Claiming His Secret Son (The Billionaires of Blackcastle 4)

His free hand cupped her cheek, and the look in his eyes almost uprooted Isabella’s heart all over again.

What she’d give to have him look at her that way.

“You have to in front of others.” His gaze suddenly turned deadly serious. “It’s beyond vital I’m never associated with Cobra, The Organization’s operative. Though I wiped every shred of evidence they had on me, changed radically from the bald-shaven, crooked-nosed, scarred boy and man they knew, and no one suspected me in the past ten years, I can’t risk any mistakes that might lead to my exposure. The consequences to everyone I know would be unspeakable.”

At his ominous declarations, what shook her most was finding out he’d been mutilated by his years as his father’s, Burton’s and The Organization’s weapon. She’d only known him after he’d fixed the damages—at least the physical ones—but now she realized more than ever how deep they’d run.

At the couple’s gaping horror, he exhaled. “This is why I didn’t want to burden you with my existence. Maybe it’s advisable that I continue watching over you from afar without entering your lives at all.”

“No!” Rose’s cry was so alarmed, so agonized, it was another blow to Isabella. “I must have you in my life. We’ll do everything you need us to do.” She tugged at her husband, eyes streaming again, imploring. “Won’t we, Jeff?”

Jeffrey nodded at once, eager to allay his wife’s agitation. “It goes without saying, man. Your secret is our secret.” Then he grimaced. “But what are we going to tell the kids?”

“Oh, God...I hadn’t thought of that,” Rose sobbed, the realization bringing on another wave of weeping. “We can’t tell them you’re their uncle!”

Richard engulfed her hands in his, as if to absorb her anguish. “It’s not important what they think I am as long as I become part of their lives.” Richard looked at her, no doubt correlating how the same applied to Mauri. Turning his gaze back to the distraught Rose, his lips crooked in a smile. “Tell them I was your dearest friend when you first got adopted. They’ll end up calling me uncle anyway.”

Just as tremulous relief dried Rose’s tears, Isabella’s mother and Amelia came back with the kids for the second time. Richard suggested they all adjourn to his place for the rest of the evening. Everyone agreed with utmost enthusiasm, Rose and Jeffrey’s kids squealing in delight when Mauri told them he had a pool in his apartment.

As they all headed for their cars, Isabella hung back, looking at Richard. This lone predator who was now suddenly covered in family. And appearing to delight in them as they did in him.

Only she felt like the odd woman out. As she was.

If he no longer wanted her, and it was clear he didn’t, she’d always be left out in the cold.

* * *

Over the next few weeks it seemed as if an extended family had mushroomed around Isabella’s immediate one. Rose’s adoptive family, Richard’s friend Rafael and his wife, Eliana—the recipe fairy, as she’d come to be known in their household—and Isabella’s own siblings. With the latter now living abroad, two in France and one in Holland, they’d all come to visit on her return to the United States and were delighted with her new status quo.

She was the one who suffered more the better things got. Not that she felt alienated by everyone’s focus on Richard. That pleased her, for him, and for everyone else. It was Richard’s distance from her that was killing her inch by inch every day.

Today, as with every Saturday, Richard was coming to take them to spend the day with everyone who could make it. He’d been taking them on outings that only a man of his imagination and influence could come up with and afford. She’d cautioned him he’d been overdoing it, building unrealistic expectations that he’d always be that available, that accommodating.

His answer had shaken her, since it was the very reason she wanted to make every second with Mauri count. He said that Mauri would be seven only once, that soon he wouldn’t think it cool to hang around with him or be as impressed or as easily pleased by him. But he had another reason she didn’t. He had seven years of absence to make up for.

He’d ended the discussion by reassuring her that Mauri understood he might not be able to keep up this level of presence, that he’d managed to clear his calendar to spend this time with them, but that that might not always be the rule.

Then she’d tried to call him out on his extravagance. Though his trips were fun and enriching for all of them, they cost a ton. He’d waved her concern away. He already owned the transportation and commanded most of the personnel and services involved. He’d insisted she sit back and enjoy someone doing things for her for a change.

She would have enjoyed the hell out of it, had it been meant for her. Or even partially for her. But she was incidental to him as Mauri’s mother. And she could no longer take it. If he wanted to be with his son, he should be, without dragging her along.

Decision made to tell him this today, she rushed to hide the signs of her tears when she heard the bell ring. He was already here.

Mauri stampeded down the stairs to open the door to the man he now lived to anticipate.

Tears welling again, she listened to the usual commotion of father and son meeting. This time it was even more enthusiastic, as if it was after a long absence when they’d seen each other forty-eight hours ago. Yesterday was the first time in weeks Richard hadn’t spent the evening with them.

When she brought herself under control, she walked down to excuse herself from their planned outing. Both of them would probably welcome that, must be unable to wait to be alone together.

Before she took the turn into the living room, she froze.

Mauri’s voice carried to her, serious, almost agitated.

“Do you know that my real name is Ricardo? Today I discovered it’s Spanish for Richard. Mom used to call me Rico until I was two, then started calling me Mauri. But I always hated Mauri. I always wanted to be Rico.”

Slumping against the wall, tears stung her eyes again. She hadn’t even realized that Mauri—Rico—remembered. What had she done to her own son to ameliorate her own suffering?

There was absolute silence. Richard, for the first time, had no ready answer.