A Hidden Heir To Redeem Him (Feuding Billionaire Brothers Book 1) Read online

  “Would you prefer to stay here and hammer out the terms of our marriage?” His phrasing was deliberate, and the way she caught her breath was deeply gratifying.

  “I’m getting the feeling my preferences don’t matter.”

  “Smart woman. Shall I look up some shops or—”

  “I know where I’m going.”

  “I thought you might.”

  * * *

  The shop owner greeted Kiara like a long-lost daughter, asking if she was on the hunt for something in particular.

  “I happened to be in the city and came to browse.” She spoke Greek, a language Val could speak fluently, but he preferred his mother tongue of Italian.

  The owner urged her to take her time and she began poking through the shelves.

  Val wandered behind her, content to observe as she weighed long-handled brushes across her fingers and opened drawers in a supply stand and smelled pastel sticks.

  “I lied,” she said with a sheepish upward glance through her lashes. “I can be bought with cheap crayons and a paper bag. I am a child in a candy store here and will likely throw a tantrum when you insist it’s time to leave.”

  “Tell me about your show. More important, will I be in it?”

  She paused in studying a pane of glass, setting it back with careful attention to its sharp edges. “I’ve never shared your sketches with anyone.”

  “No?” The paradox of Kiara was that she seemed truthful but behaved in ways that went directly against the way he expected. That left him wanting to doubt her, but she hadn’t seemed to spin or prevaricate her reasons for accepting his father’s support. Why would she lie about something else that was quite small in comparison? “Why not?”

  She flicked him a glance that snagged a barbed hook into his chest and hauled him three years back in time to the moment she had straddled his naked thighs. The soft cotton of her skirt had bunched against him as he had dragged her deeper into his lap. Beneath the faint scent of charcoal dust on her hands had been a more earthy fragrance on her skin. Something reminiscent of savory herbs and the damp history imbued on the air of Venice itself. She had smelled of his own country while she tasted of the chocolate and strawberries and wine they had sampled along with an elemental flavor he couldn’t name, but had instantly found addictive.

  He didn’t hide the lascivious memory expanding in his mind. He vividly recalled every caress and moan and pleasured cry they had shared that night. It was a highlight reel he tapped into far more often than all the other kinky fantasies in his self-pleasure vault combined.

  A deep flush rose on her cheeks as she met his gaze. He half expected her to turn away, but even though self-consciousness and vulnerability flickered across her expression, she only said, “Niko didn’t want our connection made public until after his death. And please don’t knock me for this, but...” Her brow crinkled and she tickled her lips with the hairs of a fan brush. “Niko may have provided my supplies, but I did the work. When I sell something, I want people to buy what I’ve created, not try to acquire the object I’ve rendered, in this case you.”

  “That was kind of the point. You didn’t lack talent, Kiara, only visibility and resources. That’s why I told you to use me.”

  You’d be the one getting exposure, she’d said with a blushing smile when he’d told her to sell his images.

  Today she chewed pensively at the corner of her mouth and dropped the brush into the basket he held for her. “I wasn’t sure I wanted our connection made public. I mean, if I sold them so I could raise your baby, someone likely would have figured out she was yours. And since those images were all I had of her father, was it right to sell them? It was a quandary.”

  “You preserved my nude images as a memento for our daughter? I am flattered.”

  “I’m saying there were a lot of complicated factors to consider. Every action had serious repercussions.” Her shoulder rolled self-consciously. “Also, our night together was private.”

  “I don’t even know what that word means.” His illegitimate birth had been headline news, and the start-up capital of his personal fortune had been earned in his underwear. His bad-boy reputation had been as valuable as his startlingly piercing eyes and perfectly proportioned physique. Even as they spoke, he could tell the shop owner had recognized him and was working up the courage to ask him for a selfie so he could post it and gain some publicity for his store.

  Kiara’s reaction didn’t make sense. She sounded protective of their affair, which suggested their night was special to her in some way. Or shameful?

  The back of his throat went gritty and dry at the thought.

  “I’ve tried to paint off them a few times,” she murmured absently. “In oil and watercolor. Even tried acrylic and pastels. Nothing has ever turned out right. I haven’t figured out why.” She frowned. “I’ve had success working off other sketches. I’m pleased with Aurelia’s.”

  She took out her phone, swiped and handed it to him. “Go left and you’ll see the rough work. My agent is framing them up and displaying them with the finished painting as a representation of my process.”

  Even the small image of the painting brimmed with the girl’s irrepressible spirit. A half dozen charcoal sketches followed from different angles, all showing her blowing bubbles through a wand. He went back to the oil and expanded the image to see Kiara had caught prisms of light in the soap bubble and the gleam of delight in Aurelia’s eyes.

  More viscerally, he could sense the pride and joy Kiara felt toward the girl.

  “I want all of these.” He flicked back to the first sketch of the girl.

  The anxious desire for approval in Kiara’s expression fell away. She primly took back her phone. “They’re not for sale. I won’t let anyone acquire her, either.”

  * * *

  Two hours later they were shown to the best table on a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Acropolis.

  The sun wouldn’t set for a few hours, but an overhang shaded them and a light breeze came across from the sea in the distance. The city sprawled along that sparkling backdrop and the Parthenon stood in ancient glory against it.

  Kiara had been on the verge of panic after their kiss but had relaxed once she’d spent time amongst her most steadfast friends. Strangely, she hadn’t felt pressured by Val’s presence as she shopped. Aside from the odd, “How do you use that?” he’d allowed her to wander the aisles at her own speed. Talk about a gift!

  One that came with a catch. She had tried to put her supplies on her own account, but he had been adamant about covering what had mostly been impulse buys. Now she felt indebted, which had likely been his intention.

  Her nerves were creeping back, too, as they moved from her world back into his. She ought to be used to wealth after living with Niko, but despite the fine dining and even finer linens, she hadn’t experienced a lot of this lifestyle. She didn’t socialize or jet-set or dance at night clubs or sail between islands. She still felt like a guest at Niko’s villa, a welcome one, but nothing was hers.

  She would be a guest in her daughter’s home now, she realized. Or would she?

  She glanced uncertainly at Val, and her stomach swooped. He was watching her from beneath hooded eyes. The light threw shadows into his face, accenting his hawkish bone structure.

  “You should have brought some of your new toys.”

  She had left her purchases in the car. “I would only get my hands dirty and not be able to eat. Thank you for indulging me, though.” She offered a faltering smile. “Between being a new mother and building my portfolio, then preparing for my show and Niko’s declining health, I haven’t had an unscheduled moment in forever.”

  In fact, she was feeling very much at loose ends. She glanced at her phone as she set it next to her plate. “Still nothing from Scarlett.”

  “Why are we waiting around like this?” he asked tersely. “She�
��s a grown woman in the hospital doing something quite natural. Let’s get Aurelia and go to Italy.”

  She blinked in shock. “Are you joking?”

  “I’m not saying childbirth sounds easy or fun, but pretty much every female goes through it. There doesn’t seem much that anyone else can do while she does.”

  “Wow. I’m glad I had Scarlett with me rather than you when I delivered. Now I’m genuinely worried she’s only got your brother.” Was Javiero as absent of compassion as Val?

  Her words seemed to arrest him. “Did you want me there?”

  Oops. “Um...” She tried to shrug it off. “A little, I guess.”

  “Why?” He seemed genuinely astounded.

  “Exactly what I’m asking myself right now,” she retorted, sipping the water that arrived.

  Val declined the wine list and ordered a mixed platter of appetizers.

  “Tell me,” he commanded when they were alone. “I thought sentiment or morbid curiosity drove a man into the delivery room. What possible use is anyone but a medical professional?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Her accent slipped back into Cork, but she could see he was dead serious. “Fine, I’ll play.” She folded her arms on the edge of the table. “Have you ever been really sick or had a broken bone or been helpless in some way? In a way that made you physically want to step out of your body, but you couldn’t?”

  Silence crashed down like an iron curtain between them. The frostbite in his gaze jumped so far down her throat, a jolting thud rocked her in her chair. He pinned her with that arctic stare for interminable seconds, impaling her while a panicked tightness clamped around her throat. The oxygen around them evaporated so fast the air sizzled with electric warning, as though a lightning bolt could strike at any second. Her pulse began to pummel her inner ears.

  Kiara pushed herself into the back of her chair while she searched his face, trying to discern what she had said to make him that angry, that fast.

  His inexplicable rage vanished as swiftly as it had manifested. He transferred his attention to the view, profile inscrutable. “What good would I have been, if that’s how you were feeling?”

  She took another hasty sip of water, trying to gather her thoughts after that disturbing interchange.

  “Well, um, it’s terrifying to feel that way,” she pointed out and waited to see if he would agree.

  Nothing. He was made of granite now, faceless and toneless and immovable.

  When she didn’t continue, he finally looked at her again, all his emotions banked behind an impenetrable expression. “I couldn’t have changed what you were going through.”

  “No. But... Well, Scarlett held my hand and spoke for me when I couldn’t. That meant a lot. The whole process is incredibly undignified. She was a sport about it, but I think a woman who’s physically intimate with her partner probably feels less awkward in the moment. When you need an ice chip or a towel, it wouldn’t feel so much like you’re prevailing. Your partner is as invested in the baby as you are, so I imagine labor feels a little more of a team effort.”

  She let herself travel inward to those intense hours.

  “Scarlett was concerned for Aurelia, of course, but not the way I was. I felt very alone. I couldn’t help thinking the only other person who would be as worried for her safe delivery would be her father.”

  His gaze was unwavering now, not so much holding hers as caught in it. He was hanging on her every word, which perturbed her, making everything she was saying feel even more personal and profound.

  “It feels as though it lasts forever and just when I thought I couldn’t do it anymore and had to give up, she arrived. They put her on my chest, and she was this ridiculous little tree frog making croaking noises.” Her eyes teared up so the sun reflecting off a glass at the end of the rooftop splintered rainbows through her vision.

  “Scarlett was thrilled for me, of course, but I thought you might be happy with me. Everything I’ve ever made has been a solo effort, and I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life, but I needed you to make her happen, and I wanted to show her to you and say, See what we did?” She swiped her napkin beneath her damp eyes and warned with a sniff, “If you say something withering or dismissive right now, I will get up and walk away and you will never see her in my lifetime.”

  He said nothing and she didn’t look at him.

  Their meze platter arrived, offering her a chance to gather herself back under control while the server spoke to them as though they were tourists. He identified the spanakopita and dolmades, the lamb meatballs and grilled octopus and described the types of cheese and olives and ramekins of tzatziki and hummus and tapenade.

  She and Val scooped a few items onto smaller plates.

  “That’s why I’m concerned about Scarlett,” Kiara summed up in a voice that still held strains of emotion. “If Javiero isn’t giving her the support she needs then I want to.”

  Val made a noise of disparagement that she took to be an indictment of his brother’s ability to be of use to anyone.

  “Is that prejudice or should I be worried?” She set down her fork.

  “Javiero loves to play the hero. He’ll step up.”

  His cynical statement was hardly reassuring, but Kiara was fairly confident Scarlett would call her if she needed her.

  “Are you upset that she’s having his baby?” She was curious about the rift between the brothers. How had it gotten so deep? So irrevocable?

  “I’m not wishing tragedy on them, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I didn’t think that.” Much. “Scarlett likes your baby, if that means anything.”

  “It doesn’t,” he said flatly. “My feelings toward Scarlett are ambivalent. She did her job for a man I hated. That often meant she was persistent when I wanted her to go away, but better to talk to her than him. I’m not happy she’s frightened or in pain, but nor will I experience any happiness when her child arrives. As for Javiero, he does not have the power to affect me in any way. Not anymore.”

  “Why did you hate him? Niko, I mean. And Javiero, I guess.”

  Val’s pensive gaze traversed the horizon, much as it had that afternoon in Venice when he’d appeared in her frame as she made a study of a bridge. She’d been unable to resist sketching him. He ticked all the boxes on classic standards of male beauty, ageless and virile and emanating strength. His skin was smooth over incredible bone structure made up of even, well-defined lines. His strong brow and jaw spoke of power and confidence while his mouth was pure sex and sensuality. His penetrating gaze was observant and intelligent while his stubble and rumpled hair and irreverent remarks ensured the world knew he gave no damns for anyone or anything.

  Valentino Casale was very much a man in possession of himself, compelling yet untouchable.

  “My father waited until the last possible minute to cut things off with my mother. Granted, a woman with an ounce of pride would have walked away when he told her he was engaged to someone else, but she continued throwing herself at him and he let her.”

  “Niko told me that she gave up birth control without telling him, hoping to get pregnant before he married Paloma so he would marry her instead. Did she love him?”

  “No,” he scoffed. “She wanted his money. He wanted a biddable, respectable wife who didn’t make public scenes and came with an appropriate pedigree and portfolio of assets. By the time Mother had a positive test to show him, however, he’d applied his best efforts toward making an heir with Paloma. Her pregnancy was confirmed days after they returned from their honeymoon.”

  “She divorced him when she learned your mother was pregnant, didn’t she? Did Niko not consider marrying your mother at that point?”

  “Mother expected him to. That’s why she went through with having me. But he knew she would lord that advantage over Paloma. No, he decided to recognize us both as his heir
s and treat us ‘equally.’” He air quoted the word. “He gave my mother exactly what he gave Paloma, a house and an income to support us, which put Paloma’s nose out of joint since she would have been entitled to much more if she’d stayed married. How could she, though, amidst such a massive public humiliation?”

  “Do you wish Niko had married your mother?”

  “I wish he had cut her off cold when he told her he was engaged, rather than continuing to sleep with her. I wish he had paid her off once instead of naming me as Javiero’s equal and dangling the promise of any of his money coming to me. I wish he had kept me apart from Javiero instead of sending us to the same boarding school where the legitimate son was placed on a pedestal and the bastard one kicked around like garbage by administration and other children alike. My father should have picked Javiero instead of letting our mothers battle incessantly over which one of us was more deserving of his fortune. Javiero was legitimate, but I’m older by two days. Neither woman ever lets the other forget those completely irrelevant details.”

  Kiara was baffled. “The half that Aurelia stands to inherit is an obscene amount. What on earth is the point in fighting for all of it?”

  “They were fighting over him, Kiara. And he liked it. His ego ate up my mother’s jealousy and seductions while he was engaged. The squabbles and catfights through his divorce and afterward fed his ego even more. He worked us like fiddles, too, loving those early years when our mothers prodded us to vie to be his favorite. He sent us to school together to prove he was treating us the same, but he compared us all the time. He berated Javiero if I bested him in math. He heckled me if Javiero won the blue ribbon in track and I came second by a hair. I had a sore stomach for three solid years, trying to become what he wanted without knowing what that was. It was hell.”

  That didn’t sound like the Niko she knew, but he’d only had the one grandchild and had thought the sun shone straight out of her.

  He’d still seemed angry that his sons had called his bluff and forced him to disinherit them, though. Her impression had been that Niko hadn’t known how to bridge the divide, but when she gave it real thought, she recalled his idea of taking responsibility for their rift had always been to say he had allowed Evelina and Paloma too much influence. Kiara had never heard him own up to any particular failures as a father—which, as a parent herself, she knew came with the territory. Her mistakes were pretty much a daily occurrence.