Chapter Fifteen
I want this, Siobhan had said of the big family and the endearing chaos they created.
As the day wore on, Joaquin began to see the appeal. There was a lot of laughter and teasing and children scooped up by loving arms that belonged to the nearest adult.
He also caught a glimpse of the indulgent mother Siobhan would become. It did something to his heart when he saw her with the youngest princes of Zhamair, cooing and cradling the identical twins. It caused a stretching sensation in his chest that stole his breath.
The princes were five months, he was told. Both were strong, determined little wrestlers. They smiled at her, chewed their fists, batted clumsily at each other, then dug their toes into her while trying to scale her shoulders.
“Do you need me to hold one of them?” Joaquin was compelled to ask, experiencing the strangest impatience to see her cradle their own baby. To hold it himself.
“Don’t you dare.” She expertly firmed her arms around them. “The only thing better than holding one baby is holding two.”
“Auntie Dorry is our baby whisperer,” their father, Kasim, told him. “That’s why Gili and I had twins. I was assured Dorry could be persuaded to come live with us.”
“Oy, you did this on purpose, did you?” she teased. “Well, I’m tempted.” She dipped her chin to nuzzle one round cheek, expression tender. “Maybe I’ll take them home with me. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“I think you’re finally old enough for me to say this to you, little one, but make your own.” Kasim stole one of his sons and held him over his head, pretending to eat the boy’s guts and making the boy giggle.
Siobhan sent Joaquin a look of amusement at their shared secret. Job done.
An electric sensation struck Joaquin. It was a primal desire that went far beyond sexual want. Beyond his desire for her and their baby to be safe and comfortable. Beyond anything he had ever wanted for himself. He wanted this for her.
Which made it imperative to remove any threat from his father, once and for all.
He brought that up when he finished battling Henri on the tennis court the following morning.
Joaquin had won, but not easily. They sat down to orange juice and toasted bread smeared with olive oil, crushed tomatoes and slices of dry-cured jamón, watching Ramon and Isabella play Trella and Xavier.
“I presume Ramon relayed everything I told him in Madrid about my conflict with my father over LVG?” Joaquin asked.
“He did.” Henri brushed his fingers on his napkin.
“I’m taking off the gloves with him. There could be blowback against Siobhan. And your family, once her connection to you is known.”
“Then stop seeing her,” Henri said.
I can’t, Joaquin almost said, thinking of the baby, but that was Siobhan’s news to share when she was ready and the truth was, “I don’t want to.”
“This is serious, then?” Henri pressed. “You’re in love with her?”
With Henri’s astute gaze pinned on him, Joaquin felt as though he had his neck fully exposed, but he hated to show his hand—or his heart. Especially when he was so unsure of his ability to give it.
“My intentions are honorable, yes.” He wanted to spend his life with her.
He had known that from the moment he’d seen the pulse of their baby’s heartbeat on the screen.
No, the glimmer of a future with her had first flickered to life within him when she’d asked, What will we do if…
Before that, even, when he had wished for more time than a single night in San Francisco.
“Having said that,” Joaquin continued gravely, “I’d like to prevail on you for a favor, in the interest of time. I know how this request looks, or would in Siobhan’s eyes. Hear me out.”
Henri nodded curtly.
“I’m working at buying up my father’s debts. Some of his creditors feel enough loyalty to him that they’re refusing to sell to me, but if you were to approach them through your channels, he wouldn’t know I was pulling the strings. I’m not asking you to be out of pocket. I’ll cover everything.”
Henri waved off that detail, even though they both knew they were talking eight and nine figures.
“It’s a delicate situation. I need to keep Siobhan’s true identity off my father’s radar until I’ve crippled him. Otherwise, he has a fresh and effective avenue to attack me.”
“Us,” Henri said with a grimace.
“Exactly. I would call him ruthless, but reckless is the better word. This favor isn’t without risk for you. Say the word and I’ll look at other options.”
“The day he comes for my family is the day I cripple him,” Henri said. “Does she need extra security?”
“I’m arranging that.”
Henri nodded thoughtfully. “Have you discussed this with her?”
“Not yet.” Joaquin grimaced again. “She would be devastated if she thought she was the reason my father came after any of you. I don’t even want to put the potential of it into her head.”
“Don’t. She puts too much pressure on herself for our safety.
That’s my job, not hers. And she can’t hide her connection to us forever.
It sounds as though your father will become a problem to me eventually.
I’m making the decision to deal with it now, while it’s easily contained.
Do you have a list of targets and timelines? ”
“I do.”
Christmas Day was utter perfection, filled with food and torn paper and nonstop laughter—especially when Malik discovered that all the gifts Joaquin had wrapped were missing name tags.
She and Joaquin looked at each other, perplexed.
“You said you’d do it,” he reminded her.
“I did!” She burst out laughing.
Everyone groaned, but she recovered by having each child find a gift that was missing a tag. It turned into a game to open it and give it to whoever was the intended recipient. The children loved it.
Her gift for Joaquin was labeled. He looked uncomfortable accepting it, saying, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I wanted to,” she insisted and had to wonder whether he was given gifts very often. By his reaction, she suspected not.
He frowned with curiosity as he unwrapped the framed photo. He read the accompanying certificate. “You bought me a race car?”
“A share in the team Ramon is buying. You seemed interested when I mentioned it last week.”
“I can honestly say this is something I didn’t know I wanted, but I’m delighted to have. Thank you.” He kissed her then dropped a gift in her lap that contained a pair of earrings he “thought would suit her.”
The large, pear-shaped aquamarines were suspended from a shimmering row of brilliant-cut diamonds. When she joined him in bed that evening, she wore only them and thanked him by kissing her way down his torso, eventually making her way back to his lips.
“Not just for the jewelry,” she whispered when his heart was still pounding and all the tension had left his body. “Thank you for being here with me. You helped me remember why I love this time of year.”
She was in love with him, she realized in a rush of clarity. It was a wide, glorious light inside her, one that felt so distinctly right she didn’t know why she’d fought it. Joaquin might still be reticent at times, but he was a fiercely protective, caring, indulgent man.
Her love was so fresh and new and perfect, she almost said it aloud.
But he was twisting to roll her beneath him, kissing her with ravenous passion.
“My turn to have a peek under the tree. I think there’s one more gift for me.” He parted her legs and slid down.