Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
This was not what he had planned when he brought her here.
Everything in him—especially the primed length of flesh crushed to the softest, hottest part of her—wanted to carry her to the bedroom and finish this. If she had been in a dress, he would already be buried inside her, condom or not.
But the fact she had completely distracted him from their discussion was sobering. He refused to let her knock him from his priorities again.
He slid his hand from the bra cup he’d invaded and gripped her hips as her trembling legs dropped from his waist.
She tipped her head back, eyelids heavy, mouth lush and swollen, cheeks still flushed from orgasm.
He wanted to deliver a thousand of them. But therein lay her danger to him.
“Better?” he asked.
She sucked in a breath as though he’d stabbed her, then she shoved her hands against him, pushing him back so she could stand.
That had been cruel. It had. He was instantly ashamed of himself and reached out to steady her, but she slapped his hand away.
“I knew you were just trying to prove something,” she spat out. “What a horrible way to behave! Why would I let anyone so mean near my daughter?” She picked up her purse.
“I know where you work,” he reminded her.
Throwing him a bitter glare, she locked herself in the powder room.
He’d handled that well, hadn’t he?
From his jacket on the floor, he heard his phone buzz. He picked it up and looked at the screen, but it was only Eve asking him what was going on.
Just making things worse over here.
He set aside his phone without replying and picked up the drink Bree hadn’t finished. He drained it, exhaling over the burn, willing his arousal to quit tenting his trousers and his brain to re-engage.
He shouldn’t have said that, but he hadn’t been this far on the defensive in years. Not since Paloma had asked him in a fit of disparaging anguish, What kind of man does that?
The question plagued him to this day. What kind of man turned against his friend? What kind of man failed to cover up an ugly secret if the alternative would lose him the woman he loved?
Jax had understood why his fiancée had chosen to stand by her brother. He would stand by his own family through nearly anything, but he wouldn’t stay silent and allow heinous behavior to happen.
He had had to make a deliberate choice about what kind of man he was: loyal, but willing to collude and hide the harm done to an innocent? Or someone who stood up for the injured, despite the cost to his relationships and social standing?
He’d chosen the latter, for better or worse. Paloma had broken their engagement, called him every vile name in the book, then her family had done their best to level his reputation. Jax had steered clear of serious relationships ever since.
Learning he was a father was not the same level of crisis. It was an adjustment, but he refused to call it bad news. It was big news. Life-changing. He was still straining under the weight of it, but his priorities were very clear. He knew exactly what kind of man he was. He had a sense of the kind of father he wanted to be—one like his own. Strong enough to be a firm foundation. A hand that guided with care, not heaviness.
Now that his shock was wearing off, he was starting to embrace the idea of fatherhood. He wanted to embrace his daughter .
The powder room door opened.
He turned to see Bree wearing a stiff, hostile expression. Her lipstick was fresh, but the rest of her makeup had been washed off. She avoided his gaze and picked up her blazer from the sofa, shaking it out, then draping it across her arm.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “I was angry, but that’s not why I kissed you. I wasn’t trying to prove anything.”
“Sure,” she said with distinct lack of interest. “But now I’m angry.” She glanced at him long enough he saw the redness in her eyes. “So I’m leaving.”
He’d made her cry. What an ass. “Don’t.”
She ignored him and walked to the door.
“Damn it, Bree, I felt exactly as threatened as you do right now so I said something mean. I won’t do it again.”
“ I threaten you ?” She flung around to scoff. “I don’t want a single thing from you! Especially orgasms you deliver like an insult.” Her voice cracked and she looked away, blinking fast. “No. I lie. I do want one thing from you. Go to hell.” She reached for the door.
“There hasn’t been anyone else for me, either,” he bit out.
She spun back to face him. “Don’t you lie to me.”
“Where’s the incentive to lie about that?”
“I have no idea, but I don’t believe you.” Her expression was wounded. Persecuted.
The gulf of mistrust between them was as wide as the ocean that had separated them for the last four years.
“That happened because that’s how we react to each other.” He pointed at the sofa. “It would have happened even without this bombshell that has exploded both our lives. But I know she’s mine now, Bree. We can’t go back from that. So let’s reset and talk this out.”
She crossed her arms defensively, hugging the blazer that was still draped over her arm, staying where she was, mouth pouted with indecision.
Finally, she sighed and said in a tone that edged toward hopeless, “That’s why I wasn’t sure I should tell you.”
“You were afraid we’d have sex?”
“No. Yes,” she allowed with a harsh, humorless chuckle. “But I was afraid you would explode her life. When we met, I thought you were some bohemian expat running a hotel in Italy.”
“Flatterer.”
“Once I realized who you were…” She sighed.
A chill entered his chest.
“What?” he prompted, bracing himself for one of the ugly rumors Paloma’s family had circulated about him.
“There was a lot of press around Eve and Dom’s marriage. I don’t want Sofia subjected to that kind of attention. I’ve seen what happens to celebrity babies. People chasing them for photos. At the very least, there would be gossip at the office. She’s three . It’s my job to protect her from things like that. From everything.”
“ Our job,” he corrected.
“If you mean that, then tell me how you plan to shield her from those things.” She didn’t sound obstructive. It was an earnest question.
He couldn’t protect her completely. There would be press. There would be fallout.
He rubbed his jaw.
“I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist, Bree. I’m not ashamed of her. I’m far more embarrassed that I’m coming into her life so late. We’ll have to ride out the attention. Frankly, being in Italy will help.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Her brow pulled into a pensive wrinkle. “I’d have to give up her spot at the good day care.”
“Are you joking?”
“No.” She scowled at his phone. It had continued to buzz with incoming messages the whole time they’d been talking. “Seriously, you don’t need Sofia. You already have a child in your life. That thing never stops demanding your attention, does it?”
He walked over to silence it.
“It’s Eve. I’ll let her know you’re still with me and will be tied up the rest…” He swore as he scanned the stack of bubbled messages.
“What?” she asked with dread.
He began reading aloud. “Dom asked if Bree’s daughter is yours.”
“What?” she gasped. “No.”
“Where are you?” he continued reading. “Is Bree with you? She went to Italy before she started at WBE. We talked about Como. When did you meet her? Call me.”
“Seriously?” Bree cried. “ Do something.”
***
Bree pinched herself, which had never actually worked to wake her up from a bad dream, but anything was worth a try at this point.
She was still trying to reclaim herself from behaving like an oversexed floozy, still worried he would use it against her. Now his sister had figured out Jax was Sofia’s father?
She watched him bring his phone to his ear.
“Is Nico there?” he asked. “Did he hear this theory of Dom’s? Good. Keep it to yourself. I mean it, Eve. Tell Dom to keep his mouth shut, too.” He glanced at Bree.
Her heart lurched. His expression was severe, not the least bit reassuring.
“Because I only found out an hour ago,” he said flatly. “She needs some personal time. She’ll be in touch after we talk. Can I trust you to keep this under wraps or not?”
He closed his eyes as he listened again.
“Yes, I know, Eve. Stop wedding-splaining. I have to go.” He ended the call, then studied Bree with an unreadable expression.
“What did she say?” Bree had thought falling apart fully dressed was the most defenseless she could feel today. Her secret was out. A secret she’d been keeping from Eve all this time. Was she fired?
“They won’t tell anyone, but if Dom can guess, others can, too.”
Like Nico. Or anyone on the team who’d seen the way they had reacted to each other. The crackle in the air had been like the roar of a forest fire.
“We no longer have the luxury of time. I want to meet Sofia, then introduce her to my parents before they find out some other way.”
The ground seemed to shift under her feet. This was everything she’d been fearful of—the sense of exposure and lost control. She was still angry with Jax for toying with her, but she was just as angry with herself for abandoning control. For letting him see how easily he could manipulate her with her own response. It was humiliating.
His claim that he reacted just as strongly to her was a joke. He’d dropped her like a hot potato four years ago and again ten minutes ago. She didn’t know how far she could trust him or how this would play out, which was terrifying.
Her arms abruptly felt empty. She needed to hold her daughter. To ground herself in what mattered most to her.
“I’ll, um, call my mother to meet us at my apartment, so we’re not doing it in the cloakroom of the day care center.” She spoke to Melissa while Jax texted his driver.
They were both silent in the car. Bree was cold, stomach churning, fearful she was making a mistake, but she was in it now. She had to see it through.
She would have sworn Jax had forgotten she was here, he seemed so remote, but he abruptly leaned over and pressed a button. It was a seat warmer, not that it had time to work. Her shivers were more about anxiety anyway. She gave their daughter a very good life, but it wasn’t a Visconti level of good. He was bound to judge her modest apartment with its used furniture and Sofia’s thrift shop wardrobe. Kids grew fast. Did he realize that?
She would also be judging him, though. Which wasn’t entirely fair. He’d only been a father for a few hours. She couldn’t expect him to display an instant connection, but whenever she had toyed with the idea of telling him about Sofia, she’d feared he would dismiss both her and his daughter. Maybe in some dark corner of her soul, she had always wanted him to, so he would fit her skewed vision of what fathers were like. Then she could raise Sofia alone, well seated high on her horse, able to say she had tried.
And could tell her daughter someday in the future that she wasn’t at fault. He was. Exactly like her own father.
Which wasn’t a scenario she really wanted for Sofia. She was merely braced for it. She would rather know today that Jax would disappoint them than discover his inconstancy in the future, after they’d begun to believe in him.
Ominous as it was, this meeting had to happen.
She trembled as she let Jax into her apartment.
The building was an older one with tiny bedrooms and narrow windows, but it had been updated with a new kitchen and faux hardwood flooring right before she had moved in. Location was everything, so they made the small space work.
Her mother wasn’t here yet. Bree moved through the living room, flicking on the table lamps to chase away the November gloom, picking up toys and pajamas and a stray hair band as she went. Saturday was chore day and by Monday, it always looked like this. She refused to apologize. Parenting was messy. That was reality.
Jax removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, then moved to the open door of Sofia’s room. He didn’t say anything about the mountain of stuffies or the low, narrow bed made by a preschooler. He moved to the refrigerator to study the scribbles stuck there with animal-shaped magnets, then perused the trio of photos on the wall over the sofa.
“Mom’s husband is a professional photographer. Mom took Sofia for her third birthday.”
He didn’t respond, only stroked his jaw thoughtfully as he studied the images.
Bree found herself taking in the way his shirt fit the breadth of his shoulders and the precise line where his black hair stopped against the back of his swarthy neck. There was unconscious elegance in the way he absently touched his chin. That hand had braced her tailbone while he had driven her over the edge. She had caressed that spot on the back of his neck, arching her throat to his ravenous lips while groaning in luxury.
Why, oh, why had she let that happen? It was so mortifying.
He turned his head, catching her staring.
She looked away, cheeks stinging.
The beep of her door lock pulled her heart into her throat. She hurried around the corner to greet her daughter.
“Mama!” Sofia rushed her.
Bree scooped her up, crossing her arms beneath her bottom to snuggle Sofia’s pixie-like body close and tight.
“How come Gigi got me before run and play?”
“Because I want you to meet someone.” She tried to keep her voice light, but her veins coursed with adrenaline. She couldn’t seem to catch a full breath.
Melissa met her gaze briefly, expression anxious, then she looked past them. Her expression smoothed into her beauty contestant smile.
“You must be Jackson. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Bree’s mother, Melissa.”
Bree stepped into the kitchen area so her mother could reach past her and shake Jackson’s hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, but his gaze was already pulling back to his daughter.
Sofia studied him, arms still around Bree’s neck, but head up, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Do you want me to stay?” Melissa asked.
“I’ll call you in a little bit.” Right after she finished shedding her clammy skin and throwing up the lunch she hadn’t yet eaten.
Melissa left Sofia’s backpack on the hook over the shoe rack and slipped out.
“Let’s take off your things.” Bree removed Sofia’s boots, then slid her to the floor and took her jacket to hang it.
Sofia stayed beside her, one arm wrapped around Bree’s leg as she stared up at Jackson. Bree smoothed hair that had been mussed by Sofia’s winter hat.
“This is Jackson. He’s—” She looked at him. Was he ready for this?
“I’m Papà .” Jax crouched and let one knee touch the floor, then braced his hand on his thigh. “That’s how we say Daddy in Italy. Do you want to try it?”
Bree’s heart lurched.
Sofia was still hugging her leg and looked up at her.
Bree nodded, throat tight. “If you want to.”
“Papà?” Sofia looked at him shyly.
“Perfect.” A slow, proud smile spread across Jax’s face.
Sofia smiled back.
Bree’s heart writhed with emotions she couldn’t name. The connection was forming before her eyes. It was beautiful in the most painful way and painful in a beautiful way.
“There’s something important I need to tell you, Sofia,” Jax continued in a quiet, somber tone. “I didn’t know about you. I should have asked your mama for her phone number when we met, but I didn’t. That was my mistake. If I had, you would already know me. I’m very sorry it took so long for me to come see you, but I’m here now. You’ll always know how to find me from now on.”
Oh. Bree swallowed back the heart rising into her throat, then it was pulled clean out of her body by her daughter.
Sofia stepped across the space. Her small arms splayed out, trying to hug Jackson’s wide chest. Her little head rested on his shoulder for the length of a couple of heartbeats while she said, “That’s okay. We still love each other. You can do better next time.”
Shock blanked Jax’s expression.
Bree covered her laugh, but she was also tearing up. It was exactly how she and Sofia made up after a spat. Usually, it was Sofia kicking up and having to apologize, but Bree always reassured her that her love never faltered. It seemed her daughter had absorbed how to be gracious in accepting remorse.
As Jax’s arms twitched to wrap around her, Sofia darted back to clasp Bree’s leg again. She looked up at her with an anxious look that asked, Did I do it right?
“That was very well done,” Bree assured her with another stroke of her hair, blinking the dampness from her eyes.
“Can I have screen time?” Ah, the attention span of a preschooler.
“You can wash your hands and we’ll all have a snack. Then we’ll talk about screen time.”
“Deal!” Sofia ran into the bathroom.
There was a scraping sound as Sofia dragged her step stool to the sink, then she began to sing “Happy Birthday.”
Jackson uncoiled to stand, the movement seeming to take great effort. His expression was stunned, as though Sofia had been a linebacker who had leveled him into the ground and his ears were still ringing.
That’s what Bree thought, anyway, until his gaze flashed into hers, alight with purpose. Then she realized his gradual unfolding was actually the energy of a panther leaping in slow motion.
“You’re coming to Italy,” he told her.
“No, Jax.” She kept her voice down and shook her head, but had the sense that she was the one who was reacting too slowly. Invisible paws were closing around her, sharp talons extending to trap her in an inescapable cage.
“Yes,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “And I think we should marry.”