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“You knew, all this time. You knew about my son and you let me think…you let me talk to you about him…you—”
“It makes no difference!” she cried.
He roared and slammed his chest with one fist. “It makes a difference to me!”
He’d still been holding his drink in his other hand, and a slosh of whiskey splashed onto the carpet. Cursing, Landon drained what was left and set the empty glass on the desk, then he stared into its depths.
She considered how she’d take it if someone came up to her and told her David wasn’t her son. How she’d feel if Landon, a man whose respect she wanted, had told her this news in the same way Beth had told him.
She shrunk inside her skin, feeling so small.
“I’m sorry, Landon,” she said, her voice small, too.
Her eyes welled up for the second time today. She was afraid the tears wouldn’t stop until morning.
She didn’t know where she found the courage to speak. “Where d-do we stand now? With us? With…David?”
He wouldn’t tear his gaze off that empty glass. “I said I’d get you your son back. And I will.”
And us?
She couldn’t ask it again—somewhere deep down, she knew. Could hear the word “divorce” as clearly as she heard the thunder.
They’d become each other’s enemies.
Thirteen
“Pretend you love me well and hard or by God this will blow up in our faces!”
Landon hissed the words into her ear, and a hot shiver raced down Beth’s spine. Her nerves were stretched taut in a combination of anticipation and fear.
This was the day she’d been waiting for.
Her heart pounded a nervous beat as she gazed around the space they’d been appointed. The courtroom was exactly the one in her earlier trial: impersonal and cold.
The judge’s seat above them loomed empty while their lawyer busily shuffled his notes. His name was Mason Dawson, a young, ruthless attorney already reaping the benefits of his killer reputation. He had assured Beth and Landon every time they met that he didn’t lose.
Beth prayed his winning streak wouldn’t end with her.
Hector’s lawyer, on the other hand, sat at the table on the opposite side, stealing glances at her wristwatch. It was a smart choice to have a woman represent him—someone female to soften his image.
Beth’s parents, Mrs. Gage, Garrett, Julian John, Kate and even Thomas had settled themselves in the benches.
But what Beth was most aware of, with every atom, cell and fiber in her body, was the man at the table beside her.
Landon fairly reeked of fury. He stood tall and solid to her right, a tower of testosterone that pricked her body with awareness.
She couldn’t help but think of the Akris dress she wore, the underwear she wore beneath. Would Landon even attempt to discover if she’d worn the red lingerie like he’d told her to?
God, she was lovesick. Or just sick.
“He’s late,” their lawyer muttered to them.
Just then, the doors burst open, and Hector appeared.
He looked like a man who’d just had an encounter with a rabid lion and had barely come out of it on his feet.
He stumbled forward, a dark coffee stain on his olive green coat. His hair was rumpled, his face streaked with dirt as though he’d tripped in a mud puddle.
