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Right. Cade. The rebel. He should have guessed he wouldn’t hang around to lend a helping hand and probably neither would Nick. There was no love, loyalty or unity among the Andreas brothers. They’d gone their separate ways, managed their trust funds individually, made their own fortunes. And each of them had his own life. But after Attorney Ross’s warning about the mystery shareholder, Darius was beginning to understand some of the things their father had babbled about on his deathbed. If they weren’t unified when that shareholder came out of the woodwork they could end up dockworkers in their own shipyards.
“Come on. You can’t just walk away.” He motioned for Cade to return to his seat, but instead, Nick rose.
“Sure we can. You’re the chairman and CEO. You’re the one who has to run things. You might have bullied Ms. Ross into working for you, but we’re not buying in. We’ll be back for board of directors meetings and for our share of the profits.”
“So you really are just going to leave? Even after Dad told us he wanted us to unite? Even after hearing there’s another shareholder?”
“You’ll handle it.”
“This company belongs to all of us. I thought you’d both want a part of things.”
“Yeah, and I thought Dad would be around when I was a kid. But he wasn’t.” Nick caught Darius’s gaze. “You were the golden boy. The company, the baby, the troubles are all yours.”
He left the room with Cade right behind him.
Darius fell to the sofa. Over the years he’d cursed his dad for being a philanderer who had created three very different sons … four now. Today he looked up at the ceiling, finally understanding what had troubled his father for the last ten years of his life. The Andreas brothers truly weren’t family. Having three different moms and hailing from three different parts of the United States, they were as divided as they were different. They might share dark hair, dark eyes and a shrewd business sense, but there was no love lost between them.
The silence of the lawyer’s office rattled around him. Both of his parents were dead now. He had no cousins or aunts and uncles. He had two adult half-brothers, but they wanted nothing to do with him.
He thought back a few weeks to Christmas. He’d gone to parties galore, but on Christmas morning he’d been alone. His footsteps had echoed in his cold, empty apartment. Unless he did a better job of raising Gino than his father had done with him, Nick and Cade, this would be the sound of his life. Silence.
In a weird way, he was glad he’d gotten custody of Gino. Gino was his family now.
Well, his and Whitney Ross’s.
A sliver of excitement slithered through him when he remembered the feeling of attraction that had arced between him and Whitney. Oh, she was tempting. A challenge. A buttoned-down present, begging to be unwrapped. But that would be nothing but trouble. He had to raise a child with her.
He understood why Missy Harrington had recognized that Gino would need a mother figure. Anybody who spent two minutes in the company of any of the Andreas brothers knew they weren’t the settling-down kind. So if Missy wanted a mother for Gino, she’d probably known she’d have to pick her. But he didn’t have a clue how “shared custody” would work in the real world. Would sharing a child be like being married? Or maybe being divorced? Would they have to draw up a custody agreement that set forth who got the baby and when? Or would they pass the poor kid back and forth like a tennis ball or Frisbee?
He ran his hands down his face. He had absolutely no idea how this would go. Worse, he had no idea how to care for a baby. Hell, he just plain had no idea how to be a dad, since his own father hadn’t come around until he was nearly an adult.
Which gave Whitney a second, maybe more important, role in this child-custody venture. Because Darius didn’t know how a father was supposed to behave, Whitney was going to have to teach him.
CHAPTER TWO
AS WHITNEY AND HER DAD left his office, Cyn caught his arm. “They need you in the conference room right now.”
“But I’m still working with the Andreas brothers—”
“The exact words Roger said were, ‘The Mahoney case is going to hell in a ham sandwich. The very second Gerry is out of his meeting we need him in here.’”
Whitney’s dad faced her. “Will you be okay?”
She forced a smile. “Yes. You go on. When the Andreas brothers are through with their little powwow, I’ll have you paged if we need you.”
“Thanks.” He kissed her cheek, slid the duffel and diaper bag onto her shoulder, turned and raced away from her.
Walking to her office, Whitney looked down at Gino. Sucking a green-and-brown camouflage-print pacifier, he peered up at her. Luminous dark eyes met hers. Her heart stumbled in her chest. Layla’s pale-blue eyes had been a combination of her father’s sky blue eyes and Whitney’s gray blue. Her hair had been yellow. Baby-fine. Wispy. Whitney had never been able to get a clip to hold and she’d become one of those moms who used multicolored cloth hair bands to decorate her baby’s head.
Her chest tightened. She’d give everything she had, everything she owned, every day of the rest of her life, for even one more chance to touch that wispy hair.
Gino spat out his pacifier and began to cry. Whitney set the baby carrier on the small floral-print sofa in the right-hand corner of her office.
“Don’t cry, sweetie,” she said automatically and her throat closed. Her chest tightened. Caring for a baby was something like riding a bike. Unfortunately, all the remembered skills also brought back memories of the baby she’d lost—
The nights she’d walked the floor when Layla was colicky. Her first birthday party when the abundance of guests had scared her. Bathing her, cuddling her, loving her.
Being her mom.
Don’t cry, sweetie.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pull herself together, but Gino cried all the harder.
She sat on the sofa, lifted him from the carrier and cuddled him against her chest. Sobbing in earnest now, the little boy buried his face in her neck.
He smelled like baby lotion and felt as soft as feathers from an angel’s wings. She closed her eyes again, weakened by longings for her own baby. Remembering treasured events. The plans they’d had for Layla’s future. The mom she’d wanted to be.
Shaking with sorrow, she pushed at those memories, trying to get them out of her head. But they wouldn’t budge. Instead, they arched in her brain like a rainbow of photos, a cacophony of happy sounds. Baby giggles. Toddler laughs. First words. Mama. Da Da. Nanna. Pap Pap. Kitty.
She knew it was the sweet baby scents that caused her total recall. So she grabbed a blanket from the diaper bag and laid it on the sofa, then placed Gino on top, putting three feet of distance between them.
She swallowed. The memories receded. Her shaking subsided. The thumping of her heart slowed.
The little boy blinked at her.
“I know you’re probably scared,” she said, talking to him as if he were an adult because she couldn’t risk the baby talk that she knew would soothe him. “I know my mom was very good to you the past few days, but I’ll bet you miss your own mama …” She swallowed. Miss didn’t even halfway describe the feelings of loss this baby must feel. Even though he probably didn’t understand that his parents were dead, her heart broke because she did understand. She knew exactly what it felt like to lose the two people closest to her. He was alone. Scared. And wanted his mom. Or someone to make him feel safe again.
In three long years, she hadn’t felt safe. Everything she believed had been tossed in the air and come down in pieces the day her husband had committed suicide and killed their baby with him.
As she checked Gino’s diaper to see if that was why he was crying, a rush of memories of Layla flooded her brain again. Except this time they weren’t happy. This time, she heard her baby crying, calling for her, and suddenly she was face to face with her worst fear. The fear that morphed into guilt. The guilt her therapist had told her was pointless.
No one knew if Burn had deliberately put Layla into the car with him when he’d decided to kill himself by sitting in the vehicle while the garage filled with carbon monoxide. Speculation was that he’d put Layla into her car seat to go somewhere, but when he’d gotten behind the wheel he just couldn’t force himself out into the world. He’d sat in their garage long enough for the fumes to begin to get to him and was soon mentally too far gone to remember he had the baby with him.
That explanation had soothed everyone but Whitney. If everyone accepted that Burn’s depression and mounting mental illness were reason enough to forget he had their child in his car, then shouldn’t she have realized he was too sick to care for her baby?
Layla.
Why hadn’t she recognized Burn’s growing troubles?
Why hadn’t she protected her baby?
What had been so important in those months that she’d missed all the signs that Burn was tumbling over the edge?
Tears filled her eyes as Gino began to cry, drawing her back to the present. She wanted to cuddle him, to love him, but her memories of Layla were still morphing into memories of Burn’s suicide, Layla’s death and the horrible, horrible feelings of guilt.
She couldn’t deal with the guilt.
She changed Gino’s diaper but rather than hold him, she returned him to the baby carrier. He looked at her with sad dark eyes.
She blinked back tears, hoping for his sake that the trouble she had holding him was only temporary. It wasn’t his fault her family had died. Plus, Missy had wanted her to care for this little guy—
Remembering the envelope her dad had given her, she rose from the sofa to retrieve it from her jacket pocket. After fumbling with the seal, she pulled out the slim sheet of white stationery. Pacing in front of her sofa, she read …
Whitney …
It’s funny to be writing this because I don’t think you’ll ever read it. Actually, I hope you never do read it. But we’re having wills drawn up today and we have a baby. Plans have to be made for who will care for Gino just in case something happens. Stephone said he wanted Darius to have custody, but I didn’t think that was such a good idea. I know Darius will never marry and that means Gino will never have a mom. But I also recognized I couldn’t talk Stephone out of naming Darius as guardian. All I could do was suggest making you co-guardian. So that’s what we did. If something happens to me and Stephone, Darius will be Gino’s dad and you will be Gino’s mom.
Love him, Whitney. I’m not sure Darius knows how. Missy
Whitney swallowed and sank to the couch. The note was short and to the point. A mother’s simple plea. Love her baby. Because she wasn’t sure his older brother knew how to love. Hadn’t she already guessed that?
She glanced at Gino. The baby blinked at her dubiously. This little boy had gone from his parents’ home in Greece to Whitney’s parents’ home, and now he was being passed to her. It had undoubtedly frightened Gino to be passed from one set of strangers to the next. He had to get into a stable environment. She had to get him into a stable environment. Without her, there was no guarantee Gino wouldn’t be raised by nannies or at boarding school. Worse, there was no one to prevent Darius from seeing Gino more as a vote at a director’s meetings than as a baby.
She had to do this. She had to be a part of this little boy’s life. She had to care for him. She had to love him.
She popped the pacifier into Gino’s mouth again. “This has been a rough couple of days for you. But you’re safe now. I’m going to take good care of you.”
An arrow sliced into her heart. How could she promise she’d take good care of this little boy when she hadn’t even been able to protect her own child from her husband … the baby’s father?
Darius gave himself another minute to collect himself, then stepped into the hall and instructed the receptionist to let Attorney Ross know he was ready.
Pacing the rich red Oriental rug, he waited for Ross to return. When the side door opened, he spun toward it to see only Whitney enter. She held Gino in the basket-like carrier. A big duffel bag and a diaper bag were slung over her shoulder.
“I know I said I could begin working for you today, but I just realized there’s no one to care for Gino. Plus, I have no baby things at my home,” she announced casually as she stepped inside. “No crib, no high chair, no swing or rocker.”
Darius’s male senses perked up. Probably because he and Whitney were alone for the first time. He caught the scent of her perfume on the air, noticed her legs were long and shapely.
“I was thinking I should probably make arrangements to get all of that shipped to my apartment.”
Darius almost said, “Sure,” if only because his immediate reaction was to give her anything she wanted. But that was his attraction talking, agreeing so she’d like him. He had to resist that. He wanted this little boy in his life. He also needed Whitney to teach him how to be a father. The only way he could see that working out would be for her and the baby to live with him—at least for the first few weeks.
“I’ve been thinking about this deal and I’m not sure either one or the other of us taking him is the right thing to do.”
She blinked at him. “You want to leave him at a hotel?”
He chuckled, hoping she was joking. Surely she couldn’t think he was that inept. “No. I’m saying we need a plan.”
“We’ll hammer out an agreement of some sort eventually. But he needs somewhere to stay tonight. It’s already close to five and neither one of us owns a crib. We should also hire a nanny.” She caught his gaze. “Unless you’ve got baby experience I don’t know about.”
Heat whipped through him. This attraction wasn’t going to be easy to ignore. But he was a very strong man. “Actually, I’m going to need a little help getting accustomed to him.”
She turned away, fiddled with something in the diaper bag. “We both will in the beginning.”
Rats. She wasn’t getting what he was driving at. He didn’t want her to know just how baby-stupid he was, and he couldn’t tell her without putting himself at a disadvantage. He wasn’t accustomed to negotiating from anything less than a position of strength. But sometimes the best way to win an argument was to use the element of surprise. Just come right out and propose the ridiculous.
“Or we could live together.”
She spun to face him. “What?”
“Look, I inherited my father’s estate on Montauk. There’s a house big enough that we wouldn’t even have to run into each other. This way we’d both see the baby every day and we could discuss any issue that came up the minute it came up.”
She didn’t say anything. Darius wasn’t sure if he’d taken her so much by surprise that she was speechless or if his suggestion was so ridiculous she didn’t know how to respond. So he pushed on.
“It doesn’t have to be forever. Only the first few weeks. That way the little guy wouldn’t be shuffled from one of us to the other before he got to know either of us. Plus, we’d have servants. We wouldn’t be doing this on our own.”
Whitney surprised him by saying, “How many servants?”
He shrugged. “Well, if I remember correctly there are several maids. My dad also always had a cook. And an estate manager, Mrs. Tucker.”
Her expression went from strained to thoughtful to sort of happily surprised. Victory surged through him. But she hadn’t actually consented. The battle wasn’t over yet. He needed a deal sealer. Something that would put her totally on his side.
On impulse, he walked over to her and glanced down at the baby carrier. The brown-eyed boy blinked up at him over his pacifier.
“He’s cute.”
“He’s very cute.” She paused for a heartbeat then said, “Do you want to hold him?”
“Yeah. That’d be great.” How hard could it be? Not only was he trying to get on Whitney’s good side, but he had to be a dad to this kid. There was no time like the present to begin learning how.
She set the carrier on her father’s black leather sofa, unbuckled the strap that held Gino in and lifted him in front of her. Eye-to-eye with the baby, she said, “Gino, I’m giving you to your big brother.”
Darius laughed. “Was that an introduction?”
“No. That was me preparing him to be taken by a stranger.”
“He’ll know?”
Her gaze met his over the baby’s dark head. “Of course, he’ll know.”
Her eyes were the most wonderful color of gray-blue. A sort of sexy, yet innocent shade that sparked his attraction to life again. Something sharp and sweet stabbed him in his middle. He was wishing that he didn’t need her so he could follow this compelling urge he had to pursue her, when she presented Gino to him and fear immediately knocked every other thought out of his brain.
But before he had a chance to panic over his first-ever attempt at holding a baby, his hand brushed Whitney’s as she gave him the baby and pinpricks of awareness lit up his skin. He’d never felt an attraction this strong, this gripping. A warning stirred in his brain, but Whitney let go and suddenly Darius was supporting Gino’s full weight.
“Whoa!” He bobbled him a bit before he got control. “He’s heavier than I thought.”
Whitney smiled slightly. “Yes. Most six-month-olds aren’t quite that … sturdy.”
Feeling painfully awkward, but determined to get the hang of this, Darius laughed uncomfortably. “We are a family of big eaters.”
She looked away.
Not sure if she was totally disinterested in him and his family or uncomfortable at being so close to him, Darius casually said, “How about if we swing by your apartment and gather some things so we can spend the weekend in Montauk? My dad and Missy might have only popped by the house for a few weeks a year, but after Gino was born they had to have created a nursery. So at least he’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. That way you can take a look around the place and see that I’m right. The house is big enough that we could live together for a few weeks without getting in each other’s way.”
Whitney’s skin pricked with fear, trepidation and possibility. She couldn’t picture herself alone with Gino tonight. Well, actually, she could. She saw herself paralyzed with grief as he lay in the crib sobbing. Darius’s suggestion that they spend the weekend together would have been the answer to a prayer, except he wouldn’t be any better with Gino than she was.
Of course, he had staff and eventually they’d hire a nanny.
Still, it could take weeks to hire someone. Especially since they had to find someone willing to go back and forth between her Soho loft and Darius’s estate. If they didn’t have a nanny tonight, there would be no hiding the fact that she was having trouble being around the little boy. Trouble holding him. Trouble smelling him. Trouble just being in the same room.
