The Secret Valtinos Baby: The Secret Valtinos Baby

‘Do you want it?’ he had asked doubtingly, earning her hatred with every syllable of that leading question. ‘Scratch that. It was politically incorrect. Naturally I will support you in whatever choice you make.’

How could she come back from that punishing recollection and act normally? She thought of Elyssa’s innocent sweetness and the reality that her father didn’t want her, had never wanted her, and the knowledge hurt Merry, making her wonder if her own father had felt the same about her. Even worse, she was convinced that allowing any kind of contact between father and daughter would only result in Elyssa getting hurt at some later stage. In her opinion, Angel was too selfish and too spoiled to be a caring or committed parent.

As she rounded the corner of the tiny office building a startling scene met her eyes. Poised outside the door, Sybil had her shotgun aimed at Angel, who was predictably lounging back against the wall of the kennels opposite as though he had not a care in the world.

‘Will you call this madwoman off me?’ Angel demanded with derisive sibilance when he heard her footsteps and without turning his arrogant dark head. ‘She won’t let me move.’

‘It’s all right, Sybil,’ Merry said tautly. ‘Elyssa is in the barn.’

Angel’s arrogant dark head flipped, the long, predatory power of his lean, strong body suddenly rippling with bristling tension. ‘What’s my daughter doing in a barn? And who’s looking after her?’ he demanded in a driven growl.

Sybil lowered her shotgun and broke it open to safely extract the cartridges. ‘I’ll take her back home with me,’ she declared, entirely ignoring Angel.

‘Come into the office and we’ll talk,’ Merry framed coldly as his dark eyes locked on her tense face.

‘I’m not very good at talking,’ Angel acknowledged without embarrassment as he straightened. ‘That’s why I use lawyers.’

In an angry defensive movement, Merry thrust wide the door of the little office before spinning back round to say, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I warned you that I intended to visit,’ Angel bit out impatiently.

Merry thought about the letter she had bottled out of opening and uneasily looked at him for the first time in months. The sheer power of his volatile presence made her tummy turn hollow and her legs wobble. He was still so wickedly beautiful that he made her teeth clench with fierce resentment. It wasn’t fair that he should look so untouched by all that had passed between them, that he should stand there perfectly at his ease and glossily well groomed, sheathed in his elegant charcoal-grey designer suit. It was especially unfair that he should still have the nerve to voice a demand for a right he had surrendered entirely of his own volition before their daughter was even born. ‘And I’ve already told your lawyers that I won’t accept any kind of visit from you!’

‘I won’t accept that, not even if I have to spend the rest of my life and yours fighting you.’ Angel mapped those boundaries for her, wanting her to know that there would be no escape from his demands until he got what he wanted. He would not accept defeat, regardless of what it cost him. He had lost his father’s respect and he was determined to retrieve it and get to know his child.

Frowning, black brows lowering, he studied Merry, incredulous at her continuing defiance while marvelling at the quiet inner strength he sensed in her, which he had never noticed in a woman before. She had cut her hair, which now fell in glossy abundance to just below her shoulders. He was ridiculously disappointed by that fashion update. There had been something ultra-feminine about that unusually long hair that he had liked. She was also thinner than she had been and there had not been much of her to begin with, he conceded reflectively. She looked like a teenager with her long, coltish legs outlined by distressed denim and with her rounded little breasts pushing at the cotton of her top so that he could see the prominent points of her lush nipples. He went hard and gritted his teeth, furious with himself for that weakness but... Thee mou, shorn of her conservative office apparel, she looked ridiculously sexy.

‘Why can’t you simply move on from this and forget we exist?’ Merry demanded in fierce frustration. ‘A year ago, that’s what you wanted and I gave it to you. I signed everything your legal team put in front of me. You didn’t want to be a father. You didn’t want to know anything about her and you didn’t want her associated with your precious name. What suddenly changed?’

Angel’s lean, hard jaw line took on an aggressive slant. ‘Maybe I’ve changed,’ he admitted, sharply disconcerting her.

Merry’s tense face stiffened with suspicion. ‘That’s doubtful. You are what you are.’

‘Everyone is capable of change and sometimes change simply happens whether you want it to or not,’ Angel traded, his lean, dark features taut. ‘When you first told me that you were pregnant a year ago, I didn’t think through what I was doing. Gut instinct urged me to protect my way of life. I listened to my lawyers, took their advice and now we’ve got...now we’ve got an intolerable mess.’

Merry forced herself to breathe in deep and slow and stay calm. He sounded sincere but she didn’t trust him. ‘It’s the way you made it and now you have to live with it.’

Angel threw back his broad shoulders and lifted his arrogant dark head high, effortlessly dominating the small cluttered room. Even though Merry was a comfortable five feet eight inches tall, he was well over six feet in height and stood the tallest in most gatherings. ‘I can’t live with it,’ he told her with flat finality. ‘I will continue to fight for access to my daughter.’

The breath fluttered in Merry’s drying throat, consternation and fury punching up through her, bringing a flood of emotion with it. ‘I hate you, Angel! If you make any more threats, if you bombard me with more legal letters, I will hate you even more! When is enough enough?’ she hurled at him with bitter emphasis.

‘When I can finally establish a normal relationship with my daughter,’ Angel responded, his lean, strong face set with stubborn resolve. ‘It is my duty to establish that relationship and I won’t shirk it.’

‘The way you shirked everything else that went with fatherhood?’ Merry scorned. ‘The responsibility? The commitment? The caring? I was just a pregnant problem you threw money at!’

‘I won’t apologise for that. I was raised to solve problems that way,’ Angel admitted grittily. ‘I was taught to put my faith in lawyers and to protect myself first.’

‘Angel...you are strong enough to protect yourself in a cage full of lions!’ Merry shot back at him wrathfully. ‘You didn’t need the lawyers when I wasn’t making any demands!’

A ton of hurt and turbulent emotion was sucking Merry down but she fought it valiantly. She was trying so hard not to throw pointless recriminations at him. In an effort to put a physical barrier between them she flopped down in the chair behind the desk. ‘Did you ever...even once...think about feelings?’ she prompted involuntarily.

Angel frowned at her, wondering what she truly wanted from him, wondering how much he would be willing to give in return for access to his daughter. It wasn’t a calculation he wanted to do at that moment, not when she was sitting there, shoulders rigid, heart-shaped face stiff and pale as death. ‘Feelings?’ he repeated blankly.

‘My feelings,’ Merry specified helplessly. ‘How it would feel for me to sleep with a man one night and go into work the next day and realise that he couldn’t even stand to have me stay in the same building to do my job?’

Angel froze as if she had fired an ice gun at him, colour receding beneath his bronzed skin, his gorgeous dark eyes suddenly screened by his ridiculously luxuriant black lashes. ‘No, I can’t say I did. I didn’t view it in that light,’ he admitted curtly. ‘I thought separation was the best thing for both of us because our relationship had crossed too many boundaries and got out of hand. I also ensured that your career prospects were not damaged in any way.’

Merry closed her eyes tight, refusing to look at him any longer. He had once told her that he didn’t do virgins and it seemed that he didn’t do feelings either. He was incapable of putting himself in her shoes and imagining how she had felt. ‘I felt...absolutely mortified that day, completely humiliated, hurt,’ she spelt out defiantly. ‘The money didn’t soften the blow and I only took it because I didn’t know how long it would take for me to find another job.’

Angel saw pain in her pale blue eyes and heard the emotion in her roughened voice. Her honesty unnerved him, flayed off a whole layer of protective skin, and he didn’t like how it made him feel. ‘I had no desire to hurt you, there was no such intent,’ he countered tautly. ‘I realised that our situation had become untenable and in that line I was guiltier than you because I made all the running.’

It was an acknowledgement of fault that would once have softened her. He had created that untenable situation and brutally ditched her when he had had enough of it but his admission didn’t come anywhere near soothing the tight ball of hurt in her belly. ‘You could have talked to me personally,’ she pointed out, refusing to drop the subject.

‘I’ve never talked about stuff like that. I wouldn’t know where to begin,’ Angel confessed grimly.

‘Well, how could you possibly forge a worthwhile bond with a daughter, then?’ Merry pressed. ‘The minute she annoys you or offends you will you turn your back on her the way you turned your back on me?’

Angel flashed her a seethingly angry appraisal. ‘Not for one minute have you and that baby been out of my mind since the day you told me you were pregnant! I did not turn my back on you. I made proper provision for both of you.’

‘Yeah, you threw money at us to keep us at a safe distance, yet now here you are breaking your own rules,’ Merry whispered shakily.

‘What is the point of us wrangling like this?’ Angel questioned with rank impatience. ‘This is no longer about you and I. This involves a third person with rights of her own even if she is still only a baby. Will you allow me to meet my daughter this afternoon?’

‘Apart from everything else—like it being immaterial to you that I hate and distrust you,’ Merry framed with thin restraint, ‘today’s out of the question. I’ve got a date this afternoon and we’re going out.’

Angel tensed, long, powerful muscles pulling taut. He could not explain why he was shocked by the idea of her having a date. Maybe he had been guilty of assuming that she was too busy being a mother at present to worry about enjoying a social life. But the concept of her enjoying herself with another man inexplicably outraged and infuriated him and the vision of her bedding another man when he had been the first, the only, made him want to smash something.

His lean brown hands clenched into fists. ‘A date?’ he queried as jaggedly as if he had a piece of glass in his throat.

Merry stood up behind the desk and squared her slim shoulders. ‘Yes, he’s taking us to the beach. You have a problem with that as well?’

Us? The realisation that another man, some random, unknown stranger, had access to his daughter when he did not heaped coals of fire on Angel’s proud head. He snatched in a stark breath, fighting with all his might to cage his hot temper and his bitterness. ‘Yes, I do. Can’t you leave her with your aunt and grant me even ten minutes with my own child?’ he demanded rawly.

‘I’m afraid there isn’t time today.’ Merry swallowed the lump in her throat, that reminder that Elyssa had rights of her own still filtering back through her like a storm warning, making her appreciate that every decision she made now would have to be explained and defended to satisfy her daughter’s questions some years down the road. And just how mean could she afford to be to Angel before her daughter would question her attitude? Question whether her mother had given her daughter’s personal needs sufficient weight and importance? Her tummy dive-bombed, her former conviction that she was totally in the right taking a massive dent.

Nobody was ever totally in the right, she reminded herself reluctantly. There were always two sides to every story, every conflict. She was letting herself be influenced by her own feelings, not looking towards the future when Elyssa would demand answers to certain tough questions relating to her father. And did she really want to put herself in the position of having refused to allow her daughter’s flesh and blood to even see her? Dully it dawned on her that that could well be a step too far in hostilities. Angel had hurt her, but that was not indisputable proof that he would hurt his daughter.

‘Pick another day this week,’ she invited him stiffly, watching surprise and comprehension leap like golden flames into his vivid eyes. ‘But you make your arrangements with me, not through your lawyers. You visit for an hour. Let’s not raise the bar too high, let’s keep it simple. I won’t let you take her out anywhere without me and I don’t want you arriving with some fancy nanny in tow.’

His dramatic dark eyes shone bright, a tiny muscle jerking taut at the corner of his wide, sensual mouth. He swung away, momentarily turning his back on her before swinging back and nodding sombrely in agreement with her strictures. But in those revealing few seconds she had recognised the stormy flare of anticipation in his stunning gaze, finally registering that he had been serious in his approach and that he did genuinely want to meet his infant daughter.

‘Tomorrow morning, then,’ Angel pronounced decisively. ‘We’ll take it from there.’

Take what from where? she almost questioned but she ducked it, worn out by the sheer stress of dealing with him. Inside herself she was trembling with the strain of standing straight and unafraid and hiding her fearful anxiety from him because she knew that Angel would pounce on weakness like a shark catching the scent of blood. ‘About ten,’ she suggested carefully. ‘I have someone to see at half eleven.’

Angel gritted his even white teeth, wanting to ask if she was seeing the boyfriend again, but he had no intention of being foolish enough to ask questions he had no right to demand answers to. She had been under covert surveillance for weeks and he would soon identify the boyfriend from the records he had yet to examine. His mouth quirked because he knew she would be outraged if she knew he was paying a private firm to watch her every move.

But, when it came to protecting a member of the Valtinos family, Angel had no inhibitions. Hired security was as much a part of his life as it was for his mother. Safety came first and his daughter would be at risk of kidnapping were anyone to work out who had fathered her. It was his duty to safeguard his child and he would not apologise for the necessity.

Merry opened the office door to urge him out and followed him to where the limousine sat parked. ‘I live in the cottage at the front gate,’ she informed him.

‘I thought you lived with your aunt,’ Angel admitted with a frown.

‘When I became a mother I thought it was time for us to get our own space. Sybil practically raised me. I didn’t want her to feel that she had to do the same for my daughter,’ Merry confided ruefully.

In the summer sunlight she studied Angel’s lean, strong face, marvelling at the sleek symmetry of the hard cheekbones and hollows that enhanced his very masculine features. He was a literal work of art. It was little wonder that she had overreacted to his interest and refused to accept how shallow that interest was, she told herself squarely, struggling to calm the stabs of worry that erupted at the prospect of having any further dealings with him.

She would cope. She had to cope. So far she had contrived to cope with everything Angel Valtinos had thrown at her, she reminded herself with pride. As long as she remembered who and what he was, she would be fine...wouldn’t she?

CHAPTER FOUR

‘LETTING ELYSSA’S FATHER visit is the right way to go,’ Fergus opined, scrutinising her troubled face with concern before turning to gaze out to sea. ‘He treated you badly but that doesn’t automatically mean he’ll be a bad father. Only time will answer that.’

Merry went pink. As Fergus had combined picking her up with an examination of the latest arrival at the rescue centre, he had heard about the fuss created by Angel’s visit earlier in the day and had naturally asked her about it. She looked up at Fergus, drawn by his calm and acceptance of her situation, wondering if it was possible to feel anything or even trust a man again. Fergus stood about an inch under six feet. He had cropped brown hair and cheerful blue eyes and she had never heard him so much as raise his voice while she had already witnessed his compassion and regret when he was treating abused animals.

‘Are you over him?’ Fergus asked her bluntly.

Merry vented a shaken laugh. ‘I certainly hope so.’

And then he kissed her, wrapping her close in the sea breeze, and she froze only momentarily in surprise. Suddenly she found herself wanting to feel more than she actually felt because he was a good guy, ostensibly straightforward and as different from Angel as day was to night. Angel was all twists and turns, dark corners and unpredictability and she had never had any genuine hope of a future with him. Furthermore, Angel had never been her type. He wasn’t steady or open or even ready to settle down with conventional expectations. Feelings were foreign and threatening to Angel yet he bristled with untamed emotion. As Fergus freed her mouth and kept an arm anchored to her spine she realised in horror-stricken dismay that she’d spent their entire kiss thinking about Angel and her face burned in shame and discomfiture.

* * *

Angel sat in his limo and perused the photo that had been sent to his phone while he angrily wondered if he was a masochist or, indeed, developing sad stalker tendencies. But no, he had to deal with the situation as it was, not as he would’ve preferred it to be. Even worse, Merry had just upped the stakes, ensuring that Angel had now to raise his game. He wanted to stalk down to that beach and beat the hell out of the opposition. Because that was what Fergus Wickham was: opposition, serious opposition.

And naturally, Angel was confident that he was not jealous. After all, with only one exception, he had never experienced jealousy. He had, however, once cherished a singularly pathetic desire for his mother to take as much of an interest in him as she took in her toy boys. He had only been about seven years old at the time, he reminded himself forgivingly, and a distinctly naïve child, fondly expecting that, his having spent all term at boarding school, his mother would make him the centre of her loving attention when he finally came home.

Well, he wasn’t that naïve now, Angel acknowledged grimly. From his earliest years he had witnessed how fleeting love was for a Valtinos. A Valtinos bought love, paid well for its upkeep, got bored in exactly that order. His mother ran through young men as a lawnmower ran through grass. By the time Angel was in his twenties he was dealing with blackmail attempts, compromising photos and sordid scandals all on his mother’s behalf. His mother had tremendous charm but she remained as immature and irresponsible as a teenager. Even so, she was the only mother he would ever have and at heart he was fond of her.

But he didn’t get jealous or possessive of lovers because he didn’t ever get attached to them or develop expectations of them. Expectations always led to disappointment. Merry, however, was in a different category because she was the mother of his daughter and Angel didn’t want her to have another man in her life. That was a matter of simple good sense. Another man would divide her loyalties, take her focus off her child and invite unflattering comparisons...

‘You heard the pitter patter of tiny feet and literally ran for the hills,’ his brother Vitale had summed up a week earlier. ‘Not a very promising beginning.’

No, it wasn’t, Angel conceded wrathfully while endlessly scrutinising that photo in which his daughter appeared only as a small indistinct blob anchored in a pram. He had screwed up but he was a terrific strategist and unstoppable once he had a goal. He didn’t even need an angle because his daughter was all the ammunition he required. Was Merry sleeping with that guy yet? Angel smouldered and scowled, beginning for the first time to scroll through the records he had studiously ignored to respect Merry’s privacy. To hell with that scruple, he thought angrily. He had to fight to protect what was his.

* * *

‘So, how are you planning to play it with Elyssa’s father tomorrow?’ Sybil asked that evening, having tried and failed to get much out of her niece concerning the date with Fergus.

Merry shrugged. ‘Cool, calm...’

‘He’s impossibly headstrong and obstinate,’ her aunt pronounced with disapproval. ‘I only cocked the gun because I didn’t want him landing on your doorstep unannounced but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

‘He isn’t familiar with the word no,’ Merry mused ruefully. ‘I do wish I’d treated him to it last year.’

‘Do you really wish you didn’t have Elyssa?’

Merry flushed and, thinking about that, shook her head in dismissal. ‘I thought I would when I was pregnant but once she was here, everything changed.’

‘Maybe it changed for Angel as well. Maybe he wasn’t lying about that. He does value family ties,’ Sybil remarked.

Merry frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

Sybil reddened, her eyes evasive. ‘Well, you told me he meets up with his father twice a month and never cancels...and naturally I’ve read about his mother, Angelina’s exploits in the newspapers. She’s a real nut-job—rich, stupid, fickle. If he’s still close to her, he has a high tolerance threshold for embarrassment. She’s not far off my age and the men in her bed are getting younger by the year.’

Merry’s eyes widened. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Shallow sexual relationships are all he saw growing up, all he’s ever had as an example to follow. It’s hardly surprising that he is the way he is. I won’t excuse him for the way he treated you but I do see that he doesn’t know any better,’ Sybil completed, recognising Merry’s surprise. ‘But you could teach him different.’

‘I don’t think you can domesticate a wild animal.’

Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘Elyssa has enough charisma to stop a charging rhinoceros.’

* * *

Merry tossed and turned in her bed, despising herself for her nervous tension. Angel had cast a long shadow over her afternoon with Fergus, depriving her of relaxation and appreciation. She had made hateful, unforgivable comparisons. On some secret, thoroughly inexcusable level, she still craved the buzz of excitement that Angel had filled her with and that unsettled and shamed her. After all, once the excitement had gone she had been left pregnant and alone and now her memory trailed back fifteen months...

Discovering that she was pregnant had proved a real shock for Merry because she had not seriously considered that that single accident was likely to result in conception and had hoped for the best. She had barely settled into a new and very challenging job, and falling pregnant had seemed like the worst possible news. She had suffered from severe morning sickness and at one stage had even feared she was on the brink of having a miscarriage. She had waited until she was over three months along before she’d even tried to contact Angel to tell him that she was carrying his child. She had never had his personal mobile number and had never got to speak to him when she’d phoned the office, suspecting that calls from her were on some discreet forbidden list. The prospect of sending a letter or an email that would probably be opened and read by a former colleague had made her cringe. In the end she had used her working knowledge of Angel’s diary and had headed to the hotel where he met his father for lunch twice a month.

That unwise but desperate move had put in motion the most humiliating, wounding encounter of Merry’s life. Angel had had a very tall and beautiful blonde with him when he entered the bar, a blonde with bare breasts on display under a gauzy see-through dress. She had looked like the sort of woman who didn’t ever wear underwear and every man in the place had stared lustfully at her, while she’d clung to Angel’s arm and giggled and touched him with easy confidence. Just looking at her, Merry had felt sick and ugly and plain and boring because pregnancy had not been kind to her. Her body had already been swelling and thickening, her eyes had been shadowed because she couldn’t sleep and the smell of most foods had made her nauseous. She had stayed concealed in the bar behind a book and round a corner while Angel, his companion and eventually his father had sat down to lunch on an outside terrace.