Page 22 of The Billionaire's Bargain
She’d made this one mistake.
She couldn’t afford another.
Seven
An ugly sense of déjà vu settled over Isobel as she stared at the ornate front door of the Wellses’ home. It’d been a slightly brisk October evening just like this one four years ago when she’d arrived on this doorstep, arm tucked in Gage’s, excited and nervous to meet his family. She’d been so painfully naïve then, at twenty, never imaging the disdain she would experience once she crossed the threshold.
The differences between then and now could fill a hoarder’s house. One, she was no longer that young girl so innocently in love. Second, she fully expected to be scorned and derided. And perhaps the most glaring change.
She stood next to Darius, but with Gage’s son riding her hip.
Her stomach clenched, pulling into knots so snarled and tight, they would need Houdini himself to unravel them.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” Darius murmured beside her, settling a hand at the small of her back. The warmth of his hand penetrated the layers of her coat and dress, and she steeled herself against it, wishing he’d remove it. When about to enter the lion’s den, she couldn’t allow her focus and wits to be compromised by his touch. “I’ve already talked to them about us, and I’ll be right here with you.”
Was that supposed to be a reassurance? A pep talk? Well, both were epic fails. She wore no blinders when it came to Gage’s family. Nothing—no talk or his presence—would ever convince them to accept her. She’d robbed them of their most precious gift. There was no forgiveness for that.
“This night is about Aiden,” she said more to herself than him. “All I care about is how they treat him.”
The weight of his stare stroked her face like the last rays of the rapidly sinking sun. She kept her attention trained on the door. It’d been almost a week since she’d moved into his home—since the night they’d kissed. And in that time, she’d become a master of avoidance. With a house the size of a museum, it hadn’t proven to be difficult. When he spent time with Aiden, she withdrew to her room. And when she couldn’t evade him, she ensured Aiden remained a buffer between them. A little cowardly? Yes. But when engaged in a battle for her dignity and emotional sanity, the saying “by any means necessary” had become her motto.
“They’ll love him,” he replied, with certainty and determination ringing in his voice.
Before she could respond, the door opened and Gabriella, Gage’s sister, stood in the entranceway. The beautiful, willowy brunette, who was a feminine version of her brother, smiled, stepping forward to press a kiss to Darius’s cheek.
An unfamiliar and nasty emotion coiled and rattled in Isobel’s chest. Her grip on Aiden tightened, while her vision sharpened on the other woman.
Whoa.
Isobel blinked. Sucked in a breath. What the hell was going on? No way could she actually be...jealous. Not by any stretch of the imagination did Darius belong to her. And even if in some realm with unicorns and rainbows where he was hers to claim, Gabriella was like a sister to him.
Get a grip.
If this overreaction heralded the evening’s future, it promised to be a long one. Long and painful.
“It’s about time you arrived,” Gabriella said, laying a hand on his chest. “Mother and Dad are climbing the walls.”
“Now, that I’d pay money to see,” he drawled.
So would Isobel.
“Gabriella, you remember Isobel.” Darius’s hand slid higher, to the middle of her back, and just this once, she was thankful for it.
The other woman switched her focus from Darius to Isobel. Jade eyes so like her brother’s met hers, the warmth that had greeted Darius replaced with ice. Isobel fought not to shiver under the chill.She can’t hurt you. No one in this house can hurt you, Isobel reminded herself, repeating the mantra. Hoping it was true.
“Of course,” Gabriella said, her tone even, polite. “Hello, Isobel.” She shifted her gaze to Aiden, who hugged Isobel’s neck, his face buried against her coat. Unsurprisingly, he had a thumb stuck firmly in his mouth. Isobel didn’t blame him or remove it. Hell, she suddenly wanted to do the same. “And this must be Aiden.”
“Yes, it is.” Darius removed his hand from Isobel’s back and reached around to stroke a hand down her son’s curls. Curls that were the same nearly black shade as Gabriella’s. “Aiden, can you say hi?”
Shyly, Aiden lifted his head and whispered, “Hi,” giving Gabriella a small wave.
The other woman stared at the toddler, her lips forming a small O-shape. Moisture brightened her gaze, and she blinked rapidly. “Hi, Aiden,” she whispered back. Drawing in an audible breath, she looked at Darius. “He looks like Gage.”
Anger flared to life in Isobel’s chest. She wanted to snap,Of course he does, but she swallowed it down. Yet she could do nothing about the flames still flickering inside her.
Part of her wanted to say screw this and demand Darius drive them home. But the other half—the half that wanted the Wells family’s derision toward her regarding Aiden’s paternity laid to rest—convinced her to remain in place. She still resented their rejection of her son, but if they were willing to meet her halfway so Aiden could know them, then she could try to let it go.
Try.
