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“I would do so, and gladly, but you forget that this life you carry belongs to me.”
“It’s a baby, Damian. You don’t own a baby. I suppose that’s hard for someone like you to comprehend, but a child’s not a—a commodity. You can’t own it, even if your name is Damian Skouras.”
They glared at each other, and then he muttered something in Greek and stalked away from her.
Dammit, she was right! He was behaving like an ass. That self-righteous crap a minute ago, about a woman who slept with strangers not being a fit mother, was ridiculous. He was as responsible for what had happened as she was.
And now she was carrying a child. His child. A deep warmth suffused his blood. He had always thought raising Nick would be the closest he’d come to fatherhood. Now, Fate and a woman who’d haunted his dreams had joined forces to show him another way.
Slowly, he turned and looked at Laurel.
“I want my child,” he said softly.
Laurel went cold. “What do you mean, you want your child?”
“I mean exactly what I said. This child is mine, and I will not forfeit my claim to it.”
His claim? She felt her legs turn to jelly. This kind of thing cropped up in the papers and on TV news shows, reports of fathers who demanded, and won, custody. Not many, it was true, but this was Damian Skouras, who had all the power and wealth in the world. He could take her baby from her with a snap of his fingers.
Be calm, she told herself, be calm, and don’t let him see how frightened you are.
“Do you understand, Laurel?”
“Yes. I understand.” She made her way toward him, her gaze locked on his face, assessing what to offer and what to hold back, wondering how you played poker with a man who owned all the chips. “Look, Damian, let’s not discuss this now, when we’re both upset.”
“There is nothing to discuss. I’m telling you how it will be. I will be a father to my child.”
“Well, I’m not—I’m not opposed to you having a role in this. In fact, Dr. Glass man and I talked a little bit about—about the value of a father, in a child’s life. I’m sure we can work out some sort of agreement.”
“Visiting rights?”
“Yes.”
His smile was even more frightening the second time. “How generous of you, Laurel.”
“I’m sure we can work out an arrangement that will suit us both.”
“Did I ever tell you that my father played no part in my life?”
“Look, I don’t know what the situation was between your parents, but—”
“I might as well have been a bastard.”
“Damian—”
“I have no great confidence in marriage, I assure you, but when children are involved, I have even less in divorce.”
“Well, this wouldn’t be the same situation at all,” she said, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. “I mean, since we wouldn’t be married, there’d be no divorce to worry ab—”
“My child deserves better. He—or she—is entitled to two parents, and to stability.”
“I think so, too,” she said quickly. “That’s why I’d be willing to—to permit you a role.”
“To permit me?” he said, so softly that she knew her choice of words had been an error.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I won’t keep you from my—from our—child. I swear it.”
“You swear,” he said, his tone mocking hers. “How touching. Am I to take comfort in the word of a woman who didn’t even intend to tell me she was pregnant?”
“Dammit, what do you want? Just tell me!”
“I am telling you. I will not abandon my child, nor be a father in name only, and I have no intention of putting my faith in agreements reached by greedy lawyers.”
“That’s fine.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “No lawyers, then. No judges. We’ll sit down, like two civilized people, and work out an arrangement that will suit us both.” She cried out sharply as his hands bit into her flesh. “Damian, you’re hurting me!”
“Do you take me for a fool?” He leaned toward her, so that his face was only inches from hers. “I can imagine the sort of arrangement you would wish.”
“You’re wrong. I just agreed, didn’t I, that a father has a place in a child’s life?”
“Ten minutes ago, you were telling me you never wanted to see my face again.”
“Yes, but that was before I understood how deeply you feel about this.”
“You mean, it was before you were trapped into telling me you were pregnant.” He laughed. “You’re a bad liar, Laurel.”
“Damn you, Damian! What do you want from me?”
There was a long, heavy silence. Then his arms wound around her and his hands slipped into her hair.
“Don’t,” she said, but already his mouth was dropping to hers, taking it in a kiss that threatened to steal her sanity. When, finally, he drew back, Laurel was trembling. With hatred, with rage—and with the shattering knowledge that, even now, his kiss could still make her want him.
“I have always believed,” he said softly, “that a man should have children only within the sanctity of marriage. But that is a paradox, because I believe that marriage is a farce. Nonetheless, I see no choice here.” His hand lifted, as if to touch her hair, then fell to his side. “We will marry within the week.”
“We will...?” She felt the blood drain from her face. “Marry? Did you say, marry?”
“We will marry, and we will have our child, and we will raise him—or her—together.”
“You’re crazy! Me, marry you? Never! Do you hear me? Not in a million years would—”
“You’ve accused me of being arrogant, and egocentric. Well, I assure you, I can be those things, and more.” A muscle beside his mouth tightened, and his eyes bored into hers. “I am Damian Skouras. I command resources you’ll never dream of. Oppose me, and all you’ll gain is ugly notoriety for yourself, your family and our child.”
Laurel began to tremble. She stared back at him and then she wrenched free. Angry tears blurred her eyes and she wiped them away with a slash of her hand.
“I hate you, Damian! I’ll always hate you!”
He laughed softly, reached for his jacket and slung it over one shoulder.
“That’s quite all right, dearest Laurel. From what I know of matrimony, that’s the natural state of things.”
Damian opened the door and walked out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FIVE DAYS LATER, they stood as far apart as they could manage in the anteroom to a judge’s chambers in a town just north of the city.
Judge Weiss was a friend of a friend, Damian had said. He’d begun to explain the connection, but Laurel had stopped him halfway through.
“It doesn’t matter,” she’d said stiffly.
And it didn’t. For all she gave a damn, the man who was about to marry them could be an insurance salesman who was a justice of the peace in his spare time.
The only thing she wanted now was to get the thing over with.
She hadn’t asked anyone to attend the ceremony. She hadn’t told Susie or George or even Annie that she was getting married. Her sister had seemed preoccupied lately and anyway, what was there to tell? Surely not the truth, that she’d made the oldest, saddest female blunder in the world and that now she was paying the classic price for it by marrying a man she didn’t love.
She’d decided it would be better to break the news when this was all over. She’d make it sound as if she and Damian had followed through on a romantic, spur-of-the-moment impulse. Susie might see through it but Annie, good hearted soul that she was, would probably be thrilled.
She glanced over at Damian. He was standing with his back to her, staring out the window. He’d been doing that for the past ten minutes, as if the traffic passing by on the road outside was so fascinating that he couldn’t tear his gaze from it.
She understood it, because she had been staring at a bad oil painting of a man in judici
al robes with mutton-chop whiskers for the same reason. It was a way of focusing on something other than the reality of what was about to happen.
Laurel took a deep breath. There was still time. Maybe she could convince him that his plan was crazy, that it was no good for him or her or even for their baby.
“Mr. Skouras? Miss Bennett?”
Laurel and Damian both looked around. The door to the judge’s office had opened. A small, gray-haired woman smiled pleasantly at them.
“Judge Weiss is ready for you now,” she said.
Laurel’s hands tightened on her purse. It was like being told the dentist was ready for you. Your heart rate speeded up, your skin got clammy, you had to tell yourself to smile back and act as if that was exactly the wonderful news you’d been waiting for.
