The assistant brought Luca a mug of black coffee and silently disappeared as quickly as she arrived.
“Thank you for coming today,” Edmund began as the door clicked shut. “We asked to meet with you in person because we feel as though our prior communications aren’t having the impact they should. Mr. Moretti is very serious about pursuing his joint custody filing.”
Being served with papers that said a stranger was demanding custody of her daughter had nearly floored her. When she had learned the truth about the mix-up at the fertility clinic, a part of her had hoped that the biological father would be disinterested in Eva. She found out quickly that was not going to be the case.
“Don’t you think that filing was premature?” Stuart asked. “He hasn’t even met the child, but he thinks he should have joint custody?”
“He would’ve met his daughter weeks ago if your client had cooperated with our requests. We had no choice but to do something Mrs. Douglas couldn’t continue to ignore.”
The two lawyers continued to argue, but Claire found her attention was drawn to the silent force sitting across from her. While his lawyer did all the talking, Luca Moretti leaned back in his chair and studied Claire. His dark hazel eyes ran over every inch of her. She did her best to hold still, not wanting to squirm or show any sign of weakness in front of him.
Instead, she focused on studying him just as closely. It was so easy to see pieces of him in Eva. When her daughter was born, Claire had been confused by the baby they handed her, with the head of dark, curly hair. Claire had dark honey-blond hair. Her husband, Jeff, had light brown hair. Neither was olive skinned nor had a cleft in their chin, but Eva did.
But all her confusion and worry disappeared the moment she looked into her daughter’s gray eyes. She fell in love that instant, and no longer cared what Eva looked like because she was perfect. For all Claire knew, Jeff had Spanish or Italian blood he’d never told her about.
The doubts hadn’t arisen in her mind again until the clinic called three months later. They’d informed her that their last vial of sperm was due for destruction in three months if they didn’t use it. They hadn’t opted to pay the lifetime storage fees because they’d intended to use it all fairly quickly.
The call confused her because they’d used their last dose when they conceived Eva. That information had raised red flags, and it wasn’t long until they discovered the truth—her husband’s sperm had a number transposed on the paperwork and another client’s sperm was used instead.
Luca Moretti’s, to be exact.
The thought sent a chill through her. The man had never touched her and yet a part of him had been inside her. What was a man like Luca doing at a fertility clinic, anyway? Putting himself through college by selling sperm for cash? Every inch of his body, from his broad shoulders to his hard jaw, screamed the kind of masculinity she hadn’t been exposed to in a very long time, if ever. With the right look, Claire was certain he could make a woman’s ovaries explode. If a man like Luca needed the services of a fertility clinic, a lesser man didn’t stand a chance with his own progeny.
And yet, he was there. When the news broke, Luca had focused his attention on the fertility clinic. He’d sent Edmund after them and before Claire knew it, the clinic was begging to settle out of court and keep the scandal quiet. She had instantly gone from a comfortable middle-class woman, to someone who didn’t need to work another day in her life.
But then Luca turned his legal bulldogs on her. Claire wouldn’t back down, though. She didn’t care if it cost her every penny of her settlement battling in court. Eva was her baby. It was hard enough trying to deal with the revelation of her daughter’s paternity. She was still trying to work through her anger and confusion about Jeff’s death. How could she tell Jeff’s parents that Eva wasn’t their biological granddaughter? She had a lot on her plate already. She didn’t need Luca coming out of nowhere and making demands about her child.
“There’s got to be a happy medium,” Stuart said, pulling her attention back into the conversation.
“My client isn’t open to negotiating any terms that don’t involve providing him with visits with his daughter.”
“My daughter.” Claire spoke up with all the force she could muster. She felt Stuart’s hand covering hers, trying to calm her, but it wasn’t going to help. “Eva is my daughter. I’m not just going to hand her over to some stranger. I don’t know anything about this man. He could be a serial killer or some kind of pervert. Would you just hand over your child to a stranger, Mr. Harding?”