Claimed by the Wealthy Magnate

‘I already am who I want to be.’

‘Rubbish. I don’t believe that you want to go back to that art gallery and wait until your parents identify your next eligible husband.’

Her wince was as palpable as her anger, and he almost regretted the starkness of his words. Almost, but not quite. Because the idea of Kaitlin entering that gilded cage made anger roil in his gut and caused his fists to clench.

An answering fury flashed back at him as her hands slammed on the curve of her hips. ‘And what is so wrong with that, if it gives me what I want? A family. Children to love and cherish.’

Suddenly all his anger drained away, replaced by a sudden wish that he could give her what she wanted alongside the bleak knowledge that he couldn’t. For one fleeting moment he tried to imagine it—but even the thought sent a cartwheel of panic through him. He was a man who had brought sorrow to the family he had—family was not for him. It was too messy, too complicated....too demanding.

But perhaps there was something he could do for Kaitlin. ‘It doesn’t always work out like that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My mother entered a gilded cage, made a deal—an alliance with my stepfather. After my father died she had no one to turn to and a baby on the way. She kept working as a waitress until the last possible moment but it wasn’t easy. And it didn’t become easier after I was born. She met my stepfather—he was older than her, he was rich and he was powerful and he wanted her. So she made a deal with him and married him. She did it for me—so that I could have everything in life.’

Guilt twisted its ever-present dagger once more—a reminder that love led to pain.

Kaitlin stepped towards him, the light of the ornate chandelier glinted off her Titian hair, bathed her skin in a golden glow, as she placed a hand on his arm. ‘Maybe she did it for herself as well. I can’t imagine how desperate and lonely she must have felt.’

‘She didn’t do it for herself. My stepfather is in the mob.’

Kaitlin’s mouth formed a circle of surprise. ‘The mafia?’

‘Yes.’ The fact brought an extra burn of shame. ‘A bona fide criminal and my mother knew it. He wanted more children and she wanted a big family and he promised that he would give me the benefits of wealth—a luxurious lifestyle and an excellent education with all the extras.’

Impossible to blame his mother for her acceptance when it had been done for love of him.

‘But every penny of his money came from the proceeds of crime. My mother isn’t a bad person—she did it for me because she could see the way her life was headed and she couldn’t see a better way out.’

‘But...what happened? You aren’t still connected to the mob, are you?’

‘No. I walked away when I was eighteen—when I realised the deal was that I would go to law school and then work for the family, to protect the criminals. Until then I had turned a blind eye, but I couldn’t play an active part.’

His skin prickled in recognition of the hypocrisy of his own culpability. He’d reaped the benefits of his stepfather’s crimes and then refused to help him in return.

‘I told my stepfather I would pay him back but that I wanted to go legit—make my own way. He went ballistic.’

It was then that he’d seen the man his stepfather could be—the side of him he kept away from his family, the part of him that had allowed him to rise in the ranks of the mafia. Even now he could feel the ripple of fear and shock as he’d faced the man he had believed cared for him.

‘I’m not sure what would have happened if my stepbrother hadn’t stepped in.’

‘What did you do?’

‘They told me I had a choice. I either had to comply or they would turn their backs on me. By which they meant I would no longer be part of the family—I would be as good as dead to them. I left.’

‘But your mother...’

‘I haven’t seen my mother or my half-siblings since. I send a birthday card every year, and this year I asked her to come to Barcelona. It’s ten years ago, and now I have the means to support her and my siblings, to match my stepfather’s wealth. But she didn’t come. Instead one of the family goons came—with a message. No one wants to meet a ghost. I am still dead to them and that is the way it will remain.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re right. I made my choice to walk away. I was a fool to expect her to come running when I asked her after what I did.’

‘No. You weren’t a fool. I cannot imagine the pain it caused you to walk away. And you were right to try for a reunion—everything you told me about your mother makes me know that she must still love you. Life isn’t black and white—it is not as simple as you walking away so she can never forgive you. But maybe first you need to forgive yourself.’

The near anguish in her voice as she tightened her clasp on his arm, moved closer, recalled him to the here and now. He saw the compassion in her eyes and for a heartbeat he wanted to step forward and hold her, let her hold him, accept her warmth and offer her...

Offer her what?

Ironically enough, he had nothing to offer her—just as he had nothing to offer his mother. What Kaitlin deserved was love—the type of love that had existed between his parents. All he could give her was the benefit of experience and hope that he could prevent her from making the same errors his mother had made.

Stepping back, he pulled away from her clasp, forced his expression into neutral. ‘I didn’t tell you any of this for sympathy or analysis.’