by her body’s physical responses. Nico could lose his inheritance, his career, even his identity.
He held up a bottle of champagne. “Drink?”
Now of all times, she needed a clear head. “No, thank you.”
He poured something from the bar for himself. If his tastes hadn’t changed, it’d be a pinot noir.
While he was distracted with his task, she drank in the sight of him—the thick, dark hair she’d once slid her fingers through; face a little too long to be symmetrical, but still more dear to her than anything … except the same face in miniature. Their precious son.
Oh, God, she couldn’t stand this tension one minute longer—she had to know. “Tell me what you came to New Zealand to say, Nico.” Being able to say his name again gave her heart wings, but she wouldn’t let herself forget what she risked by being here.
Seemingly relaxed, he leaned a hip on the galley-kitchen counter. “I want several things, but let’s start with my nephew.”
Her heart stalled and she felt the blood drain from her head. “You want Mark?”
Nico looked down his proud nose, appearing every inch the Italian aristocrat that his mother had been. “He’s of my blood and he’s lost his father. I’d like to build a relationship with the boy.”
For a crazy moment, she’d thought he wanted to take her son away. But—she swallowed—this was almost as bad. “You know that’s not what Kent would have wanted. You two had sworn to never set eyes on the other again.”
It’d been the breach that sent Nico off on his own for three years—making his own millions on the stock market, becoming a tabloid darling as one of Australia’s richest playboys. She’d tormented herself by reading the magazines, insanely jealous of any woman photographed on his arm, yet praying he was happy.
“What Kent wanted is irrelevant at this point. Do you think he wanted to die and leave his son fatherless?” He waved away her protest. “I will see the child and I will become an uncle to him.”
As much as Nico may believe that, if she allowed the contact, the truth would come to light too soon, and he wouldn’t thank her for the consequences. He would more likely resent her, possibly blame her.
“He might be fatherless, but he has his mother. Decisions about who my son will know, and when, are mine. He’s happy with his life here and he’s close to his grandparents and friends.” She bit the inside of her cheek hard, knowing she had to be cruel to be kind, but still hating saying the words. “He doesn’t need you.”
Nico took a deliberate sip of his drink then rested his glass on the bench he still leaned on. “Regardless of whether he needs me or not, he has a heritage. His family has been in the wine industry for generations, it’s in our blood, in our DNA. Mark will inherit his share of that business one day and he needs to grow to understand it.”
It’s in our blood, in our DNA.
Beth flinched. Nico believed it was in his blood.
How often had she heard him talk of his heritage this way when they were together? It would destroy him to know the information detailed in letters Kent had obtained, that Nico was an illegitimate son—not a son at all. The vineyard was no more in his blood than it was in hers.
And it would crush him to find he had no biological connection to the father he loved. She’d always thought Nico and Tim seemed more like brothers as they worked together on their estate. Their love and admiration for each other was beautiful to see.
When Kent had ambushed her with the letters—using them to blackmail her into marriage—she’d known she had no choice. Tim Jordan had suffered three major heart attacks only eight months earlier and the whole family had been cautioned by the medical staff that he needed to avoid stress.
If she’d refused to comply, Kent would have released the pages, maybe even splashed them through the tabloids. Nico would have been destroyed and Tim’s stress at finding out Nico wasn’t his son could have brought on another heart attack. She’d known Kent didn’t care about jeopardizing his own father’s life—he was still bitter that Tim had divorced his mother for Nico’s more than twenty years earlier.
Kent had never forgiven any of those involved—Nico and Nico’s mother, or their father—for the marriage that had usurped him and his mother, Minnie. The marriage that had seen them moved from the main house to a cottage next door.
It had been up to Beth to stop Kent the only way she could—by agreeing to his proposal.
That very day, she’d left the country without a word to the man she loved like no other. The man standing before her.
But everything was different now. Kent was dead. She hadn’t yet found where he’d hidden the letters, but that was only a matter of time.
From this point on, decisions were hers alone.
After an agonizing amount of thought, Beth had decided to come clean and tell Nico everything … but not until after Tim passed away. According to medical opinion, that would likely be in the next twelve months. Severe stress might tragically shorten that time period and that was a chance she couldn’t take.
She walked to the windows, needing a greater distance between them for this conversation. “Mark will be fine. He spent time with Kent on the vineyards here and in the cellar.” Though, in truth, that time had been rare.
Nico straightened, eyes determined. “But who will continue that education now? You have an obligation to your son to let him know his family. It’s his birthright to learn from a Jordan about our legacy.”
She rubbed her upper arms, chilled to the bone by the truth in his words. Marco did deserve time with his real father. Tearing her gaze from Nico’s, she turned to look at the view of the naked vines waiting in limbo for spring before they could burst forth with life again. She’d been in that same limbo for five years.
She felt him move behind her. “But let’s not fight, bella.” His voice was deeper, seductive.
His searing hands rested on her almost bare shoulders and smoothed a path to her upper arms and back again. The touch ignited sensations in her body that she hadn’t felt since he had last lain his hands on her skin. Five long years. His palms trailed down to her wrists and he moved a step closer so she could feel his body heat from behind.
She’d dreamed so often of this moment, of being here with him again … but this was wrong—nothing like her fantasies at all. This wasn’t the sweet, tender Nico of years ago.
Though why would he be? As far as he was concerned, she’d betrayed him. And he was right—no matter how pure her motives, she had betrayed him. Even acknowledging that, it hurt to know he no longer loved or trusted her.
She stepped away from his touch and faced him. “What are you doing, Nico? You can’t turn up out of the blue and assume rights that ended when we broke up.”
“When we broke up.” He reached out and gently took her hands in his. “I’m not sure we is the right word when talking about the end of our relationship.” His alluring tone belied the meaning of his words, but his eyes didn’t lie. They were pained, tormented.
Her
