspicions, the soul-destroying fatigue of the day, the drama of the last week or the simmering guilt about Joe’s death but whatever pushed her buttons, she drew back her shoulders and tilted her head up.

‘You know what you can do with your financial support?’

He didn’t move—more of that annoying pity in his eyes, the final flame to her kindling temper.

‘See this?’ She tugged on the hem of his soft, expensive cashmere jumper. ‘You can take your offer and stuff it up there.’

For a moment, she saw something that didn’t look like pity on his face. Maya turned away before she did something even more out of character—like shove him out the door.

‘Look, I’ve made a mess of this—’

‘Just go,’ she said, stalking from the kitchen, trying to look as dignified as a fluffy pink robe and matching slippers with Princess embroidered in silver spangles would allow.

‘Maya, I—’

‘Go!’

She stormed into her bedroom, several seconds passing before the soft click of the front door and the ensuing silence signalled Riley’s welcome departure. Sighing, she closed her eyes and sank on to the bed.

She’d had enough of Bourke men to last her a lifetime.

CHAPTER THREE

RILEY STRODE DOWN the long corridor to his office, grunting responses to anyone brave enough to greet him. He refused to make eye contact with his staff, knowing the first unfortunate person to do so would cop an unnecessary barrage.

To say he was in a bad mood was like saying Melbourne was the sports capital of Australia—the understatement of the year.

‘Good, you’re here,’ he said, sending a brief nod at Matt Byrne as he stomped into his office, dropping his briefcase next to his desk and flinging his coat on the back of his leather chair.

‘Good morning to you too,’ Matt said, sliding the papers he’d been reading into a folder and taking a sip from a take-out coffee cup. ‘There’s an espresso for you. Though by the look on your face, maybe I should’ve dumped a ton of sugar into it. You look like you could use a bit of sweetening up.’

Riley ignored him, took a huge comforting swallow of lukewarm coffee and grimaced.

‘That bad, huh?’

‘Not the coffee; that’s fine. It’s my disposition that’s the problem.’

‘Disposition? A big word for this time of the morning.’ Matt smiled, his customary wry grin indicating he had all the patience in the world to hear what one of his biggest clients had to say.

Riley genuinely liked Matt, appreciated his wisdom, and he’d used him as a sounding board on several occasions—though he often wondered if the lawyer would be as generous with his time if he wasn’t on such a huge retainer. Probably not, but Riley didn’t need to think about that right now. He was in a bad enough mood as it was, no use fuelling it.

‘Don’t push your luck, Byrne.’

Matt’s smile broadened but Riley saw the flicker of concern in the other man’s eyes. ‘I’ve never seen you like this. Focused on business, yeah. Cool in a crisis, yeah. Level-headed, driven, serious, yeah. Sour face, uh-uh. So what’s up?’

I botched up with Maya. Big time.

Even now, twelve hours later, he cringed, wondering how he’d made such a mess of things. Stopping by the apartment had been a spur of the moment impulse and he’d driven around the block three times before deciding a quick pop-in to check on her and Chas wouldn’t be inappropriate.

And he’d been damned glad he had when she’d opened the door, huge green eyes standing out in her pale face, eyes ringed by dark circles of fatigue, her lush mouth drooping at the corners. She’d looked so helpless, so exhausted, a woman on the edge.

Not that he’d helped. He’d blundered around, firing questions at her, not articulating half of what he wanted and alienating her in the process. Before he’d really put his foot in it and she’d told him to stick his support up his jumper, booting him out the door faster than he could say, Hear me out.

‘Earth to Riley? I said what’s up?’

Riley shook his head and stuck a finger between his shirt collar and neck, loosening his tie knot and resisting the urge to rip it off completely.

‘I went to see Maya and Chas last night. It didn’t go so well.’

‘How so?’

‘She kicked me out.’

Matt’s lips twitched and Riley sent him a frown. As far as he could see, there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.

‘Did she have good reason?’

Riley shrugged, clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his director’s chair.

‘I’m concerned about Chas. He’s my nephew and I want to make sure he wants for nothing.’

Matt’s budding grin broke through. ‘Let me guess. You offered her money?’

‘Of course. What else could I do? I want to help and she basically told me where I could stick it.’

‘How well do you know Maya?’

‘Not very well; guess that’s part of the problem. I need to know more about the woman raising my nephew, to see what kind of mother she is. Ever since she hooked up with Joe, I’ve heard the rumours. Gold digger sinks her claws into rich guy, moves in and gets pregnant to hang on to him. A part of me believed them.’

‘And now?’

An image of Maya’s wan face, the fatigue lines ringing her mouth, the dark circles under her expressive eyes flashed into his mind, closely followed by the fierce way she’d bristled at his offer of money.

He hadn’t made it as Melbourne’s best stockbroker without being able to read people and, though he’d initially thought the worst of Maya, he’d bet his portfolio she’d fallen for his glib brother out of love rather than money.

‘She seems genuine enough. Time will tell.’

Matt snapped his fingers. ‘Now that’s the guy I know. Give the opposition a bit of leeway, reserve judgement, then pull the rug out from under them.’

‘It’s not like that,’ Riley said, though logic told him otherwise.

He didn’t trust easily. But Joe’s death had given him a wake up call. He travelled constantly or was chained to his desk, was most comfortable brokering deals on the Stock Exchange. He’d never had much time for family and though he’d loved Joe, he’d taken the easy option by throwing money at him. Maybe if he’d listened more, had seen that Joe had real problems, his brother would still be here.

The least he could do was be a part of Chas’s life to make up for not being there for his father.

‘Anyway, how about you tell me what you found out about Joe’s will?’

That wiped the smile off Matt’s face in record time. ‘If you’re in a bad mood, what I have to say isn’t going to improve it.’

‘Just give it to me straight,’ Riley said, assuming the worst considering Joe’s lousy money skills.

‘Your brother has nothing. In fact, he has substantial debts outstanding to several major creditors.’ Matt paused and Riley didn’t like the quick look-away. For the stand-up, look-you-straight-in-the-eye type of guy Matt was, it looked like worse was to come.

‘And?’

‘The apartment wasn’t his, he has no real estate holdings and there was no provision for Maya or Chas.’

Riley cursed, pinning Matt with a glare. ‘You’re sure about this?’

‘Positive. The only thing Joe owned was the car and that’s in Maya’s name, thank goodness.’

‘Hell.’

Okay, it was worse than he’d thought. A hundred times worse.

He’d always assumed that Joe owned the swank South Bank apartment he’d lived in and had questioned him to make sure. In typical fashion, Joe had laughed off Riley’s concerns at the time then begged another few grand to buy a new cot for Chas or a bauble for Maya. The sad thing was he now knew that the money he’d handed over for his nephew’s sake had never reached the baby.

‘What do you want me to do?’ Matt shuffled a few papers into the folio in front of him before handing it across the desk. ‘It’s all in here.’

‘Thanks,’ Riley said, taking the folder and tossing it into his in-tray, wishing he could burn the thing rather than see the irrefutable proof of his brother’s stupidity and selfishness in black and white. ‘You’ve done a great job—as usual. Why don’t you leave it with me for now, let me take a look at everything and I’ll get back to you?’

‘Sure, no probs.’ Matt drained his coffee, lobbed the cup into the bin and held out his hand. ‘I’m heading back to Sydney this afternoon so if you need me, ring me.’

‘Shall do.’ Riley shook hands with Matt and walked him to the door, the epitome of the cool, level-headed businessman everyone thought he was.

However, as soon as the door closed, Riley kicked the nearest object, which happened to be an old wooden hat stand he hated, and wondered how on earth he would break the news to Maya.

If she let him in the door, that was.

Maya gaped at the surly man wearing baggy overalls and waving a clipboard under her nose.

‘My orders are right here, lady. All the furniture in this joint is to be repossessed. Today.’

She took a steadying breath and braced herself against the door jamb, wondering if this nightmare would ever end.

‘There must be some mistake. My fiancé owns this apartment.’

‘Take it up with him,’ the guy snarled, propping the clipboard up against the skirting boards and looking over her shoulder as if sizing up the place.

‘He’s dead,’ she said, aiming for calm and hating the slight quiver in her voice.

‘Sorry for your loss, lady, but I have my orders. Everything goes. Now.’

When she hesitated, he pushed past her, followed by a slim weasel-like man who darted quick, furtive glances towards her as if she’d clobber him on the way through.

‘This is insane!’ she shouted, torn between wanting to fight for what was rightfully hers and giving them a hand to cart away every last piece of ugly furniture.

This had been Joe’s place and he’d hired a decorator, which showed in every monochromatic line and curve. Stark white and chrome had been the dominant feature of all the furniture, giving the space a cold, sterile feel which she hated.

Not that the stuff had stayed white for long when Chas started cruising the furniture. Maya had done a little internal happy dance every time he’d placed a grubby fingerprint on the frigid environment.

‘I’ll get my lawyer on to you!’ she said, the men ignoring her empty threat as they moved around the lounge room, pointing at various pieces of furniture, sticking numbers on them and ticking off their list.

At that moment Chas let out a bellow from his high chair. ‘Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!’

‘Hang on, sweetie,’ she said, rushing into the kitchen in time to be on the receiving end of a rather accurate throw as her angelic son lobbed a glob of cereal at her forehead.

‘Damn it,’ she said, running a wash-cloth under the tap and dabbing at the mess while Chas sent her a wide toothy grin, echoing, ‘Dam-dam-dam-dam.’

‘Cheeky boy.’

She swung him up in her arms and nuzzled him, blocking out the sounds of furniture being dragged in the other room and not caring when his sticky fingers clamped on to her neck.

So Joe hadn’t owned any of his awful furniture? Big deal. She’d grown up in a house with a saggy old sofa and a few crates for tables, with a bed sporting rusty springs that dug into her back every night for ten years. As long as they had a roof over their heads, she and Chas could make do.

‘Miss Edison?’

Her head snapped up as another man stuck his head around the door, a slick type in an ill-fitting suit who seemed at odds with the other two. ‘Who are you?’

She wasn’t usually so rude but with the Dodgy brothers emptying her house in the next room, her patience was at an all-time low.

‘I’m here on behalf of Drake Sams. They own this apartment and would like it vacated. You have a week to comply.’

If she’d gaped at the burly guy repossessing her furniture, her jaw fairly dropped this time around.

‘It’s all set out here. Have a good day.’

With that, the slime-ball scuttled out the door, leaving her with a whimpering baby—Chas always tuned in to her moods—and an eviction notice.

She stared at the piece of paper lying on the bench top, the tiny typed words floating in front of her eyes and not making an ounce of sense.

She should’ve known.

Her life with Joe had been a sham.

His love hadn’t been real, his promise to marry her hadn’t been real, and now it looked as if the very walls which had housed their false life would vanish like the rest of her dreams.

Suddenly her knees shook and she plopped into the nearest chair before Steptoe and Son pulled it out from under her. Chas chose that moment to set up a hearty wail which pierced her heart as well as her eardrums and she cuddled him close, biting on her bottom lip so hard that she drew blood, determined not to blubber.

Of course, Riley chose that moment to stride into her kitchen, looking like a GQ model in his designer pinstripe suit and slightly ruffled hair. The faintest shadow of stubble on his jaw lent the perfect picture a minor flaw and served more to accentuate his appeal than diminish it.

‘What’s going on here?’

He crossed the kitchen in three short strides and squatted down next to her, reaching out as if to touch her before thinking better of it and resting his hand on the back of the chair.

At least Chas instantly quietened, hiding his head in the crook of her neck where he could take regular peeps at his uncle from a safe distance.

‘What does it look like?’ She lifted her head to look him straight in the eye, determined not to let him see her cowering and defeated.

After their confrontation last night, she didn’t need whatever he was here to offer, no matter how desperate her situation. ‘All our stuff is being taken away.’ She clicked her fingers under his nose. ‘Oh, and we’re being evicted for good measure.’

Rather than expressing shock as she’d expected, Riley shook his head. ‘I’d hoped to be the one to break it to you,’ he said, sending a pitying glance at Chas that had her palm itching to slap him.

‘You knew about this?’

‘I just found out and came straight here.’

‘Oh.’

Her anger deflated quickly. No use taking her fury out on Riley. He wasn’t the one who’d built a life of false promises around her only to tear it all down.

‘Is there anything else I should know?’ she asked, needing to hear all of it before marshalling her thoughts into some semblance of a plan.

The tiny furrow between Riley’s brows deepened. ‘Apart from the car, which is yours, Joe didn’t own a thing. He had no money, no portfolio and no real estate holdings.’

‘Figures,’ she said, rueing the day she ever set eyes on Joe Bourke.

Ironically, she’d seen Riley first on that fateful night, drawn to the tall, imposing guy in a tux standing near the band, away from the hullabaloo, watching the rowdy crowd get rowdier. He was impossibly good looking with his dark hair, blue eyes, strong cheekbones and chiselled jaw. However, the thing that had captured her attention was the glass in his hand, containing the same non-alcoholic lemon, lime and bitters drink as hers.

In a crowd of beer-swilling, Scotch-loaded men, he’d stood out like a prize-winning stallion among a bunch of second-string geldings, though she’d quickly banished that imagery from her mind as his gaze had un-erringly locked on hers, setting her heart thumping.

She’d looked away quickly, embarrassed to be caught staring, only to find her attention drawn back to him, her cheeks flushing as he’d inclined his head slightly to acknowledge her, a smile playing about his mouth.