she said stiffly. ‘I couldn’t go—I didn’t dare get Simon a passport.’
And she had longed for a settled home. Here, in New Zealand’s biggest city, she’d been sure they’d be safe. The flat had been her dingy little haven.
‘I see,’ he said, giving nothing away. ‘So you’ve been here—how long?’
‘Three years.’
Winged black brows lifted. ‘And clearly things are not going well for you.’
‘We’ve managed until now.’ She endeavoured not to sound defensive.
His smile was cold and cruel and pitiless as he homed in on her weak spot. ‘Tell me, Olivia, why did you wait for—it must be eight years, surely, since we saw each other last?’
‘Seven,’ she said, controlling a sudden, baseless fear with an effort.
‘I’m flattered you remember so accurately.’
‘It’s not difficult,’ she said, unable to hide a note of bitterness, although she managed to keep her expression composed. His departure had marked the beginning of the end of her world.
‘So why didn’t you try to contact me five years ago, when you ran away, your babe in your arms in the traditional manner?’
She met the bland enquiry of his gaze with something close to anger. Clearly he wasn’t going to make this easy, but Simon’s future was at stake—and for Simon she would put up with this barely hidden insolence.
Bluntly she said, ‘I’ve already told you. By then you’d gone into hiding after your accident, and anyway I never planned to contact you. But he needs to have his ears done straight away. And you owe him a future, Drake.’
He watched her with half-closed eyes in which all trace of green had been swallowed by an icy grey. ‘You must have known of this rather minor condition of his for some years.’
‘It is not minor!’ she flared. ‘Already Simon’s starting to get bored because he can’t really hear what the teacher is saying. How well would you have done at school if you’d heard everything as though you were six feet under water? His behaviour is deteriorating. These first few years of school are vitally important—’
‘You’ve already had a go at wringing my heart with this spiel,’ he interrupted, the languid tones sharpened now by an edge of steel. ‘Why now, Olivia? Why not five years ago, when your mother died? Why not when you found out about his ears? I want the truth.’
‘Five years ago you were swanning around race tracks enjoying yourself by spraying huge bottles of champagne over anyone who’d stand still for it.’
‘I got hurt the season Simon was born,’ he said, deflating her righteous indignation.
‘Yes, well, I didn’t contact you because I was certain you’d deny it, and I didn’t know there was a way of forcing you to admit paternity,’ she said, not trying to hide her contempt, even though common sense screamed that she should not antagonise him further. ‘But when I read about the DNA test I knew I could make it stick.’
‘Is that the only reason?’
She stared at him, meeting eyes that were cold and pitiless. Something moved in her stomach—a clutch of genuine fear. Slowly she shook her head.
How could a mouth like his—sexy, sensually sculptured—smile so unpleasantly? ‘When were you going to tell me that you need two thousand dollars, Olivia?’ he asked silkily.
Bitterly ashamed, she said, ‘I only want to borrow it...’
‘I’m sure. Tell me how you wound up owing two thousand dollars.’
‘Simon woke up one night with abscesses on his eardrums. I borrowed my next-door neighbour’s car—he was too drunk to drive, but he said it would be all right to use it to take Simon to the hospital. It would have been too, only someone hit me on a roundabout, and neither car had insurance. Brett’s car was totalled.’
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