Yvonne Lindsay - Ultimatum - Marriage / For the Sake of the Secret Child - Ultimatum - Marriage / For the Sake of the Secret Child

He laughed. “I think you’re running as hot as I am. Maybe hotter.”

“What things did you want to discuss?” she said through gritted teeth, too hatefully aware of her heart racing.

“For starters, tomorrow I want to make some financial arrangements for you. Open a new account you can sign on, so you won’t feel so dependent on me.”

“Why would you do that when I imagine you want revenge for all those crimes you believe my father and I committed against you?”

“I didn’t dream up what you or your father did, so I’m under no illusions about your character. Or his. Especially his . But like you pointed out, you have no money or allies. You’re my wife and you’re carrying my baby. You need to buy things for yourself and our baby.”

“I couldn’t possibly accept—”

“Anything from me—the enemy.” His lips had tightened. “I’m afraid you’ll have to. What choice do either of us have? Much as I might want to treat you like a pauper, it would make me look bad. Much as you want to treat me as the enemy, you have no one else who cares as much as I do.

“Our baby needs a nursery. Supplies. A baby bed. God only knows what else. Am I right?”

She sighed. “I do want to create a charming nursery. I guess since I always had money, I never thought much about it. My job as an editor didn’t pay much, but it didn’t matter. I loved writing and editing, and I could rely on the trust fund money. So, now that the money’s all gone, I’ve got to get used to a new way of living. And thinking. I’ll need to think about a career.”

“True. But not now. Until the baby’s born, I’m going to take care of you. And the baby. That’s final.”

“Do your people always do what you say, when you say?”

“You’re my wife. My broke, pregnant wife. You’re my responsibility. You don’t have a choice. Why is that so difficult for you to grasp?”

“Maybe because ours is the last thing from a real marriage.”

“Right. So, let’s be sure and make ourselves just as miserable as we can at every possible opportunity. Is that your goal?”

No, this morning she just wanted to stay out of his arms … and his bed. His talking about sex had stirred her up.

Jake grabbed his paper and stood up.

Good. She wanted him gone, needed him gone. The sooner, the better. His kindness and concern for her this morning mixed with his sexiness unnerved her. She, who always read too much into kindnesses and into making love, didn’t want to soften toward him.

It wouldn’t be just sex for her as it would be for him. She would weave all sorts of interlocking emotions around an act that meant next to nothing to him, and each time she went to bed with him, her feelings for him would deepen. Pretty soon she’d be thinking they had a real relationship. He would be thinking she was easy and very replaceable the minute their baby was born. She would be thinking he would become a real husband and father.

Theirs was a marriage of convenience. She was living with him for the baby’s sake, so he might grow attached to it even before it was born.

For her own emotional safety, she had to keep her distance.

But could she?

By eight o’clock Monday morning, everybody who was anybody in New Orleans knew Jake Claiborne had married Alicia Butler. Their enemies, and they had legions, viewed their match with immense suspicion, just as Jake had known they would. Like vultures circling, the boldest and meanest were the first to pounce and tear off their pound of flesh.

No sooner was Jake in his building and striding down the hall toward Vanessa’s office with his briefcase, than he heard his phones buzzing. Vanessa would answer one, quickly and efficiently, put the caller on hold and catch the next.

Then Jake walked into her office. Swiveling in her chair, Vanessa frowned and cupped the phone, waving him over with a swift motion.

“It’s Coulter, the city manager. Line two. Third time he’s called. Says it’s urgent. I’ve got Davis on one.”

Blake Davis was a heavy donor for Houses for Hurricane Victims.

“He sounds really annoyed,” she said. “He isn’t the only one. The phones have been ringing off the wall.” She handed him a list of names and phone numbers.

Jake had expected trouble, and he was prepared to deal with it. Under no circumstances would he have even considered abandoning Alicia and their newborn baby. In time, the trouble would blow over.

“I’ll take them in my office.”

Without preamble Coulter told Jake he’d learned about his marriage to Miss Butler from concerned taxpayers, so he was afraid he was going to have to hire a new architect to finish the concert hall near the French Quarter.

“Sorry, Claiborne, I know she’s not her father, but with her last name and his close association to you through Houses for Hurricane Victims, there’d be too much political fallout if we didn’t terminate our relationship with you. We can’t have any taint of scandal on this public project, especially after Katrina.”

Jake picked up line one next.

“I was very disappointed by the news of your marriage to Mitchell Butler’s daughter,” Blake Davis said. “ Very disappointed . Until this, I told myself you weren’t involved in all that money disappearing. Needless to say, your marrying Butler’s daughter would give even a naïve fool second thoughts. I’d look like an idiot if I didn’t bail, damn it.”

Before Jake could defend Alicia, Raymond Lewis, his top designer, barged into his office and slammed a legal document on his desk.

Jake waved the phone at Lewis, indicating he was busy. Ignoring Lewis, he spoke into the mouthpiece. “I’m not involved with the money disappearing. Neither is my wife. She has nothing to do with any of her father’s illegal activities.”

“Save it for the jury. George is going to call you a little later and withdraw his support as well. Without us, HFHV is history.”

“You know who you’re punishing—the people who’ve been waiting for houses for two years.”

“That should keep you up nights—not me!”

Jake sighed. He’d known when he’d married Alicia there would be fallout. What he hadn’t realized was how determined he would feel about protecting Alicia.

No sooner had Davis hung up than Lewis leaned threateningly over his desk.

“What?” Jake set the receiver down. “What’s wrong?”

“Your wife for starters. My letter of resignation is on your desk.”

Jake glanced down, speed-reading the document. He tore it in two. “This is ridiculous.”

“Not to me. When you fired all my top designers the other day, I still believed you were a man of integrity who was being unfairly judged by the media,” Lewis said. “When I heard you secretly married, I wised up about you fast.”

“Sorry you feel that way. I believe my wife is innocent.”

“Who do you think you’re kidding? Mitchell must have bought and paid for you. You’re dirty, and he’s threatened to spill what he knows unless you promise to take care of his little girl while he’s in the slammer.”

“You’re very wrong. I wouldn’t give that bastard the time of day.”

Lewis didn’t stay to argue the point. Turning on his heel, he stalked out, banging as many doors as he could, thereby causing such a ruckus, people stopped what they were doing and stepped out of their offices to watch.

Vanessa rushed into Jake’s office. “Your face is a dangerous shade of red. I’d tell you to sit down, but you’re already sitting. What exactly happened in here?”

“Lewis called me a crook and quit. Unfortunately, it’s becoming a familiar refrain. Not that I didn’t expect something like this when word got out.”