“I guess I don’t have any right to do that, do I?” With a rueful shake of his head, he met her eyes and added, “You should know that some of the things your grandfather told you were true. I didn’t love your mother.”
“I see.”
It didn’t surprise him that she took his confession in stride. He got the feeling nothing fazed this girl.
“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you.” He swallowed again, wishing he was better at articulating himself. Wishing he wasn’t a gruff motherfucker who didn’t know the first thing about talking about his feelings. “I searched for you. I’ve been searching for you since the day I found out your mother was pregnant.”
Her mouth puckered in a frown. “Haven’t you ever heard of a phone book?”
“It’s more complicated than that. There are so many things you don’t know.”
“Duh. How about you tell me?”
Her sarcasm made him smile. Lord, how was it possible for her to be so much like him when they’d never met before today?
There was so much he wanted to say to her. So much he wanted to know about her. But he had to tread carefully. He couldn’t bombard her with questions, and he certainly couldn’t give her too many answers. Not until he was certain that her motives for coming here were pure. And besides, no matter how he felt about Walther and Ariana, they were a major part of Cate’s life, and he knew he couldn’t drag their names through the mud in front of her.
“I will tell you,” he answered. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Cate. Only it can’t be today. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I know.” She sounded genuinely regretful.
He reached into his pocket for the burner phone he’d brought, his fingers trembling as he handed it to her. “Take this. From now on if you need to contact me, use this phone. It can’t be traced back to either one of us.”
Nodding, she tucked the phone into her purse. “’Kay. Thanks.”
“I want to see you again,” he said hoarsely. “How can we make that happen?”
“I don’t know.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “My grandfather wouldn’t be happy if he found out I saw you. I mean, he told me you were dead. I’m pretty sure that means he doesn’t want me to have any contact with you. And my mother...” She stopped talking, looking even more distressed than before.
Morgan bit the inside of his cheek, then forced himself to ask, “How...how is your mother?”
A groove of hesitation dug into Cate’s forehead. “It’s complicated.”
As frustrating as her response was, it brought another flicker of pride. Everyone he knew always accused him of being a cryptic motherfucker, and it turned out his kid was just the same.
“Is she well?” he pressed. “Was she good to you when you were growing up?”
He didn’t miss the sorrow that floated through her eyes. “More or less.” She shrugged. “My grandfather is my guardian. Maman has no say in my life.”
The confession roused curiosity as well as suspicion. What had Ariana done in order to be replaced as Cate’s guardian? He was dying to ask, but he got the feeling Cate wouldn’t tell him, so he didn’t push her.
“Walther takes care of you, then.”
Her face donned a blank look. “Walther?”
He quickly corrected himself. “Maurice. I meant Maurice.”
“I think you said exactly what you meant.” Her mouth tightened, but again she proved just how alike they were, because she also didn’t push. “I guess there is a lot I don’t know.”
Morgan moistened his dry lips. He suddenly found himself yearning to hold her. Just throw his arms around her and envelop her in a warm hug, but he was terrified that if he did, she’d recoil in horror.
“So what now?” he said softly.
Cate sighed. “I’m going to tell Grandpa I know the truth. That you’re alive, and I saw you.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“It might be the only way I’ll get to see you again. I don’t have a lot of opportunities to sneak around. I’m watched all the time.”
“Why?” he asked sharply. “Why do you need bodyguards, Cate?”
“Grandpa is very rich, which means he has a lot of enemies. I used to think he was overprotective, but as I got older I understood where he was coming from. There was this...incident...a while ago, and it made him even more paranoid—”
“What kind of incident?” Morgan cut in.
“That’s not important. But it means I’m not free to see you whenever I want. If I want you in my life, he’s going to have to agree to it.”
Morgan’s heart clenched. “Do you? Want me in your life, I mean?”
She was quiet for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer, but finally she nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.”
He hesitated. “Your grandfather will never agree.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Because he hired someone to kill me.
Morgan reined in the words before they came rushing out. He didn’t want to frighten her, first and foremost, but considering she’d spoken about her grandfather without malice or contempt, he doubted she’d believe him anyway.
But he knew without a shred of doubt that Walther Dietrich would never allow him to have contact with Cate. Morgan had made an enemy out of Dietrich the moment his deception had come to light, and the only way this war between them would end was when one of them was no longer alive to fight it.
“Why don’t you come with me?” The question popped out before he could stop it.
Cate looked startled. “What?”
“Instead of going back to Wal—Maurice. You can just leave here with me. Today. Right now.”
“And go where?” she asked with a frown.
“My house. You could come and live with me.”
Christ, what was he doing? Every word that left his mouth sounded like pure and total insanity, even to him. And even more insane were the thoughts running through his head. He was actually contemplating how to take her with him if she refused, the orders he’d give his team if he needed their help in subduing her.
Jesus. He was seriously considering abducting his own kid.
Cate spoke again, sounding as panicked as he felt. “I can’t do that. I already have a home. And friends. And my grandfather...” Anxiety flooded her blue eyes. “I love my grandfather. He’s a good person, no matter what he might have done in the past, and he loves me. I can’t just leave him.”
Morgan’s pulse kicked up a notch. “But he’s not a good person, Cate. There’s so much you don’t know, but that’s the one thing I can tell you. Your grandfather is a very dangerous man. He’s not who you—”
“I don’t believe you,” she interrupted angrily.
When several people turned to stare at them, Cate took a deep breath and quickly lowered her voice.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know if you’re my father, for Pete’s sake. Yeah, we have the same eyes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Shouldn’t we do a DNA test or something? To prove it?”
“We can if you want. You can give Bailey a hair sample when you meet with her again, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Then do it. But until I know for sure, I’m not going to see you again.”
His heart stopped. “Cate—”
“I have to go. I’m sorry, but I can’t...I can’t be here anymore.” Her eyes conveyed nothing but panic again. “I’m glad we met, I really am, but this is too much to absorb right now. I have to go.”
“Cate—”
“Tell Bailey I’m coming downstairs. I’ll meet her in the café in five minutes.”
And then she was walking away.
No, running away. She practically sprinted to the elevator, keeping her back to him as she waited for the car.
>
He could have gone after her, but he didn’t want to draw any attention to them, and he certainly didn’t want to pressure her, so he stayed put.
When she disappeared into the elevator a moment later, a wave of despair washed over him, so powerful his entire body felt weak and wobbly. He felt devastated. Destroyed.
She was gone.
He’d met his daughter, but she was gone now.
And he got the heart-wrenching feeling that he would never see her again.
• • •
He was probably being paranoid.
Nik was fully aware of that as he made his way down the narrow hallway toward Gabriel’s bedroom. He wasn’t worried about surprising Joséphine and Tristan Traver; both were at the Durand estate at the moment, the former bustling around in the kitchen while the latter changed all the locks in the servants’ wing. Nik had made sure to occupy the boy’s parents in order to break into their home undetected.
And yes, it was most likely paranoia driving this little fishing expedition of his, but at the same time, he wasn’t comfortable with all the time young Gabriel was spending with Ariana.
You mean Cate.
Nik froze in the middle of the corridor, suddenly disoriented. Right. Cate. Of course he’d meant Cate.
But sometimes...sometimes he confused the two. Maybe if the girl didn’t look so much like her mother, he wouldn’t mix them up in his mind as often as he did. They had the same dark blond hair, the same heart-shaped face. Even their voices were identical. Lord, when Cate spoke...it was like hearing Ariana talk to him.
And now that Catarina was getting older, now that her body had taken a womanly form...
Nik took a deep breath, forcing the inappropriate thoughts out of his head. No. Catarina was a child. Ariana was the woman he loved, and Cate was her daughter. If circumstances had been different, Cate would have been his daughter too, and he’d vowed a long time ago to love and protect her as if she was.
That was what he was doing now—protecting her. Gabriel Traver was a nice boy, but he was poor and unrefined. Not to mention reckless, speeding around on that scooter of his.
The boy wasn’t good enough for Cate. His parents were pleasant, but Nik had never entirely trusted their son. He’d convinced Walther to allow Cate and Gabriel their outing today in order to give him time to investigate, though he still wasn’t sure what he expected to find.
The Traver house contained only two small bedrooms; it was easy to guess which one was Gabriel’s. With posters of sports cars pasted on the plain white walls and piles of dirty clothing littering the floor, it was clear that a teenage boy resided there.
Nik wrinkled his nose in distaste. He’d grown up in a strict German household with dozens of servants to pick up after him, but he’d been tidy and organized even without the maids. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all.
He began his search at the small wooden desk beneath the window against the back wall, but all he found were completed homework assignments and a stack of university applications in the process of being filled out. The boy was interested in higher education. Nik found that surprising.
Moving away from the desk, he swept his gaze around the room and wondered where to look next. Wondered what he was even looking for.
Maybe he was being ridiculous. Maybe the misgiving he’d been harboring ever since he’d caught Catarina and Gabriel alone in her bedroom was completely unwarranted.
But Nik’s instincts had never failed him before, and they didn’t fail him now—the second he spotted the papers peeking from the pocket of a discarded pair of black jeans, alarm bells went off inside him.
Narrowing his eyes, he snatched the papers and unfolded the thin stack, then smoothed out the first page.
When he saw what was on it, fiery rage consumed his body.
He stared at James Morgan’s face, those piercing blue eyes that had haunted him for years.
He’d been in the same room as Morgan only a handful of times, usually watching from afar as the bastard worked his charm on Ariana, who’d been too sweet and innocent to know she was being played.
But Nik had known. He’d always known. He’d tried warning Walther about the man, but Ariana had her father wrapped around her little finger, and she’d insisted that James Morgan was the one she wanted.
And Nik, the man she was supposed to be with, the man who’d been promised her hand in marriage, had been left out in the cold.
Ariana had been his, damn it. Their families had arranged the union before Ariana was even old enough to walk.
He fought another burst of anger. That son of a bitch had stolen his wife. And now he was going to steal the daughter who should have been Nik’s.
How had Gabriel Traver gotten his hands on this file?
But the real question was—had he shown it to Catarina?
Ice hardened Nik’s veins as he pondered the implications of that, and he quickly reached in his pocket for his cell phone. He dialed Dietrich without delay, his jaw tense as he awaited a reply.
“We have a problem,” he said after Walther picked up. “Are you with Catarina?”
“Yes, the Traver boy just dropped her off. We’re about to leave for Ariana’s house.”
“Tell Cate to wait in the car. I don’t want her to overhear this.”
After a few seconds of silence, Dietrich returned with a brisk, “What is it, Nikolaus?”
In a terse voice, he told the older man what he’d discovered—and what it could mean for them. When he’d finished, Dietrich sounded thoroughly disgruntled.
“Do you think my granddaughter has seen the file?”
“I’m leaning toward no. You know Catarina—she doesn’t shy away from confrontation. She would have come to you immediately and demanded answers.”
“I’m inclined to agree with that.” Dietrich paused ominously. “The boy is on his way home. I assume you’re capable of handling this?”
“Yes,” Nik said grimly.
“Good.”
A click sounded in his ear.
Still gripping the papers, Nik went back to the desk and pulled out the rickety wooden chair. He stiffly lowered his body into it, leaned back, and waited.
Chapter 23
“Is everything okay?” Cate asked when her grandfather rejoined her in the backseat. He’d just stepped out to answer a phone call, and now there was a deep line digging into his forehead.
“Of course,” he answered. “Just a business call.”
As the car started moving, leaving the mansion in the rearview mirror, Cate stifled a weary sigh and hoped her grandfather didn’t pick up on her current state of agitation.
She couldn’t stop thinking about James Morgan. Maybe she’d been too hasty, running away from him like that. She still had so many unanswered questions, so many things she wanted to say to him, but when he’d asked her to come home with him, right out of the blue like that, she’d panicked.
Your grandfather is a very dangerous man.
Those ominous words continued to float around in her head, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them. Morgan was wrong. There was nothing dangerous about her grandfather. He was overprotective, sure, but that didn’t make him dangerous.
And truth was, Cate couldn’t deny that her grandfather had every reason to worry about her. He’d already lost so much, and she didn’t blame him for going out of his way to keep her safe. Her grandfather loved her, damn it.
How could she abandon him for a man she didn’t even know?
A man who might not even be your father.
Cate dismissed the thought the second it entered her head. She might have demanded a DNA test, but she knew without a shred of doubt that James Morgan was her dad. And in the brief time they’d spent together, she’d felt a real connection to the man. He exuded a sense of strength and honor that fascin
ated her, and an intensity that Cate recognized in herself.
“Catarina?”
She looked up guiltily. “What?”
Maurice frowned. “I asked if you enjoyed your visit to the Eiffel Tower today.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, I did. It was a lot of fun.”
“You should have bought a souvenir for your mother. You know she loves those little souvenir shop knickknacks.”
“Does she?”
The frown deepened. “Yes. And you might have known that if you spent more time with her.”
A frustrated breath got stuck in Cate’s throat. God, she was so tired of his guilt trips. She saw her mother as often as she could, but it was never enough for him.
“I’ll tell her all about my visit to the tower when I see her,” she said meekly. “I’m sure she’ll love hearing about it.”
That got her a pleased nod, and then her grandfather focused his attention on his smartphone, his wrinkled fingers moving over the touch screen.
She was grateful for the reprieve, but her stomach was still in knots, and it only got worse when they arrived at her mother’s house. Her palms became damp and sweaty as their driver punched a code into the panel at the wrought-iron gate.
She hated these visits. It probably made her the worst daughter on the planet, but sometimes she desperately wished she never had to see her mother again.
Once the car came to a stop, Cate reluctantly stepped outside. Her gaze rested on the beautiful Tuscan-inspired house with its terra-cotta roof tiles and limestone-sheathed walls. The entry courtyard consisted of a lovely stone wall and ivy-draped trellises, and as she walked up the driveway, a citrus-tinged scent wafted toward her from the direction of the grove directly behind the house. Her grandfather had shipped most of the fruit trees in from the UK; a team of landscapers worked around the clock to tend to the delicate trees, which didn’t always thrive in the French climate.
Cate and her grandfather were greeted at the door by her mother’s butler. “Herr Durand, Catarina,” the man said in German. “Ariana has been waiting for you.”