Return of the Secret Heir. Rachel Bailey
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now? Surely she’s stable?”
Of course she was stable now. It’d been soon after Pia had abandoned him that he and his mother’s boss had bought a rundown house together—because he was in real estate, Old Jack had been the eyes and the money, and JT had been the brawn and the spare time. He’d fixed up the place under Old Jack’s directions and they’d given it to his mother. He’d always suspected Old Jack was sweet on his mother, but being an employee, she’d been off limits.
Then they’d bought another run-down house and sold the finished product, then another. They’d avoided the real estate crash through Old Jack’s foresight and continued. He’d ended up in property development more by a random chain of events than design, but it was a good career built on solid, secure investments.
His mother now lived in the most expensive house he could talk her into, and had a regular monthly income that saw her well taken care of. But that wasn’t the point.
“This isn’t about the money,” he said, wanting Pia to understand this if nothing else. “The injustice of her life needs to be redressed. She lost so much for me to have life, the least I can do is see her receive what she deserves.” She needed to be acknowledged by the family whose patriarch had dismissed her like a dirty rag.
Pia disentangled herself from him, leaned back on the opposite counter and trained her steady analytical gaze on him. “You need to understand that just because you think you have the high moral ground here doesn’t mean you can win.”
Oh, he’d win. He may be illegitimate, but he was the eldest of Warner Bramson’s sons. The only time he’d ever lost a fight was when Pia had left him. And soon he’d rectify that, too. Now he’d seen her again, tasted her, he’d have her back in his bed one final time before this was over.
Three
Pia watched JT leaning back against a countertop in her kitchen and her heart ached for him. She didn’t doubt the story—she’d wanted Warner Bramson’s account because she’d suspected as much. But she hadn’t heard the details before, hadn’t known Theresa had been told to get an abortion. She shuddered.
JT had never had much of a family—he was an only child with a single mother. Now he’d discovered who his biological father was and had two newfound half brothers, but they didn’t want him. Were actually working to keep him locked out. He wouldn’t have expected to be welcomed into the family fold, but still the rejection had to hurt the lost boy deep inside him.
Once upon a time, they’d almost made a family together—JT and her, and their baby. They’d had such magnificent plans for their future, but she and JT had been apart for the fourteen years since then, and their baby had never drawn breath. The heavy emptiness of grief for that little life descended over her shoulders, pressing down.
“Do you ever think about our baby?” she whispered, leaning back against the kitchen counter across from him.
His eyes widened for a second and dark pain swam in their depths. She guessed this wasn’t a topic he usually talked about either. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up—it was too intimate, they didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore.
He cleared his throat and jerked his head in a nod. “All the time.”
A little part of the wall she’d erected around her heart crumbled at his admission. That wall had been protecting her from the unbearable feelings of loss since the terrible day their baby died when she’d fallen from her bedroom window on her way to meet JT.
She’d been twenty weeks pregnant and had just told her parents. Their solution was to move her away for the rest of the pregnancy and then adopt the baby out. Frantic, she’d rung JT and they’d made a rushed plan to run far away that night. She’d packed a few things together, and on the climb out the second-story window—a climb she’d done hundreds of times before—she fell. Her parents rushed her to the hospital, but no one had been able to save her baby.
Afterward she’d pushed JT away—she’d had no choice. But having him here, their both feeling the same loss, made it a little safer to say the words she couldn’t say to anyone else.
“I’ve often wondered if I think about her so much because there was no closure. No body, no grave.” Her gaze drifted to her bedroom door, where her memory box was concealed at the back of the cupboard. “There was never a chance to grieve properly. My parents wanted the whole episode swept under the carpet.”
His eyes flashed fire at the mention of her parents. “They shouldn’t have done that,” he said, then his voice softened. “There might not have been a body or grave, but there is something.”
Something? Her heart missed a beat. “What do you mean?”
JT opened his mouth, then hesitated, as if engaging in an internal debate. Then, holding her gaze, he nodded, decision made. “Grab a coat. I’ll show you.”
“On your bike?” she said skeptically, looking out the window at the silver machine he’d ridden over.
He followed her line of vision and frowned. “Good point. I don’t have a second helmet. We’ll take your car.”
As he took a step toward the door, she held up a hand. This was going too fast; she couldn’t think straight. “Hang on. I haven’t agreed to go anywhere with you.”
With an alluring blend of sincerity in his eyes and a commanding set to his mouth, he reached out and took her hand, holding it loosely in his. “It’s something you’ll want to see, Pia.”
Her hand warmed from his and she sighed. After that kiss, her ground rule of keeping their distance was pretty much blown out of the water. And if he knew of something that related to their baby, then she wanted to see it.
She withdrew her hand and folded her arms under her breasts—keeping the temptation to touch him again at bay. “Where are we going?”
“I think it’d be better if I just show you.”
The JT she’d known was always teasing and playing games like this, but his expression was earnest, so she let it go. “Okay.”
She grabbed her bag and picked up her keys from the kitchen bench. JT had thrown his jacket on and held up the long mocha coat that had been beside his on the coat stand.
“Thank you,” she said as she slipped her arms through the sleeves, shivering as his hands brushed the hair at the base of her neck before he released the coat.
He held his hand out for the car keys. She looked from his empty hand up to his eyes. “You think I’ll let you drive my car? Remember I’ve seen you drive.”
“Not since I was seventeen,” he said, clearly unconcerned by her reluctance. “Besides you don’t know where we’re going.”
“You could simply tell me,” she pointed out.
“I could,” he said, but his crooked smile clearly said I won’t.
Shaking her head at how comfortable he seemed to be making himself in her life again, she handed over her keys. It was only one night, and then they’d go their separate ways. And in the meantime, she really wanted to see what his something was.
They climbed into her Mercedes Cabriolet and he drove them out of town, her Nina Simone CD providing background music. As the New York streetlights flashed by, she lost track of time and distance, absorbed in thoughts of their baby and what could have been. Perhaps they would have married and been raising Brianna together, living in a sweet little house with a garden out front. He’d greet her each night with the passion of—
No. She bit down on her trembling bottom lip. That was a fantasy. Their relationship would have self-destructed long ago. She would have self-destructed if she’d stayed with JT. Her hands gripped each other as if for dear life.
“You all right, princess?”
She jumped as