Lesson Learned Read online

  He forced a smile and nodded and heard Denise sigh. Two tears slid from beneath her lashes and trickled down her cheeks. In a heartbeat, Mikhail was around the table to gather her up and hold her close.

  Adrian’s chest hurt at the sight. He was so fortunate to count these two in his small circle of friends. Why had he pushed so many away after Sharon? And why had this couple stayed by him when they didn’t know what she’d done? He hadn’t looked the hero in the messy breakup—at least to the outside world—and the other issue hadn’t been raised. And now Denise had clearly worried he’d react adversely to their “dilemma.”

  He decided. He needed their continuing support and didn’t want to cause trouble between his friend and his wife because of her clear support of Jessie. “You don’t know everything about Sharon. Why we parted.”

  Silence reigned. He knew they were giving him time to decide how much he’d share. “Sharon was everything to me. Beautiful, intelligent, sexy.” And gay. He shook his head. “I was infatuated with her as only a young man could be. She wanted everything I wanted—a successful career, philanthropy, respect, and a family. Or so I thought, as naïve as I was. I had no idea how well she researched me.”

  “We know she nearly embezzled you and yours blind, Adrian, as well as spending enormous amounts of your money,” Mikhail said, looking puzzled. “But you found out and put a stop to it, and got the money back. Broke off the engagement. She was a clever sociopath and fooled everyone, not just you.”

  “True. I might have survived that humiliation. But I… I found out about the embezzlement by accident. Because I confronted her with something else, and in her rage, she let something slip.”

  “Adrian? Was it bad?” People sometimes forgot how compassionate Denise was down deep, behind her often scatterbrained, uncontrolled demeanor. She stared at him anxiously, her violet eyes full of caring.

  “It was bad,” he acknowledged and felt a strange release within him as he prepared to share. Share his pain with people who cared about him. How had it taken this long? He’d told Jessie—and her response had been a soothing balm. “She terminated a pregnancy.”

  Denise pulled away from her husband and rushed to him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his neck.

  Mikhail clasped his other shoulder in a comforting hold. “That bitch.”

  “My children. Twins. Couldn’t be bothered with birth control because she held me in such contempt as a man. That news would have killed my parents.”

  He didn’t know how long they held him, but at length, he lifted his head and felt them step back, hovering, but respecting his space.

  “Again, my friend, she fooled everyone. Everyone. I suppose that’s what those kinds of people do, the con artists. They become who you want to see, who you expect.” Mikhail spoke quietly but with great understanding.

  “I then met Jessie in England when she was doing research as a grad student. She was following a path in the company I’d started—it doesn’t matter what, now—and I saw her. Short version, I fell for her. Whirlwind. It was a shocker, especially after Sharon, but she seemed so … special. Different. And then I was presented with evidence she too was infiltrating the company, seeking to steal secrets and money.”

  Denise shook her head. “It seems so foreign. Unlike what I know of Jessie.”

  Shrugging, he said, “I forced her out, and she returned to the States. And didn’t tell me she was pregnant, obviously.” Yet she’d known his deepest wish—and loss. He refused to consider that he’d played a role in her decision.

  “Can you eat?” Mikhail spoke into another silence, clearly giving them all time to think.

  “Yes. Please.” To his surprise, he meant it.

  The food wasn’t as hot as it might have been, but it tasted fine, if the atmosphere was subdued. The conversation was stilted for a while then turned to common interests, although he could feel the questions seething beneath the surface. Still, they respected his privacy. He finally told them what was on his mind.

  “I’m going to parent my son. Michael.”

  “No surprise, my friend.” Mikhail punctuated his comment with a decisive nod.

  Denise gave him her opinion. “Jessie might have something to say about that. You didn’t see her face…”

  “It doesn’t matter what she has to say. He’s my child, and I have the right to parent him, have him know his father. If she wants to fight for custody, I’ll take him from her.”

  “Adrian.” Denise looked stricken. “Do you hear yourself? Take Michael from his mother? How could you think of doing such a thing after … after what you went through? Even if she did those things?”

  “It will be up to her. But I’ll be part of his life. There is no debate. I have a private investigator’s report here to peruse. If she’s unfit—”

  “She’s not! You haven’t seen them together. You have no idea. I know you’re hurting but—”

  “Nothing is going to stop me, Denise. Nothing. Don’t think I don’t appreciate your concern, and even more you listening about Sharon. But I’ll do what’s right for Michael, and Jessie won’t stand in my way.”

  Denise pushed her plate away, hectic color painting her cheeks, eyes wide. “Something is wrong here. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Few things in life do. Thank you for everything, both of you. Believe it or not, I feel I have a new lease on life. A purpose. I’ll understand if you can’t support me against Jessie.”

  A look from Mikhail clearly sealed Denise’s lips, although her eyes communicated eloquently. His friend spoke quietly. “Take care, my friend. Denise has never been wrong about people. I also knew you were guarding a terrible secret. I apologize for being too wrapped up in my own issues back then to push you to share.”

  It felt very odd to recognize how much this couple had done for him yet how they were so clearly conflicted about his proposed path. It didn’t matter. He would do what he needed to do.

  “Thank you for dinner. I’ll be in touch.”

  Mikhail accompanied him to the door, clasping his shoulder again. Denise merely looked at him and fluttered her hand. Conflicted.

  Striding to his car, he took his phone out to place a call to his personal assistant. He debated about calling his parents but decided to wait until he had things organized. They’d want to immerse themselves in their roles as grandparents and recreate his loving, wonderful childhood, an amazing early existence that had given him a superb foundation upon which to make his mark on the world.

  He wanted that for his son, too, and would welcome their input. Michael would inherit more than his worldly goods.

  As the phone connected, he thought about his current lifestyle. Normally, he’d be squiring one lovely or another about town, but truth to be told, he was tired of continually promoting his business and being in the public eye. He’d been putting qualified people in place in all quadrants as he withdrew from various areas.

  His parents supported him, suggesting he find other joys in life. He knew joys to them meant finding a wife and making them grandparents.

  They had displayed a hopeful demeanor when Jessie brightened his life until that too turned to ash. No marriage for him—and no children. Or so he thought. Until today.

  Those qualified people would be assuming their roles immediately. He’d be taking on his own major role—as a father.

  Chapter Two

  The doorbell chimed, and Jessie grabbed a towel to dry her hands. Michael was still sleeping, having played hard in the park yesterday while combatting the sniffles.

  She hustled down the hall and pulled the door open without checking the visitor out—the security on her building was exceptional. At the sight of the man filling the frame, she cursed her laxness even as she locked her knees to keep from sagging.

  “Hello, Adrian.” Wow, it must be the enveloping, cold terror that kept her voice so calm and neutral when the urge to take flight beat within her chest. Ever since Denise had spoken his name, sh
e’d known this would happen. How could she expect the other woman to keep her own counsel once she put two and two together? When it came to loyalty, Jessie couldn’t expect her friendship with Denise to supersede that of Denise’s with Adrian. Not when there was a child involved. His child.

  It was probably a mistake to ignore the other woman’s repeated reaching out, but she’d needed the time to think. And plan. Much depended on how Adrian behaved himself. She was glad he’d acted swiftly—it had been wearing to wait.

  He looked exactly as he did three years ago, tall, dark, and handsome. Even his facial expression looked the same as when he’d cut her from his life—cold, furiously controlled, his gray eyes like chips of ice. And despite how she despised him for that, her heart lurched.

  “Jessie.”

  She debated about stepping out into the hall but didn’t want to share the conversation with the neighbors. Even the well-off thrived on gossip and drama. She moved back and gestured him inside.

  As she recalled, his height and broad shoulders seemed to take up too much space as he loomed over her. Not that she was physically afraid of him. Adrian Matsakis didn’t need to resort to bodily violence to get his own way. He wielded emotional weapons with deadly accuracy and had his power and wealth to fall back on.

  “Where is he? Michael.” His voice also sounded the same, if even tighter with suppressed emotion.

  “Sleeping. And I’ll thank you not to wake him.”

  “Is there something wrong?” He appeared even taller, somehow, concern coloring his tone and sharpening his features.

  “He’s fighting a cold.” How was she standing there, conversing so calmly with the man she’d believed she’d never, ever see again? About their son? When her body was now of two minds. Fight or flight. Maybe three—throw herself into Adrian’s arms. Damn her heart.

  Not that he was giving an inkling that he felt anything for her, aside from anger and disdain. Nothing like her desperate need that had come roaring back despite the intervening years and her carefully cultivated negative feelings toward him. How could she feel anything positive, considering how they’d parted?

  It was seeing his face in miniature every day, she decided. And detecting some of Adrian’s personality traits in Michael—his iron-willed determination tempered with sweetness and light. And—

  “…taking care of him.”

  “Excuse me?” She’d been standing there like a dunce, falling into some kind of fantasy.

  “I said, I hope you’ve been taking care of him.”

  Outrage flooded her system, driving out all those stupid thoughts and providing her strength. She breathed through her nose, determined not to lose her temper and give the man additional grist to use against her. “Would you like coffee?”

  He stiffened, his head tilting, clearly noting her refusal to engage. Well, she’d learned some tactics over the years too. She wasn’t that young, impetuous fool who let herself get run over any longer.

  He said, “You don’t appear surprised to see me.”

  Lifting a shoulder, she turned on her heel and strode toward the kitchen—and away from the short hall that followed to the bedrooms. “I figured out Denise and Mikhail are your friends.” Google was an amazing tool.

  “And yours.” He came after her, hard on her heels, and then she heard him slow.

  Looking back, she saw him staring at her collection of Michael’s photographs, chronicling his life from birth. She passed them often, rarely taking them in any more, but could understand why Adrian was mesmerized. Remorse made her hollow, the outrage replaced, her emotions running the gamut.

  She left him to it, reminding herself why he hadn’t known of his son, and went to fuss with the espresso machine. The way he took his coffee immediately returned to her, and she made one for herself as well.

  As she set the cups on the counter, he advanced and drew out a stool for her. Despite his opinion of her, his manners weren’t impacted.

  He sipped the beverage, and his eyes narrowed. Perhaps he’d noted that it was his usual. But he didn’t remark on it, saying, “I won’t ask why you didn’t tell me about my son—”

  “Our son,” she interrupted. “And if you’re not asking, it’s because you know.”

  “Our son,” he conceded, a visible flush of temper suffusing his face, again reminding her of that day…

  She dismissed the horrid memory. That was over three years ago, and she drew her figurative protection around her again. What would transpire next required everything in her arsenal. She knew how possessive this man was and how decisive. And she recognized how furious he was behind that controlled demeanor.

  “What do you want, Adrian?”

  “My—our son.”

  “All right.”

  His brows climbed his forehead, nearly to his hairline. “You’d simply hand your child over?”

  “Of course not.” She’d spent the last few days thinking—hard. Exploring her avenues, consulting with the best lawyers and a child psychologist. “But now you know about him, and you obviously want to meet him, we have to work something out that is in his best interest.”

  “Had you never meant to tell me? Ever?” He visibly ground his teeth. “And when he asked about me?”

  “If you’d never learned about Michael, I’d have carried on and told him that his dad lived far away. I’d have explained that some parents couldn’t live together and be happy and it wasn’t good for the children. I wouldn’t deliberately expose him to the man who mistreated his mother and place those kinds of emotions on him, which brings us to the contentious issue.”

  His coffee clearly forgotten, Adrian leaned back and stared across the counter at her. She was glad of its wide expanse, the polished surface a welcome bulwark between them as she prepared for the accusations he was certain to levy. Again.

  “His mother, the embezzler? The industrial spy?” His tone was low and deadly, his features carved as if from the granite between them.

  She was long past being hurt by those accusations. Because they weren’t true. “Were you ever able to prove that, Adrian? Did you even try?”

  He huffed, his broad chest expanding, and she tore her stare away from the bronzed skin at the hollow of his throat. “I didn’t need to. It stopped the moment you left.”

  “The moment you dismissed me. Threw me out of your life.” It was an effort to keep her voice down, but she daren’t wake Michael. “Without listening to me or considering what I had to say.”

  He stood and paced away. “It wasn’t necessary. Hodges is an exemplary employee. Years with the company. He brought your perfidy to my attention after carefully tracing your steps. I saw the evidence with my own eyes!”

  She huffed. “Hodges. That weasel.”

  Adrian’s face set, but he said nothing.

  Despite herself, she felt a certain amount of pity for him, past her anger and betrayal. She voiced it, “And when he showed you that so-called evidence, it felt just like what your ex-wife did. Sharon. So you refused to give me the benefit of the doubt and explore further. You threw us away.”

  For an instant, she worried she’d pushed him too far. He stiffened, and his hands clenched at his sides, a vein throbbing in one temple. A part of her wanted to soothe him while the rest prepared to flee.

  His fury began to ebb before her fascinated eyes, his big frame loosening, relaxing, as his gaze trained past her.

  “Mommy?” Michael pattered into the room and came to lean against her. “Who’s that?”

  His childish lisp served to release her tension as well, and she swiveled to gather him up and set his little body on her lap. “Morning, sweetie. This is…”

  Her mind raced. Michael was just two. Sharp as a knife and advanced for his age, and he tended to speak in sentences more often than not of late. But he wasn’t conversant in family relationships and dynamics to any large extent, something that was changing with his increasing introduction to other children. He soon would be asking questions. She mad
e her decision. “This is your daddy.”

  A curious sound escaped Adrian, even as Michael looked up at her, eyes wide. “Daddy?”

  “Daddy. He’s come to visit you.”

  Her son wasn’t shy. He knew his place in her world and knew he was secure. He stared boldly at Adrian, forehead now furrowed in exactly the same expression his father made when thinking hard on something. It made her chest hurt. “Daddy.”

  Adrian advanced, slowly, as if approaching a dog who might bite. “Hello, Michael.”

  What had he expected, she wondered. He’d clearly had an agenda when he came over, demanding to see his—their—son. Had he thought it through? Adrian was a measured thinker, hardly impulsive. She suspected he had hoped to put her on her back foot without considering much else.

  Michael clutched her arms, his tiny fingers digging in, relaxing when Adrian halted, attuned to the child’s reaction. He said, “I expect you want your breakfast.”

  “I’m hungry.” Her son peered up at her. “Eggs.”

  “Bathroom first.” She prepared to set him on the floor.

  “I’ll take him.” Adrian shook his head. “No, I’ll make breakfast.”

  Her head whirled, but she maintained her outer calm. A lot rested on the next while, and Michael was not getting caught up in anything uncomfortable. “He eats a scrambled egg, and a slice of toast with the crust cut off. With peanut butter.”

  “No crust?” A corner of his mouth lifted, and she found herself staring.

  “If you eat crusts, your hair will curl.” So her Gran said. She ran her hand over Michael’s wild spirals. “So we’re cutting back.”

  She led the child away, though he kept looking behind them until Adrian was out of sight. He was dry, something that made them both happy, and she changed his pull-up for a pair of briefs.

  “Daddy.”

  “Yes, sweetie, your daddy. He’s so happy to meet you.” She kept her tone upbeat, enthusiastic without going over the top—she hoped. “Let’s brush your teeth and then wash your face.”

  Michael seemed to accept the change in the status quo for the moment and submitted to her ministrations. She pulled out his usual attire of loose pants and a printed t-shirt, and he chanted the colors as she pointed to them.