Page 11 of The Desire

But the problem is that I couldn’t check the security feed on my phone to see who is at the door until I get to the security panel on the wall near the front door.

I’m confused by the sight of Wallace and a shadow of someone behind him as I pull the door open. The vision before me is definitely not what I was expecting, and to be honest, I’m totally confused by it. I only open the door because it’s Wallace, Nic’s driver, who I trust with my life, standing there looking very anxious.

Next to him is a smallish woman with dark brown hair, long and in a braid, with an old-looking bag on the step beside her and a little boy fast asleep on her shoulder. Her back must be screaming in pain, holding him. He is not a baby by any means, and there is nothing to her either.

There is a fear in her eyes as she looks up at me.

Wallace steps forward and whispers in my ear. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but she is very insistent that she has information you need to hear. I tend to agree.” He steps back and walks back down the path, showing respect to not be around for the discussion, which leaves me looking down on her and wondering, What the fuck is going on?

“Pardon me, monsieur. You are Mr. Remington Elders?” Her French accent is very thick, and you can tell that her English is not strong. The hair on my neck stands up, and an awful feeling runs down my spine that she knows my name.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ask, “Yes, and who are you?” The uncertainty as to what is going on is in my voice as I’m speaking.

“My name is Adeline Dupont, and this is your son, Blaise Elders.”

My heart has hit my chest and stopped beating. The rushing noise in my ears drowns out everything around me.

The hand that lands on my shoulder is enough to get me to try and regain my voice, but I can’t figure out what to say.

Nic pulls me back inside the foyer, and I can hear him talking, but it doesn’t compute. It’s like I’m standing on the outside of a situation looking in.

He directs her into the study which is just inside the door on the opposite side of the hallway from the sitting room.

“Rem, I’ll get rid of everyone else and get the girls to sort out some food and water. This is going to be a long night.” He pushes me to sit in the seat across from them.

Son? I don’t have a son. This has to be a mistake.

That’s it, a mistaken identity, I don’t know this woman. Never seen her before, let alone fucked her. There might have been many women, but I don’t forget a face with my photographic memory.

You hear of it happening, people with money get targeted. Well, I’m smarter than that. Surely, she knows that DNA is easy to prove.

Yep, DNA, that’s what I’ll do. First thing tomorrow.

I can hear people moving around, but the only person that seems to be leaving is Flynn with that weird woman he brought with him.

“I’ll be back.” His voice is behind me from the doorway of the study, and then the door is partly closed again.

This woman and I are just staring at each other, no words are being shared.

The little boy who is now sitting on her lap, face still in her shoulder, starts stirring. Not waking up fully from his sleep, but enough that he shifts position, and his face turns to the side on her chest and he looks straight toward me.

All I see looking back at me is the same face in every picture of me on my parents’ walls of when I was his age.

Fuck!

The house has gone quiet. Too quiet so that I can hear every slightest noise. The creaks in the floorboards in the kitchen, the whispers that are barely there but enough to know my friends are here somewhere and I’m not alone.

“You see it, yes?” the French woman whispers to me in her broken English.

Don’t answer her. Don’t say anything that can be used against you.

“I have never seen you before.” I have been looking at her so intently, but her face is definitely drawing a blank. I know I don’t remember all the names of the women over the years, plenty of times we never even exchanged them, but I know she isn’t one of them.

She nods and tells me I’m right as she is frantically rummaging in her pocket looking for something.

She pulls a crumpled envelope from her pocket and thrusts it toward my hands. Reaching forward, I take it from her and look at the little boy who is peacefully asleep. My hand is visibly shaking, and I know it’s because the moment I open this and read it, I have a feeling my life is about to change forever, and I’m not prepared to let that happen. But whether I like it or not, life has a way of changing, and you can’t do a thing to stop it.

“Read, s’il te plait… um, please.” She motions to the letter.

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