“Do you want a daddy?” I asked, wondering if not having a father was a problem for him.
“Other people have daddies and I don’t. I don’t think mine likes me.”
Oh God. Guilt ripped through me. “That’s not true, baby. He doesn’t know you.”
“Why not?”
I supposed I knew this conversation would happen someday; I just wasn’t planning on today. Or anytime soon.
“He had to go away before you were born. I wasn’t able to tell him about you.”
“You didn’t have a phone?”
I closed my eyes as fear and sadness and guilt wreaked havoc inside me. “It’s complicated. What you need to know is that you’re loved by so many people. Your grandpa was a great dad to me, and he’s sort of like that for you.”
“I’d still like my own daddy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “For now, you need to sleep.”
Once Andrew was settled into bed, I immediately poured myself a glass of wine, and drank it as I did my evening routine, which consisted of cleaning up, preparing for the next day, and then settling down to watch Netflix or read. But all I could think about was Devin, and my son asking for a daddy. It was wrong on so many levels to keep Andrew away from Devin, but that had been his mother’s doing. And now, five years later, it was too late, wasn’t it?
I thought back to our meeting today. I was surprised that after all this time he was interested in knowing why I hadn’t run off with him. A guy like Devin, who could have any woman he wanted and probably did over the last five years, wouldn’t remember a short fling with me. But he did. And he seemed annoyed that I hadn’t run off with him. Or at least annoyed that I was putting the blame on him.
I wondered what he’d do if I told him his mother had visited me and told me not to go. If he knew she’d told me about his lady friends? What would he think if I confessed that Andrew was his but that he didn’t know because his mother kept me from telling him? She even offered me money.
It was that act that had made me more committed than ever to keep Andrew from them. What sort of woman would pay off the mother of her grandchild to keep her away? My son didn’t need to be a part of any family like that.
I finished my wine, and considered having another, but knew it wouldn’t stop the emotional torment. So I washed my glass and then headed to bed.
When Devin first left five years ago, I frequently had dreams about him. Usually, he was showing up like a knight in a fairy tale telling me his mother was wrong about the other women. He’d confess his love and whisk me away to a place where we’d live happily ever after. The dreams often had erotic elements as well.
Over time, those dreams dissipated. Tonight though, Devin was back, looking sexy as the billionaire owner of a high-rise restaurant. Before the dream was over, he had me on the restaurant’s terrace, naked and writhing.
When he was done, he lifted his head, those green eyes shining down on me. “Where’s my son?”
4
Devin
I headed up to my room in my parents’ place, more eager than ever for the sale of the penthouse to come through. The sooner I was out from under them, the sooner I’d be able to exert independence. My father toasted to a partnership, but I was certain he would still expect his input to be followed, and I wasn’t going to take orders. If the idea was good, sure, I’d consider it. But I was my own man in life and business. I needed both my parents to see that.
“So, are you ready to take over the world?” my younger sister Brianna said from her bedroom door as I passed it. She was a couple years younger and still living at home.
“Yes.”
She laughed. Many times, I thought she’d been lucky to have been born second. We might have been nearly a quarter through the second millennium, but my parents still adhered to traditions set in the past millennium. As the first-born son, I was expected to take over the family business. I was also expected to continue the Roarke family line with a woman from an old-money family. I’d do the first, but not the second. I’d leave the procreation to Brianna, who was smart, capable, and had an easier time telling my parents to shove their archaic views.
“Dad isn’t going to go away that easily.”
/> I shrugged. “I’ll go back to Europe.”
She frowned. “Don’t go, Dev. It’s more fun when you’re here.”
“From what I hear, you don’t need my help to have fun.”
“I do my best.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Are you planning a club for New York?”
“Yes.”