The Blackmailed Bride's Secret Child. Rachel Bailey
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for us to have a dog yet.”
Nico’s jaw tightened. “Kent wouldn’t let him.”
She shrugged. “Kent didn’t like dogs much.”
“Every boy should have a dog.” He smoothly took a corner, then glanced over at her. “I noticed something strange at your house today.”
Dear God, the trip from her house to the winery on the other side of the estate had never seemed so long. “You did?”
His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel and a frown line appeared between his brows. “There wasn’t one photo on display of your son. I know Kent wouldn’t send photos to our father, but none in your own home? That strikes me as odd for a woman who had albums full of us when we were together. And albums more of family—and your dog.”
Her stomach clenched painfully. She’d rushed around and taken down all photos of Marco when she’d arrived home from Nico’s hotel room. She knew chances were high he’d follow her—he always had when they had fought. He’d never let anything between them remain unfinished. Now she suspected he’d always follow, because he had to win. And the only way to protect Marco from this mess was to keep him hidden—in reality and in photos—until all secrets were out.
Kent had been careful that Nico or his father had never seen a photo of Marco. The seemingly petty denial had been the last straw leading to the complete breakdown of his relationship with Tim Jordan—but completely necessary for Kent’s twisted plans of blackmail.
She clasped her hands together in her lap until her knuckles went white. Just a weekend. Nico would be gone soon, and in a year or so all secrets would be out in the open.
For now, she needed an excuse. “I’ve taken them down and sent them away to have duplicates made for my parents.”
“How thoughtful. I’m sure my father will appreciate his copies when they arrive.” His voice was tight with leashed emotion. “It’s broken his heart to never meet or even see a photo of his only grandson.”
“Of course.” She closed her eyes for a moment, silently cursing herself for not thinking of a better excuse. Naturally his father would want one—as would Nico. And then everyone’s lives would explode.…
Nico pulled into the driveway of the winery, and braked in front of the familiar and beautiful sandstone building now lit up with thousands of fairy lights for the launch.
Uniformed attendants opened their doors before one took the keys from Nico and drove the Alfa away. Nico’s arm came around her waist. “Shall we?”
She wanted to melt into his warmth and solidity but that would be a bad idea at the best of times. Here, at a dinner to honor Kent’s life, it was the worst of times. “I don’t think you should touch me here, tonight.”
He stiffened, and didn’t remove his arm. “You belong to Kent here, is that your point?”
“It’s not a matter of belonging to anyone. It’s a matter of propriety. Of respect for the dead. Respect for your brother.”
“Respect for my brother,” he murmured, his eyes unreadable. Without warning, he swooped down and gave her one brief, hard kiss. It was over before she had time to react, but she knew exactly what it meant—he’d just reminded her that Kent was gone … and Nico was here.
She stood motionless, a little dazed, and glad now for the support of his arm at her waist as her body clamored for more—more of the kiss, more Nico.
Then he released her, stood back and swept a hand toward the entrance. “After you.”
She walked in on unsteady legs, a little in front of him, and though she only looked forward, her whole attention remained riveted on the man behind her, as he’d no doubt intended. The kiss might have been devoid of emotion, but her entire body had reacted to the touch of his lips. Was still reacting, from the warmth rising under her skin, to her aching breasts.
But through her physical reaction, she had the worst feeling regarding the way he’d repeated her words about respecting Kent—he’d taken it as a challenge. What he’d do about it was anyone’s guess, it was hard to know anything with this new Nico—he wasn’t the openhearted, giving and impulsive boy she’d once loved. He’d become a rich, handsome, cold enigma.
One she was still finding difficult to resist, and more so by the hour.
As she stepped through the door to the function room already filled with guests, a huge display caught her eye. A photo of Kent dominated the room, twice as big as life-size. An assortment of flowers sat in baskets at its base, and tributes to his life and achievements lined the wall.
On the other side of the room was the publicity for the new white wine, Trio, a blend of three grape varieties. Arrangements of olive green bottles covered the tables and a banner of the blend’s label was strung across the room.
The strains of modern classical music filled the air and open fires blazed in the six fireplaces built into the walls. The crowd was broken into small clusters of people, their conversations more subdued than at other launches she’d attended, but given the circumstances, she supposed that was to be expected. Nico had joined a group of three men in tuxedos on the other side of the gathering, but she knew he watched her from the corner of his eye. She felt it.
She looked back to the tribute to her late husband. The man who’d made her life a misery.
Noela, Kent’s former secretary, glided across from a group nearby and grasped Beth’s hands, offering a sympathetic smile. “We’re so pleased you could make it tonight, Mrs. Jordan.”
Grateful for the friendly greeting—a greeting without the hidden meaning Nico’s words often took—Beth returned the smile. “Thank you, Noela.”
“We asked Mr. Jordan if he’d like to say a few words about his brother, and he’s kindly agreed. I know you’re probably not up to it, but if you’d like, then you’d be more than welcome to speak, as well.”
Beth’s mouth went dry. “Speak?”
“About your husband.” Noela squeezed her hands. “Only if you want to.”
“Um, no—” Beth swallowed hard “—I don’t think I could.” She was having enough trouble keeping her secrets from Nico without having to convince a whole roomful of people that she was grieving for Kent.
“That’s understandable, I knew it would be too soon. I’ll just go and get everyone together for Mr. Jordan.” After one final squeeze of her hands, Noela slipped away.
Beth’s stomach twisted as she watched Noela pass through the crowd, pointing toward a podium at the front of the room, guiding people across. What would Nico say to these people about a brother who had tormented him his whole life? It was hard to imagine why he’d even agreed to speak—he could only have been thinking of Jordan Wines and keeping up appearances.
Her eyes sought Nico through the people milling about and found him near the podium, talking to Andrew, the acting winemaker. At that moment, Nico looked up, met her gaze and arched an eyebrow. Her pulse stuttered. He was planning something.
Noela took the podium and waited until the mur-murings of the crowd died down. “Thank you all for coming tonight. As you’ll be aware, we’re not only launching our latest wine blend, Trio, but we’re paying tribute to the blend’s creator, Kent Jordan, who passed away recently. Kent’s brother Nico Jordan has flown out from Australia, and has generously offered to share some memories of his brother with us tonight.”
Polite clapping rippled through the crowd as Nico walked the short distance to the podium, his face appropriately somber.
He looked around the crowd, taking them in, nodding as he acknowledged their support. Then he found her, blinked slowly, and held her gaze as he began speaking. “On behalf of Kent’s family, I’m touched that you’ve come here tonight to show your respect for my brother.”
Beth