Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy. Elizabeth Lane
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Название: Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy
Автор: Elizabeth Lane
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
isbn: 9781474057714
isbn:
“I didn’t think it would cost nearly so much,” she said, her throat tightening.
“And was it not worth it?” he asked, his tone hard. As if he had any right to judge her, while he sat there, power pouring off of him in waves.
The anger bubbled over. Again. She was normally so much better with control, but Sayid tested her. And after being alone in her struggle, in her pain, for weeks, she simply couldn’t stand keeping it all in anymore.
“You… you—” she pulled her hand back in the window “—you can sit there and act so superior to me? You have the power to move Aden and me around like pawns on a chessboard, and frankly, you have from the moment you walked into my apartment. And then you just… say things like that. As though this is all so clear-cut and I’m supposed to know exactly how to feel, exactly what to say and want. It’s easy for you. You have all the control. And beneath the control… you don’t care. You don’t have a single feeling, not one sliver of emotion. So of course this is easy for you. Of course it’s clear-cut. But unlike you, I have a heart, and that makes all of this incredibly confusing. Incredibly painful. Don’t you dare presume that you should know what I feel when you don’t feel a damn thing.”
Her voice was trembling when she finished, her words unsteady, tears threatening. But she wouldn’t let them fall. Wouldn’t let him see how vulnerable she felt. How raw. How perilously close she was to cracking apart.
Sayid only looked at her, his expression unchanging. He was unmoved. A man made of stone instead of flesh.
Finally, he spoke. “Easy?” he asked. “You think this is easy? Look at them, Chloe. At best they fear me, at worst, they are ashamed to have a man like me in power. A man of violence. There is nothing easy here.”
“You always seem so calm.”
“I am trained to.” He was silent for a moment. “You were wrong about something else.”
“What else, Sayid?”
“I do not see Aden as a pawn. He is king, and I will do everything in my power to protect him.”
“And what about me?” she asked, the words sticking to the sides of her throat.
“Every other piece is incidental,” he said, uncompromising. Unfeeling. “Life is war, and the only thing that matters is the checkmate. Not how many pieces you lose on the way. If the king isn’t standing in the end, all is lost.” Dark eyes met hers, the intensity of it, the visceral reaction his expression set off in her stomach, frightening. “Everything else, everyone else, is expendable.”
FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF weeks, Sayid simply wasn’t around. And Chloe was grateful for it. His words, callous, and clearly true to him, had put her on guard.
She was nothing but a pawn to him. Simply an incidental. If scandal threatened to break, he would ship her back to Portland, of that she was certain. And she wasn’t ready to leave Aden.
Not yet.
She had nearly six months left with him, and she was going to treasure every moment. Capture it so she could hold it close. Always.
She closed her eyes and envisioned her hypothetical classroom again. It would be filled with students ready to learn.
And in the back of her mind, she would wonder the whole time about Aden. If he was being held enough. Loved enough.
She stood up from her computer and tugged her glasses off, walked from her room into his. She knew she shouldn’t pick him up since he was sleeping, but after the jarring thought of being separated from him, thousands of miles between them, she needed closeness. Needed to feel the bond that had been growing, strengthening, since the moment she first felt him move inside of her.
While pregnant, she’d never thought of him as hers. But it had been impossible not to marvel at it. She knew all about the development of babies in the womb. Such an intricate act of science that required everything to happen according to a perfect plan, with precision, with timing that was utterly essential.
And it had been happening inside of her.
Then, when he’d been born, all she’d thought about was survival. Hers and his. A bond forged by fire.
Now… it was changing again. When she thought of him, everything inside of her softened, the emotion she felt was an ache that started at the base of her throat and spread throughout her chest, to her limbs. And there was no rational explanation she could find for it, no biological excuse to try and explain it away.
Because biologically, Aden wasn’t her son. But her body had stopped caring.
Her heart didn’t care very much anymore, either. But her brain… her brain knew. Knew that it couldn’t last. That he wasn’t hers. That the wise decision was to keep aiming for her academic and professional ideal.
That this interruption of her plan, this detour, shouldn’t be allowed to matter so much.
For the first time, her brain was losing the argument.
She reached into the crib and picked Aden up. He squeaked, burrowing into her chest, the little noise making her heart lift. What was she doing? She wasn’t mother material. She knew nothing about a functional mother-child relationship.
And she wasn’t his mother.
You’re the only one he has.
That her brain knew and agreed with. There would be no nurturing from Sayid. There would be nothing from his uncle, no affection, no kissing scraped knees. There would be staff.
The thought of it chilled her, down to that deep, indefinable part of herself that was made up of pure, raw emotion. The part that transcended logic and reason. Trumped it completely.
She couldn’t allow it.
Certainty spread through her, a certainty that had been growing, steadily and surely, since the moment Aden was born.
She didn’t want to walk away from her life in Portland. Didn’t want to put her dreams on hold.
But she could.
The one thing she couldn’t do was walk away from Aden.
“Sayid, I need to speak with you.”
Sayid looked up and saw Chloe standing in the doorway. She was wearing black slacks, a white button-up shirt and a suit jacket. The buttons on the white top gapped at her breasts and the jacket was left unbuttoned, likely too tight for her post-baby figure.
He needed to have his dresser get her a new wardrobe that would accommodate her curves, but he hadn’t had the time. Especially because he’d been so busy avoiding her. Doing necessary work, of course, but avoiding her had been a perk.
“It’s far too hot for that outfit,” he said.
“Yes,” СКАЧАТЬ