Chapter 6
6
Atlas
L a Chouette was not my favorite place to eat. Not that I didn’t appreciate good food, it was more the ambience that got under my skin.
Rich pricks talking to other rich pricks about money and how to make it, braying to each other in loud voices and boasting about labels. A constant game of oneupmanship. One that I refused to play.
It reminded me too much of my childhood, or rather, my father.
Charles Blackwood the third, head of Blackwood Bank. Self involved and self important, narcissistic in the extreme. Who expected his family to be immaculately turned-out every day, because what was the point in being rich if no one knew about it?
I’d hated that attitude, so I wasn’t best pleased when Charlotte informed me that we would be meeting Rowan there for a ‘nice little chat’ as she termed it, before the wedding.
I got the need for one. There were some preliminaries to talk through. Charlotte had assured me that contracts would be drawn up to protect all concerned, especially considering a child was part of the process.
Still, I was cynical about Charlotte’s motives. I’d tried to press her for what she’d offered Rowan in order to get her agreement, but she wouldn’t answer, telling me that was one of the things we were going to ‘chat’ about at lunch.
That forced me to conclude that regardless of what she said this lunch meeting was about, she had another agenda and she didn’t want to talk about it. An agenda that included Rowan, who’d apparently accepted this farcical deal.
Another thing I wasn’t happy about, not at all.
Rowan was young and the thought of her being caught up in the machinations of an older, rich and manipulative person didn’t sit well with me. Dad had done the same thing to my mother when she’d been even younger than Rowan. He’d married her for her family connections and she’d fallen pregnant with my brother North pretty much immediately, then with me a few months after North’s birth. She’d loved Dad, but he’d hidden his dark side from her and it was only once she’d had his heirs, only once she was trapped, that he revealed it to her.
I didn’t want that to happen to Rowan and had debated hunting down her number so I could talk to her myself, but I knew she wouldn’t welcome it. She hadn’t been able to get away from me fast enough back in Arcadia, and I wasn’t going to push myself onto a young woman who clearly didn’t want my company.
Still, I had my suspicions. If I knew anything about rich assholes like Charlotte it was that they threw their money around like confetti at a wedding and likely she’d offered Rowan a decent amount to be her surrogate. And if Rowan had accepted the deal, that meant she needed the money. After all, I couldn’t imagine her accepting it otherwise.
Still, she had accepted it, if Charlotte was to be believed, even knowing who the lucky father of the baby was going to be.
Yeah, I didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
I stalked into La Chouette , ignoring the suit and tie dress code since I couldn’t be fucked with dress codes. I also ignored the maitre’d, who made a cursory attempt at protesting my jeans and T-shirt, but left me to make my way through the tables to where Charlotte was sitting.
He knew who I was.
Everyone here knew who I was.
The restaurant was all white, with huge windows that let in a lot of light. Tables were covered in white tablecloths and wait staff were also dressed in white. So much white in a restaurant seemed like a recipe for disaster to me, but if there was one thing I knew about up market venues like this it was that style was the only thing that mattered.
I strode through all that white like a mountain climber forging through snow, watching heads turn as people glanced at me and my offensive leather jacket.
I didn’t give a shit. No one would say anything. I was richer than most of them and likely more powerful too, and that they probably all despised me was only a badge of honor. Fuck, the feeling was mutual.
“Mr Blackwood,” Charlotte said as I approached the table, smiling as she rose to greet me, as if she hadn’t been blackmailing one of my closest friends. “We finally meet. How nice to see you.”
She was tall, willowy, and beautiful in the way older women can be, when their skin fits tightly to their skulls revealing the exquisite bone structure beneath. Her hair was white and she wore it in carefully styled waves that grazed her shoulders. She had on a white pantsuit of impeccable tailoring, which blended in perfectly with the all-white color scheme going on around her.
The white also drew attention to her vivid green eyes, a trick I was sure she’d spent a lifetime using. And why not? Her eyes were her best feature, as she must already know.
I didn’t particularly want to give her the requisite peck on the cheek that was expected, not considering how she’d been blackmailing Ten, and causing Caleb an immense amount of worry. But I was good at pretending and she wasn’t the only one who used their looks to charm the pants off people.
“Charlotte.” I deliberately used her first name as I leaned in to press a kiss to her powdery cheek. “I’d say it was nice to see you too, but it’s really not.”
She gave a delighted and surprisingly dirty laugh, and as I lifted my head, she glanced admiringly up at me from beneath her lashes like a practiced coquette. “You know, if I was thirty years younger, I’d be offering myself to you and hoping for a pregnancy the old-fashioned way. None of this ‘donation’ business.”
“If you were thirty years younger, I just might let you.” I gave her my own practiced smile in return, one flirt to another. “Though, really, isn’t age just a number?”
“True. I do hope Rowan feels the same.” She glanced behind me. “What do you think, Rowan?”
I stilled then turned around, and sure enough, there was Rowan standing behind me. She hadn’t just arrived either, because I suddenly saw what I’d missed before — the huge worn black purse sitting on the floor next the chair opposite Charlotte’s.
She wore a repeat of the outfit I’d seen two weeks earlier in Arcadia, plain black and white, like a waitress. Her hair was in a ponytail down her back and her blue-violet eyes were very, very wide as they met mine.
“A-Atlas,” she stuttered. “What are you doing here?”
Fuck. Clearly Charlotte had not told her that I was her intended groom.
Anger twisted in my gut and I glanced at Charlotte, who’d gone to sit back down in her seat. “You didn’t tell her.” It wasn’t a question and I didn’t bother masking my displeasure.
Charlotte gave an elegant shrug, unbothered. “I may have neglected to mention you, I admit.” She arched a brow at Rowan. “It won’t be an issue, though, surely?”
Rowan was still standing there staring at me, shock written all over her face. Then abruptly color rushed into her cheeks and she moved over to her seat and sat down. “Are you really telling me I have to marry Atlas?” She gave Charlotte a very fixed look, every line of her drawn tight.
The anger inside me grew hotter, but I kept it caged. Charlotte Hamilton was a manipulative bitch, but nothing would be gained from angry words. And as much as I wanted to grab Rowan and leave, get her away from Charlotte’s machinations, that wouldn’t help Ten. Also, who knew what she’d do if I refused to offer her the DNA sample she wanted? That would leave Rowan to deal with her alone, and there was no fucking way I was going to do that.
I pulled my own chair out and sat down, making myself comfortable.
“Shall we have some champagne to celebrate?” Charlotte asked, ignoring Rowan’s question.
“Why didn’t you tell me it would be him?” Rowan demanded, refusing to be either ignored or intimidated.
Good. The kid had never been a pushover and I was glad to see she still wasn’t. She’d need some of that steel if we were both going to be doing Charlotte’s bidding.
Charlotte smiled at her. “Because I thought you might back out before I’d even had a chance to put the request to you. You two have a history, after all.”
Of course she knew about me and Caitlyn and our short lived marriage. Cait had told me that Charlotte hadn’t given a shit about her and probably didn’t even know if she was alive or dead. Apparently Charlotte knew very well that Cait was alive and had been keeping tabs on her.
Rowan’s jaw had become very tight. “Yes, but I don’t?—”
“You fucked up, Charlotte,” I interrupted, deciding to take control of this particular conversation. “You should have told her I was going to be involved. Or, more importantly, you shouldn’t have asked her to do this in the first place.”
At that, Rowan turned her head sharply in my direction, blue eyes now fully violet with temper. “How long have you known?”
“A few days,” I said, giving her the unvarnished truth.
“So you knew before me?”
I didn’t respond, my own temper simmering as I stared hard at Charlotte sitting across the table from us, apparently unbothered by the drama. “Keep Rowan out of this bullshit,” I ordered. “She has nothing to do with it.”
“Unfortunately for you she has everything to do with it,” Charlotte said, before glancing at Rowan. “My dear girl, I’m so sorry for all the bother. I thought we would be having this meeting with Tennyson Fox, not Mr. Blackwood. Unfortunately, though, Mr. Fox has pulled out. Mr. Blackwood here has offered to provide his name and his DNA for our little project.”
“Project?” Rowan echoed acidly. “‘Our little project’?”
“Well, what else would you call it?”
“Charlotte,” I growled warningly.
“It has to be her, Mr. Blackwood.” Charlotte Hamilton’s level green gaze met mine as she finally answered my question. “She’s a Hamilton. And as we both know, my only other choice is already spoken for.”
Yeah, Isabel. And I knew how Caleb would feel about that.
“You could get someone else,” I said. “Does blood really matter so much to you?”
“You really have to ask me that question?” This time a slight hint of impatience entered Charlotte’s tone. “Of course it does. Blood always matters.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, but Rowan got in before me.
“It’s fine,” she said, her gaze still on her grandmother sitting across from her. “I haven’t said no yet.”
She hadn’t, but it was clear she wasn’t happy about the situation either. And why would she be? Marrying a man nearly twenty years older than she was and having his baby wasn’t exactly a fucking dream, let alone the issue of her being my ex-stepdaughter.
“You should say no,” I murmured. “You don’t need to do this, Rowan.”
“My dear,” Charlotte said coolly, ignoring me. “If you have issues with this, please tell me. This is what this meeting is for.”
Rowan ignored me too. “Of course I have issues. You want me to be your surrogate and to marry Atlas, who will also be the father.”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “But it will only be on paper. You’ll only have to see him at the little ceremony we’ll have to make the marriage legal and then that’ll be it.” Her mouth curved. “I’m not asking you to sleep with him or anything.”
“Don’t say shit like that to her,” I ordered, my temper rising.
Charlotte only gave me a sly smile. “My. So commanding. What does it matter to you, Mr. Blackwood. It’s Rowan’s decision, not yours.”
That was, unfortunately, true. But Rowan was young and more importantly, she hadn’t been exposed to the kinds of games people like Charlotte liked to play. As a kid she’d been straight up and honest, not a lying bone in her body, and I assumed that was still the case, which made her an easy mark.
My mother had been like that. Young, beautiful, my father’s trophy wife. And he’d made her life a misery, controlling everything she did, where she went, who she saw, the whole fucking works. He’d snared her in a web so sticky and strong, that in the end, she could only see one way out.
Rowan might be different — she certainly didn’t seem as fragile as my own mom — but still, I didn’t want her getting into a situation that would put her way out of her depth.
Strange that I still felt some degree of responsibility for her, even after all these years., but I did.
Rowan turned her head at last and looked at me. “Yes, it is my decision. And I can make my own mind up, so stop speaking for me.”
“What does she have on you?” I demanded. “Why are you even considering this bullshit?”
“She’s considering it,” Charlotte said, “because if she does then she’ll have all the money she’ll ever need sitting in her bank account.”
I didn’t bother looking at Charlotte, keeping my gaze on Rowan’s as a rising tide of pink stained her pretty skin. Of course, it was about money. I knew it would be.
“Whatever she’s paying you, I’ll double it,” I said. “And I won’t require you to have a baby for me.”
“Why do you care?” Rowan shot back. “I’m not your stepdaughter any more.”
“Because I know what happens when young women get caught up in the fucking games rich people play. You don’t know what consequences?—”
“Stop telling me what I do and don’t know,” she snapped, turning away very deliberately from me and looking at Charlotte instead. “My grandmother has told me it’s my decision and it is, and quite frankly I’d rather have her money than yours.”
Annoyance ate at me, along with a thread of what felt suspiciously like guilt.
Cait and I had had a very civilized divorce, since our marriage was only supposed to last eighteen months as we’d both agreed on. Enough time for me to frighten her ex into leaving her alone, which I did, and to ensure he never came back. I couldn’t have stayed with her longer anyway; I had my own plans to put in motion with the money she’d given me.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering if I should have made more of an effort to keep in touch with her and Rowan after the divorce. Cait had assured me that she and Rowan would both be fine, but maybe they hadn’t been.
The thought was an uncomfortable one. I’d thought about them on occasion, but I’d also been knee deep in growing my company, and at the same time, making my way around Blackwood Bank’s clients, sowing as much dissent as I could, spreading hints about Dad’s links to the crime empire run by the crime lord known as Old Nick, undermining their trust in the bank. Making sure the family business that was my father’s pride and joy plummeted headfirst into insolvency. Which is was exactly what happened and exactly how I’d planned it.
My mother had lost everything and so had he, and I didn’t regret it. Not one single bit.
“What’s the problem with my money?” I asked, trying to keep a lid on my temper, which wasn’t normally an issue so why it should be now, I had no fucking idea. “I’m offering it to you, no strings attached.”
Rowan only snorted, a look of disdain on her face as she turned to Charlotte once again. “So, why him?”
Charlotte, who’d been watching the pair of us argue with a faint smile on her face, said, “As I already told you, Mr. Blackwood very generously volunteered his ‘services’.”
I gave a low, humorless laugh at that. As if there’d been anything ‘voluntary’ about it.
“That’s not an answer,” Rowan said.
“It is for now,” Charlotte responded without heat, yet also making it very clear that she was not going to say anything more on the subject. And of course she wouldn’t, not without revealing how she was blackmailing Ten.
I should tell Rowan straight out what her grandmother was up to, but that was Ten’s secret, not mine.
“Why did you volunteer?” Rowan turned to me, her gaze very direct.
It was Charlotte’s turn to laugh now, and she sounded genuinely amused. “I like your spirit, Rowan,” she said. “Never take no for an answer.”
I ignored her, keeping my gaze on Rowan’s. “ None of your business.”
“Since you’re having to marry me and supply your DNA for the baby that I’m going to carry, then I’d say it’s definitely my business.”
Fuck, she was stubborn. I would have admired her for it, if it hadn’t been such a pain in the ass.
“Again, not your business,” I said, the edge in my voice pronounced now.
Her chin jutted, the sign of a temper I remembered well. She’d been sharp, wary of me, and deeply suspicious back then and it seemed she still was. Which was going to make me trying to protect her from Charlotte’s machinations very difficult indeed.
What I wanted to do was lay out for her all the ways in which this was a bad idea, but with Charlotte’s sharp gaze watching, I didn’t want to give the damn woman any more ammunition to use against us. The only thing I could do was try to discourage Rowan from signing up for Charlotte’s project any way I could.
“If you need money,” I began.
“No,” she said, turning away and looking back at her grandmother. “I’ll do it, Charlotte. Now, where do I sign?”