Louise Fuller - Demanding His Secret Son

Even before Aristo’s obsession with work had blotted out the rest of his life she had felt like a gatecrasher in her own marriage. But then what had they really known about one another? How could you really know someone after just seven weeks?

Maybe if their marriage had had stronger foundations it might have been possible for them to face their problems together. But they’d had no common ground aside from a raging sexual attraction which had been enough to blind both of them to their fundamental incompatibility. He had been born into wealth. She, on the other hand, had grown up in a children’s home with a mother dosed up on prescription drugs and a father in prison.

And sex wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship—not without trust and openness and tenderness.

Divorce had been the only option, and, although she might be able to face that fact she still wasn’t up to facing Aristo. Thankfully, though, she would never have to see him again.

Her pulse twitched as she remembered telling him to talk to her through her lawyer. She could hardly believe that she’d spoken to him like that. But she’d been so desperate to leave before she said anything incriminating about George, and even more desperate to ensure that he would be out of her life for good.

Stifling a yawn, she picked up her phone and gazed gloomily down at the time on the screen. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the duvet over her head and forget about the mess she’d made of her life.

Unfortunately Elliot was dropping round to discuss the Claiborne meeting.

For a moment she considered calling him to cancel. But being on her own with a head full of regrets and recriminations was not a great idea.

Anticipating Elliot’s partisan comments as she relayed an edited version of the day’s events, she felt her mood lighten a fraction and, standing up, she walked into the tiny kitchen that led off from the living room.

She was just pulling a bottle of wine from the rack when she heard the entryphone.

Thank goodness! Elliot was early. Buzzing him up, she picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Don’t be thinking we’re going to finish this—’ she began as she yanked open the door.

But her words trailed off into silence. It wasn’t Elliot standing there, with that familiar affectionate grin on his face. Instead it was Aristo, and he wasn’t smiling affectionately. In fact, he wasn’t smiling at all.

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