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“You can’t go inside.”
“Your son can’t go near me, yet he did. If you’re not keeping up your end of the bargain, then neither will ...” I trailed off, seeing her.
“Ella,” I cried.
My little girl turned her cute head to look at me from where she was sitting on the living room rug, a scattered pile of colorful letter blocks around her. Her eyes were no longer blue. They were a striking shade of jade, and her hair had lightened to a shiny sable brown. She wore a headband with a blush pink rose that matched her dress, and leggings that appeared to be cashmere.
A sob escaped me. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Who is that lady, Mommy?” Ella asked, looking up at Grace, who sat on the couch near her.
Pain lanced my heart. I was her mommy.
“No one.” Grace scooped Ella into her arms and cradled her closely as if I were a threat.
“Outside.” Winston pointed at the door he had yet to close. “Now.”
“There you are.”
Martin appeared, filling the door frame just like his father had a moment before. He moved toward me, and I backed up, only stopping when my spine hit the wall.
Martin’s lips slowly curved. “I have you now.”
“Son.” Winston spoke softly. “Think long and hard before you do something you will regret.” He gestured to where Grace stood, clutching Ella to her chest. “Would you lose everything we have gained?”
Martin pointed an accusatory finger at me. “She’s going out with Paul Lennon.”
“So what?” Winston said, and Martin’s eyes flared.
“She’s mine.”
“Grace, take the child to her room. You two,” Winston gestured, “in my office. Now.”
“Yes, Father.” Martin tugged at his cuffs and waved his hand. “After you, my dear.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want him at my back. Ever.
“You first,” I insisted.
“As you wish.”
He turned, entering the hall off the foyer, and I followed. Winston followed me. When we were all inside his office, he closed the door. He went to his desk that reminded me of the one Martin had at the club.
Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he swept a hand wide. “Sit.”
I sat stiffly on the edge of the chair, my gaze darting to the door.
“He won’t harm you here,” Winston said, his gaze on me. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Martin lounged in his seat, looking bored, but even in profile I could see how hard his jaw was.
Winston’s gaze zeroed in on his son. “Did you break the terms of our agreement?”
“I did,” Martin said. “It was necessary.”
“It was unwise.”
Martin merely shrugged.
