The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн книгу.
her questions.
“Mummy, can I have a biscuit?” To Rebecca’s relief T.J. seemed oblivious to the mood.
“Yes, of course, sweetie. Let me get you a napkin.” Rebecca hurried to the sideboard, where a stack of paper napkins stood, her hands shaking as she reached out.
Damon got there first. “What does my mother mean?” he muttered, his back to Soula. “Who is T.J. the spitting image of?”
“Well, certainly not you,” she huffed under her breath.
“Not unless he was born by immaculate conception.” Damon’s tone was barbed. Something flashed in his eyes. “So whose child is T.J.? My brother’s?”
Rebecca turned away. Inside the ache grew and grew as the icy coldness expanded.
In a low voice that only she could hear he said, “My mother desperately wants a grandchild.”
Shaking her head, desperate to escape him, Rebecca huddled into herself.
“Stop whispering, you two,” Soula’s voice broke in.
“Rebecca’s right—now’s not the time. Rebecca, dear, I’ve poured you a cup of tea. Come sit next to me. Damon, do you want a cup?”
Rebecca shot Damon a despairing glance. His face was pale under his tan. A pulse beat violently in the hollow of his throat.
“Not for me, thank you,” he replied grimly, making for the sliding doors. And Rebecca, holding the napkin, walked to where Soula sat with T.J. munching on the couch beside her.
There are things…things I haven’t told you. Things you should’ve known…before we…before we slept together.
The damning words buzzed inside Damon’s head, driving him mad. He stood alone on the wooden deck, staring blindly at the flat water of the lap pool. Behind him, from inside the house he could hear his mother’s voice offering T.J. a shortbread biscuit, could hear Rebecca’s cool, composed reply telling her son it was the last one. Blowing out hard, Damon swung around and slid the ranch slider closed to block out all sound of her.
But inside his head her words continued to echo. There are things…things I haven’t told you. What had Rebecca meant? Was it possible…?
Yes, goddammit, it was possible! The boy could well have been fathered by Savvas. His brother. She’d dated his brother. Despite his orders that she stay away from Savvas.
She’s a very beautiful woman. She was kind to me. We had some good times.
Savvas himself had admitted he’d been attracted to Rebecca. What man wouldn’t be? His brother could easily be T.J.’s father. His mother had spotted the resemblance immediately. She’d taken one look at the boy’s eyes and known he was an Asteriades.
How the hell had he missed it? Damon’s knuckles whitened. Blood rushed in his ears. Hot, unsteady rage. He wanted to hit the wall. Anything. He restrained himself. He was losing it. That in itself was dangerous. He prided himself on his fierce, unrelenting control.
Yet he’d already lost every vestige of his control in passion. An image of Rebecca lying beneath him making hoarse little sounds as he drove into her welcoming body flashed in front of him, and he suppressed it ruthlessly. A tight, fist-curling anger threatened.
Rebecca…and Savvas.
God!
When had it happened? Another image, this time the memory of Savvas and Rebecca dancing at his wedding. Rebecca laughing up at Savvas. Had it happened on his wedding night? During his honeymoon? Was that when T.J. had been conceived? While he, Damon, was congratulating himself on finding the perfect bride? While he forced himself to be tender, to meet china-blue eyes, while he struggled to forget the unsuitable witch with slanted dark eyes? The curse of Rebecca—her devastating effect on the Asteriades men. His stomach turned.
Was this why she had agreed to come back to Auckland? Had money alone not been the only enticement? Or was it the hope of a fortune beyond her dreams, child support from Savvas Asteriades? No. He shook his head. That wasn’t right. She’d had years to sue Savvas for child support. Yet she’d never claimed a cent. Why not? The money was legally due her, and she’d always been savvy when it came to money. So why had she walked away from the child maintenance claim?
He forced himself to take a deep breath. Trying to think right now was hard after the bombshell that had exploded in his face. Yes, he was furious with Rebecca. She hadn’t told him the truth. But then, to be fair, when had he ever given her the opportunity?
There are things…things I haven’t told you. The refrain whirled in his head. When had he ever indicated he’d listen calmly, rationally, to what she wanted discuss?
Hell, in the past he’d made it clear that he despised her. That would hardly have invited her to confide in him. Lately he’d had his own agenda: to court her, to get her into bed. Hardly a good time for her to confess that she’d borne his brother’s child.
He raked hard fingers through his hair. T.J. was a great little kid. Angry as he was with Rebecca, he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that the kid existed. He only wished…Hell, he didn’t want to think about that. T.J. was not his son.
But even though T.J. was his brother’s child, there was no way in hell he intended to let Rebecca escape his grasp. He intended to keep her in his bed. He turned on his heel and reached for the handle on the ranch sliders. Through the glass he could see T.J. seated beside his mother, holding a cup. Rebecca stood beside them both.
What if Savvas broke off with Demetra when he found out about T.J.? What if Savvas decided that he wanted Rebecca and his son? He could not—would not—allow that to happen.
As the ranch sliders scraped open, Rebecca glanced up. His face must’ve given his state of mind away, because her expression grew apprehensive. She leaned forward, murmured something to his mother and disappeared out the opposite door.
Again anger surged in him. She was running away. But this time she would not escape.
Rebecca was his.
No matter who had fathered her child.
Eight
“I am correct, am I not?” Breathing hard, Damon caught up with Rebecca at her bedroom door. “T.J. is Savvas’s child. That’s what my mother saw, his resemblance to my brother. Isn’t it?”
Rebecca tried to shut her bedroom door in Damon’s angry face, but he stuck his foot into the gap and forced it open. Her hands clenched, her eyes smouldering in her unnaturally pale face, Rebecca stared at him, trying to think of something smart and cutting to say. But nothing came to mind.
Dammit. This was exactly why she’d retreated to her room with a feeble excuse to Soula that she needed a tissue. The last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation with Damon. She wanted a reprieve, time to think, to gather her defences. That scene downstairs had shattered her. Damon actually believed she’d slept with Savvas. It made her want to gag.
“Isn’t it?” he repeated, coming closer. “Answer me, damn you!”
Outrage came off him in waves. She scuttled backward. “Will you stop asking me about T.J.’s parentage. It has nothing, nothing, to do with you.”
He followed her into the heart of the room. “Of course it does. It was Savvas! My brother was your lover. Savvas is T.J.’s father.”
She edged back until the side of the bed pressed against the back of her knees. Trapped, she glared at him. “Savvas is not T.J.’s father.”
“When was the child born?”
Now he wanted evidence? Absolutely fine. The pressure of the bed against the back of her knees increased. She resisted the urge to sit down.
“T.J.” She paused meaningfully, “His name is T.J.,