Baby for the Billionaire(32)
Author: Maxine Sullivan

He knew he sounded defensive, just as he had with his father. But this time he had cause. He had it figured out now. This woman wasn’t his niece’s nanny any more than she was his employee. Annalise was his wife, a woman who’d given herself to him in marriage. Given herself in every way possible. And he’d do everything within his power to protect her, to fulfill those vows he’d taken mere steps from where they sat.

“I just put away my thumbscrews,” she replied in a dry voice. “And now I have one final question before I go visit with Isabella.”

He regarded her warily. “Only one?”

“Just one.” She leaned forward and set her glass of tea onto the patio table. “I know why Annalise married you. But I’d like you to explain why you married your wife. Is this a love match or is this your clever way of circumventing CPS’s objections to your guardianship? Is Annalise here to stay, or here until we go away?”

And there it was, Jack acknowledged. The billiondollar question.

Before he could reply, Sara stepped onto the patio. “Excuse me, Mr. Mason. There’s a gentleman here to see you. He was most insistent—”

Not waiting for either permission or invitation, a tall, lean man in his late thirties, maybe early forties, strode out onto the patio. He carried himself with a military bearing. His curly brown hair was cropped short. A faded cap shaded his deep-set eyes and cast a shadow across his sun-bronzed face. Though he didn’t share Annalise’s coloring and appeared far too young to have a daughter his wife’s age, there was little doubt in Jack’s mind that this had to be her father—and his timing couldn’t have been worse.

“I’m Robert Stefano,” he announced. “And I’m looking for …” He froze, his eyes arrowing in on Annalise.

“Leese?”

“Daddy?” Annalise erupted from her chair and threw herself into the man’s arms. “Finally! I have been trying to reach you for ages.”

He gave his daughter a fierce hug. “Didn’t you get my message?”

“About your charter? Yes, yes. Bub passed it on. But—”

He held her at arm’s length. “I came as soon as I heard the news. Of course, by the time it reached me, it was long out of date. What the hell have you gone and done?”

He looked over her shoulder toward Jack, who climbed to his feet and set the yawning puppy on the ground beside him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stefano,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Jack Mason.”

To Jack’s dismay, his father-in-law swept his daughter behind him in a protective manner. “Not him, Leese. Tell me there’s been a mistake and you haven’t actually married this man.”

“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Locke interrupted.

“No problem at all,” Jack replied smoothly. His hand dropped to his side. “You need to leave. Now. This is a family matter and none of your business.”

Of course, she didn’t listen. She settled more firmly into her chair. “If this affects Isabella, it most certainly is my business.”

“Mr. Stefano?” Jack approached the other man. “I’m Annalise’s husband.”

“I know who you are.” Robert tore off his cap and crushed it between his callused hands. “What I don’t yet know is what sort of game you’re playing with my daughter.”

Annalise stepped out from behind her father, confronting the situation head-on, just as she had from the moment he’d first met her. “Dad, this isn’t a game.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Grief tore into the older man’s face. “Does he know? Does this supposed husband of yours know the truth?”

To Jack’s surprise she faltered, her forthrightness stumbling. “No,” she admitted. “He doesn’t.”

Dread swept through him like the first winter breeze. “Somebody tell me what the hell is going on,” Jack demanded.

“And then you can explain it to me,” Mrs. Locke added.

Robert opened his mouth to reply, but before he could his gaze shifted and locked onto something in the middle of the lawn. Mister Mayhem scampered in that direction and Jack saw why. Isabella had exited into the yard through his study door. She greeted the dog with a crowing laugh.

“Oh, God,” Robert whispered. His cap dropped to the patio flagstones. “Is that her?”

He took a step in Isabella’s direction, a step that carried him into the sunlight. The strong summer rays caught in the short brown curls, highlighting them with gold. He stared at Isabella, stared at her with eyes the exact same shade of olive green as those of Jack’s niece. Robert clenched his squared jaw, but couldn’t seem to keep it from wobbling. And then he broke into a broad grin of incandescent delight. In his cheek a dimple flashed.

Without a word, Jack turned toward Annalise. Tears rained down her cheeks. She caught his look, holding his eyes for an endless moment, hers assuming a defiant slant. He went to her, stepped with her into the shadows of the patio overhang, away from listening ears.

“Isabella looks just like your dad. Is she your sister?” Jack questioned in a hard undertone. “Is Robert Stefano her father?”

“I’m an only child,” Annalise stated.

An arctic wind blew through him and he could literally see the life he’d built shattering around him. “Then she’s—”

“Mine.” Annalise squared her shoulders and lifted tarnished eyes to his. “Isabella is my daughter.”

Chapter Ten

“It was all a setup, wasn’t it?”

“No.” Annalise shook her head, speaking with a quiet dignity that cut deep. “No!”

Jack stepped away from her, unable to hide his raw pain and anger. There was no way he could. His fury battered him with all the elemental power of a hurricane, driving emotions he’d always been able to keep under rigid control. They whipped free, exploded from him in a messy, illogical, unmanageable torrent.

“I have to hand it to you. Your plan was absolutely brilliant.”

“What plan?” She played the role of the innocent with breathtaking perfection, reflecting just the appropriate amount of bewilderment. “All I ever wanted was to make certain Isabella was safe.”

“Safe,” he repeated. “I didn’t realize my reputation was quite that bad.”

She dared to fight back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He ignored that and continued the attack with ruthless precision. “Why did you apply to be Isabella’s nanny? You knew she was yours then, didn’t you?” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

She lifted her chin, refusing to cower. “Yes.”

“What then, Annalise? Were you going to use your position to manipulate CPS? To push them that final inch in order to convince them I wasn’t an appropriate guardian?”

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked with impressive calm.

He simply shook his head, amazed by her inner fortitude. “I have to hand it to you. Your logic was flawless. As Isabella’s nanny you could inveigle yourself into my niece’s affections. Maybe drop a word or two of concern in Mrs. Locke’s ear.”

A spark of anger appeared, at war with her self-control. She folded her arms across her chest. “And then what, Jack? Have Isabella’s life upended again when they put her into foster care? Or even worse, stick her into a treatment program?”

He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Once she was out of my control you’d have a better shot at getting custody of her.”

Fury blossomed, full-throttled and magnificent. “That’s what you think this is all about? You think I want to take her away from you?”

His anger rose to meet hers. “What am I supposed to think? In all this time, never once did you bother to say, ‘Oh, hey, Jack, just so you know, Isabella’s my biological daughter.’” He stalked closer. “Did you think I’d never find out?”

“I was going to tell you!”

“Right. Now that we’re safely married and you’re in an even better position to fight for legal custody.”

She went nose to nose with him. “Is that your real opinion of me? After all this time together, you don’t know me better than that?”

The ache was almost more than he could bear. “I thought I did,” he whispered. “But you lied.”

“I never lied. I just didn’t tell you all of it.” She dared to splay her hand across his chest. Could she still feel his heart beating? It wasn’t possible. Not when it had been turned to stone. “Would you have refused to marry me if I’d told you beforehand?”

“I don’t know.” The confession was ripped from him. “But at least I would have been in a position to make an informed choice.”

Her hands dropped to her sides, stealing away the only warmth left to him. She stepped backward. “Then let me make this easy for you.” She took another step away from him. “I’ll narrow your choices down to two. We can stay married and work through this, or we can divorce.”

“And if I want a divorce?”

For the first time, her composure cracked. No, it more than cracked. It shattered. He found that shattering all the more devastating because he’d never seen her lose control to that extent before. She fought the loss for ten full seconds before managing to grind out a reply. “When we first met I had serious doubts about whether or not you were the appropriate person to raise Isabella. I don’t have any doubts about that anymore.”

He froze. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I think you’re an amazing father, Jack,” she said. “There’s not a single doubt in my mind that she’d not just be safe with you, but that she’ll thrive in your care. I won’t contest a divorce. Nor will I attempt to take her away from you.”

“Annalise—”

She shook her head and her mouth compressed, he suspected to keep her lips from trembling. “If you change your mind about the divorce, you know where to find me.” She squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “But if you decide you want to give our marriage a try, there’s only one way I’ll return to you. And that’s not as Isabella’s nanny or your employee. It will be as your partner. As your wife.”

With that, Annalise turned and stepped into her father’s arms. She clung to him for a long minute while Robert stared at Jack with eyes filled with threat. Without another word, he swept his daughter across the patio and into the house. There they paused, and her gaze clung to an oblivious Isabella a final instant. Not once did she look back at him. Then the door closed behind them with frightening finality.

Jack stood unmoving for an endless moment. How was it possible that in thirty short minutes his life had gone from near perfection, straight to hell? Isabella continued to play with Mister Mayhem, giggling in blissful ignorance at the puppy’s ungainly antics. He took a single step toward her when a voice like shards of glass cut into him.

“You, Mr. Mason, are a complete and total idiot,” Mrs. Locke announced in ringing tones of disgust.

He spun in his tracks. He’d completely forgotten about the caseworker. She continued to sit beneath the canopied portion of the patio. Without taking her gaze from him, she picked up her glass of iced tea with impressive casualness and took a dainty sip.

She offered a sour smile. “Forgot I was here, didn’t you?” He muttered a word that had the woman’s carefully stenciled eyebrows climbing. “I certainly hope you don’t use that sort of language around Isabella on a regular basis,” she said.

“Since she doesn’t talk, I didn’t think it mattered,” he shot back.

To his amazement, Mrs. Locke actually smiled. “I suggest you come and sit down before you fall down.” She hefted the pitcher of tea and splashed some into one of the empty glasses. “Here. Drink this.”

He reluctantly approached, amazed to find himself taking the proffered glass and obediently downing half the contents in one swallow. The sugar rush hit his system and helped clear his head. “So, how’s your morning been so far, Mrs. Locke?” He collapsed into the chair across from the caseworker and stared broodingly at his niece. “Entertaining enough for you?”

“Vastly.”

“Glad you enjoyed yourself. Personally, the last time I had a day this bad I was told my sister and her husband had been killed on a flight I was supposed to have been on with them, and that my niece was hanging on to life by a mere thread.”

“I’m sorry, Jack.” There was no mistaking either her sincerity or her compassion.

He found he couldn’t respond. Instead, he traced his finger along a teardrop bead of condensation trickling down the side of his glass. He struggled to gather himself and determine what his next step should be. Having built his business from scratch, he’d learned the importance of flexibility. He’d been an expert at thinking and organizing quickly, and reacting to fluid situations even faster. Logic and ruthless intent had gotten him through many a crisis. But this …

He couldn’t think at all, let alone act.

“So, did you marry Annalise because you loved her, or in order to get rid of me?” Mrs. Locke asked.

“To get rid of you.” He returned the glass to the table and rubbed at the headache gathering in his temples. “At least, I thought that was the reason.”

“Interesting.”

His head jerked up. “What’s interesting?”

“When I asked Annalise why she’d married you, she said more or less the same thing.”

He had a vivid memory of standing in the kitchen, desperate to hear his wife’s response to Mrs. Locke’s question. The truth came as one more blow. He didn’t even attempt to conceal his pain. It cut too deeply. “She told you that?” he murmured.