Claiming His Secret Son (The Billionaires of Blackcastle 4)

Screeching to a halt at the threshold, she saw...saw...

Richard was in her kitchen. He had every member of her household at the huge semicircular counter island and he was...

Performing for them. Knife tricks.

He was swirling knives with such speed and skill, his hands were a blur; the feats he performed with four—no, five...six knives nothing short of impossible. He made it look effortless. His captive audience was openmouthed and glassy eyed.

She sympathized. She would have done the same if she wasn’t shocked out of her wits.

With everyone hypnotized by his show, they didn’t notice her. Only he slunk her a sideways glance, that half smile that reduced her brain functions to gibberish on his lips. She stopped behind Mauri, and Richard escalated the level of difficulty, catapulting knives above his head, behind his back, turning this way and that to show them the intricate, mesmerizing sequence.

At the crescendo of his routine, he tossed what looked like a fish filet in the air, threw the knives in blinding succession after it, slicing it to equal pieces in midair. After catching the plummeting knives in one hand and the fish pieces in the other, he spread his arms and took a bow.

A storm of applause and yells erupted. She almost clapped and cheered, too. Almost. It was a good thing she was still breathing and on her feet.

Everyone’s excitement intensified when they noticed her. Richard slinked a tea towel over his shoulder as he approached her, his gaze unreadable, his mouth curved in that devastating smile. Her head filled with images of her winding herself around him, dragging that arrogant head down and taking those cruelly gorgeous lips.

“Did you catch Richard’s unbelievable show?” Amelia exclaimed.

“I caught a slice of it.” Everyone laughed at her reference to his closing act. Including him. She wanted to be mad at him for crashing her home again, but couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still reprimand him. “How will I convince the kids not to play with knives now?”

He waved away her concern. “I already took care of it.”

“Oh, how did you do that?”

“I told them only I was allowed to do such things, as I spent more years than they’ve been on this earth practicing.”

“And this convinced them?”

“They are extremely obedient cubs.”

She blinked. “Uh, are we talking about the same trio?”

“Or I’m too intimidating even when I’m trying not to be.”

Said trio was flitting around preparing the kitchen table, their awed eyes almost never leaving Richard. “They don’t look intimidated, they look enthralled.”

“Same result.” His smile grew placating. “Don’t worry. I got their promise they’d never try anything with sharp objects. I promised Mauricio I’d teach him to juggle. With environmentally safe plastic.”

Before she could hiss his skin off for making Mauri such a promise, he turned to his audience.

“Now, to the second part of my show. Food.”

Her mouth hung open as her mother and sister rushed to empty three huge brown bags on the other counter.

“Richard brought everything to make sure his recipe is just right,” her mother explained, her smile so wide it hurt Isabella. “We’re having a cooking contest. You’ll grade his efforts tonight against mine in our first dinner face-off.”

As Richard started preparing his ingredients, Isabella closed her mouth to keep her jaw from dragging on the floor.

Was that really him? Was this even her home? Or had she stepped into some parallel universe?

He wasn’t kidding about this being the second part of the show. He turned preparing seafood into feats of speed and precision. She was sure he assembled weapons and dismantled bombs with the same virtuosity.

All the time he quizzed the kids about the seafood, spices, herbs and vegetables he used. Their excitement at the informative and entertaining Q and A session was almost palpable. She’d never seen them so taken with an adult. Mauri asked him more personal questions than she’d thought possible, down to how he chewed his food. Richard was a good sport, rewarding Mauri’s boundless curiosity with amusing, frank, yet age-appropriate answers.

Seeing them interact the first time had been disturbing. Now it plain hurt.

After Richard started cooking, he said, “Somebody recently taught me that recipe. I was the sous chef during its preparation. Now I get to be the chef and, fingers crossed, I won’t turn what was a magical seafood feast into a curse.”