Page 7 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

“Yes, sir.” Beth’s voice sounded nervous. Beckett was glad that he trusted her implicitly, but he could tell that she didn’t like hearing this information.

In the few seconds he had before this lawyer made it into his office, Beckett stood and moved to the front of his desk, leaning back against it with his arms crossed: a position of casual power. The door opened and a man with dark hair and an even darker suit walked in, his wide smile already getting under Beckett’s skin. Lawyers. He didn’t move until the man had reached him and stood there with his smile and his hand outstretched.

Slowly, Beckett unfolded his arms and shook the man’s hand. He didn’t miss the lawyer’s grimace at his too-tight grip.

“I’m Bret Anderson. That’s Bret with one T. Great to finally meet you, Beckett.”

Finally? And only one T? Why draw attention to such an inane detail?

Beckett expertly hid his annoyance and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk as he moved to his leather chair behind it. “You can call me Mr. Van de Kamp. With a lowercase D.” So much for hiding his annoyance.

Bret had the audacity to smile. “Okay, Mr. Van de Kamp. You’re a difficult man to reach.”

“On purpose. I don’t like wasting my time.”

“Right.” Bret opened the briefcase that Beckett hadn’t even noticed, pulling out a file. “I’m assuming you didn’t listen to my messages?”

Beckett frowned. He hadn’t heard any messages and wondered whether Beth had been ignoring them, or if they had come through his cell phone and he had deleted them, not recognizing the phone number. “You assume correctly.”

Still smiling, Bret tilted the folder back and forth in his hands, as though taunting Beckett. Nonplussed, Beckett kept his gaze firmly fixed on Bret, already weary of this man. “This may come as a shock, but you have a child.”

This wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to pull a scam, claiming paternity or any number of other things.

“With?”

Bret chuckled, and it took all of Beckett’s self-control not to even tick a muscle in his jaw to show his annoyance. “I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that you aren’t sure. Calista Lott. Do you remember her?”

Calista: a leggy blonde model with a vivacious laugh that had caught his attention at a fundraising event. They’d gone on maybe four dates. Beckett remembered how quickly her seemingly fun façade quickly soured, revealing a completely vapid and selfish woman underneath. The familiar shame and guilt curled around him. He wished that he could take back so many of his actions, the relationships with women most especially.

“I do. I must ask, though, how is she sure that the child is mine?”

Bret’s smile disappeared for the first time and a hardness appeared in his eyes. “Was. She died recently in a car accident.”

Beckett knew he should feel something, especially considering that this might be the mother of his child. Instead, he felt only distrust and a cool detachment. Later he would examine his feelings about this. For now, he needed to keep his head in business mode.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Again, not to press the point, but how was she sure that the child is mine?”

Bret slid the folder across the desk to Beckett. “Paternity test.”

Beckett drummed his fingers on the folder. “I don’t remember consenting to one.”

“You didn’t. Calista was very enterprising.”

Beckett sighed. “Smart enough to collect my DNA when we only went on a few dates?”

“Which we both know means this won’t hold up in court. But we aren’t interested in a humiliating public legal battle.” Bret nodded to the folder.

“We?”

Bret cleared his throat. “My client is Calista’s sister, Madeline.”

Beckett closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tension he’d been fighting off resurface with a vengeance. “Am I wrong to assume this is about money?”

Bret leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “It’s a little more complicated than that. It’s about custody as well.”

Beckett frowned, his stomach turning as he thought of his weekend visit to Graham’s messy, chaotic house. “Custody? She wanted me to have the child?”

“Becka. The child is a little girl named Becka.”

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