Billion-Dollar Baby Bargain / The Moretti Arrangement

“I don’t want to be linked to you.” Victoria was appalled at the idea. “So we’re going to go back to the table and smile like crazy—for Suzy and Michael’s sake. But after today I intend to take great pains to keep as far away from you as possible.”

“That won’t be necessary. You’re hardly my type…” he paused, then added tauntingly “…Elizabeth.”

Victoria spun away and stalked inside and quite spoilt the moment by failing to remind him that her name was Victoria.

Chapter Three

August, present day, two years later

Late on Monday afternoon, Connor walked out of the morgue in the small Northland town where the bodies had been taken and gulped in a lungful of crisp, fresh air. Michael. The face he’d known so well in life had been unrecognizable in death. And all the dazzling laughter had left Suzy forever. Connor craved the deep, cleansing peace of tears.

But grown men didn’t cry.

Nor did he have time to grieve. Picking up his pace, he jogged across the car park to where the Maserati waited.

But once inside, he sat motionless, staring blindly through the windshield.

He should call Victoria. The thought came from nowhere. He sighed. What the hell was the purpose? Except to upset her further.

Pulling out of the car park, he headed for the highway.

Not far from the exit to the town he saw again the sickening skid marks, and the white symbols the police had painted on the tarmac.

Driven by a nameless, senseless urge Connor pulled over and got out.

The grass verge was peppered with glass, and he stepped over the deep furrows Michael’s tires had gouged out of the turf. A light country breeze blew across his face and cars whizzed past. There was none of the sense that Michael’s spirit still lingered—as Connor realized he’d hoped for when he’d pulled over.

It’s not fair. They should be here! Victoria’s words rang in his ears.

Balling his fists against his eyes, he faced the fact that he would never again see the slight smile that changed Michael’s expression from intellectual to human. He would never again play squash against that killer competitive drive that few people knew Michael possessed.

A tidal wave of sorrow swept over him, and a moment later the aftershock of loneliness set in, paralyzing him.

Even after the fiasco with his ex-girlfriend and his business partner, he’d been able to act. He hadn’t even missed Dana—he’d kept himself too busy. Working like a fiend to get the Phoenix Corporation up. Going to the gym. Squash and beers with Michael. Dating a string of women who entertained but didn’t enthrall. While all the time Michael watched him with that quiet smile and offered advice that Connor hadn’t taken.

And now he’d never see Michael again.

Even fighting with Victoria had to be better than this miserable emptiness. Then he remembered her face as he’d last seen it yesterday. Devastated by the loss of Suzy. Again the compulsion to call Victoria nagged him.

Michael…

Hell.

He dropped his balled fists to his side, blinked rapidly and swallowed, furious at the hot tightness in his chest. Never was a long time. And right now it stretched before him endlessly.

He wasn’t accustomed to being powerless.

The only things left for him to do for Michael were so final—so futile. Arranging the funeral. Carrying the coffin. Executing his will. Ensuring that Dylan was protected.

A car swept by in a rush of air, the driver hooting, jerking him out of his trance of grief.

Dylan.

Connor raked both his hands through his wind-ruffled hair. Michael had loved Dylan; he loved Dylan, too.

No doubt about it, Dylan was special. Never had a baby been more loved. And that’s the way it had always been meant to be.

When, shortly after his wedding, Michael had confessed to Connor that he was sterile as a result of contracting mumps as a boy, Connor had agreed to donate sperm to allow the Masons a chance at a baby. It hadn’t been a hard decision for him to make. Anyone who knew Suzy and Michael could see that they were made to be parents. Perfect parents. Yet they’d worried about how their baby might one day react if he discovered Conner was his biological father.

Michael and Suzy had wanted the truth about his biological father to stay forever secret—and Connor had acquiesced to their request. The baby had always been intended to be theirs. Not his.

But now Michael and Suzy were dead.

Connor flinched at the finality of the word. But he would not break his vow to the Masons. At least not until Dylan was old enough to understand why he’d been created from his father’s friend’s seed.

The foggy lethargy that had clung to him for most of the day started to lift. Connor strode back to the Maserati.

At last he had something to do. Something worthwhile. He had a duty—one he would not fail in. He would bring Dylan up to remember the fine man that Michael had been. And someday, when Dylan was older, he would explain how much his parents had loved him—and wanted him. That would be the time to tell Dylan—and the world—the truth.

Victoria reached for the shrilling phone and Dylan’s eyes, which had been growing heavier, popped open. He again started to suck greedily on the bottle she’d been feeding him.

Juggling the handset and the bottle, she waited for him to settle again in the crook of her arm before saying, “Hello?”

“I’ll be there in under an hour.”

Her heart started to knock against her ribs. “Who is this speaking, please?”

“Don’t play games, Victoria,” growled Connor. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

Victoria fell silent. Her day had been pretty awful, too. First thing this morning she’d called Bridget Edge, the managing partner at work, to let her know she wouldn’t be in, that she was taking compassionate leave because her best friend had died.

There had been a short silence. Then, after uttering perfunctory condolences, Bridget had asked when she would be back at work.

Victoria had known in that moment it wouldn’t be wise to say anything about Dylan. Yet.

Bridget would never understand. She wasn’t married and had no children. How could Victoria have confessed that Dylan needed her right now? Or that she needed Dylan more than anything in the world? Bridget would’ve thought she’d lost her marbles. Finally Victoria said she would be back as soon as the funeral had been held.

Suzy had placed Dylan in a day care center a month ago. So far he’d only been going for half a day as Suzy eased herself back into teaching part-time. But if Dylan returned, it would save her from needing to make other arrangements—and keep his routine normal. Tomorrow she’d call the super-visor, let her know to expect Dylan back.

Tomorrow—when she’d gotten a handle on her grief and could talk without her throat tightening up.

Oh, Suzy!

She certainly didn’t feel like facing Connor in less than an hour. Her emotions were too raw, her heart too sore. “I’ve just gotten Dylan to sleep and I’m about to take a bath. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow?”

“I thought you might want a copy of Michael and Suzy’s will.”

“Michael and Suzy’s will?” Good grief, she hadn’t even given a thought to a will. Most unlike her. Her gaze dropped to Dylan, whose mouth was now just twitching on the teat. Emotion overwhelmed her in a hot, poignant wave. The baby had kept her mercifully busy most of the day. He’d been querulous, almost as if he knew…

Except that wasn’t possible.

Connor was speaking again. She forced herself to concentrate.

“Yes, a joint will. I’ve just dropped the original at my solicitor’s so they can start winding up the estate.”

“I could’ve done that. It’s not going to be a complicated estate.”

“You’re too busy. Besides I’m the executor.”

Hurt blasted her. She’d been the executor of Suzy’s will before Suzy had gotten married.

Dylan grunted uneasily.

Cuddling the baby closer, she rocked him in a slow rhythm. “I didn’t know Suzy and Michael had a joint will.”

She’d nagged Suzy a couple of times to update her will when she was pregnant, but after Dylan was born, Victoria had forgotten all about it in the hectic pace of everyday work. That would have been around the time she’d taken over two new, big accounts on top of her already crippling workload. She’d finally built the practice she’d always wanted, but not without sacrifice.

“My solicitor updated it for them about a year ago.” Connor’s voice was clipped. “There’s not a great deal in the estate.”

“They both worked for state schools. They had expenses…” Victoria broke off, then added lamely, “And debts.” She’d promised never to reveal her part in Dylan’s conception. It certainly wasn’t for her to reveal the staggering costs involved—she’d contributed a large sum despite Suzy and Michael’s resistance.

“Not surprising,” Connor concurred, “given they had a mortgage, too. But Michael took out life insurance to cover that.”

Victoria knew Connor had spent hours helping Michael renovate the Masons’s home. He’d even organized grants from a historic trust for assistance.

A sense of guilt filled her. Connor had clearly sorted out Michael’s money matters, whereas she, an accountant, had failed to protect Dylan and Suzy’s interests, leaving it to her new husband to look after her. And would his life insurance cover the IVF debts?

I’ll make it up to you, Dylan.

She stroked the baby’s soft head. He would want for nothing that was in her power to give him.

She’d contributed to Dylan’s coming into the world, given Michael and Suzy the precious eggs they’d needed.

Dylan was a part of her.

“Are you still there?” The impatience in Connor’s voice jerked her back.

“Yes. I was just thinking.” The baby had just fallen asleep with the suddenness that still took Victoria by surprise. “Once the estate’s been wound up I can invest the proceeds for Dylan.”

There was a deafening silence.

Then Connor said, “I’ve always looked after Michael’s business affairs.”

And she’d always helped Suzy. Except when she’d become too busy. Discomfort filled Victoria.

This was not a time for a power struggle. She had to do her best to accommodate Connor; already he’d done a better job of looking after Suzy—and Dylan—when she’d been remiss.

But it will never happen again, she silently promised the baby in her arms. She was nothing like her parents. She would never neglect Dylan.

“Connor, as executor of the estate, of course you’d need to approve the investments. I’m sure we’ll be able to work together in Dylan’s best interests.” She might not like him but they were both grown adults.

“I’m sure we will.” Connor didn’t sound nearly as convinced. “As Dylan’s—” he broke off “—guardian you can bet your bottom dollar I will be very interested.”

Her heart stopped. “Guardian?” she croaked. Her mind raced. Had Michael decided to appoint Connor North the baby’s guardian? “You are Dylan’s guardian?” Oh, Suzy, how could you let this happen?

Connor’s voice, terse and cool, came over the line. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

By the time Connor arrived, Victoria had laid Dylan down in his traveling cot, showered and changed into a simple long-sleeved dress, and had just poured herself a cup of tea.

Rushing across the living room to open the front door before Connor could ring the doorbell, she pressed her finger to her lips and motioned him into the kitchen. “I just got him to sleep.”

In the kitchen, Victoria honed in on the subject that had been eating at her since their telephone conversation. “I’d like to see the will.” She did her best to keep the hostility out of her voice, to keep it level and professional.

Connor drew a leather document holder from under his arm and eyed the counter, which was covered with dirty dishes.

Embarrassment spread through Victoria. But then he hadn’t been looking after a baby all day.

A surreptitious glance revealed lines of tiredness etched deep into his face, though they failed to mute the impact of his hard, handsome features.

Only the loosened tie and undone top button of his white shirt hinted at the turmoil he must be going through.

The will could wait—whatever it held would not change now. And Connor looked like a train wreck.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“God, I don’t know if I need more stimulants,” Connor muttered, leaning against the counter.

She gestured to the crowded countertop. “I’ve just made tea for myself. Would you like a cup?”

She took his grunt as assent, poured him a cup of tea from the little white teapot and topped the brew up with boiling water.

He glared into the cup she passed him. “What the hell is this?”

“Chamomile tea,” she said sweetly. “Lots of antioxidants. Good for you in times of stress.”

“I doubt it will help.” His startlingly pale eyes clashed with hers but the opacity in them caused Victoria’s heart to bump and her throat to contract with painful emotion. She wanted to offer him the same comfort she craved—an embrace that went beyond words—but she knew he wouldn’t accept it. Not from her.

And to be truthful she didn’t care much for him, either. But she felt empathy for him—in the same way she felt pity for herself. She’d lost the person she’d been most deeply bonded to in the world. And, hard as it was to imagine Rock-Man bonded to anyone, Michael had been fond of him. Judging by the emptiness in Connor’s eyes, somewhere in that cold heart he’d been fond of Michael, too.

The sadness—the futility of it all—made her want to weep.

But she couldn’t let herself forget that he was Dylan’s guardian now. Please God, he hadn’t been granted custody, too.

Connor wasn’t the right person to bring up Dylan—he was too hard. Yet, given the animosity between them, it would be no easy task convincing him she was the right person. But failure to do so was not an option.

Because even though she hadn’t carried him in her womb, Dylan had been conceived from her egg—he was her baby.

“Come and sit out here.” Picking up the two cups and saucers she led him to the small deck that opened off the living room, edged with planter boxes filled with primulas and purple pansies.

Without a word, Connor followed.

Once seated, he placed the leather document holder on the white wrought-iron table where she often ate breakfast, and zipped it open.

Unable to restrain herself, Victoria snatched up the will, scanning the headings as she flicked through the pages. And found the clause that spelled out guardianship and custody.

Chapter Four

Fury bubbled up inside Victoria. She threw the papers down on the table and her chair scraped back against the deck. “You told me you were Dylan’s guardian,” she accused.

“Coguardian.” Connor shrugged. “And we share custody, too. We need to discuss it.”

The coldhearted bastard had nearly given her heart failure. She’d thought she’d have to beg to be allowed a say in Dylan’s upbringing. All her unspoken reservations about her ability to be the kind of mother that Dylan needed came crashing in on her.

A gust of chilly wind cut through the fabric of her dress. She shivered. Crossing her arms, she rubbed her hands absently up and down her body. She couldn’t allow her insecurities to take hold. She had to believe in herself. Because she was the only parent Dylan had.

Joint custody and coguardianship. How on earth was that going to work? Damn, what had Suzy been thinking?

Or not thinking.

Clearly Suzy had not imagined dying. Suzy would not have thought how impractical it all was to juggle such a young baby between two households.

Sure, it had been done before. But Connor had no motive to cooperate—it wasn’t as if he was the baby’s father. Still, as a single man who ran a large business, he probably wouldn’t want to be hamstrung with a baby. Her heart lifted a little at the realization. In fact, he’d be glad to be rid of the burden.

Connor moved his chair a little nearer and Victoria tensed as she always did when he invaded her space. He stopped, too close now, and leaned toward her. Protectively she tightened her arms around herself. She could smell the crisp, lemony scent of his aftershave, which still lingered after the long day.

The light-gray eyes held her captive. “Victoria, if you don’t mind keeping Dylan for another day or so while I get a room ready and painted out for him, I’ll take him as soon as I can. Certainly by Thursday.”

The spell snapped. Don’t mind keeping Dylan? Then give him up to Connor in a day or two? That wasn’t happening!

Pushing her chair back, she leapt to her feet. “Dylan will live with me,” she cut in, desperate to get this settled as quickly as possible.

“With you?” Connor tilted his head back and gave her a raking glance. He looked unnervingly assured. “No way!”

“What do you mean, no way?” For one awful moment she thought he’d seen all the way to her soul. Read her doubts about her mothering abilities. Then she pulled herself together. She would learn. She would ask the caregivers at the day-care center a thousand questions. There was no way she could do a worse job than her own parents. “How will you cope with a baby? You don’t even have a home!” At the blaze of fury in his eyes Victoria wished she’d left the last rash bit unsaid. Heck, she didn’t even know if it was still true. “I mean, your ex took your home.”

“And I bought another,” he said very softly, his eyes glinting dangerously.

So he thought a home could simply be bought?

Something of her skepticism must have shown, because he added, “I have a house with a garden to play ball in and a swimming pool to splash around in—not a shoebox like this.” Connor cast a disparaging look around the small deck, his gaze pointedly resting on the pale-cream couches and white carpets visible through the glass sliders. “At least Dylan will be able to grow up a boy in my home. What kind of life would he have here?”

“I’ll buy a suburban house with a garden,” she said, thinking back to the warmth and love that had filled Suzy’s parents’ home. “I haven’t needed more than this until now.”

She could afford to do it. Her savings were in a healthy state. Despite the lump sum she’d insisted on giving Suzy to help with the IVF expenses, which had been worth every cent. The outcome had been Dylan.

“And that’ll mean your commute to work will increase.” He gave her that sharklike smile. “Or did you intend to stop working?”

“Of course not!”

She needed to carry on working, otherwise how would she be able to give Dylan everything he deserved? Good day care and private schooling were expensive. And Dylan would get the best. She had no intention of leaving Dylan to the mercy of her own ignorance. And besides, it wasn’t only for Dylan. She loved her job. It gave her a sense of self-worth. And it paid pretty damn well, too. She couldn’t imagine giving up the client base she’d worked so hard to build. Nor would she ever throw away the independence she’d strived all her adult life to secure.

“Don’t try telling me you would give up work if Dylan lived with you,” she challenged, “because I won’t swallow it.”

“But I can take as much time off as I want to spend with Dylan—I’m the boss. And I have a full-time housekeeper. Dylan would be well cared for. It has nothing to do with double standards.” His bleak gaze settled on her. “Unlike you, I can devote as much time to Dylan as he needs.”

The emptiness that lay behind his eyes was the very reason she could never surrender Dylan into his care. He would never be able to convince her he could give Dylan more love than she could. If her parenting skills were in doubt, Connor’s were even more so.

A strong surge of maternal yearning took her by surprise. She swallowed. She would not lose Dylan to the block of rock who stood in front of her.

The baby was hers.

Hers.

And she would fight with everything she possessed, every weapon at her disposal, to make sure Dylan stayed with her. She, at least, was capable of giving him love.

“He’s not leaving here.” She realized her voice had risen.

“Victoria, be sensible—”

“I’m being perfectly sensible.”

He gave a snort. “With the hours you work you don’t have time for a baby. Suzy told me—me and Michael,” he amended as her brows drew together. “She was worried about you. She thought you’d buried yourself alive. All you lived for was building a practice that would lead to more status.”

“Buried myself alive?” The idea that Suzy had discussed her with Connor hurt. “What about you? You started a new company—and not just any company, the Phoenix Corporation is a huge venture.”

“Yes, but I employ a large staff, I delegate—I don’t do everything myself. I still found time to visit Michael and Suzy—”

“You pig!” Victoria couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “How can you say that? You cruel—”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Victoria.” His chair crashed backward and he came toward her, his hands outstretched. “I didn’t mean it that—”

She slapped his hands away. “You meant it exactly that way.” Her fingers stung. She stared down at her reddening palms. The tears she’d stanched so fiercely for the past two days leaked out.

“Victoria, I’m sorry.” His arms closed around her.

She fought him off, elbowing him fiercely. “Let go of me, damn you!”

He dropped his arms and stepped back, breathing heavily.

She stormed past him through the glass sliders. Half a dozen strides carried her across the living room and she yanked the front door open, her clammy hands clutching the door handle to keep her trembling knees from giving out. She’d wanted him to hold her, to share the grief…but never like this. “Get out.”

“We need to talk about Dy—”

“I have nothing to say to you. Go.”

“Victoria—”

She kept her gaze averted, horribly conscious of the soundless tears streaming down her face and the nausea rising in the back of her throat. “Please, just go.”

He stumbled past her. At the last moment he turned. “If you need—”

Hot, blinding anger surged, and she said, “I don’t need anything you can give me.”

Without another word Connor left.

The funeral was finally over. Mourners huddled in groups in the church hall sipping coffee from white cups.

Connor glanced to where Victoria stood in silence beside three women who he assumed must’ve been friends of Suzy’s. The scooped neckline of the fitted black dress she wore accentuated her collar bones and the delicate line of her throat, and her tall, slender body moved to-and-fro as she rocked Dylan. But she didn’t spare him a glance. She’d barely spoken to him today.

Guilt gnawed at him. How had he managed to screw up so royally two nights ago? Judging by the dark rings around her eyes, she hadn’t slept since. She was hurting. He could feel it. Hell, she’d made him so mad, but that was no excuse. Nor did the knowledge that he’d never intended to wound her so deeply ease his guilt.

He was worse than the pig she’d called him.

She’d loved Suzy. She would never forgive him for implying that she’d neglected Suzy before her tragic death. And how could he blame her?

The baby’s head was nestled close against her shoulder, and Dylan’s eyes widened with interest as Connor came closer.

“Here, let me take the baby.”

He saw her stiffen, her hold tighten around the baby, as she became aware of him. “No!”

Did she think he was going to rip the baby away from her?

“Please?” Couldn’t she see his remorse? “Dylan must be heavy.”

She edged away from the group she’d been standing with, but not before one of them gave him a strange look. He didn’t care. It was Victoria that concerned him right now.