“My mom knew that she had no future with Connor so she went back to my stepfather hoping that he’d raise Lachlyn as his.”
His stepdad, originally from Jamaica, took one look at Lachlyn, a blond-haired, blue-eyed baby, and lost his temper. Tyce took his disappearance that same day as a firm no on the raising-and-supporting-Lachlyn question. Those months following his stepfather’s disappearance had been, by far, the worst of his life. His mom sunk into what he now knew to be postpartum depression, made a hundred times worse by her normal, run-of-the-mill depression. Looking after the baby had been a struggle for her. She hadn’t had any energy left over for a confused eight-year-old boy.
“Did your mother ever tell Connor that he had a daughter?” Beck asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
“No,” Tyce snapped back, frustrated. “Since Lachlyn’s birth certificate states that my stepdad is her father, she didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. She assumed that Connor would dismiss her claims.”
“Which is exactly what we are going to do,” Linc told him, his blue eyes hard.
Linc reacted exactly as he expected him to so Tyce wasn’t particularly surprised. “You can, but it won’t make any difference to my plans.”
Tyce ran his hand around his neck, hoping to rub away the headache at the base of his skull. He darted a look at Sage and saw that her face was even whiter than before and her big, endlessly blue eyes were dark with pain and confusion. She looked like he’d punched her in the gut. The fight immediately went out of Tyce and he moved his hand across the table to cover hers. He desperately wanted to scoop her up, soothe away her pain, assure her that everything would be okay.
But Tyce, more than most, knew that life had a nebulous concept of fairness and had a shoddy record at doling out good luck.
Sage snatched her hand out from under his, as if he were contagious with some flesh-eating disease. She folded her arms against her chest and glared at him. He couldn’t help his smile.
“You should know that your prissy, ‘I’m a princess and you’re a peasant’ look turns me on.”
His comment also had the added bonus of pissing her brothers off. Score.
Sage lifted her hand, her lips thinning. “This is business so let’s keep it to that, okay? You and I have nothing to say to each other.”
Oh, they so did. “We have a great deal to say to one another and we will,” Tyce promised her, lowering his voice.
“In your dreams, hotshot,” Sage retorted, fire in her eyes.
Tyce reached across the table and pushed a curl out of her eyes with the tip of his finger. “You can fight this, kick and claw and scratch, but you and me, and that kid, we’re going to come to an understanding, Sage. I’m not crazy about this arrangement, neither are you, but we’re going to have to deal. I’m not going anywhere. Start getting used to the idea.”
Because he so badly wanted to frame her face with his hands, to lower his mouth to cover hers—God, it had been so long since he’d held her, tasted her, feasted on her—Tyce stood up and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Feeling wiped, he blew out a breath before locking eyes with Linc again. It was time to get this done.
“I’ve purchased enough shares to earn a seat on the Ballantyne board. I’m going to take that seat, I will oppose every decision and I will vote against every motion you make unless you actively try to establish whether Lachlyn is Connor’s child or not. Do not underestimate how much trouble I can cause. I’ll undermine your position and I’ll actively campaign to have you removed as CEO.”
Linc’s face paled at the threat. But because he was a deal maker and a strategist, Linc then asked the question he was expecting. “So if Lachlyn is Connor’s daughter, how much do you want?”
These rich people, they always thought it came down to money. “I don’t want any of your money,” Tyce replied, enjoying the surprised shock on their faces. “If the DNA results come back saying that Lachlyn is not Connor’s daughter, then I will sell the shares.”
“What’s the catch?” Beck demanded.
“If Lachlyn is Connor’s daughter, then I’d like you to give her a chance…to get to know you, to become part of your family. She missed out on that, having a family.”
So had he but that didn’t matter. Lachlyn was the one who’d spent her childhood and teenage years in a dismal house permeated with the sadness of a perpetually depressed mother and a too tense, uncommunicative brother. She deserved the chance of being part of a close, happy family. And nobody, apparently, did family better than the Ballantynes.