can move into Kincaid Manor,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Victory surged through him. He pulled his checkbook from his interior coat pocket. “Excell—”
“But only if I come with him.”
His fingers contracted around his pen. “Excuse me?”
“You exude about as much warmth as dry ice, Kincaid. Children need more than that.”
His spine went rigid at the insult. “I know how to handle kids.”
“Really? Because I didn’t see evidence of that the other day. You didn’t even try to make a connection with your brother.”
“Half brother, as you pointed out. There wasn’t time.”
“Eye contact and a smile only take a second.”
She had him there. “And your price?”
“I don’t want your money.”
Yeah, like he believed that. What game was she playing? “What of your home? You’ll leave it vacant?”
“I can rent it for enough to cover the mortgage.”
Her plan shouldn’t have surprised him. In his experience, women were always looking for a free ride. In Carly’s case, Kincaid Manor would be like a spa vacation compared to the in-need-of-renovation structure she inhabited. “Your presence isn’t required.”
“Rhett stays with me, his guardian. And since my attorney says you only had thirty days from the reading of the will to begin fulfilling your part of your father’s demands or forfeit your inheritance, you’re going to have to come to terms with the package deal sooner rather than later.”
Nineteen of those days had passed. Days during which Mitch had employed two teams of lawyers to try to find a loophole in the will. When they’d failed, he’d spent more time hiring a nanny and trying to find out what he could about Carly Corbin. If Carly hadn’t come to him by tomorrow, he would have gone after her.
“I would imagine you have my number since you have everything else.” She backed toward the door.
“Carly, how much do you want?” He signed a blank check and then slid it and his pen across the desk. “You fill in the amount. Whatever you feel is fair.”
Without even glancing at the pen and check, she observed him as if he were three-day-old July roadkill. “You just don’t get it, do you, Kincaid?”
He linked his hands behind his back, hoping to appear casual instead of frustrated and irritated and damn near desperate. “Then perhaps you’ll enlighten me.”
“This isn’t about money. It’s about a little boy and what’s best for him. It’s always about doing what’s best for the child. Always. In this case, you’re not it.”
“The boy will lack for nothing.”
“Materially. And his name is Rhett.”
Mitch struggled to rein in his temper, but his entire head grew hot. “Rhett will have the best of care.”
Angry color stained Carly’s cheeks and sparked in her eyes, making her look even more attractive. She approached his desk, planted her hands on the polished surface and leaned toward him. “Who will hold him when he’s cranky? Who’ll kiss his boo-boos and rock him when he has a nightmare? Who will tell him about his mother? And who will make sure he knows he was loved and w-wanted?”
The slight crack in her voice nailed him in the gut. She’d just lost her sister, and even if Marlene had been a mercenary, manipulative bitch, apparently Carly had cared for her. Maybe giving up the boy wouldn’t be completely painless. But like ripping off a bandage, the discomfort wouldn’t last long.
Being the middle child meant Mitch had learned the art of negotiation in the cradle. If he didn’t compromise, he’d lose the brat. “I have employed a highly qualified nanny. I’m not trying to cut you out of his life completely. We’ll arrange visitation.”
“A nanny? You’re going to pay someone to love him?” Her indignant tone and humorless laugh didn’t bode well. Gold fragments glinted in her dark irises. “Is money your answer to everything?”
“There’s nothing wrong with nannies. My siblings and I were raised by a series of competent—”
Her snort cut him off. “Now I get it. No wonder you’re such a robot.”
He flinched at her insult.
Leaving the check untouched on his desk, she marched to the door and paused with her hand on the knob. “That’s my offer, Kincaid. Take it or leave it. You get both of us or neither of us. You can pursue this in court with a whole platoon of lawyers if you want, but considering your father allegedly paid my sister an obscene amount of money to abort, and you and your siblings are driven by potential monetary gains, no judge in his right mind will ever award you custody of Rhett even if you are an almighty Kincaid. And that’s if you can get the case heard before your thirty days are up. Because rest assured, if you sue for custody, I will delay you in every way possible.”
Her ponytail swung out parallel to the floor as she pivoted abruptly and slammed the door behind her.
Mitch swore. It didn’t help that she was right. His attorneys had told him the same thing. He’d counted on her being as greedy as her sister and wanting fast cash.
Instead, he had no doubt Carly Corbin was in it to milk him for the long haul. And he had no choice but to accede to her absurd demands.
But he had every intention of winning this battle and he’d do whatever it took to come out on top.
“There’s no place like home,” Carly muttered under her breath. “There’s certainly no place like this one.”
She stood in the circular driveway Saturday morning staring up at the expansive ivory-stone facade of Kincaid Manor. The place looked like a castle that had been yanked out of the English countryside and dropped into a Miami gated community.
She’d had to stop and give her name at a guardhouse to get into the neighborhood, and then talk to a disembodied voice at a second set of elaborate iron gates. Those gates had glided shut behind her, locking her inside the Kincaid compound the moment her car had passed through.
Sunlight glinted off a multitude of windows on a steeply roofed two-story structure the length of your average strip mall. Shrubbery pruned to the nth degree surrounded the foundation and fenced the sidewalk as if intended to keep visitors from straying onto the perfectly manicured emerald lawn.
Not exactly ideal for a growing boy whose only speeds were asleep and wide open, but Carly’s attorney had instructed her to make nice and play along while they explored their legal options. For Rhett’s sake, she could put up with just about anything.
Hours after she’d left the KCL offices, Mitch had called, “invited” her to stay and given her directions to Kincaid Manor. Carly had immediately sat down and developed a step-by-step plan to bond the Kincaid offspring. She’d work on Mitch first, then she’d tackle
