Bound By Their Scandalous Baby. Heidi Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ to you,’ he said, his scepticism still plain on his face. ‘You’re as good an actress as your sister.’

      She nodded, suddenly feeling the urge to laugh at the odd note of admiration. But as the hollow chuckle worked its way up her chest, his face—dark and forbidding and unconvinced—seemed to float in front of her. Until all she could see was the scar, pulsing and glowing in the light.

      She lifted a finger, which felt like a dead weight attached to the end of her palm—no longer able to control the urge to explore the rough skin.

      Her fingertip touched his cheek. His eyes flared, the dark fire burning her from the inside out. But he didn’t move as she drew her finger along the jagged line, feeling the warmth of his skin, the flex of the muscle in his jaw. And the pain in her stomach clenched and released, his face melding with Nico’s.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, her heart breaking for him as she imagined him as a boy—like Nico—vulnerable and hurting.

      He stiffened and drew away, the flare of irritation turning to something much more dangerous. She dropped her finger, blinking furiously to keep the exhaustion—and that strange foggy feeling of connection—at bay.

       What on earth were you thinking?

      ‘Don’t touch me again, Miss O’Hara,’ he said. ‘I can’t be swayed by a beautiful woman the way my brother was.’

      She collapsed onto the couch as he ordered the two bodyguards who had been outside the door to watch her. But as he left the room one foolish, shameful thought ran through her mind...

       Did he just call me beautiful?

      * * *

      The next twenty minutes seemed to last a millennium or two, as Bronte tried to keep alive the vague hope that everything would work out okay when Lukas saw Nikky’s photo.

      The huge picture window opposite the couch looked out onto the Manhattan night, the room’s muted lighting casting a warm glow over the white stucco walls. The exquisite cream and blue silk furnishings were a keynote of the Blackstone brand, expensive and stylish—and yet more evidence of Blackstone’s wealth and power, as if she needed it.

      Their conversation—and her ignominious exit from the Ball—kept running through her brain, along with the visceral punch of heat. Her head started to ache as a flush of reaction worked its way up to her hairline. The two bodyguards remained by the door, apparently oblivious to her distress. Or maybe they were just being polite.

      ‘Do you think I’ll get arrested?’ she finally managed, hoping to distract herself with conversation.

      ‘That will be up to Mr Blackstone,’ said the older one, not unkindly.

      Just as the guard said the words, the door opened and in marched the man himself, sucking all the oxygen out of the room. Bronte pulled herself upright, feeling desperately exposed in her faded ball gown as his gaze raked over her.

      The two bodyguards straightened, like soldiers snapping to attention.

      ‘Leave us,’ Blackstone said, and they both left with a discreet nod.

      Did Blackstone have that effect on all his employees? she wondered as her own heart galloped into her throat.

      Blackstone had taken off his tuxedo and the black tie. The rolled-up sleeves of his white dress shirt emphasised the muscular power of his forearms—deeply tanned and furred with dark hair. The waves of hair on his head shone black in the room’s lighting and lay in deep grooves as if he’d run his fingers through it, but if he was at all unsettled by their encounter he certainly wasn’t showing it. His expression was as intent and controlled as before.

      Bronte swallowed. She felt shaky but she had the distinct impression that showing any weakness to this man would be a major mistake.

      Her head began to pound, the heat on her cheeks scalding her insides as his gaze travelled over the creased satin dress. Somehow her hair had collapsed—she couldn’t even imagine what a wreck she must look like, but she pushed the futile moment of vanity to one side. She didn’t have time to care about her appearance, or what he thought of her.

      ‘Have you seen the pictures of Nico?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes,’ he said.

      ‘You have?’ The panic became huge. He still looked unmoved and impassive. How could he not have noticed the resemblance? Between himself and Nico? When it was so clear to her? ‘But surely...’

      ‘My medical team have contacted the paediatrician at Westminster Children’s Hospital in your phone’s contacts,’ he cut into her frantic reasoning.

      ‘Then you believe me?’ she said, the hope like a sunburst inside her.

      But, instead of looking moved, he simply frowned. ‘There’s enough of a resemblance to require further investigation. That’s all.’

       It’s not a no.

      She clung to the lifeline, feeling light-headed again. ‘When?’ she asked, knowing that time was of the essence. ‘When are you planning to do this further investigation?’

      Please let it be soon. Surely he could get tested in New York. That would work. They could feed the results back to the team in the UK, then they’d know if Blackstone was a suitable partial match for the new treatment.

      He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re leaving in twenty minutes, once the helicopter is fuelled.’

      ‘We?’ she said, staggered. ‘Where are we going?’ And in a helicopter?

      ‘To JFK,’ he said, as if it were obvious. ‘The company jet is taking us to London. We should arrive by eight a.m. tomorrow. The hospital is expecting us.’

      The leap of joy despite his sharp tone almost choked her. ‘Really? You’ll get tested straight away then?’

      ‘All I’m prepared to do is a DNA test,’ he said flatly. He still didn’t sound that convinced, but she didn’t care. Because she knew once the DNA results came in the truth would be revealed.

      ‘And when Nico turns out to be Alexei’s son?’ she asked, her joy hard to contain. Because she knew he wouldn’t have a choice then. He would have to get tested, once he knew for sure Nico was his nephew.

      She hadn’t messed everything up by punching him. Nico still had a chance.

      But, instead of saying anything about that, he simply said, ‘Then you’re going to have some serious questions to answer.’

      He stalked out of the room and an assistant arrived with a borrowed coat and her bag. And as she got ready to leave it dawned on Bronte that her battle with Lukas Blackstone was far from over. Because he didn’t sound excited or remotely pleased that he might have discovered a long-lost nephew.

      He sounded furious. With her. And the whole situation. And more formidable and unforgiving than ever.

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE СКАЧАТЬ