The Secret Baby Scandal

Her smile was full of mischief. “I bought some bottles of wine to send to my second cousins in Texas, and perfume for friends in Bellevue, and of course my nieces and nephews all needed toys…”

“I hope you didn’t leave anyone out,” he said pointedly.

Her smile spread to a wicked grin as she pointed toward the small address book peeking out of her purse. “Nope, I didn’t. I double-checked.”

Théo almost laughed aloud. She looked so pleased with herself—as if she really thought she’d injure him, stiffing him with a high credit card bill. The truth was that he cared little about the fortune he’d amassed over the years. Although spending it certainly had its enjoyable moments, for him money was primarily a way of keeping score in business, of knowing when he’d won. He didn’t mind sharing his money…as long as she shared his bed. But he feared it would take far more than money to convince her to be his wife.

It was strange. Usually he did everything he could to convince his mistresses not to love him. He had no experience trying to convince a woman to stay.

But he would. He must.

His hunger for her would soon be satisfied. But seducing her into becoming his mistress was no longer enough. Because of what he’d just learned about the baby, he would make Carrie his wife. By any means necessary.

“I probably spent a thousand dollars today.” Carrie looked down with satisfaction at all the piles of brightly colored bags surrounding her on the Turkish carpet. “And in a minute I’m going to use your phone,” she added smugly. “It’s an overseas call. Likely will cost you a bundle.”

He barked an amused laugh. “Go right ahead.”

“Now you’ll know never to cross me.” She looked so happy, so mischievous, so young. Théo was unable to look away from her beautifully glowing face, her chestnut hair falling in waves down her shoulders. Sitting in the rocking chair near the enormous stone fireplace sculpted with his family’s coat of arms, holding their child with such pride and love, Carrie already looked like the Countess he soon would make her.

Coming closer, Théo brushed her hair off her shoulders and said, smiling, “A thousand dollars is nothing. We spent almost that much just on our lunch, with the wine.”

She gasped aloud. “A thousand—on lunch?”

“Didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Those foamy quail eggs?” she said in shock.

Hmm, he thought. It didn’t sound like she’d enjoyed the elegant lunch quite as much as he’d hoped. “I only mean that I want you to enjoy spending my money as you please. It’s your money as much as mine. Or it will be once you’re my wife.”

The light mood between them evaporated. She pulled away from his hand.

“Sorry,” she said stiffly. “Not interested.”

“I’m not trying to buy you, Carrie,” he said, exasperated. “I just want you to be happy here.”

Her hazel eyes were cold. “I won’t be happy until we leave.” She turned away, rising to her feet. “It’s time for Henry’s nap.”

Smooth. Very smooth, he thought, irritated at himself. Where was his usual finesse when he needed it most? He set his jaw. “Eh, bien, I’ll start making our dinner.”

She paused at the hallway, turning back to face him. “And, to answer your question, no. I didn’t like the quail eggs. I’m a simple girl. I don’t need all that fancy stuff.”

“What do you need?” he asked quietly.

She paused, and he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “Something you can never give me.”

Théo’s hands tightened as he watched her take his son down the hallway. For Henry was his son. There was no longer any question. Théo had gotten the results from the lab two hours after they’d taken the test, when he’d left Carrie alone to shop in the busy town. He’d paid a fortune to get the technicians to drop all their other work and make his test their priority, but it had been worth it.

“The child is your son, Monsieur le Comte,” the head technician had told him gravely in his private office, showing him the printed data. “There can be no doubt.”

Théo’s son. Carrie hadn’t lied. She’d tried to tell him the truth many times over a span of months, with messages left on his cell phone and even with his secretary at his office in Paris.

“Théo, please call me. We need to talk.”

“When will you be in Seattle again? I have something to tell you.”

“Why won’t you answer me? Please, Théo, it’s important!”

But he’d ignored them all until she’d stopped trying. He’d done his best to forget her, to pretend she didn’t exist. And so he’d unknowingly abandoned his own child.