Page 70 of Sinful Beauty

“Do you not love mother?”

He waffles, weighing his answer. “In retrospect, I was in lust with your mother. It took years for caring to develop to love. But we make our marriage work. And I would do everything over again because of you.” He picks his glass back up again. “Now, what is this girl wanting? You will not be required to marry her. These are modern times. You’re clearly worked up, but really Tristan, you can afford to provide for her and this child. No one needs to know. This is not a tragedy or whatever you are working it up to be in that head of yours.”

Lucia won’t ask for anything. I pinch the bridge of my nose, then push up because I need another drink.

“If she’s being problematic, we can?—”

“She’s not being problematic.” If he knew her, he wouldn’t be saying this. She’s not the problem. I’m the fucking problem.

“Give it time. Someone will counsel her and she’ll come to you with demands.”

The bottle clinks against the marble. “Dad.” I grip the counter, attempting to reign in the swirl of anger steaming from fissures in my black fucking soul. “She’s not like that.”

And as I say it, I know with a certainty deep in my bones she didn’t do this on purpose. I never questioned that. No, I just reacted like I always do. Thinking about me. About what I want.

“If she’s amenable at the moment, hire an attorney. Write up an agreement. Discuss all the hard stuff while you’re in the blissful stage.”

This might be a reason I never went to my parents with any issues growing up. Everything comes down to either money or reputation. Of course, reputation is the sole reason I’m working undercover and am in the blasted situation. What’s that saying? Not too far from the fucking apple tree.

Dad has his phone out, scrolling through what I assume his contact list.

“I don’t need an attorney.” A sigh escapes me and the glass in my hand clinks against the coffee table as I discard it. Another drink will dull my senses and I don’t put myself at risk. Ever. “If you knew Lucia, you wouldn’t bring it up. She’s not like that. And I’ll take care of her and my child so she won’t ever need to fight me. I’ll give her anything she needs. Or wants.”

I might need to convince her to return with me to London when this is over, but I can help her get another job. Hell, if we move to Lyons, she can probably get a job in the Interpol office. If she wants to work and if I know Lucia, she’ll want to.

“Do you know for certain it’s yours?”

Fury strikes before reason surfaces. “What is it with you attacking her?” I stride across the room, energy boiling within. “She’s nothing like what you and mother continually insinuate. We’ve been together almost every night. That child is absolutely mine.”

We didn’t have the discussion agreeing to not see other people, but we didn’t need to. Lucia isn’t like that. She wouldn’t see me and someone else.

Dad nods slowly. There’s nothing defensive in his posture, but he looks thoughtful. The smile playing on his lips shows amusement and takes the absolute piss out of me.

“What?” I bark, sounding as demented as I feel.

“You love her.”

All the anger evaporates, like someone pulled a plug in the dangerously near to overflowing tub’s drain. I sink back into the armchair across from him and close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the cushion. He’s right. I care about her. And I trust her. I don’t think I’m parent material, but there’s no doubt in my mind if she chooses to carry it to term, I’ll take care of her and my child in perpetuity. And Christ, I want her to move with me, wherever I go. I don’t like not being with her and I hate her tears. Dad might be right. This could be love. The crock of shit roiling inside my head and chest. Why didn’t I fucking see this coming?

I open my eyes. Everywhere I look, I see Lucia. The kitchen counter. Her at the door. Crossing the room in one of my shirts. A sock of hers sticks out below the coffee table.

He smiles gently.

“You cannot say anything to mother.” I point my index finger directly at him. “This has to be an exception. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but I don’t need mother meddling.” I stare him in the eye. He knows I’m right. Knowing mum, she’d force abortion pills down Lucia’s throat. She’d see this child as a threat to me and move in to protect me. And she’d be quite concerned about what others would think. She wouldn’t see Lucia as a suitable daughter-in-law, but worse, she’d be convinced no one else would.

Daughter-in-law. Jesus. I need to get out of my head. A child does not automatically equal marriage.

“I’ll give you some time to tell her.” I glare at him. “You have my word. I won’t say anything to your mother. How did you leave things with the girl?”

I study my dad, wondering if he can’t remember Lucia’s name or if referring to her as a girl is a passive slight. It doesn’t matter. I rub my forehead while considering his question. “I left.” Lucia’s tear-streaked face once again materializes in my mind’s eye. “I didn’t handle it well.”

“You’re a Wagner. We don’t always handle things well.” He swirls his bourbon and squints into the golden liquid like a wise man discerning the future. “Might I recommend you take some time? Don’t drink too much more of this,” he lifts the highball glass, “and evaluate your emotions and feelings. You love her. I might be old, but I’m not blind. But before you go back to her, give yourself some time to reflect. If you screw up a second time, you probably won’t get a third chance. And that, my son, is my life’s masterclass. Grovel if you want her. No matter what you do, take it from an old man. Don’t fuck up twice.”

I snort. The retired version of my father is world’s better than his younger self, but he’s off. I learned from him growing up. Sure, I spent most of my adolescence at boarding school, but I witnessed more than one shouting match between my parents. “I don’t think I’ll need to grovel. I left, so I’d keep my mouth shut and wouldn’t need to grovel.”

“Don’t be daft. The woman told you she’s having your child, and you stormed out. A groveling you shall do. Flowers are dandy, diamonds are better.” He holds out an index finger. “And that’s a fucking masterclass.”

Chapter26

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