Trace closed the distance between the boy and him. He went still when he saw this child was an exact replica of himself. His eyes, although they were light brown, had the shape and a tinge of violet that was a dead giveaway to Montgomery parentage. He would’ve known the Montgomery facial features anywhere; the straight, aristocratic nose, the chin with a dimple, the tilt of the head. All were reminiscent of the way he’d looked as a child. He didn’t breathe. Time stood still. This child was beautiful…this child created was his.
Trace was amazed at the how the little boy stood perfectly still as he approached. He didn’t cringe or drop his gaze, but neither did he let go of his mother’s hand. He regarded Trace with wide-eyed, unblinking solemnity, weighing him up with the innocence of youth, until suddenly a smile curved his small mouth.
“Hello, I’m Nicky.” Unbidden, a small hand extended in formal greeting. With great care Trace enfolded it within his own.
“I’m Trace,” he husked out. He couldn’t keep the unevenness from his voice.
His emotions were conflicting. He felt bewilderment, betrayal, and a fierce anger at the woman he loved. He stood there fighting to keep his anger from boiling over. He didn’t want to frighten the child. He continued to look at the boy and his heart turned over with joy. He felt Diana covertly watching him, but he ignored her. He would deal with her and her treachery later. For now, his concentration was on the little boy who stood before him.
There was a part of him that wanted to encapsulate the moment for safe-keeping. He had a son. A boy that was undeniably his.
“Mommy?” Nicky said, his voice uncertain. Trace realized his thorough scrutiny was making Nicky uncomfortable, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off his son.
Estelle stepped forward. “Why don’t I take Nicky outside while—”
“No!” Trace said in a hard, cold voice.
Nicky moved closer to his mother. “How dare you?” Diane snapped. “You’re frightening him.”
Trace noticed the quiver of the little boy’s mouth and fought for control. “Let him stay,” he said quietly.
“Trace,” Dominic put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you should let the boy go.”
“Why? So she can continue the charade?”
“Trace…” Dominic scolded. “Let’s not do this here.”
Trace ignored Dominic and inquired with a forced calm, “How old is he?” He glared at Diana, waiting for the truth. Would she lie to his face? Before she could answer, Nicky held up both hands.
“I’m four,” Nicky said, one hand showing four fingers sticking up while he held his thumb down with his other hand. “I’ll be five when it gets cold outside.” He let another four fingers escape on his other hand and stand to attention to indicate the months. Confused, Trace asked, “When is your birthday?”
Smiling, Nicky was happy to offer the answer. “October first. Mommy said I was the gift that made her heart warm again. I’m better than ice cream,” he said. A wide smile broke out on his face. Trace calculated the months from the time she left him to when she married John. He watched the color drain from her face. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. The woman he was willing to forgive for everything—the woman who’d dealt a crippling blow to his heart—the mother of his son.
His gaze bored into hers. “Diana.” His voice was deadly quiet. “You have a lot to explain.”
“Trace, I don’t think this is the time—” Dominic said.
“Why not? Everyone here can see the truth.”
“I’m going to take Nicky outside,” Estelle said hurriedly and took Nicky gently by the hand. “Nicky doesn’t need to be in the midst of this.”
“Mama…”
Estelle looked sadly at her daughter. “This is something that needs to be discussed between you and Trace.”
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“So am I, Diana.” She led Nicky out of the door.
Susan went to her friend, put her arm around her shoulders, and gave her a squeeze. “If you need me, I’ll be outside…but not far.” She frowned at Trace and left.
Dominic touched Trace’s shoulder again. “Trace, I’ll wait for you in the study.” Trace still stood in stony silence. Dominic continued, “Look, I know what you must think, but let Diana explain before jumping to conclusions.” Trace didn’t answer and Dominic left the room.
To keep from reaching out to her, Trace crossed his arms. She stood in front of the window with her back to him. He watched as her slender hand waved at someone outside. Her sundress swirled at her ankles. For one traitorous moment, Trace remembered their mind-blowing lovemaking. He grimaced at the thought.
Was it only a few hours ago they’d lost themselves in each other? He had murmured words of pleasure in her ear as they reached the pinnacle of release together. In the past few weeks, he couldn’t get enough of her and now… he could barely look at her. What had he done to make her hate him so much that she would deny him his own flesh and blood?
Trace fought the urge to shake her. He was afraid he would’ve if she’d been within reach. He shook his head. She was the woman whom he had loved more than his own life. What went wrong? How did they end up at this place of pain and distrust? He wasn’t looking for love or a relationship when he saw her in his uncle’s office that warm spring day almost seven years ago, he mused. He recalled the moment she’d turned her dark brown accusing eyes on him for interrupting the meeting she was having with John. He had been entranced from that moment but unprepared for the instantaneous physical chemistry.
It was six months before she would agree to have dinner with him. Even then, it hadn’t been easy; it had taken another month to get her to agree to a second dinner…and the rest was history. In all of their time together, one entire year, it had never entered his mind she could be so devious and heartless. The woman he had known was one of the most loving, giving people he knew. Her family was the epitome of what a loving and caring family was really like. She had had the childhood he’d never had, two parents who loved each other and their children. He’d wanted that with her and had followed his heart. He had been such a fool, and was again.
“Diana.” She turned to face him. “I want answers and I want them now.”
“I know. We need to talk, but let’s do it somewhere private.”
He walked to the intercom. “Cook, Mrs. Pisano and I are using the kitchen. Please close the outer doors and allow no one through until I notify you.”
“Trace! How dare you? I can imagine what she must be thinking.”
“I don’t give a damn what anyone is thinking,” he spit out. “I want the truth. Is the boy my son?”
“Nicky is my son,” she said protectively. He had to admit Diana was a strong opponent. She never would back down from a fight. Now she was in the mother of all fights, for her child. He needed to tread carefully to get what he wanted.
“Is this the game you want to play?”
“No one can play the game better than you, Trace.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the liar, and yet you act the injured party!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I’ll not stand for your abuse.”
An eyebrow lifted. “After what I saw, you have the audacity to be indignant?” He walked toward her, his voice brittle, and his eyes grew angrier with every step. “The boy is my son. I saw it the moment I laid eyes on him. Every damn person in the room saw it. And now you stand before me as if you have done nothing wrong.”
“I haven’t.” She lifted a hand and smoothed it over her hair in an unconscious gesture. “And I’m finished with this conversation.”
“Like hell you are! You refuse to admit what I already know?”
“There is nothing to admit.”
“I want to hear you say he’s my son.”
She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “He is my son. Not yours.”
He went very still. “Tread lightly, Diana. Lying will make you lose more than you think.”
“Go to hell.”
One eyebrow lifted in a gesture of determined cynicism. “You’re going to wish you were there before I’m through.”
“I’ve already been there.” She had the gall to look at him as if she hated him. What gave her the right?
The atmosphere between them threatened to explode.
“You think you know hell?” Trace’s voice was clipped. “I beg to differ. You kept my son from me.” His expression didn’t change. “This is not a topic for discussion. I want him, and I intend to have him.”
“My son doesn’t know you.”
“Whose fault is that?”
Consternation filled her eyes. She was a good mother, by the looks of it. She wouldn’t put her son through a fight. It still didn’t change what she’d done. He had her where he wanted her, in his control.
“He isn’t one of your acquisitions, Trace.”
“Nothing you can say is going to sway me.”
“Listen to yourself. You act as if he is a toy or a piece of meat. He’s my son. Not some prize where you throw the dice to see who has the winning hand.”
“Damn you, I’m not a monster.”
“Well, stop acting like one.”
He breathed deeply, trying to reel in his anger.
“You knew you were pregnant when you married John. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I? It was my problem.”
“Problem? Is that how you saw it? As a problem to get rid of?”
“No! I never once thought of aborting my child.”
“Good. At least I can be thankful for that,” he said with sarcasm.
“You have no right to judge me.”
He gave a hard laugh. “Not judge you? You made the decision to keep my son from me—his father—and I’m not to judge you? I have missed four years of his life and I’m supposed to be glad about that?”
“I made the right decision about my child and myself.”
“Really? That’s something you’ll never know for certain. However, I’ll tell you this. I will not miss another four years of his life.”
“What do you mean?
“I don’t think I have to spell it out for you.”
“You have no proof Nicky is your son.”
“Then I’ll get it.” He pulled the BlackBerry from his waist and snapped it open. “I’ll have a private lab here within the hour to get samples for a paternity test.” A muscle bunched at his jaw. “This is no game, Diana. I can verify what I know to be true.”
“No.” Her voice was terse.
“You refuse to tell me what I already know?”
“I have already told you what you needed to know.”
“When I file for joint custody, or perhaps for full custody, believe me, it’ll get ugly. The fact that you were pregnant with my child and didn’t tell me, not giving me the chance to be a father, won’t sit well with the courts. You knowingly married another man—my uncle—a man richer than me at the time. And to top it off, he was older than your own father. What does that make you look like, Diana? A gold-digger or worse—”
“You son of a bitch,” she spewed.
Trace’s eyebrows lifted in a gesture of mockery. “Is that the best you can do, Diana?”
“I’ll not have you frighten my son,” Diana insisted. “You’re nothing but a stranger to him.”
“Damn you to hell.” His voice was angry, his features a hard mask. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t know?” he said in harsh tones. She remained silent. “I intend to get to know him, spend time with him so when we tell him I’m his father the transition will be smooth. The boy will know I’m his father, Diana.” His pause was almost imperceptible. “The sooner the better.”
She momentarily closed her eyes. “You’re a ruthless bastard,” she said.
“So what else is new?
“You may have dona…”
“Oh, so you admit that Nicky is mine.”
“No, I do not. Nicky is mine. I chose to carry him, give birth to him. He’s my life.” Her eyes blazed with unshed tears. “John and I were the ones who nurtured and loved him.”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. “You dare bring John’s name up when you denied me the opportunity to be there?”
“We were finished.”
“You ran away like a little girl.”
“You’re really full of yourself. You think I should’ve stayed and shared you with other women? I had more respect for myself. In the end you got what you wanted.”
“We were in a relationship.”
“A lot of difference that made to you.”
“What the hell does that mean? I gave you more than I ever gave any woman,” he shouted, watching the conflicting emotions run across her expressive features.
“I guess I’m one lucky woman,” she sneered.
“Unlike you, I’m not going to resort to sarcasm. There is a more pressing matter to be resolved.”
Her features became strained. “What?”
“I’ve told you. I want my son.”
“He is not yours.”
Trace continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I want him living in my house. I want to see him each day.”
“No.”
His mouth tightened. “This is not negotiable.”
“No,” she said firmly.
He continued speaking as if she never spoke. “I’m moving into Raven’s Nest permanently. You can either stay or move out. I frankly don’t give a damn what you do. But it’ll be my face my son sees in the morning and at night when he closes his eyes.”
“I won’t continue with this while my parents and the employees are here. You seem to have forgotten there’s a party going on out on the lawn,” Diana said.
He stared at her for a long moment. “I haven’t forgotten.” His voice became dangerously quiet. “Don’t you dare think about running this time. And don’t underestimate me, Diana. I would find you and I would get him back.”
“Trace.” A pulse beat fast at the base of her throat, a visible sign of her inner turmoil.
Trace regarded her solemnly, noting the slight redness of her eyes, the faint shadows beneath, and her tight features. He knew she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, the same as he, and there was a certain satisfaction to be had in that. It had been a beautiful night, but it was over. And he wouldn’t think of it; he needed to remember how devious she could be. These last few weeks had been a game, her plan to keep him in the dark so he would never know his son.
“You want to spend time with Nicky….” She hesitated.
“You’re admitting I’m Nicky’s father.”
A red flush stained her already tightened features. “You can’t have my son.”
“The truth evades your lips, Diana. Why aren’t I surprised?”
“I won’t be called a liar.”
“The shoe fits very tightly, Diana.”
“You’re one certified bastard.”
“Thank you,” he said with sarcasm.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Nicky. And I won’t let you run roughshod over me.”
“Ah…I guess that makes it right.”
“I see you aren’t going to be rational.”
“Rational! I’m being as rational as I can be when I feel like wringing your neck.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“You stole my son from me. You didn’t give me the chance to be his father. You chose another man to take my place and I’m to understand the logic of it? Excuse me if I don’t get it.”
Diana rubbed her temples. “I’m done here.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to be in the same room with you right now.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
“Don’t leave the estate Diana. We’ll finish this later,” he warned.
“Am I supposed to take that as a warning or a threat?”
“Take it any way you want,” he jeered.
“I’ll not run from this.” She shot him a defiant look. “Unlike some people, when I make a promise, I keep it.” She brushed past him and walked out.