Katherine Garbera

Billion-Dollar Baby Bargain / The Moretti Arrangement


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      She could afford to do it. Her savings were in a healthy state. Despite the lump sum she’d insisted on giving Suzy to help with the IVF expenses, which had been worth every cent. The outcome had been Dylan.

      “And that’ll mean your commute to work will increase.” He gave her that sharklike smile. “Or did you intend to stop working?”

      “Of course not!”

      She needed to carry on working, otherwise how would she be able to give Dylan everything he deserved? Good day care and private schooling were expensive. And Dylan would get the best. She had no intention of leaving Dylan to the mercy of her own ignorance. And besides, it wasn’t only for Dylan. She loved her job. It gave her a sense of self-worth. And it paid pretty damn well, too. She couldn’t imagine giving up the client base she’d worked so hard to build. Nor would she ever throw away the independence she’d strived all her adult life to secure.

      “Don’t try telling me you would give up work if Dylan lived with you,” she challenged, “because I won’t swallow it.”

      “But I can take as much time off as I want to spend with Dylan—I’m the boss. And I have a full-time housekeeper. Dylan would be well cared for. It has nothing to do with double standards.” His bleak gaze settled on her. “Unlike you, I can devote as much time to Dylan as he needs.”

      The emptiness that lay behind his eyes was the very reason she could never surrender Dylan into his care. He would never be able to convince her he could give Dylan more love than she could. If her parenting skills were in doubt, Connor’s were even more so.

      A strong surge of maternal yearning took her by surprise. She swallowed. She would not lose Dylan to the block of rock who stood in front of her.

      The baby was hers.

       Hers.

      And she would fight with everything she possessed, every weapon at her disposal, to make sure Dylan stayed with her. She, at least, was capable of giving him love.

      “He’s not leaving here.” She realized her voice had risen.

      “Victoria, be sensible—”

      “I’m being perfectly sensible.”

      He gave a snort. “With the hours you work you don’t have time for a baby. Suzy told me—me and Michael,” he amended as her brows drew together. “She was worried about you. She thought you’d buried yourself alive. All you lived for was building a practice that would lead to more status.”

      “Buried myself alive?” The idea that Suzy had discussed her with Connor hurt. “What about you? You started a new company—and not just any company, the Phoenix Corporation is a huge venture.”

      “Yes, but I employ a large staff, I delegate—I don’t do everything myself. I still found time to visit Michael and Suzy—”

      “You pig!” Victoria couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “How can you say that? You cruel—”

      “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Victoria.” His chair crashed backward and he came toward her, his hands outstretched. “I didn’t mean it that—”

      She slapped his hands away. “You meant it exactly that way.” Her fingers stung. She stared down at her reddening palms. The tears she’d stanched so fiercely for the past two days leaked out.

      “Victoria, I’m sorry.” His arms closed around her.

      She fought him off, elbowing him fiercely. “Let go of me, damn you!”

      He dropped his arms and stepped back, breathing heavily.

      She stormed past him through the glass sliders. Half a dozen strides carried her across the living room and she yanked the front door open, her clammy hands clutching the door handle to keep her trembling knees from giving out. She’d wanted him to hold her, to share the grief…but never like this. “Get out.”

      “We need to talk about Dy—”

      “I have nothing to say to you. Go.”

      “Victoria—”

      She kept her gaze averted, horribly conscious of the soundless tears streaming down her face and the nausea rising in the back of her throat. “Please, just go.”

      He stumbled past her. At the last moment he turned. “If you need—”

      Hot, blinding anger surged, and she said, “I don’t need anything you can give me.”

      Without another word Connor left.

      The funeral was finally over. Mourners huddled in groups in the church hall sipping coffee from white cups.

      Connor glanced to where Victoria stood in silence beside three women who he assumed must’ve been friends of Suzy’s. The scooped neckline of the fitted black dress she wore accentuated her collar bones and the delicate line of her throat, and her tall, slender body moved to-and-fro as she rocked Dylan. But she didn’t spare him a glance. She’d barely spoken to him today.

      Guilt gnawed at him. How had he managed to screw up so royally two nights ago? Judging by the dark rings around her eyes, she hadn’t slept since. She was hurting. He could feel it. Hell, she’d made him so mad, but that was no excuse. Nor did the knowledge that he’d never intended to wound her so deeply ease his guilt.

      He was worse than the pig she’d called him.

      She’d loved Suzy. She would never forgive him for implying that she’d neglected Suzy before her tragic death. And how could he blame her?

      The baby’s head was nestled close against her shoulder, and Dylan’s eyes widened with interest as Connor came closer.

      “Here, let me take the baby.”

      He saw her stiffen, her hold tighten around the baby, as she became aware of him. “No!”

      Did she think he was going to rip the baby away from her?

      “Please?” Couldn’t she see his remorse? “Dylan must be heavy.”

      She edged away from the group she’d been standing with, but not before one of them gave him a strange look. He didn’t care. It was Victoria that concerned him right now.

      “We’re fine.”

      Her pallor, her reddened eyes, the way her fingers dug into the blanket that swaddled Dylan gave lie to that. She so wasn’t fine. But he wasn’t about to argue with her here for everyone to see.

      “Victoria…” Connor searched for the words that would mend everything between them, that would put them back into the state of almost-truce that had existed before his in-sensitive accusation. And came up dry.

      “Go away,” she hissed. “You’re not taking the baby from me.”

      “Victoria—” An elegant woman with short hair wearing a black-and-white houndstooth suit came up beside them eyeing Connor with curiosity. “I wanted to say how sorry I am for the loss of your friend.”

      “Thank you, Bridget.”

      “And who is this fellow?” Bridget studied Dylan with decidedly wary eyes, causing Connor to suppress his first grin in days.

      “This is Dylan, Suzy’s baby.”

      “Oh.” Bridget exchanged long looks with Victoria. “How dreadful. Is her family looking after him?”

      “Suzy doesn’t have any close family—her parents are dead, and she was an only child. Dylan’s been staying with me.”

      His smile fading, Connor watched Bridget—whoever the hell she was—process that information silently. Victoria must have seen her doubts, too, because her arms tightened around the baby, causing Dylan to squawk in protest.

      Connor reached for the wriggling baby. “I’ll hold him for you.”