Page 2

Chapter 2

Juliette

“I don’t need a lecture,” Colin muttered, arms crossed over his chest, his back to the bedroom window. “But I know you’ll give me one anyway.”

His downturned mouth and eyes locked on the floor contradicted the Superman pose he was trying to pull off. I doubted it was guilt battling his confident stance, causing his shoulders to slump.

No, my son didn’t regret getting into a fight at school. He only regretted the outcome.

“I’m sorry about your job. I really am.”

At least look me in the eyes when you say that. “This is the third time since we’ve moved to New York I’ve had to cut out of work, abandoning people who need me, because you got into trouble.” I didn’t sugarcoat the truth. He needed to understand his actions didn’t just affect him. “One more time, and I’ll get fired.”

“I couldn’t stand by and let him go unpunished for what he did.” His brown eyes finally lifted, but only so far as the neckline of my scrubs.

He wasn’t ready to meet my gaze and spell out why he did what he did. He’d also refused to tell his story in the principal’s office.

“You can’t go around handing out judgment on kids in school. That’s not your job. You should have reported him if you thought?—”

A low, deep laugh rumbled from his chest, cutting me off. “And what?” His voice was sharp and bitter. “You know who his dad is, which is why Zach gets away with everything.”

Zach arias Bauer. Senior. Superstar quarterback. Son of one of the most powerful litigators in Manhattan. A man who had donated an entire wing to the school. Yeah, I knew him now .

I also knew Colin was one suspension away from getting kicked out of the private school my father was generously paying for after calling in a big favor to get him accepted in the first place.

Colin pushed away from the window. “His asshole father made you get on your hands and knees in Mrs. Pope’s office and beg him not to press assault charges.”

“I was there.” I remembered the oh-so-humbling experience of bowing before a man and pleading while the principal watched on and kept quiet.

He frowned and lifted one shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.” Back to scowling, he tossed out, “But I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Being a single mom raising a teenage son had me feeling like debris the size of cars kept falling from the sky. And every day, I narrowly avoided being hit. One of these days, though, I was worried I’d be outright crushed.

“And why’d you do it?” I asked, my voice straining.

Colin focused on the hand he’d used to punch Zach. Thank God Colin hadn’t badly hurt Zach, or I’d be bailing him out of jail. I’d consider a one-week suspension a gift.

“I couldn’t stand by and let him . . .” He allowed his sentence to remain hanging in the air.

I knew him well enough to know he’d eventually complete that sentence if I gave him time.

So, I stood there patiently, across from a boy who’d grown into a handsome man overnight. He was sixteen and towered over me at six feet tall. He even had scruff covering his cheeks and jawline, a jaw that was far too chiseled for a teenager.

“Zach’s a piece of shit like his father. And his old man didn’t press charges because Mrs. Pope must’ve shown him why I swung at his son in the first place.”

And there it is. The truth. I just needed him to continue laying it out for me. Build that skyscraper back up, so it wasn’t falling on me anymore. Give me a reason to understand he wasn’t misguided, just a little lost. To explain why I had to grovel to that piece of shit (he was right about that) an hour ago.

“I had a hall pass, and I was on my way to take a piss when I saw Zach shove his girlfriend against the lockers. He smacked her, then told me to get lost and act like I didn’t see anything.” He paused, letting his admission sink in, and the sad image planted roots, turning into understanding. “I couldn’t do that.”

My stepbrother taught Colin self-defense a few years ago, and he’d taken those lessons to heart. I just never anticipated that he’d use them to get into fights.

“You should have reported him instead. The cameras would’ve backed up what you saw. They’d suspend him, not you.”

He scoffed. “She did see the footage.”

“After you beat him up.”

He shoved the sleeves of his black shirt up, exposing his corded forearms, as if itching to hit Zach again.

“His dad probably threw money at the problem, so he didn’t also end up suspended. Or arrested, like he should’ve been for laying a hand on his girlfriend.”

I blew out my cheeks, taking a moment to think. “Next time, protect without hitting. Try to get help first. Only switch over to plan B if plan A fails.”

“What’s plan B?” He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d inherited those thick, dark locks from his father.

“Kick his ass.” I gave him a knowing smile.

I’d blame my words on my stepbrother. He lived in the land of the morally gray, often taking justice into his own hands. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe Easton and I did share blood since my son was so much like him.

I earned my son’s approval with that comment. His lips twitched into a quick smile that came and went fast. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you losing your job.” He placed his hand on his chest, emphasizing his sincerity. “Then we’ll have to move, and you know how much I don’t want to leave. This is our home now.”

After I’d applied for and landed the job I never thought I’d get, we’d moved here this past January. “New York is just so different from what we’re used to, but yes, I know how much you want to live here. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.” Just stay out of trouble. “I suppose it is starting to grow on me.”

The New York skyline was becoming a comforting blanket wrapped around us. I never thought I’d feel that way so fast, but it was happening anyway.

I ate up the space between us and touched his shoulder.

“I love you.” I needed him to know I’d always be there for him, no matter what. We were all we had, and I was beginning to think that’d never change. I’d never find a father for him, and he’d made it clear from a young age that he didn’t want a replacement for his biological one.

He hugged me, and I resisted crying into his shoulder. I’d save those tears for when I was alone at night. I’d let the guilt and sadness come back to me when I thought about the letters he wrote to Santa as a kid, asking for his father as his Christmas present.

He stopped believing in Santa, and maybe God, too, when his letters and prayers always went unanswered. It broke my heart. And it was my fault. All because of three wild hours at twenty-one, playing a game of “strangers in the night” on a tropical island.

My mystery man and I hadn’t been reckless. We’d used protection. But condoms weren’t a hundred percent effective, which I realized when I was four weeks pregnant. So, I’d said goodbye to medical school and my dream of becoming a doctor and welcomed motherhood.

Although being a mom so young hadn’t been my plan, I considered Colin a gift from God. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give him back the gift of a father. Heck, I couldn’t even provide him with his dad’s name.

“Maybe Uncle Easton can visit soon,” I suggested once he let me go. “He promised to come once we were settled in. I think what you need is?—”

“My dad. That’s who I need.” His eyes widened, regret cutting across his face. He knew the impact his words would have on me, especially after I’d been through the wringer this afternoon already.

“I’m sorry.” That was the best I could come up with. I wasn’t sure how many ways I could apologize to him for his father not being in his life. He knew the real reason why now that he was older, but I’d had to white lie my way out of it when he was too young to understand.

At the doorbell ringing, my shoulders startled, and he abruptly turned for the hall. A man on a mission. Probably to go off and get into more trouble. Nope, not happening.

“And where do you think you’re going?” I folded my arms, staring him down, giving him the best “mom look” I could summon.

He groaned but relented without putting up a fight. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

I nodded my thanks, and once he left, I sat on his bed and picked up the lone stuffed animal there.

Patches had been with him since he was born. My grandmother, who had long since passed, had stitched the bear herself. He only had one eye now, but the fact my son held on to him, unashamed to have a stuffed animal at his age, gave me a little bit of hope. All wasn’t lost, was it?

Holding the animal tight to my chest, I quickly prayed to God that my son would find his way because I was failing at every turn on my own.

“Where’s my wallet?” At the deep voice and words being snarled from down the hall, I sprang into action, letting go of Patches to rush toward the sounds of commotion.

“Don’t you even think about coming in.” Colin’s back was to me as he shoved at someone on the other side of the door.

Where’s my phone? “I’ll call the cops. Leave!” Panic set in, and a tremor shot through my body and into my words as I shouted to whoever was trying to get into our home.

“Please do. Your son stole my wallet,” the guy hollered back, shifting to the side to look at me. “And nothing better be missing.” There was a definite growl packed into those rage-filled words.

You must have the wrong home.

The moment the man met my eyes, his brows stitched together as if surprised by something. My son seized the opportunity to employ a self-defense technique, a right elbow to his jaw.

The guy didn’t flinch. He focused back on my son like a target, doubling down on trying to get inside our home. “I need my wallet. I won’t hurt either of you.”

I stepped alongside Colin to help him, but that only distracted him. Colin lost his footing and stumbled back, which sent the door swinging open and the stranger falling forward and right into me. His hands flew up to the wall on each side of me to brace himself, so he didn’t crush me.

The three of us were now in the foyer as the door hit the opposite wall and rebounded, slamming shut. The man dipped his chin, dark eyes on me in shock.

“Sorry.” His gruff apology caught me off guard as Colin tried to peel the guy away from me.

All I could do was keep my arms prisoner at my sides as a confusing feeling of something washed over me with this man’s brown, nearly charcoal-colored, eyes pinned on me.

“Get away from my mom!”

“I will if you’d stop hitting me and step back,” he answered steadily.

I lifted my hands, and they landed on his hard chest. His heartbeat was thrashing, almost as intensely as mine was.

“Colin, do what he said.” It was now clear Colin was the reason I was stuck up against this stranger, a man who didn’t seem to want to accidentally hurt one of us if he made the first move.

I guess I should stop touching him.

I lowered my hands to my sides, but he didn’t unlock his possessive hold of my eyes. We were in gridlock traffic and not going anywhere.

Colin groaned, but thankfully, he listened and backed off.

The man pushed away from the wall and held his hands up, but he didn’t turn away from me. “I don’t want to fight you, kid. I just want my wallet and everything that’s supposed to be inside it,” he said before disengaging from our staring contest. “I’ll be on my way once you return it.”

He had an accent I hadn’t noticed initially. Not too strong, but it was still there. It dipped and swerved around in his words, a mix of New York and a touch of . . . something.

His suit jacket fell in place when he shifted to the side, drawing his arms down.

Colin pushed past him to stand in front of me like a shield.

Hand to his shoulder, I whispered the question that hurt to ask. “Did you really take his wallet?”

Hearing his answer, “Yes,” hurt me even more.

The dam of what felt like despair broke, but I refused to cry in front of either of them. So, I sucked it up and forged ahead with an awkward sniffle and throat clear. “I’m so sorry.” Apparently, my son didn’t just defend the innocent, he stole from them as well.

“Your wallet is in my room. My mother is coming with me. I won’t leave you two alone.”

“Nothing better be missing,” he repeated, and the husky bass of his voice shocked its way under my skin.

Before I could understand that strange reaction to a man’s voice, Colin grabbed my arm and guided me around the dominating force in our foyer.

I followed him into his bedroom, wasting no time to state the obvious. “What were you thinking? You’re stealing now?”

Colin went to his knees in front of his bed and reached under it for a shoebox. I thought he only kept the valuable football cards my father had given him inside it. “I’m sorry.”

Ha. Not gonna cut it, mister.

He removed the wallet from the box and stood. Giving me an Oscar-worthy forlorn expression, he shared, “While you were on shift the other night, I was out with some friends, and I ran into that guy.”

“And what, his wallet accidentally fell into your hand, and you decided to take it?” If we were acting here, I supposed I’d act sarcastic. Because what the hell? “Please tell me nothing is missing.”

Guilty eyes whipped up to my face, but he nodded. I hoped that was a real yes. We’d soon find out.

I took the wallet, ready to end this showdown. I’d had enough action, acting, and groveling for one day.

When we returned to the foyer, the guy quickly lowered his hand from where he’d been rubbing his granite jawline. Don’t want me to know he hurt you, huh? “Here.” I extended what I hoped would be a get-out-of-jail-free card.

The moment he reached for the wallet and our fingers brushed, his hand and mine went still. The olive branch of leather between us was now in both hands, and we remained quietly staring at one another.

The little shock from his hand to mine at the touch of skin somehow slipped up my body and shot right down my back.

Those eyes. That mouth. How do I know you?

He finally pulled away, taking his wallet with him. He opened it, ignored the cash and cards, and went straight for a yellow folded-up piece of paper.

Relief passed over the hard features of his face, and his chest visibly fell as well. It was like watching a demon leave a possessed man right before my eyes. Not that I’d ever witnessed that in real time. Or, well, anytime.

He quietly tucked the paper back into his wallet and pocketed the billfold.

“I really am sorry.” I elbowed my son, hoping he’d remember his manners, locate his morals, and offer the only appropriate response.

He managed a terse, “Sorry.” No remorse, no emotion.

Nope, that wasn’t going to win my son any sincerity awards. Where were those acting skills he’d mustered up for me just a minute ago in his room? If there was ever a time for them.

The man adjusted the knot of his black tie, which was paired with a dark suit jacket and black dress shirt. He was taller than Colin, and his shoulders were even broader. A five-o’clock shadow covered his hard jawline.

I’d swear I felt the strong aura surrounding him cut into me, hitting me deep down inside, especially when he zeroed in on my face.

“How’d you even track me down? I had a hood on.”

Oh, Colin. Really?

The man shot a well-deserved, disgruntled look at my son. “You lowered your hood once you were on the street. I tapped into the CCTV footage outside. You have a record, so I got a hit.”

Oh shit. “Are you law enforcement?” Did my son rob a . . . Are you a detective? FBI? Did officers dress in custom-fit suits that looked like it cost more than my rent?

“No, I’m not.” He was looking at my son now. Piercing him with a steely gaze that I’d prefer to be pointed at me. “You should make new friends.”

I’d always take the hits for my son, even when he was in the wrong.

And it appeared the hits would keep coming because he made my day even worse by informing me, “His buddies were attempting to boost an Aston Martin when I advised against it.”

“He’s lying.” Colin’s protest was weak, and all I had to do was look him in the eyes to know he was the dishonest one.

“Go to your room,” I ordered, trying not to tear up. “Now.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with this rich asshole.”

“You looked me up, did you? Checked my ID. What else did you do while you had my wallet?”

Colin stepped forward like a dare. Not what he should have done, dang it. “All I know is it looks like you own Park Place, Boardwalk, and all of?—”

“This isn’t Monopoly,” the man grunted. “This is real life.”

“Just go to your room while I beg for mercy for you for the second time today.” My voice nearly shattered that time as my son’s dark eyes found mine. How did I steer you so wrong?

Colin opened his mouth to protest but smartly backed down. Before heading to his room, he turned his stare back on the man. “If you so much as touch my mother, I’ll kill you.”

Perfect. We made two enemies today. One of the best defense attorneys in New York and possibly one of the city’s wealthiest men.

Once Colin finally retreated, I turned toward problem two of the day. “Come to the kitchen. The least I can do is get you an ice pack while I apologize again.” I used my motherly voice, which meant I wasn’t giving him a choice. He seemed to understand that and followed me into our narrow galley kitchen. “Please, sit.”

We only had a three-person table by the bay window, and when he went over and chose that seat of all seats, my chest tightened.

When Colin was only six, he’d selected that chair for his dad, saving the one with a semi-wobbly leg for the day he’d show up. Since then, there was an unspoken rule that only his father would be allowed to sit in it.

And although I thought Colin gave up hope he’d ever be in his life, he didn’t give up the chair.

The last thing I needed was for Colin to come into the kitchen and see this man sitting in it, filling it out like it was the perfect fit, even if it was too small for him.

I blinked a few times, trying to keep my composure as the man put his palms on the underside of the seat, shifting around as if realizing it was slightly off-balance.

Doing my best to hush my thoughts and resolve this, I ripped my gaze away from him and swung open the freezer door. I welcomed the blast of cold air on my face.

“Why is this the second time you’re seeking mercy on your son’s behalf today?”

His words had me nearly sticking my whole head into the freezer. Someone wake me up from this nightmare.

“He was in a fight at school. Suspended.” My words were no doubt muffled by the door, which blocked me from his view. I finally snatched the ice pack, closed up, and faced him.

His eyes journeyed from my Nikes to my scrubs, to the messy bun crowning my head, then back to my face. “Have we met before?” His tone had an edge of roughness, like he was trying to draw up a memory and was frustrated by his failure to do so.

Well, that’s how I was feeling, at least. I was probably projecting. “I don’t think so. Um, but maybe?” I finally approached him, offering the ice pack. “I’m Juliette. With a T and E at the end. French spelling. But, seeing how you tracked down my son, you probably already know my name.” Did I really just say all that? Geez. “Your name?”

He looked me up and down again, then leaned back in the seat, and I couldn’t help but notice the lift of his hips as he adjusted his position.

Stop staring at his crotch. I went over to my usual chair and parked myself in it before I broke out into a blush all over my body. I was three-quarters Scottish, and my fair skin had a habit of betraying my emotions by very noticeably pinking it.

“Constantine Costa,” he finally answered.

“Um.” The nervous lip biting didn’t do wonders for concealing my feelings, either. “Is that with a C or a K? Er, um, both names?” When I dared to look at the man, the handsome grin on his face had me stirring in my seat. “I’m sorry.” He was likely smiling at my question in a ha-ha what’s-wrong-with-this-chick way and nothing more. “I work mostly with kids who are missing their two front teeth,” I explained. “Sometimes, I forget who I’m talking to.”

“And what is it that you do?” He brought the ice pack to the side of his face, stretching his jaw muscle from left to right.

“I’m a pediatric nurse at New York-Presbyterian. Lower Manhattan location. Hence the teddy-bear blue scrubs.” I eyed my chipped nails that desperately needed a new coat. “Do you have kids? Maybe you brought them there recently? We’ve only been living here since January, though.”

“No kids.” He set the ice pack on his thigh, staring at me in the strangest way, like someone seeing color for the first time after living in only black and white.

I’m projecting again. But your eyes. That smile. Voice. It was . . . familiar. Intimately so. But it can’t possibly be you. No. No way.

“Where were you before here?” he asked.

I didn’t feel the need to give him an entire play-by-play of my life and accompanying addresses, so I offered up “Florida,” ready to move on.

He lifted one questioning brow and asked, “And his father?”

Not what I was interested in talking about with a stranger, even if he didn’t feel like one. “Not in the picture.” Best I’d give him.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Excuse me?” I stood, my chair sliding back. “Not your business.” While I needed to play nice with him since he could call in the cavalry and have my son arrested, I didn’t owe him answers about my personal life.

“I apologize.” He set the ice pack on the table and rose. Resting a hand over his heart, he requested, “Forgive me?” He lifted his chin, catching my eyes. The sparkle in those deep brownish-black irises was dangerously alluring. And once again, very much familiar.

I toyed with the drawstring of my pants, and he tracked the movement of my fingers, so I let go. “We could consider it a wash. You know, I forgive you for your inappropriate question, and you forgive my son for stealing?”

He hid his hands in his pockets, straightening to his full height. “Feels a little off-balance of a trade.”

“Well, a mom has to try, right?” I attempted an easygoing smile, hoping to keep my son out of jail.

He glanced off to the side and at the floors that needed refinishing. “And you’re certain we haven’t met before?”

There’s just no way it’s you. So, I suppose we haven’t met.

I bit the inside of my cheek as I battled memories from my past. I drew a picture of the him I’d held on to for so long in my mind. An image that was now blurry after so many years had gone by.

“Are you going to press charges?” I asked instead of answering because he’d think I was nuts if I questioned whether or not he was the him from my past.

“I got what I came for.” He removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed his jawline. “Got a little more than I planned on, too.”

“I’m sorry about that. He’s a bit protective of me.”

“As a son should be of his mother.” His hand fell to his side, and he expelled a breath that was so deep, it was as if he’d sighed on my behalf, too.

As he studied me like I was a mirage, memories continued to tug and pull, but they didn’t fully form into anything tangible.

Maybe I reminded him of someone in his past as he was doing for me? But it couldn’t possibly be the him.

“I really am sorry. I’ll do my best to ensure he never does something like this again.” That was the best I could come up with. And the most honest answer I could give anyone.

He nodded, then sidestepped me to leave. He stopped in the doorway, resting a hand on the frame while peering at me over his shoulder. “Juliette?”

“Yeah?” I pretty much breathed that word out.

“My name, it’s with a C. First and last.” He gave me another nod, brows drawing together, and then took off.

The second he was gone, my body broke out with goose bumps, and I couldn’t stop the trembling from happening.

I looked over at the chair he’d sat in, tears welling in my eyes.

You can’t be him. Not after all this time. I couldn’t get my hopes up. It’s just not possible.

The chances had to be one in a million that my son stole the wallet of a man I hadn’t seen in seventeen years. From a man who didn’t even know he had a son.