All because he’d been so afraid of Carrie loving him. Well… Théo gave a low, ironic snort. No chance of that now. He would have been grateful for that fact, except she also no longer trusted him. Now it would be difficult to make her believe he could be a decent father. It was a miracle she’d even given him the chance to meet his son. But then, Carrie’s kind heart had always been her weakness.
“I’ll die before I’ll become your wife—paternity test or no.”
He set his jaw. Now he knew Henry was his son, there was no way he’d allow her to take the baby back to Seattle, to be raised in a country on the other side of the ocean. There was no way he’d allow some other man to claim Carrie as his wife, to proudly call Henry his son.
A low growl came from the back of his throat. Carrie would be his wife. As of this moment she belonged to Théo and no other man.
But until she accepted that destiny he could not let her know he’d gotten the paternity test results. She’d only agreed to remain in France until he got proof. If Carrie discovered Théo already knew he was Henry’s father she’d flag down a car to take her to the nearest airport and take his son with her back to Seattle.
She expected the test results to take about a week. He would use that time to convince her a loveless marriage was the best and only choice for her life, and their son’s. Théo would have to execute a full-scale onslaught of seduction to possess her. But he was arrogantly confident he would win.
It was time to be ruthless.
Théo walked down the hall to the large, remodeled kitchen, with its restaurant-grade appliances, all shining stainless steel. He unpacked the fresh ingredients they’d purchased earlier that day from the outdoor market, and with a sardonic twist of his lips pulled on an apron over his black shirt and trousers. Glancing out the window to the garden, he set his jaw. This would work. It had to work.
He began to chop carrots against the wood cutting board.
He heard Carrie enter the kitchen. “Where’s the—?” Her voice ended with an intake of breath. “What are you doing?”
“Cooking,” he said.
“I thought you were joking.”
He glanced at her, his eyebrow lifted in cool amusement. “Shocking, isn’t it?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head as if clearing the cobwebs from her mind. “Where’s the phone?”
Chopping up steak and putting it to marinate in red wine, he nodded toward his hip pocket. “It’s there.”
She stared at his hip pocket, then bit her lip. “Um. I’d rather use the house phone.”
“I only use my cell at the castle. I’d get the phone for you myself, but…” He showed her his hands, all covered with the marinade he had just made for the beef.
“Fine,” she mumbled. Blushing, she reached the barest tips of two fingers into his jeans pocket. As soon as she had his phone in her hand, she exhaled and backed up to the other side of the kitchen.
“Calling your parents?”
“I called them yesterday. If you must know, I’m calling my boss.”
Saying nothing, Théo started to chop onions and tomatoes for the boeuf en daube. As he added bits of orange peel, fresh thyme and cognac, he heard her call the bayside restaurant in Seattle where they’d first met.
“Hey, Steve?” Her voice was nervous and she paused, biting her lip. “This is Carrie. Um, I won’t be able to come to work tomorrow. Really I need the whole week off, if that’s all right…?”
Théo heard shouting coming from the other end of the line. Apparently her boss was none too pleased.
Carrie took a deep breath. “I know it’s a huge inconvenience for you. I’m so sorry.” There was a pleading note in her voice that Théo didn’t like one bit. “I’m not in Seattle. I’m
in France for a…a family emergency. Please don’t fire me. I’ll do anything. I’ll work two nights for free when I get back.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “Okay, all right, a week…”
Guilt and shame ripped through Théo. While he had squandered an extra ten million euros on the steel company in Brazil, for the fleeting satisfaction it gave him, Carrie had been working on her feet for low wages, trying desperately to support their child. He suddenly couldn’t handle the pleading, fearful tone of her voice for another second.
His hands shook with fury as he wiped them on the apron. Crossing the kitchen, he ripped the cell phone from her hands.
“Carrie’s not coming back. Ever,” he said to the unseen boss in cold rage. “Find another waitress. She’s too good for you!”
Théo hung up. Tucking the cell phone back in his pocket, he calmly poured olive oil into two cast-iron pans over the gas burner.
“What have you done?” Carrie sounded shocked.