The Secret Valtinos Baby: The Secret Valtinos Baby. KIM LAWRENCE
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her daughter to the hearth rug.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m in the office,’ her aunt told her curtly. ‘Elyssa’s father is here demanding to see her. I’ll keep him here with me until you come.’
Shock and disbelief engulfed Merry in a dizzy tide. She snatched Elyssa back off the rug and wondered frantically what to do with her daughter while she dealt with Angel, because she didn’t want him to see her. Her mind was a chaotic blur because she couldn’t imagine Angel travelling down to Suffolk just to see the child he had once done everything possible to avoid and deny. It was true that since he had been informed of Elyssa’s birth he had made repeated requests to meet his daughter, but Merry had seen no good reason to cater to his natural human curiosity and she herself wanted nothing more to do with him.
After all, as soon as Angel had learned that she was pregnant he had brought his lawyers in to handle everything. They had drawn up a legal agreement by which Merry was paid a ridiculous amount of money every month but only for as long as she kept quiet about her daughter’s parentage. Merry currently paid the money into a trust she had set up for Elyssa’s future, reckoning that that was the best she could do for her daughter.
She left the cottage with Elyssa tucked into her well-padded pushchair, her toy bunny clutched between her fingers. Walking into the rescue centre, she saw a long black limousine sitting parked and she swallowed hard at the sight of it. Angel didn’t flaunt the Valtinos wealth but even at the office she had seen occasional glimpses of a world and lifestyle far different from her own. He wore diamond cufflinks and his shirts had monograms embroidered on the pockets. Every garment he wore was tailored by hand at great expense and he thought nothing of it because from birth he had never known anything else.
She pushed the buggy into the barn, where the kennel staff hung out when they took a break. ‘Will you watch Elyssa for me for ten minutes?’ she asked anxiously of the three young women, chattering over mugs of coffee.
‘Can we take her out of the pram and play with her?’ one of them pressed hopefully.
A smile softened Merry’s troubled face. ‘Of course...’ she agreed, hastening out again to head for the rescue centre office.
What on earth was Angel doing here? And how could she face him when the very idea of facing him again made her feel queasy with bad memories? They had last met the day she’d tracked him down to tell him that she was pregnant. Those liquid-honey eyes had turned black-diamond hard, his shock and distaste stark as a banner.
‘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