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“That is my son!” He shouted, and then made an effort to lower his voice. “I should have been the one to support him! Open the damned door.”
She was tempted to point out that he was doing it again – using commands when questions would have been more appropriate, but she understood his anger. She felt his pain, and she knew that he was simply expressing it however he could.
She dialed the code into the lock – an addition Apollo had insisted on when Joshua had locked himself in the house, along with Elizabeth’s keys, giving rise to a very frantic twenty minutes while Ellie broke a window and pushed the glass inwards, allowing her to climb through and find Joshua (in the kitchen, playing with the pots and pans).
The door clicked open and Xavier swept inside, moving into her house as though he had every right. He stalked from the hallway to the living area, to the kitchen at the back, and then to the stairs.
Then, he paused, turning to pinpoint her with his heated, accusatory stare.
“How could you think I didn’t have a right to know?”
“For all I knew, you were busy starting a family of your own with your wife,” she spat.
“So this was punishment?” He demanded.
“No!” She locked the door behind herself. “It was never that! Can’t you see that if I’d wanted to punish you, I would have told your wife the truth? I would have broken up your marriage just to spite you?”
“You think a love child would have broken up my marriage?”
She winced, not wanting to contemplate this evidence of how strong his bond was with the other woman. Arabella had been hauntingly beautiful – Elizabeth had envied her for long enough.
“I think you have no right to stand there in judgement of me. I think he’s my son and I’ve been doing the best I can. And now I think you should leave, and come back when you’re less emotional.”
“Less emotional?” He repeated, and his face was a mask of complete calm. It terrified her, more than shouting, more than anything.
“I am not emotional,” he responded. “I am thinking clearer than I have in years.”
“Then think clearly somewhere else,” she muttered.
“Oh, no. If you think I’m going anywhere, then you are crazy, Elizabeth Jones.”
She blinked, a frown curving her lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He spoke with cold determination. “I have a son – and I am going to raise him.”
Ellie blinked, her enormous caramel eyes showing all her emotions, all her worries. But Xavier pushed on regardless. “I’m based in Madrid, but I can move here for the interim. I have a place in Kensington.” He looked around her townhouse. “You can rent this place out.”
“Hold up a second.” She lifted the palm of her hand, needing to physically reinforce what she was saying. “What are you talking about?”
“It will take thirty days to acquire the necessary wedding approvals,” he pulled a pod from a canister and inserted it into her coffee machine. As though he’d done so a thousand times. As though he belonged in her home.
“Wedding?” She blinked, finally catching up with what he’d said.
“Wedding.” He confirmed, pulling a mug from the bench and placing it in the machine, pressing the button. Dark liquid began to fill the cup. “Is my name on the birth certificate?”
Her mouth was dry. She hadn’t expected this juggernaut of thoughts and ideas. “You’re going too fast,” she said with a shake of her head.
“So try to keep up.” The words were clipped. “Is my name on the birth certificate?”
“No.” She said it without apology, but the look he sent her drove barbs of ice through her heart. “I didn’t want anything to link us to you.”
He swore, harsh and guttural, then lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “You didn’t think my son should know who his father is?”
“One day,” she said, frowning. “I hadn’t…”
“You hadn’t?” He demanded, impatiently.
“I hadn’t thought about that.” And then, more defensively, “I had to take each day as it came, okay?”
