The Price of Honor (16 page)

“You could have woken me.”

That would have meant facing him when she felt vulnerable. No way. “You obviously needed the rest.”

“I apologize. I told you I would leave last night.”

His unexpected apology took her aback. Xavier didn't apologize. But then, never making a wrong move—other than this stupid engagement—didn't require apologies or excuses.

She tossed aside her magazine and rose, determined to level the playing field. She would face him eye-to-eye or at least as close as their six-inch height difference would allow.

“I've decided I want you to be a part of our child's life. I'm going to move back to France. But not until after the baby is born. Until then, I have obligations here to Hannah and to my students. But I won't live in the cottage where I'll have to watch your wife come and go.”

“You will not need to move. We shall be living elsewhere.”

Her heart dropped. He was moving? “Where?”

“To the Alexandre estate.”

“You have another property?”

“It is one my father sold when he fell into financial difficulties.”

“And you're buying it back?”

“Something like that.”

Unable to comprehend that he hadn't told her he was moving and the shocking, irrational sense of loss that accompanied that knowledge, Megan shook her head. But then again, he hadn't told her he was marrying another woman, either.

“Wherever you live, I won't stay in the house you and I decorated together. I'll find another place, another stable and another sponsor. But I'm coming back only on one condition.”

He stiffened. “And that condition is…?”

“I want sole custody. You can have unlimited visitation rights, but the visits will take place in my home. I will not allow our child to stay at your estate.”

His expression darkened. “That is unreasonable.”

“Your fiancée doesn't want children of her own. She's not going to want your mistress's child around.”

“I will hire a nanny.”

“
We
will hire a nanny, and I get the final vote on who gets the job. But a nanny is not a mother. I spent years of my life trying to gain my uncle's approval. When that didn't work, I fought to gain his respect by becoming more like him than his own daughter. But no matter what I did, it was never enough. He resented my presence. I always knew he didn't want me. The situation became intolerable, and I left the States for Europe as soon as I legally could. I refuse to allow my child to grow up believing he or she is somehow flawed and unlovable.”

She winced when she realized how revealing the last statement had been. She hadn't meant to let that slip.

“You are not unlovable, Megan.”

“Are you saying you love me?”

His eyes filled with regret, giving her the answer even before he opened his mouth. “If I could love anyone, it would be you.”

The words cut deep. “Then you admit you won't be able to love our child.”

He mashed his lips together so hard they almost disappeared. “The child will lack for nothing.”

“Materially.”

“What you propose is not acceptable.”

“It's the only compromise I'm willing to make.”

“Any judge will grant me joint custody at the least.”

“Any French judge, maybe. But this baby will be an American citizen, born on American soil. No American judge will grant you joint custody when he hears your marriage is a business arrangement and that you'll be taking my child out of the country.”

“My child will be a French citizen, as well.”

“I won't give up guardianship without a fight.”

He shoved his hand through his hair and turned toward the window. “I have to marry Cecille.”

“Why? Is she pregnant, too?” The idea of that hurt too much to bear.

He scowled at her. “I have told you. I have not slept with her or anyone else since meeting you.”

“Then why? I don't see anyone holding a gun to your head. Are you in financial trouble?”

“Of course not. I—” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I vowed to my father that I would right his mistakes. And I have all except for one—regaining the Alexandre Estate.”

He wasn't making sense. “How is the estate connected to Cecille?”

“Her father owns it.”

“So buy it back.”

“Monsieur Debussey refuses to sell. The only way I can regain the property is by marrying his daughter. Then he will deed the property to me.”

“That's crazy.”

“Possibly. But he is an old man with health problems, and he wants to ensure that his only child and his business are in good hands before he dies.”

“You're taking over Debussey's perfume empire, too?”

“Yes. I will be CEO of Parfums Alexandre et Debussey.”

His avarice astounded her. “So you're marrying a woman you don't love and trading your happiness, your future and your baby's future for a piece of land and what amounts to a promotion. What about Cecille? Doesn't she deserve the right to find the right man and fall in love?”

“You keep harping about love. Love does not last, Megan. Honor and security do.”

How sad was that? Xavier not only didn't love her, but he didn't believe in love at all. “How is it honorable to marry for material gain?”

“The plans have been set in motion, the announcements made. I will not humiliate Cecille by rejecting her the way that my father did his fiancée.”

“Your father broke an engagement? Thirty-something years ago, I'm guessing. And you are still trying to fix that?”

“He blackened our family name and cost us the estate.”

“This is beginning to sound like a bad soap opera. How is his past related to your…catastrophe-in-the-making?”

“Parfums Alexandre was having financial difficulties before my birth. My father made an alliance with an investor. He would marry the daughter in return for a loan to float the company.”

“Wait a minute. You're telling me your father married for money, too?”

“He should have. But he left his bride at the altar and ran away with my mother—the family maid—whom he claimed he loved and whom he had gotten pregnant. A week later, his jilted bride drove her car head-on into a tree. Many claim she could not live with the shame.”

“That is tragic. But your father chose love over money. And he chose to parent you. That's to be admired not reviled.”

“My parents' so-called love was short-lived. When the company continued to struggle, my father was forced to sell the estate. My mother fell out of love when she had to move to a modest apartment and curb her spending. She fled with my father's wealthy best friend.”

Bewildered, Megan shook her head. How had she never known this? “How old were you?”

“Two. But that is irrelevant. I must restore honor to the Alexandre name.”

“That sounds positively medieval. You're not responsible
for your parents' choices, Xavier. Just as your father is not responsible for his former fiancée's.”

“She died because of him.”

“She died because she made a bad decision.”

“You do not understand what it is like to live under the shadow of such a scandal.”

“No. Maybe I don't. But I do recognize honor when I see it. Your father chose not to turn his marriage into hypocrisy. You, on the other hand, plan to stand in the front of a church and promise God and your witnesses to love, honor and cherish Cecille. I don't think you know the meaning of those words.”

He flinched. “French law does not require a religious ceremony.”

“So you won't be lying to a higher power. But you'll still be lying. There's no honor in that. Don't do this. Please. For your child's sake, for my sake, don't marry Cecille.”

“I will not renege on my promise.”

“Even if I told you I loved you?”

His silence gave her the answer.

She walked to the front door and opened it. “Then get your shoes and get out. And forget about my offer to move back to France. I thought you could be a positive part of our child's life. But I was wrong. My God, Xavier, you're no more than a corporate prostitute. I don't want my child to learn those kinds of values. I'm suing you for sole custody.”

H
eart sinking, Megan stared at the attorney Wyatt had recommended and hoped—
prayed
—she'd misheard. “How can a simple custody case cost seven figures?”

“It is never simple to deny a parent access to his child, and since said child is Mr. Alexandre's only heir and his arranged marriage, though not admirable, is not illegal you can expect him to pursue this until he finds a sympathetic judge. If you win, he'll appeal. Repeatedly. If he wins, you will. Custody battles tend to get even uglier than divorces. A child brings out the best and the worst in people. You definitely won't get out of this for less than six figures, but I'm guessing it'll be more, and expect the wrangling to go on for years. It will consume your life. His legal team is top-notch.”

“I was told
you
were the best.”

Mr. Stein's smile resembled a shark's. Toothy. Predatory. “I am. I always get the best deal for my clients. That's why
I'm recommending you accept Mr. Alexandre's offer of joint custody.”

A prickle of unease crept up her spine like a spider and the sting of betrayal slipped beneath her ribs like a stiletto. “You're advising me to settle?”

“There's a lot of money in it for you if you do. A monthly allowance. Child support. He's agreed to pay the nanny's salary, the child's educational expenses and so on, as we've already covered. You wanted the best deal, Ms. Sutherland. This is it.” He tapped the thick pile of papers on his desk. “He's being very generous.”

“But I'd only get a few months of the year. The best deal for me is sole custody of my child. I want to fight this.”

“You're unlikely to win.”

“I thought you'd never lost a case.”

“I haven't.”

Settling meant compromising, and in this case that wasn't going to work. “What you're telling me is that you always sell out before you can lose.”

His face hardened and his toothpaste-ad smile faded. “As I've said, Ms. Sutherland, I always get the best deal for my clients. Sometimes that means
settling
out of court before their pride makes them spend a lot of money and come out with even less than the initial offering.”

The condescending jerk. Megan drew a sharp breath to tell him pride had nothing to do with it, but before she could the phone beside him chirped.

He pushed a button. “Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Mr. Alexandre and his team are here.”

He checked his watch. “Right on time. Send them in.”

The attorney looked at Megan. “I need your permission to accept this deal now.”

Heart racing, she weighed her options. Nothing had changed. She couldn't allow her child to be raised in the
environment Xavier and his bought bride would provide. “You're not going to get it. I want sole custody.”

“Can you afford that, Ms. Sutherland?” he asked in a patronizing tone that made her want to wipe the floor with him. Her competitors, the ones who knew her well, wouldn't dare speak to her that way.

Challenging Xavier could very well cost her everything, but to keep her son or daughter from feeling unloved or unwanted, it would be worth it. “Yes. And don't underestimate me or try to sell me out again, Mr. Stein, or I'll find another attorney. Is that clear?”

His eyebrows shot up in a quick show of surprise, then his expression turned to one of grudging respect. “Yes, Ms. Sutherland.”

The door opened. Xavier looked like a winner from the moment he strode in with his customary I-own-the-world swagger and his designer suit.

Her heart skipped. Even with all they'd been through, she'd missed him these past two weeks. And sadly, she still loved him, if the tightness in her chest was any indication.

Masochist.

Why had he sacrificed their fairy-tale romance on the money altar?

His green gaze met hers. Hard and inflexible. She gave him her best game-on challenging glare. She thought she caught a twinge of regret in his eyes, but he turned to pull out a chair at the opposite end of the board table before she could be sure. A team of three equally formidable suit-clad men took the remaining seats.

Once all the men were seated, Mr. Stein folded his hands atop the file folder. “Gentlemen, Mr. Alexandre, thank you for coming here today. But I regret to inform you that Ms. Sutherland has decided to decline your offer.”

Stunned silence filled the room, then Xavier's gaze met hers. “I would like to speak to Megan alone.”

“Sir, I don't advise—” one of Xavier's team began, but Xavier sliced him a look that staunched the words.

Her attorney hiked a questioning eyebrow. Megan nodded. He rose. “Gentlemen, this way please.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Xavier bolted to his feet and stalked to the wall of windows overlooking the street fifty stories below. Hands on his hips, he pivoted. “You can't afford this fight.”

She remained seated behind the protective barrier of the conference table. Even though that gave him the height advantage, she couldn't risk his touch undermining her decision. “I can't afford
not
to fight. I want what's best for my son or daughter and I will get it even if I have to sell everything I own, including my horses. Each one of them is worth a couple of million.”

Shock and disbelief flickered in his eyes. “Riding is your life.”

“I'll still have the opportunity to ride someone else's horses.”

He frowned. “Commander's Belle is the last foal born of your father's stallion. You've raised her from birth. She is your livelihood and your ticket to the world equestrian trials.”

He remembered. And for some stupid reason that made her eyes sting. Stupid pregnancy hormones. “Yes, she's a direct descendent of my father's horse, and I am definitely attached to her. But this baby is a direct descendant of my father—one I will fight you till my last breath to keep.”

“Even though doing so could bankrupt you.”

“You just don't get it, do you, Xavier? Money is not the most important thing. Having a family and someone to love is.”

“Love does not last.”

“I hope you're right. Because I want to stop loving you.”

He flinched as if she'd slapped him, then searched her face. “I do not understand you, Megan Sutherland.”

Then he turned and stalked out the door through which the men had exited. Another piece of her heart crumbled. But she couldn't afford to be weak now. She'd just taken on the fight of her life.

 

Midnight.

Xavier sat back at his desk, rubbed his tired eyes and listened to the silence of Parfums Alexandre's facility while he rolled his stiff shoulders. The employees had long since gone home, but he had stayed to catch up on paperwork.

Even though he had been back a month, it had taken him this long to get back into a routine. He had plenty of projects needing his attention as a result of his sojourn to the States including the Alexandre/Debussey merger documents and the wedding guest list to review.

And no reason to go home.

Megan was right. They had shared more than sex. He had not realized how deeply she had infiltrated his existence until he had returned without her. Nor had he been aware of how eager he had been to leave the office each evening to be with her when she had lived here in her cottage.

But every time he returned home, he tripped over traces of her. A hair clip. One of the many books she had already read but could not seem to throw out. A bottle of her rose-scented lotion. A sock. This morning he'd found a pair of her lacy white panties in his suit pocket and the memory of how they had come to be there had lambasted him.

And then there were the turtles—figurines of all shapes, sizes, colors and materials that she had collected during
their travels. Some were quite ugly. He would swear she bought every turtle they had passed and some of the trinkets had ended up in his home.

He had once asked her why the reptile fascinated her so. With hindsight he now realized she had avoided the question by slipping off her panties in the five-star restaurant—discreetly of course—and stuffing them into his pocket. He had been suitably distracted. Hence the lingerie he had found this morning.

What detail could be so personal that she would risk public humiliation to avoid revealing it?

And why was it only now that he realized she had done so? How many other times had she refused to share? How many other times had he failed to notice something obviously important to her? What else could he have missed? And why did he resent her secrets?

Why did it matter?

He pushed away from his desk and strolled toward the window, dark now except for the streetlights below. He had tried to resume his old life since returning. It lacked…something. He had taken Cecille to dinner three times and even endured attending a tennis match with her. Baking in the hot sun while men beat a yellow ball back and forth had not been an enjoyable experience.

He had not even minded when one of the players flirted shamelessly with her after the match. Had some buffoon made such overtures to Megan in his presence he would have—and had—ended such behavior immediately. Nor had he cared that Cecille flirted back.

So that would be his life. He and Cecille would exist separately. He would tolerate the occasional tennis match. She would suffer through a few of his horse shows. And in the evenings he would work and she would do…whatever
it was she did. But he would have the Alexandre estate and soon, his son or daughter.

Oh, yes, he and Megan had shared much more than sex.

Megan would be five months pregnant now. Her baby belly more noticeable. And he wanted to see her—her belly—more than he wanted his next breath. He wanted to lay his hand on her warm flesh and feel his child move.

But only because it was his heir.

Restless but not tired enough to go home to bed, Xavier wandered to the sitting area, poured himself a scotch, then left it sitting on the bar untouched. Liquor was not the flavor for which he hankered.

He picked up a horse digest that had come last week—one he had not perused because he and Megan used to read it together. It was her favorite rag.

He sat on the leather sofa—the one he and Megan had had sex on numerous times—and absently flipped through the pages.

Megan. She haunted his thoughts. But only because they had unfinished business between them and he hated loose ends.

She would come to her senses and end this waiting game soon. What else could she possibly want? His offer had been more than generous—so generous in fact that his legal team had complained and cajoled, trying to get him to change the terms. He had not.

But Megan was a supreme strategist. No doubt she was plotting some way to get additional concessions from him. When she realized he would not give in, she would accept his terms. Her threat to sell her horses was an empty one. She loved those animals. They had been her family—the one she now claimed she required to be happy.

A picture of a familiar chestnut mare caught his eye. His hands stilled as he skimmed the glossy page.

Commander's Belle, For Sale.

His chest tightened. Megan had not been bluffing.

He scrambled in his pocket for his cell phone and dialed her number. “Hello.”

Her voice, hard to distinguish over the loud music in the background, took what remained of his breath. Where was she that she would be listening to music in the middle of the afternoon?

“You are selling Belle,” he stated baldly.

“I told you I would.”

“What of Rocky Start?”

“Already sold.”

The band on his rib cage tightened. “To whom?”

“Xavier, I'm in the middle of something here. Was there a reason for your call?”

In the middle of what? A date? The idea burned his stomach and her cool, dismissive tone irritated him. He swallowed to ease the strange obstruction in his throat. “What is Belle's price?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“It is not listed in the advertisement.”

“I repeat, why do you need to know?”

“Because I will take her—whatever your asking price.”

The line went dead. He stared at the phone. Had they been disconnected or had Megan hung up on him? He suspected the latter. But he would not stoop to calling her back to ask. If they had been disconnected, she could contact him.

The phone remained silent.

He dropped it on the table and only then realized his heart was racing. Megan was selling all that was dear to her for his child. As she had told him she would.

She was not going to walk away from this baby. No matter the personal cost.

He snatched up the phone and dialed his stable manager. The man's groggy voice answered. “Megan has sold Rocky Start. Find out who bought him.”

“Sir? It's…the middle of the night.”

Xavier grimaced, frustrated he could not have his answers now. “Have the name on my desk first thing in the morning. Buy Rocky and also Commander's Belle. No matter the price.”

“Yes, sir.”

Xavier ended the call, shaking his head at the irony. By purchasing the mare he would be providing Megan the financial means to fight him for custody. But those horses were her family. She had raised both from weanlings. Trained them, pampered them, talked and hummed to them as she groomed and rode them.

He would return them to her with the codicil that she could not sell them again.

Because for the first time he understood what she had meant when she said it was not about the money.

 

Megan smiled at Hannah and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

Hannah leaned closer to be heard above the band auditioning for her wedding reception. “That's your turtle smile. What's going on?”

“Nothing.”

Hannah gave her the you're-not-fooling-me look then signaled the band to stop playing. “Thank you. I'll get back to you after I've spoken to my fiancé.”