Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“I ’m not going to marry you!” She snarled, the very idea filling her with wet cement and panic. “You’re out of your damned mind.”
He eyed her with icy derision and she imagined for a moment what it would be like to sit opposite a man like Xavier Salbatore in a professional setting. What might it be like to be one of his minions, working for him, and incurring his wroth?
“Fine,” he surprised her by conceding a few tense seconds later. “That is your choice.”
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.
“You can be in his life,” she was spurred to offer, so relieved by his agreement that she found she wanted to offer him something in exchange. Perhaps this was going to be amicable and straight-forward after all.
“Oh, I will be.” He crossed his arms over her chest and a frisson of warning was back, filling her mouth with the taste of adrenaline.
“Fine then.” She swallowed, telling herself to relax.
“I’ll have my jet prepared for departure this evening. My assistant will come to collect him around five. Do not bother to pack a bag; I can buy whatever he needs.”
It wasn’t a question. Nor were they sentences that made any sense. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve had the pleasure of raising our son for three years. Now, it is my chance to do the same.”
The world shook beneath her feet. “What?”
“You have had him for three years. I want my turn.”
“Your turn? He’s not a… a toy that we can share, Xavier!” She said, the words calm despite a growing sense of panic.
“No, he’s a child, our son, and he’s a person I should know intimately already. Does he like clowns or loathe them? Does he enjoy playing outdoors? Is he funny? Does he like to laugh? What does his laugh even sound like?” Each question had a bullet-like precision, landing squarely in her stomach with a wrenching, bloody burst.
“I deserve to know him as well as you do.” He spoke calmly but every line in his body was tense.
“And you can get to know him,” she insisted, ignoring the trepidation that was hovering in her mind. “I have no plans of keeping you from him.”
He arched a brow. “That’s hardly true. If I hadn’t discovered his existence for myself, I wouldn’t be standing here now, would I?”
A flush of shame heated her cheeks. “I would have told you about him.”
He swore in his native tongue, a word that needed no translation. He didn’t believe her; it was obvious. “Or would you have gone to greater lengths to hide him from me?” He prowled around the kitchen bench, stalking towards her, and she was powerless to move. “You had so many opportunities to be honest with me last night. You could have told me the truth about him, and us, but you didn’t. You ran away and I believe you had every intention of continuing to run.”
She didn’t reply; she couldn’t. Her teeth were chattering inside her mouth.
“Didn’t you say as much? That you would run away from me as often as it took?”
His lips were compressed in a line of furious disapproval. “But you didn’t mean that you would run. You meant that you would take our son, and would run from me, didn’t you?”
Had she?
“You meant that you would run and hide, with my child? As you’ve been doing these past three years?”
She shook her head on instinct, even when she couldn’t say with certainty what she’d meant, nor what she’d intended.
“So tell me, Elizabeth. Why should I not do exactly that? Why should I not take our child and hide him from you? Why should I not inflict the same loss on you as you’ve seen fit to hand me? All because I hurt your pride by sleeping with you when I was engaged to another woman…”
“Stop it,” she said angrily, and desperately. Panic had turned the blood in her veins to ice. The idea of what he was proposing made her want to throw herself on the floor and curl into a ball. “Just stop.”
“I will not stop,” he was relentless. “I will take him and I will keep him until your debt is repaid.”
“He’s not a pawn!” She shouted, and she reached behind her for something to hold onto, her fingers curving around the handle of the fridge. “He’s our son!”
“Yours and mine ! My flesh and blood that you concealed and would have continued to conceal! My God, how can you live with what you’ve done?”
She was shaking all over.
“You think it does not matter? That it is not such a big deal? Then see how you like it.”
“Stop threatening me,” she demanded, lifting a hand and rubbing it over her eyes as though she could somehow erase this visage from her eyes. It didn’t work.
“This is no threat,” he said. “It is a promise. I will take our son from you and on his sixth birthday, we will discuss opportunities for shared custody. Understood?”
“No,” she shook her head from side to side, her body weakening. “Do you wonder why I kept him a secret? Look at the kind of man you are! It was bad enough when I knew you to be someone who would sleep with a woman while engaged to another, who would willingly engage in random affairs. But this? What you’re saying? You’re a ruthless, cold bastard and I hate you with all that I am!”
His eyes flared. “Hate me or not, it changes none of the facts.” His cold acceptance of her disdain and grief made everything so much worse. He was impenetrable, impervious to the emotions she was feeling and incapable of expressing sympathy or understanding. “Nor what I am capable of in the face of this, Elizabeth.”
She couldn’t stop the shivering now. It overtook her body. She squeezed her eyes shut as breath strained in her lungs.
“I want you to leave,” she whispered.
Silence fell, heavy in the room, and eventually, it emboldened her. She opened her eyes warily, to find him staring at her, a look on his face she couldn’t comprehend. But it was dark and angry, full of emotions that hurt to see.
“You have two options.” He spoke slowly, enunciating each word with a bite of derision. “Accept that it is your turn to lose our son for three long years…”
She sucked in a painful gulp of air and vomit burned her insides.
“Or marry me and raise him as my wife.”
The pain didn’t recede. She could hardly breathe. She was suffocating. “I can’t…”
He held a hand up to silence her. “You may choose what you can and can’t make your peace with. One of those two scenarios will play out though, Elizabeth. Decide which it is to be. I’ll come back at five to meet my son and hear your answer.”
And with that, he was gone.
* * *
Joshua returned from nursery school with a fever. His skin was pale, his eyes heavy, and he let Ellie cuddle him the whole way home – highly unusual for an independent little munchkin like him.
And she soaked up his clinginess, because after a day of angsting, she needed his hugs and love. She needed his sweetness and the reassurance of holding him close. But even as she did so, she knew one thing for absolute certain. She couldn’t lose him. Not for three years, not even for three days.
Letting him be raised by someone else was anathema to her, and she didn’t doubt Xavier Salbatore would do everything he’d threatened.
Oh, she’d fight him, but at what cost? Taking him to court would result in too high a price. Not financial, but emotional. What would it do to Joshua to know how deep his parents’ hatred raged?
What would Xavier say about her in court to discredit her? How would she fight back?
“I’m so-oo tired,” Joshua complained, and she kissed his curls and nodded, unlocking the door to their townhouse. It no longer felt like the lovely, homely sanctuary it always had.
She bathed him and administered some paracetamol, then attempted to get him to eat some toast and honey, and when that failed, she put him to bed with a tepid cup of chamomile tea.
But he took only two sips before snuggling down into his pillow and shutting his dark, heavy eyes.
“Oh, darling,” Ellie murmured, stroking his soft, damp curls, marveling at the face that was so like Xavier’s. She pressed a kiss to his brow and then snuggled his favourite toy, a panda bear, in the crook of his arm. Emotions swirled through her.
She bit down on her lip and left the room, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at the son she’d made with a man she couldn’t stand.
She pulled the door to Joshua’s room closed softly and then padded down the stairs to the kitchen, her eyes shifting to the clock on the oven.
It was close to five, but perhaps if she messaged him, she could put off the inevitable.
Just as she swiped her phone open and realized she still had no way to contact Xavier, for she didn’t have his number, the doorbell rang, peeling through the house.
She moved with alacrity, hating the thought of a sickly little boy being woken from his sleep, despairing even more so at the idea of the executioner’s blade that was about to drop.
You can choose what you can and can’t make your peace with.
If only it was that simple! The truth was, she didn’t think she could easily make her peace with either suggestion!
She wrenched the door inwards without bothering to check who was there – even the way he rung a doorbell had a distinctly autocratic manner to it.
But the sight of him in casual clothes almost felled her. Xavier in a suit she could just about handle because she’d become used to that. But like this? In worn blue denims, a navy blue button-down and a leather jacket? She stared at him for several seconds before recollecting herself. She gripped the door more tightly, creating a barrier between him and the interior of her townhouse. “I was just about to call you when I realized I don’t have your number.”
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “No need to call me when I am here.”
“Yes, about that.” She cleared her throat, tossing a furtive glance over her shoulder. “Joshua isn’t feeling well, so this really isn’t a good time…” She dropped her gaze lower, noting for the first time that he carried a distinctive yellow shopping bag from Selfridge’s in one hand.
“What’s wrong with him?” Xavier asked, though the question was filled with barely-concealed skepticism.
“He came home sick from school.”
“Did he indeed? Well, isn’t that convenient?”
“No, Xavier. Nothing about my son being ill is convenient.”
“Our son,” he corrected. “And isn’t it possible you’re using him as an excuse? To delay giving me an answer?”
She blinked, his words unexpectedly commanding. And unwelcome, too. “He’s sick.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Then I will not take him to Spain right now,” he said through clenched teeth. “Tomorrow will do just as well.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she muttered, her insides trembling even when she appeared resolute.
“I gave you two options. What is it to be, Elizabeth? Marriage and happy families, or not?”
“Happy families?” She spat, the visage so awfully confronting that she stumbled back a little from her door. He took advantage of that and strode inside, eyeing her with a look of total disdain.
“Playing happy families,” he clarified.
“He doesn’t even have a passport,” she declared in a valiant attempt to fight his illogic with reason.
“I can arrange one,” he said. “I have been in touch with the embassy and explained the situation. The ambassador is an old family friend.”
Ellie felt hot and cold all over. “The ambassador?”
“To the United Kingdom,” he said with a nod. “He was shocked to hear of my situation. He has several barristers he can recommend who will make it possible for me to take my son away, this night.”
Ellie was weakened with shock but her maternal instincts made her strong and she launched at him, no longer a being of logic, but a creature of primal, soul-deep desperation. She pushed at his chest and her hand lifted, flying towards his face, her fist tight and small. He caught her wrist easily but her other hand connected with his chest, punching him, and he stood there, letting her hit him, his expression unchanging, his eyes watching every single flint of pain that glanced across her face. “You will not take him from me!” She sobbed, tears thick in her throat.
She hit him again and again and finally she shoved his chest and then spun away, lifting her hands to her mouth, covering her sobs and catching them in her palms.
“You took him from me,” he said finally. “What is good for the goose…”
“Oh, shut up!” She pleaded, spinning away and stalking to the kitchen, needing water, tea, liquor. Anything to provide a balm to this pain. “I didn’t take him from you! He was never yours!”
“He is my son,” he said with dark rage.
“Yes, but what does that mean? You slept with me four years ago. That doesn’t make a father.”
“And had I known about him I would have been been there for him! I would have been there from day one.”
“And your wife?” She asked coldly. “Would Arabella have been with me while I delivered the physical proof of your infidelity? Would you have wanted to raise our son with your bride? A woman who would surely never welcome him, would always hate him? How could I expose him to that uncertainty?”
“You think I would ever do anything to harm my son?”
“You’re threatening to take him from his own mother!” She said. “That would be devastating to Joshua!”
“I am giving you an option,” he corrected. “Marry me, be my wife, and the mother of our child.”
“And if I don’t, I’ll lose him,” she concluded the ultimatum.
His eyes narrowed and then he nodded.
“How can you think that’s even an option?” She asked, and the same thoughts that had been chasing her around all day were at her heels. She could ask Apollo for help. Money would be no issue – they’d fight hard for custody. But she doubted even Apollo would be a match for Xavier Salbatore – not when the latter’s son was at stake.
“I told you this morning, this is your choice. So?”
Her hands were sore from hitting him and when she looked down, she saw knuckles that were red, skin that was white from being clenched so tightly.
“You don’t want to marry me,” she said in an effort to stall for time.
“I will do whatever is necessary for our son.”
“So? Then live in London and spend time with him.”
His expression was flint hard. “You seem to be under the mistaken impression this is a negotiation.”
He was implacable; unyielding.
“You’re saying you refuse to listen to reason?”
“I’m saying I refuse to compromise.” He was unapologetic about the fact.
“How would it work?” She heard herself ask and immediately regretted that weakness for how it sounded like acceptance.
“The license will take thirty days to obtain. My assistant will organize the details. You and Joshua will move in with me tomorrow, so that by the time we wed, we have the act of tolerating one another perfected.”
“Not bloody likely,” she refuted, needing to cling onto some form of defiance. “No way am I moving in with you so soon! Josh will need time to adjust to all of this.”
His eyes narrowed. “You will do whatever is best for our son, as will I.”
“I am talking about what’s best for him!” She insisted. “He doesn’t even know who you are! You think it’s fair to upend his entire life just because you’re angry?”
“I am beyond angry,” he assured her with ice-cold determination. “He will adapt; he is a child.”
“You don’t know anything about him!”
“And whose fault is that?”
She glared at him.
“We are the adults in this situation. Our job is to do what is right by our son. That means putting on a united front in his presence.”
She swallowed. “And beyond that?” her cheeks were pale, her eyes huge, her lips swollen from the way she’d been biting down on them.
“Ask what you really mean,” he suggested, moving closer, so she caught a hint of his alpine, woody fragrance and almost buckled in two.
“You can’t seriously expect me to be your wife in every way…” she said, wishing she’d sounded cold at the thought.
“Oh, yes,” he said slowly, silkily, the words reaching into her veins and turning the ice there to lava. “You will be my wife in all ways, and what’s more, you will enjoy it.”
She swept her eyes shut, wishing she could refute that, wishing her body wasn’t so damned traitorous. “I’m not interested…”
“Liar,” he laughed, the sound discordant. “You fell into my bed last night, and you will do so again and again. Whatever else you might feel, do not lie about the desire that is between us.”
Her eyes slammed into his and she couldn’t reject his assertion, because he was right. There was lust there. So much lust.
“So?” He demanded. “Is it to be marriage, or not?”
Her eyes were loaded with bitter distress. “You give me no choice .” She swept her eyes shut, the words hurting her soul. “If I had any other option, believe me, Xavier, I wouldn’t go within ten feet of you ever again. But we share a son and I will always, always do what is best for him.”
He shook his head. “You’ve proven yourself wrong there – keeping him from his father was never going to be right for Joshua. That decision was motivated by self-interest alone.”
“How can you –,”
He shook his head and he spoke over her. “Let us argue over dinner. I have not eaten and now that our marriage matter is sorted, find I am ravenous.”
She darted her tongue out, licking her lower lip to moisten it. “I don’t have any food in the house,” she said truthfully. Usually she would have done the grocery shopping on that day, but she’d been too distressed by his ultimatum to think straight.
“Then we will order in,” he said with a shrug. “What do you like eating?”
She heard his question, but she was falling through the cracks of time, being sucked back four years, to a hotel room in central London, to a time of simplicity and hope.
“You’re telling me this doesn’t have every bit of the food pyramid represented?” She asked, pointing to an enormous bowl of strawberry ice cream with fresh-chopped bananas on top.
“Protein?” He teased, watching as she lifted a spoonful to her mouth and ate it, her eyes shut on a wave of appreciation.
“Eggs,” she answered, her mouth full.
“Grains?”
“Thickened with wheat syrup,” she grinned.
“Dairy is obvious,” he said, shaking his head. “But I still don’t think it’s an alternative to dinner.”
She pouted. “Nor do I, but seeing as we’re already throwing out the rule book this weekend, let me have this little indulgence too.”
He walked towards her and cupped her face in his hands. “I will let you have anything you want, querida . Ask me for it and it is yours.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Okay.” She pushed up, standing so that their eyes were more level. “Try this.” And she scooped some of the ice cream and banana towards his mouth.
He arched a brow. “You have a man in your power who happens to be both wealthy and utterly under your spell, who has said he will give you anything you want, and you choose to squander your wish on ice cream?”
“Are you like a genie?” She teased, hovering the ice cream right near his lips. “Is this a one time wish scenario?”
“No.” His eyes held hers. “Consider it a long-standing offer.” And her heart had twisted and her lips had lifted and she’d pushed the ice cream into his mouth to hide the happiness his words had spread through her.
“Delicious,” he agreed. “But I think I prefer to watch you eating it.”
“Elizabeth? Dinner?”
“I don’t want to eat with you,” she said, frowning, the memory hovering on the periphery of her mind so that it was hard to reconcile the man before her – so stern, his face scarred, his expression somber – with the charming man who’d promised to grant her any wish, any time.
Something in the region of her heart panged to contemplate what she’d lost – the enormity of that.
But she hadn’t lost anything. It had all been a lie. He’d made that same promise to his fiancé, and God knew who else.
“Agreeing to marry you is about all I can stomach for one night,” she said honestly.
“Fine,” he said, through gritted teeth.
As though the matter was settled. As though marrying him wasn’t a recipe for utter heartbreak and disaster.
Because she knew first-hand what kind of power Xavier Salbatore exerted over her. She’d fallen victim to it once before, and it would take all of her resolve not to do so again.
But she was older and far, far wiser now than she had been then.
She knew who he was, and what he was capable of. The stars had fallen from her eyes and she saw it all clearly.
She wouldn’t love him again. And she’d never trust him with her heart; not for a billion pounds.