The Beaumont Children: His Son, Her Secret

“I am,” he told her again.

“Then, yes. Child support and custody visits. But I can’t lose him, Byron.” Her voice broke over this last bit. “Please don’t try to punish me by taking him.”

The anguish in her voice—her assumption that he’d exact some sort of twisted revenge... He spun her around and lifted her chin until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. Child support and custody visits were all very clinical-sounding things, like the few hours a year that he was shipped off with Frances and Matthew to visit their mother, who’d then spend most of the visit trying not to cry.

That’s not what he wanted. He was not his father, for God’s sake. He was better than that.

Except, was he? He’d gotten a woman pregnant and then left her in the lurch, completely alone with no other resources. Yeah, he’d thought her father would still be paying the bills and yeah, she’d rejected him, but when the facts of the situation were laid plain, he’d left her alone just when she’d needed him most.

She was right. That was exactly what Hardwick Beaumont would have done.

“I’m not going to take him away from you,” Byron told her, feeling the certainty of the words. “Because you’re both going to come live with me.”

* * *

Leona’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?”

Byron’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “I don’t have a place yet. You can either move into the mansion with me or help me pick something out—whatever you think is better. But you need to move in with me as soon as possible.”

Maybe this wasn’t happening. Maybe none of it was happening—not Byron returning, not him kissing her, not him reading a bedtime story to Percy. She could be hallucinating the whole kit and caboodle.

Sadly, the way he was holding her, the look in his eyes? She knew she wasn’t hallucinating a damned thing. And that was a problem.

“You want me to pack up and come with you?”

The tendons in his neck tightened. “I want my son with me. And if that means you have to be with me, then so be it.”

Ah. So he didn’t want her, not really. He would put up with her if that got him what he wanted, though. His words cut like a dull butter knife—painful and ragged.

She’d promised May she would not let Byron hurt her again.

She hated lying to her sister.

Still, Leona was making remarkable progress. She didn’t agree to Byron’s demands just to keep the peace, and she didn’t dissolve into useless tears and, most important, she didn’t do both of them at the same time. Those days were done. She might not be able to be strong enough to protect her own heart, but she had to protect Percy.

So she cleared her throat. “What if it’s not a good idea for us to live together?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

She couldn’t look at that hardness, couldn’t bear to feel the pain again. So she closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it. “Look, I know we had something once but it fell apart.”

“But—” he started to interrupt.

She cut him off. “And it doesn’t even matter who did what. If we live together...we’ll have to face those choices every single day.”

Every day she’d have to wake up knowing that Byron was mere feet away, not oceans and continents. Every single day she’d have to look him in the eye to discuss what Percy had done and every single damned day, he’d probably cook her a meal and she’d love it.

And every day—every minute—she’d wonder when it was all going to end.

Byron pulled her in closer and she felt his hot breath on her ear. “You listen to me, Leona Harper.” Panic blossomed in her stomach at his cold tone. “Maybe it doesn’t matter who did what, maybe it does. That doesn’t change the fact that I have a son and I am not going to stand aside a moment longer because you think it might be awkward around the breakfast table. You will move in with me and, until further notice, we will raise our son together.”

An unspoken or else hung in the small space between his lips and her ear.

She would not cry, by God. She wouldn’t do it. Not in front of him. Not in front of any man. Not anymore. She was an adult responsible for her sister and her son and she would not give.

“I can’t afford very much. That’s why we live here.”

“I will pay for it,” he replied firmly.

“But—”

“No buts, Leona. You’ve had to cover everything for a year. It’s my turn to step up to the plate. It’s the least I can do.”

God, that sounded so good. She could live with him, let him take care of her, of Percy, with his part of the Beaumont fortune. She wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of genteel poverty anymore. Things like doctor’s visits and ear drops wouldn’t be monumental mountains she struggled to climb. Byron had the ways and means to make that part of her life easy.

Of course, if she’d wanted easy—if she’d wanted to step back and let someone else call all the shots in her life—she’d still be living under her father’s roof. She’d still be subjected to his rantings and ravings about the Beaumonts in general and Byron in specific.

Yes, that was easier. But it was not better.

She couldn’t allow herself to be dependent on a man again, especially a man who’d already left her high and dry once. Byron could not be trusted, not on a kiss and a promise. Because this time it wouldn’t just be her heart in danger. It’d be Percy’s, too.

“May,” Leona managed to say without her voice cracking. “She watches him. I can’t just leave her.” It was the best defense she had. May was twenty, yes—but she was a fragile young woman who was not ready to be thrown out on her own because a billionaire’s son demanded it.

“Percy loves her,” she offered, hoping that would help.

It didn’t. Byron sighed wearily. Then, unexpectedly, his grip loosened. He didn’t lean back, though—he just skimmed his hands up and down her upper arms. “Is that the deal? I have to provide accommodations for your sister before you’ll move in with me?”

Once, they’d talked about moving in together. She’d been staying over at his place more and more—which had run the risk of drawing her father’s attention to her activities. She’d known then that when her father found out, it would be a problem. But Leona hadn’t cared because waking up in Byron’s arms was worth the risk.

Of course, once she’d been sure that he’d marry her right away, when she told Byron she was pregnant. It wouldn’t have mattered who her father was because Byron loved her and she loved him. She’d been sure that once she told him the truth he’d realize she hadn’t been trying to hide anything. She’d just wanted someone who didn’t care about her last name. She’d thought she’d found that man.

She was still paying for that mistake. She couldn’t afford any more.

“I won’t move into the mansion.”

“Fine. I was going to look for a place close to the restaurant anyway.” His hands were still moving up and down her arms and dang it all, she was leaning into his touch. “Is that all right with you? Or do you need to be closer to your job?”

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. It wasn’t much of a choice, not after he’d demanded that she uproot her whole life to be with him for the sake of their son. But he’d still thrown her a small bone. “The office is downtown. As long as we’re not too far out, it should be about the same travel time.”

“I’ll make some calls in the morning. We’ll move as soon as possible.”

What was she going to tell her sister? No, I’m not going to let him break my heart again, but by the way—pack up everything you own because we’re all going to set up house together.

May would be furious.

Still, Leona didn’t think she could refuse. What were the alternatives? Byron was not interested in coming by to visit Percy here and, as far as she could tell, the only other possibility was Byron suing for custody. She couldn’t let that happen—where would she get the money to defend herself? Lawyers weren’t cheap, that she knew. She couldn’t ask her parents for help, either. If her father knew Byron wanted the boy... It’d be an all-out war.

And if she lost? Once, she’d thought she knew Byron. But he’d turned out to be more of a Beaumont than she ever would have guessed. She had no idea what lengths he would go to, and she didn’t really want to find out the hard way.