‘Why have you presented yourself to me dressed in that peculiar way? Do you think to impress me with the belief that you are a good mother? Though it must pain me to be so frank, I am well aware of the life that you lead and equally aware that your ugly appearance can only be a pretence calculated to mislead.’
He did not know that Erica was dead, she registered in dismay. He believed that she was Erica, got up to be ugly, for some strange reason. Ugly. Freddy experienced both anger and pain at that label. No, she knew she wasn’t pretty, but it was not good news to hear that a plain suit, a dated hairstyle and a pair of spectacles were sufficient to make her worthy of that cruel word: ‘ugly’. He looked like a dark angel, talked like an ignorant, unfeeling louse and probably couldn’t pass a single mirror without falling in love with his gorgeous reflection! Was it his business that she was not Erica? All that nonsense about discretion and here she was being treated like dirt and he wasn’t even Ben’s father!
‘Your brother…’Freddy murmured icily while drawing her slender frame taut to reach her full quota of five feet four inches, her back ramrod straight. ‘I’m prepared to speak only to your brother, Ben’s father.’
‘Adil died of a heart attack last month.’
Freddy frowned at him, her mind struggling to compute the reality that Ben truly was an orphan, that not only his mother but also his father was dead. She swallowed hard, seriously troubled by that news. By some awful quirk of fate, Ben had been deprived of the only remaining individual who had had an indisputable right to make caring choices on his behalf.
‘It is I who will take charge of Benedict and remove him from your less-than-adequate care.’ And having made that utterly devastating announcement, Crown Prince Jaspar strolled over to gaze down with unfathomable dark eyes at the little boy still curled up asleep on the sofa. ‘He is very small for an al-Husayn male. We are a tall family,’ he remarked critically.
‘What do you mean when you say that you are planning to take charge of Ben?’ Freddy mumbled, her tummy suddenly behaving as though it were a boat in a storm-tossed sea.
Her imagination was already running riot. She didn’t like him and she didn’t trust him. What did he mean by that comment that Ben was small? Use your brain and think fast, Freddy urged herself. Her shockingly offensive visitor could only be implying that Ben might not, after all, have al-Husayn genes. In other words, he was suggesting that Erica might have lied about her son having been fathered by his brother!
And wasn’t it perfectly possible that Jaspar al-Husayn might be hoping that Ben would prove not to be a member of his family? Now that Ben’s father had passed away, where did Ben come into the scheme of things? Why would this Crown Prince want to take Ben from a woman he believed to be his mother? Yet in contrast, his brother, Adil, had gone to great trouble to keep his illegitimate son a secret and had pledged a great deal of money to the task of ensuring that the child he’d had no intention of acknowledging would have a financially secure future.
‘If you value your present lifestyle and income, don’t argue with me,’ Crown Prince Jaspar murmured, smooth as silk.
And in that moment Freddy decided that it would be far too risky to disabuse him of his assumption that she was Ben’s mother. Not yet anyway. How far could she trust a male who had an advance guard of pure-bred thugs? He might well be a most unsavoury character. Certainly he behaved like one with that threat he had just uttered without conscience, announcing that he had the power to set aside the arrangements that his more responsible brother had put in place. What kind of a man spoke like that when a child’s needs and security lay in the balance?
And Jaspar al-Husayn needn’t bother looking down that classic nose at her as if she were the dust beneath his royal feet. In fact, Freddy, who had a temper that was usually slow to rise, was just about fizzing with rage in her determination to protect Ben. Only if her concerns were put to rest would she dare to concede the dangerous truth that as Ben’s uncle he had far more rights than she could possibly have.
‘Can you offer me proof of your identity?’ Freddy enquired, unleashing the first volley of what she expected to be a long and bitter defensive battle.
The brilliant dark eyes flashed gold, lush black lashes narrowing over his piercing gaze. ‘I have no need to offer such credentials.’
That rich dark drawl carried a note of incredulity that he could not hide. Freddy straightened her shoulders. ‘I don’t know you from Adam. You could be anybody and I’m not prepared to discuss Ben’s future without evidence that you are who you say you are.’
‘I am not accustomed to being spoken to in such a discourteous manner,’ Crown Prince Jaspar countered in the most lethal tone.
A chill ran down Freddy’s rigid spine but she needed time, time to check him out and time to take advice. That it would mean for ever burning her own boats with this arrogant male was unavoidable, for Ben’s safety and well-being were of paramount importance.
‘Perhaps you could come back tomorrow evening about eight with appropriate references,’ Freddy countered unevenly, somewhat intimidated by the aura of sheer blazing disbelief that emanated from him. ‘I will then be happy to sit down and discuss in a polite and civilised way what path his future should follow.’
‘You have angered me. You will regret it.’Jaspar al-Husayn swore very softly.
Pale as death, Freddy watched him stride from the room and listened to the front door thud shut in his wake. He had given her such a scare that she could hardly breathe. Ben began to wake up, sleepily rubbing his eyes and whimpering a little the way he often did at such times. Freddy gathered him up in her arms and hugged him to her, her heart racing. An orphaned child born of such important lineage and likely to inherit a large amount of money was a very vulnerable child, she reflected fearfully. She needed to make an appointment with a solicitor and check out her legal position.
CHAPTER TWO
LATE afternoon of the following day, Jaspar studied the report from his security team on Erica Sutton’s activities since his visit to her apartment. That she had evidently rushed straight to a solicitor for advice came as no surprise to him.
Jaspar was satisfied that he had put Erica Sutton under considerable pressure, which had been precisely his intent. While his late brother had been gracing ceremonial occasions and cruising the Med with his party girls, Jaspar had been acquiring the brilliant business acumen with which he oversaw Quamar’s considerable investments abroad. Military school and the tough, fast-moving world of finance had honed Jaspar’s natural talents to a fine and ruthless edge. He knew how to negotiate. Once he knew his quarry’s weaknesses and the time was right, he moved in for the kill.
Subjecting Erica Sutton to the fear that she might lose all that she had gained by her son’s birth had been a deliberate ploy. Doubtless, she imagined that to continue enjoying her present lifestyle she had to retain custody of her son but that was not, in fact, the case. When she learned that she could give up his nephew without surrendering her financial security, Jaspar believed that she would rush to do so.
But he was intensely amused to read that Erica had apparently spent two hours in a beauty salon that very afternoon. So the real Erica Sutton was about to make herself known!
His crack about her unlovely appearance had evidently been more than flesh and blood could stand. Had she imagined when he’d set up that first meeting that he was someone who had power over her finances? Why else would she have gone to such ridiculous lengths to present him with that fake image? How could she have thought that
