“Yes, Your Honor. We have evidence and witnesses. But unfortunately, we don’t have them today.”
The judge sighed heavily. “You’ve had months to prepare, counselor. Is there anything else, or are we finished?”
Nicola quickly whispered to her attorney once again.
“One more thing, Your Honor. Our original complaint regarding Mr. Blackthorn’s constant change of partners, exposing their daughter to an unhealthy environment with egregious female role models has worsened since we were last before the court. We feel confident we can provide a witness who can attest to an unending string of one-night stands.”
Genevieve stood up. “May I interrupt, Your Honor?
The judge simultaneously held up a palm to silence Garrison and nodded to Genevieve.
“Not only is this another of the respondent’s many fabrications designed to prejudice the court, it’s demonstrably untrue. I have here the plaintiff’s marriage license, for a wedding to take place this Saturday, October 18th. He’s about to marry a woman he’s known for several years and been engaged to for months. Having dated other women prior to his engagement is not unusual, and no dates took place in the presence of his daughter. His fiancée however does enjoy a special bond with the couple’s child and is greatly looking forward to developing that relationship, while at the same time, doing everything she can to support the child’s relationship with her mother.”
The judge motioned for the bailiff to bring her the license and failed to suppress a smile as she looked it over. “This is very good news. Congratulations, Mr. Blackthorn.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said with sincerity. If I can just have Victoria and Hannah, my life will be perfect, and I swear I’ll want for nothing more.
Nicola was stunned and stared open-mouthed. Not only had she been made out to be a blatant liar, but Markus was getting married. She stood and turned to Markus. “What? You—you—That license is a forgery—”
“Mr. Garrison, contain your client,” scowled the Honorable Rachel Moore, banging her gavel. She organized some papers in front of her, then began writing as she said, “Plaintiff’s petition for a modification of custody and parenting time is granted in full, effective next Monday at 6 p.m., alternating at 6 p.m. two weeks from that day. Plaintiff will be responsible for pickup and dropoff, and all transportation costs.” She handed papers to the bailiff.
“But that’s not fair!” Nicola shouted.
“Ms. Gonzales, behave yourself. This is a courtroom,” Brandon hissed to Nicola.
The judge rose and turned to enter her chambers to await the next hearing.
As Markus passed by Nicola, she began to say something to him, but he didn’t stop to listen or to reply to her aggressions. He was already cataloguing in his mind what he had to do to make the day even more perfect.
He would start by calling Hannah to tell her she had been an integral part of him winning custody. After, his next calls would be to Jones, then to Boucheron.
Hannah had accomplished what they had set out to do. She more than deserved a reward.
He grinned to himself.
A reward and so, so much more.
CHAPTER 26
Markus Blackthorn’s penthouse
5:30 p.m.
Done in the same pattern as the rest of his penthouse, Markus’s living room could easily and comfortably accommodate a hundred people, or more if necessary. The room was airy and spacious, with small groups of black leather settees against the walls and a garden of sculptures in the middle of the room with a floor-to-ceiling mirror behind it making the space even wider.
The wide glass doors opened onto a large veranda overlooking the vastness of Central Park, and the breeze that wafted in was usually cool and comforting.
Yet, it offered Markus scant comfort at that moment as he leaned on the rail watching the sunset. The whisky he had been drinking since he arrived from the meeting with his lawyer wasn’t helping either, nor was the one hour at full speed on the treadmill or the long frigid shower he had taken before coming down to wait for Hannah’s arrival.
He downed a long swallow of his second Bowmore whisky. Anything to chase away the sick feeling that he was opening a wound that had never quite scabbed—knowing that the wound was best left alone, lest it fester.
But he was unable to stop himself from it.
“Markus?”
At Hannah’s quiet, soft query, he turned around. She was standing in the doorway, with a happy smile on her face and a warm, interested light in her green eyes. She lifted the bags she was carrying, before putting them on the sofa. “I bought some books and toys for Victoria.”
“Good. We’ll have fun with them,” he said, managing to give her a faint smile.
“Is something wrong?”
The Senator meddling in my life again. “No.” He stepped back and swallowed the rest of his drink. It sat like a lump of lead in his stomach. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is fine.”
It was not a convincing denial. Hannah didn’t like seeing him vulnerable. It made her feel odd inside—and it enraged her that someone had made him feel that way when he had been so happy barely two hours ago when they had talked over the phone about Victoria’s custody.
Your hurt is real. It’s important. Her brows knitted in concern and her smile faded. She walked to him, placed her hands softly on his chest and brushed her lips against his. And I care. Share it with me.
That light caress was bittersweet. But this time all the sweetness came from her and the bitterness from him. Her kiss didn’t sweep away the dark anguish he felt in his heart. Instead, it embraced it. It acknowledged it.
It was a kiss like a perfect symphony resounding in the emptiness of his chest.
She trailed her parted lips along his unyielding jaw to his ear.
“You know,” she tsked. “My students did that sometimes, but they were children.”
He placed the glass on the table and pulled her in for another light kiss. “What did your students do?”
“Lie. When they reply to a simple question with more than an answer, they are lying.” She smiled softly at him. “Truth demands just one answer. You gave me three.”
He chuckled and held up his hand in surrender and she entwined her fingers with his. Momentarily, he became transfixed by the contrast—large and small, tanned and pale.
He wanted her. He wanted the woman who stood before him now. He wanted to believe that the light in her eyes reflected the truth of him, not the partial truths he’d given her because it was how he knew himself. “Hannah, I—”
“Excuse me, sir,” Mrs. Quinn’s voice interrupted him. “Senator Blackthorn is coming up.”
“Thank you. Show him in, please.”
“Would you like some refreshments served, Mr. Blackthorn?”
“No, Mrs. Quinn. That’s all for tonight,” he said.
“What he is doing here?” Hannah asked.
“I asked him to come,” said Markus in a sotto-voice as his father entered the room at his customary brisk pace, carrying a fat and large envelope.
Elijah bestowed a kiss on Markus’s cheek. “Good to see you, Son.”
Markus nodded politely. “Senator.”
Then Elijah turned and looked Hannah over, his sharp, ice-blue eyes taking in every detail, from the top of her head to her expensive high-heels. A polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes appeared on his lips. “Ms. Kristensen.”
“Senator Blackthorn.”
“I’ve heard custody of Victoria is settled. Congratulations,” he said. “I believe that now you are eternally postponing this wedding before you make a mockery of matrimony.”
“A mockery?” Markus’s body was instantly rigid and he hissed at his father, “Have you forgotten whose idea this was in the first place?”
The two men stared each other down.
“I suggested you find a fake fiancée,” Elijah said calmly. “Someone you could use and discard after you settled Victoria’s custody.”<
br />
Markus attempted to push aside the pang of hurt inside him, a longing for the family he had never had. He was older and wiser now but it made no difference as the monster howled inside him, the turbulent emotions swirling and burning. He glanced down at the envelope in his father’s outstretched hand. “What is that?”
As Markus made no move to pick up the envelope, Elijah threw it on the center glass table where it landed with a loud thwack. “She was born out of wedlock. You don’t know even who her father is.”
“She has a name and she is in the room,” interrupted Hannah.
“I don’t care who her father is. Or whether her parents were married or not.” Truth be told, Markus knew his father’s public image meant far more to him than his own son did. Elijah wanted him to be successful, and he wanted him to settle Victoria’s custody, but only because it was good for his image, for his politics.
“You should choose your wives better, Markus.” Elijah smiled, smugness radiating off him like a second skin. “She is involved with the scum of New York. She owes money to a drug lord.”
“Not anymore. Thanks to you,” Markus said smoothly, but a twisting muscle in his jaw betrayed his anger.
Hannah gasped. “What?”
“I sent Jones to pay your debt. But it was already paid by my dearest progenitor,” Markus told Hannah. “And Jones received an offer for Velid. From an obscure Italian company.”
Elijah stepped back, his composure lost for a fleeting moment. “It’s an excellent price.”
“Best offer we received. Pity I don’t do business with the scum of New York,” Markus’s voice dripped scorn. “But the question is: why?”
“Because I don’t want you in danger, Markus,” Elijah said in a hard tone, not pretending to misunderstand what Markus was asking. “You’re making another poor choice. Get rid of her, or you’ll find her fucking another man in your bed, just like the last one did. Or worse.”
Revulsion, sour and thick, rose inside Markus. The old, towering, ugly monster howled again within him, a monster born when he was a child, wearing rags of primitive feelings made of fear, anger, loneliness, and betrayal. “God, you’re a bastard.”
Fury spotted red high across Hannah’s cheekbones. “I’m not listening to this.”
Markus moved at lightning speed, and reached for her, drawing her close to his body, whispering, “Stay. Please.”
“Some women get under a man’s skin until digging them out makes you bleed,” Elijah said in a low tone, shaking his head. “You have to make your choice, Markus.”
“Senator, you’re a fool if you believe I wouldn’t choose her over you.” There was a hint of steel resolve in Markus’s voice. “I am marrying her because I want her.”
Elijah snorted. “In your bed.”
Markus stared at his father for a moment and then faced Hannah. His large hands framed her face. Not tenderly, but with impatient force. She couldn’t have turned away if she’d wanted to. “In my life.”
Hannah gasped. “Markus.”
He gave his father a dry look. “Now, apologize. Or leave.”
“I do not countenance ultimatums.” Elijah slowly straightened his expensive tailored suit, his face stripped of emotion. “From anyone.”
“Then get out.” Markus made himself drag a deep breath and say even more quietly, “Get out before I regret not hurting you.”
Elijah pivoted on his heels to march out of the living room. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Don’t bother accompanying me.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Markus closed his eyes and pulled Hannah even tighter in his arms. He recognized a new sense of emptiness, and strangely, relief.
“Markus.”
It was there again, the gentle voice, the soft palms framing his face, and when he opened his eyes, there were the emerald-green eyes, looking lovingly at him. Her. Mine.
“The whole time we’re growing up, these people seem like rocks of stability. Your parents and other grown-ups. But then we are all grown up.”
“Not everyone had your luck, Hannah.” He stared at her face and out the windows into the dark night. New York lights were twinkling like gems, bursting with life, but along with her words, the picturesque view evoked a lonely feeling in him. “My parents were all but rocks of stability.”
“But they are your parents, my love. And they love you, in their strange way,” she whispered. “But the thing is, Markus, at some point, we figure it out: they’re just people. Fallible, thick-headed. Even petty, in their certainty of how they knew better. It’s a difficult realization, but freeing at the same time.”
Markus didn’t know what to say. But this was a whole new level of insight, brought on by careful thought and hard experience. Brought on by time and introspection and maturity.
“He is your father—”
“No, and that’s where we are so different, the two of us. He’s Senator Elijah Blackthorn,” Markus shook his head. “If he wishes, the Senator can look soft and gentle, and all the while, he’s grinding his enemies—and his friends and even his son—beneath the soles of his Ferragamo shoes.”
It was a brutal summation. Hannah’s own heart ached in sympathy.
“And, well, there wasn’t a lot of love or hugs in my household so I won’t miss him.” Much. He paused for a second and smiled crookedly at her. “That’s why I can’t keep my hands off you.”
Her heart squeezed painfully, thinking of the little boy that didn’t have hugs and the huge man that made jokes about what he did miss.
She vowed to herself that she would hug him every day for the rest of her life.
They stared at each other for long moments, while he attempted to imagine her thoughts.
He knew he was complicated and he also knew instinctively that she wasn’t someone he would possess easily. But it all only made him want her more.
He wished things were simple, but they were messy. And warm, like the intermingling of their breath.
Taking out an insanely huge and flawless square-cut diamond ring from his pocket, he knelt in front of her and asked, “Hannah Kristensen. Will you marry me?”
CHAPTER 27
Yes! She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She blinked, swallowed, and tried again, just to continue gaping at him.
So he rose to his feet and didn’t give her time to articulate her voice. Because he didn’t need more than the beautiful smile on her lips and the happy glint in her green eyes to know the answer would be a resounding yes. Taking off the emerald ring from her finger, pocketing it and pushing the diamond in its place, he bent his head and kissed her.
A mere brush of lips.
His extreme gentleness was in no way tentative; rather, it was a promise of power known and held in leash; a challenge and a provocation made more remarkable for its lack of demand. I am yours. If you will have me.
He was a man who had never known just how precious a true companion could be. But damn if he wasn’t accepting this beautiful and sweet companion who was clearly out of her mind to offer such a flawed man her ready affection. She was the only thing he’d never wanted to remake. The only thing he’d ever found not needing any improvement. She tasted of fruits and smelled of flowers, sweet temptation. “You are so fucking perfect.”
“Oh, Markus.” Her breath caught at the unashamed awe in his voice, her hands bracing against his chest as she went on her tiptoes and kissed him with a rough passion that made him growl in pleasure.
“Hannah,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers. “I could kiss you forever and never get enough.”
Rocking against her, he drew a gasp from her and recaptured her mouth for a carnal, sensuous kiss, to devour her. He kissed her with decadent, sinful purpose. With passion and more sweet emotion than she’d even known was possible.
She clung to him. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear the intensity of the desire he’d stirred in her for another second, he softened the kiss. His lips sank into hers before moving over
her face, her nose, her eyelids and then down to her neck. Hannah shuddered as sensation after sensation zipped through her, settling into a throb of desire between her legs.
“You’re so beautiful.” he whispered. He turned her around so that she was facing the mirror. “Look.”
She stood a couple of inches shorter than his shoulder. A petite slip of a woman compared to his six-foot-four broad frame. “It’s almost unfair how handsome you are.”
He stood behind her, framing her face in his hand, then lowering it, running it over her neck, breasts, to her waist and hips.
Her lips parted in a ragged breath.
A hot, urgent need hardened his manhood and Markus’s hips jerked upward, rubbing his aching erection against her. He needed to be in her. He needed to slide into her damp heat. “I’m going to have you here.”
“Here?”
“Right now.” In the reflection, their gazes met, as he lowered the zipper of her dress down her back. His fingers touched the soft, smooth skin he exposed, and he felt her shiver from his caress. “God, you make me so crazy.”
Ripples of pleasure shot through her at the simple caress. Her back arched, offering her body up in invitation. She undeniably wanted more from him. Including his messy, unpredictable, glorious emotions.
“I didn’t realize that you liked to watch,” she murmured. He pushed the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms, then skimmed the body-hugging material over the curve of her hips until it finally dropped to the floor.
Neither did I. His mouth went dry as he took in her provocative, black, sheer lace bra and matching panties.
She was a man’s fantasy.
Except she was all his. His fantasy. His desire. His future.
He unfastened her bra and tossed it aside. Her breasts spilled forward, full and perfectly proportioned to her slender waist and the swell of her hips.
“Watching adds to it, don’t you think?” he whispered in her ear.
She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. “I…”