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Thinking back to their earlier conversation, he replayed her words and felt an icy fury rise up inside of him. Not only had she said nothing, she’d lied to his face when he’d asked her about her family. Of course he’d been talking about siblings, cousins, aunts—but why hadn’t she told him then? Why had she kept her son a secret?
At that moment the little boy lifted his face and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. At the periphery of his vision he could see Teddie turning to face him, and then he knew why, for her green eyes were telling him what her mouth—that beautiful, soft, deceiving mouth—had failed to do earlier.
This was his son.
Like a drowning man, he saw his whole life speeding through his head—meeting Teddie at that dinner, her long dark hair swinging forward half-hiding a smile that had stolen his breath away, the echoing emptiness of his apartment, and that moment in the Kildare when she’d hesitated...
He breathed out unsteadily, and abruptly his pulse juddered to a halt.
Only, he wasn’t drowning in water, but in lies. Teddie’s lies.
The resentment and hostility he’d felt after she’d left him, the shock of bumping into her today—all of it was swept aside in a firestorm of fury so blindingly white and intense that he had to reach out and steady himself against a bookcase.
But the luxury of losing his temper with Teddie would have to wait. Right now it was time to meet his son.
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said gently, making sure that none of the emotions roiling inside his head were audible in his voice as he smiled at his son for the first time.
‘But you don’t need to worry.’ Skewering Teddie with his gaze, he took a step closer. ‘Mommy and I are going to have a chat, aren’t we?’
He turned to Teddie, making sure that the smooth blandness of his voice in no way detracted from the blistering rage in his eyes. Hearing her small, sharp intake of breath, he felt the glacier in his chest start to scrape forward. It had been barely audible, but it was all the confirmation he needed.
Forcing herself to meet his gaze, Teddie nodded mechanically, but inside her head a mantra of panic-stricken thoughts was beating in time to her heartbeat. He knows. He knows George is his son. What am I going to do?
Clearing her throat, she smiled. ‘Yes, that’s right. We’re going to have a grown-ups talk. And you, young man, are going to be taken back to bed.’
Although, given that her legs felt as though they were made of blancmange, that might be easier to say than do.
Aristo stared at her coldly. ‘But not before you’ve introduced me, of course.’
Her chin jerked up, but his glittering gaze silenced her words of objection.
‘This is my son, George,’ she said stiffly.
‘Hello, George.’ Aristo smiled. ‘I’m very honoured to meet you. My name is Aristo Leonidas, and I’m an old friend of your mommy’s.’
Gazing into his son’s eyes—dark eyes that were almost identical in shape and colour to his own—he felt his stomach tigh
ten painfully. George had his jawline and his high cheekbones; the likeness between them was remarkable, undeniable. At the same age they would have looked like twins.
As George smiled uncertainly back at him he felt almost blinded with outrage at Teddie’s deceit. His son must be three years old. How much had he missed during that time? First tooth. First word. First steps. Holidays and birthdays. And in the future, what other occasions would he have unknowingly not attended—graduation, wedding day...
He gritted his teeth.
Maybe he’d not actually thought about becoming a father, but Teddie had unilaterally taken away his right to be one. How was he ever going to make good the time he’d missed? No, not missed, he thought savagely. Teddie had cheated him of three years of his son’s life. Worse, not only had she deliberately kept his son a secret from him for all that time, she had clearly been planning to keep him in ignorance of George’s existence for ever.
Hell, she’d even lied to him tonight, telling him that he had to be quiet because of her elderly neighbours.
Glancing up, he refocused on his son’s face and, seeing the confusion in George’s eyes, pushed his anger away. ‘I know you’re not ready to shake hands yet and that’s a good thing, because we need to get to know each other a bit better first. But maybe we could just bump knuckles for now.’
Raising his hand, he curled his fingers into a fist, his heart contracting as his son copied him, and they gently bumped fists.
‘Hey, what’s that? Is that a boat?’ Aristo watched as George uncurled his fingers.
‘It’s my boat,’ he said solemnly.
‘I love your boat.’ Aristo glanced at it admiringly. ‘I have a real boat like that. Maybe you could come for a ride on it with Mommy. Would you like that?’
George nodded, and Teddie felt her chest hollow out with panic.
