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Shock was swiftly followed by suspicion and a wary, strangely emotional, tension in his gut as he watched the child sling her arms around Lacey’s neck... Her mother’s neck... And begin to chatter as if her life depended on it.
Lacey, though, remained tense, her smile strained even as she greeted her daughter with effusive praise.
He couldn’t move as he struggled to process this unprecedented new reality. But then all the opportunities she’d had over the last twenty-four hours to inform him she had a child occurred to him. Suspicion writhed in his gut. Something wasn’t right here, he knew that much, but he could not seem to grasp what. And he hated that.
But then the little girl’s babbling stopped and her bright gaze landed on him.
‘Who is that man, Mummy? Is he your friend?’ she asked.
Brandon tensed at the innocent question, feeling oddly exposed but not sure why. Lacey glanced over her shoulder again, her reluctance to introduce him to her daughter abundantly clear.
Confused and still stunned by this development, Brandon added irritation to the mix.
She should have told him she was a mother, but he didn’t see how that changed anything. He still wanted her. Anything could be negotiated, if he was willing to be flexible, and it surprised him—and annoyed him a little—to realise that, to have her, he could be flexible even about this. If this responsibility was why she had been so surprised at his offer—perhaps believing he wouldn’t have wanted her if he’d known—he could at least disabuse her of that fact.
So, as she hesitated, he stepped forward. ‘Yes, I’m a friend of your mother’s,’ he said to the girl. ‘My name is Brandon Cade,’ he added, not really sure how one addressed a child.
The child giggled. ‘Hello, my name’s Ruby,’ she said with a boldness which reminded him of her mother. As she grinned, the emerald green of her eyes sparkled with delight and a dimple appeared in her left cheek.
Something odd struck him right in the solar plexus. A strange sense ofdéjà vu. Of familiarity. Almost as if he’d seen this child before.
He shook his head slightly, trying to shake the disorientating feeling loose.
‘Hi, I’m Milly Devlin, Lacey’s sister. It’s so nice to meet you at last,’ the other woman said, holding out her hand.
Brandon shook it, noting the similarities between the two women. And the fact her sister looked perfectly okay. ‘Hello, I’m glad to see you are fully recovered,’ he said, the suspicion turning into a hole in his gut. A large black hole. Especially when the sister sent him a puzzled look.
‘Oh, it wasn’t me who was ill, it was Rubes,’ she offered. She stroked a hand down her niece’s hair. ‘But you’re all better now, aren’t you?’
‘But I can’t go to school today, can I, Mummy? Please, Mummy, I want to stay home with you and Milly,’ the little girl said, the grin disappearing as she grasped Lacey’s cheeks and sent her mother a winsome, pleading look that would have persuaded a stone.
‘Yes, you can stay home today, Rubes.’ She glanced at Brandon at last. And he spotted the shadow of guilt in her eyes. ‘We should go inside. Thanks so much for driving me home, Brandon.’
She headed into the house with her daughter before he could reply. Her sister waved goodbye and followed.
But as he stood there on the pavement, watching the little girl and her mother disappear, he couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to think.
The boa constrictor in his gut coiled and clenched into a tight knot. At last he forced himself to return to his car, but as he drove away from the house on the leafy lane the knot swelled and twisted.
Why had Lacey lied about her sister’s health? About the existence of her daughter?
And then a new question struck him. And his breath seized.
Ruby went to school. Exactly how old was the little girl?
He stared blankly at the road ahead. After stopping at some traffic lights, he engaged the car’s hands-free phone and tapped through to his executive assistant, his fingers trembling.
‘Daryl, Lacey Carstairs has a daughter. I want you to find out when the child was born, and if there’s a father listed on the birth certificate.’
But as he signed off, and continued to drive back towards the City, it felt as if he were driving into a fog. Because he could already feel the bomb, which Lacey had armed with her silence, about to explode right in the middle of his carefully ordered life.
‘What is going on between you and the extremely fit media mogul?’ Milly’s gaze narrowed on Lacey’s face.
‘Nothing,’ Lacey lied, busy filling a saucepan with water so she could prepare lunch. She’d already had an inquisition from her editor, who had allowed her to spend the day at home to write the piece on the Durand Ball. But what on earth could she write that was fit to print?
Not meeting Milly’s gaze was a mistake. She’d never been good at lying to her sister.
‘She has his eyes, you know,’ Milly said softly.
