Claiming His Bought Bride / Seducing the Enemy's Daughter: Claiming His Bought Bride / Seducing the Enemy's Daughter

Damon nodded. “Despite retaining the services of the best cardiovascular surgeon in the country, last month’s operation to repair his heart was unsuccessful. Test results that came in today confirmed it. And he’s apparently not a good candidate for a heart transplant—lack of donors, his age and the mistreatment he’s given the rest of his body have seen to that. He pressed them for a prognosis. They’ve given him twelve months to live.”

Despite Travis’s mistreatment of Damon as a child, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy.

And sympathy for Damon, faced with losing the only family he had left, albeit an estranged and loathed family member. Impulsively she reached out and laid her hand on his forearm, stroking the material covering his golden-brown skin.

“Damon, I’m sorry.”

He made a dismissive sound and clamped down on her hand with his free one—not allowing her sympathy, but not permitting her to break the contact, either. “Actually, there’s good news come from this. He’s prepared to revise his will.”

Lily blinked several times. “He’ll give you your father’s company back?” Was that why Damon was at this party tonight?

A glint appeared in his eye. “That was my price.”

She hesitated, holding off congratulating him on achieving his longtime ambition until she’d heard the cost.

“It seems Travis has become sentimental. He wants to leave a legacy to his family.” Damon’s scornful smile clearly showed his opinion of his uncle’s change of heart.

Lily frowned in confusion. “He’s leaving you everything?”

“No, he’s still determined I’ll never touch a penny of his money. But he offered to leave his entire portfolio of assets and cash to my child. He said my child will be rich.” Damon’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He failed to take into account that any child of mine would be rich without his generous offer.” He moved away, restless, tension radiating from him in waves she could almost feel, but the emotion was tightly leashed.

Any child of his? He was seriously thinking about children? She’d hoped that, despite his incredibly busy life, he’d want to play some role in their baby’s upbringing—though not a role that could allow him to repeat the cycle of the Blakely’s cold, emotionally harsh parenting style. Perhaps something more like a big brother. She’d assumed he wouldn’t want more than that—he’d told her more than once he didn’t want children.

He stopped before a portrait of a Victorian woman surrounded by children dressed as small adults, gazing at the figures as if they held secret wisdom.

“Your child?” Instinctively her hand went to her belly as she watched his broad, tense back. And then another thought struck—had she missed a vital piece of Damon’s history where he already had a child?

He turned in a cold, almost casual way and faced her again, this time with several feet distance between them. “If I conceive a child before he dies.”

Lily nodded, with a streak of intense, perverse joy that Damon had no other children before the one she carried.

No. She gritted her teeth. She had to stop letting possessive thoughts like these sneak through her defenses. They were counterproductive to her goals. She needed to tell him her news, ask his cooperation and keep both her baby and heart protected in the process.

Stray possessive thoughts could play no part in her future relationship with him. She needed her wits about her. She was prepared to provide for this baby if Damon rejected fatherhood or denied paternity; she earned a good wage as assistant curator at the gallery. But she’d hoped with all her heart he’d want to make sure his child had every advantage. It seemed from his comments he would.

Rich was another story though. She didn’t want Damon’s fortune. The Blakely family was a stellar example of how excessive wealth corrupted morals.

Her hand found the silver heart pendant at her throat. “What did you tell him?”

He looked at her, down his long, proud nose. “I said no.”

The vision of the two Blakely lions squaring off earlier in the night was strangely compelling. “So that’s when he offered you your father’s company?”

“He dangled BlakeCorp as a bribe and then threw in a touch of blackmail. Told me he’d leave all his worldly goods to his cousin’s son, Mark, if I refused. And Mark would break it up and sell everything to the highest bidder—as long as that bidder wasn’t me, as per my dear uncle’s directions.”

Lily had met Mark once at a family dinner. He had the Blakely ruthless, money-hungry gaze and it had chilled her from across the table. “So how will you produce this baby?”

Curiosity made her ask. She knew she should tell him now about her pregnancy, but first she desperately wanted to know what plan he’d devised.

“Ah, good question. And it’s not just any baby. He wants a legitimate heir.” Damon lifted a sardonic brow.

She drew in one long breath. “You’ll marry?”

“Which is where you come in.” Suddenly he was close again, so close she could feel the heat from his body, smell the rich red wine on his breath. “I want to marry you.” He clasped both her hands and smiled in a good imitation of reasonableness.

Lily’s head swam and her throat felt thick. His complete disinterest in having children in the past had allowed a hope he’d let her raise their baby on her own. But things had changed.

The room around her began a slow spin. If she told him now about her pregnancy, nothing would stop his pursuit of her. He’d made a decision that he wanted a child. Her child. For the sake of BlakeCorp, not because of love or commitment.

Damon always got what he wanted.

She bit down on the rising panic—everything had veered out of control within short minutes. Her simple plan of doing the right thing and telling him about the baby, asking him for financial support, and looking for a mutually agreeable role he could play in the child’s life was now a complicated tangle.

“Lily?” He lifted her chin with a finger. “If you marry me, you and your gran would both be taken care of beyond your wildest dreams.”

Still she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but this will work very well for us.” He leaned in to feather a kiss along her jawline.

Damon was a man others regarded as beyond powerful, but she’d known from the start that his greatest power was his ability to enthrall. To mesmerize her with negligible effort. The knowledge, however, was little protection. She felt herself falling…. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of her throat, leaving a decadently moist trail.

“There were things left—” he paused and nipped her earlobe “—unfinished between us last time. I’m not fond of unfinished business, Lily.”

She swallowed hard. “You mean I left you and you hate losing.”

She felt his mouth curve into a smile against her skin. “We were good together before,” he said between smooth kisses along her throat. “A marriage between us could work.”

Would it? Her knees felt boneless from the ministrations he was paying her neck. It was obvious sexual compatibility would never be a problem. But now she couldn’t play make a decent go of it or just try it. Breaking up over him letting her down that last day might seem an overreaction to some, but that had merely been the last straw for their relationship. She remembered the disillusionment when he dropped her home on her birthday, halfway through a romantic dinner, because work had called. Another time, he’d become so immersed in a stock market fluctuation, he’d totally forgotten to meet her. It was a day she’d really needed him—the tenth anniversary of her parents’ deaths. Both times he’d promised to make it up to her, and she supposed he had, but she’d learned Damon wasn’t a person she could rely on to be there when she needed him most. And her obligation now was first and foremost to the tiny life dependent on her.

Her own mother had put her husband’s needs ahead of her child’s. As a professional gambler, Lily’s father had needed to travel, mostly in poverty, and Lily had been dragged from place to place, craving stability, routine, reliability. Until the age of twelve, when she’d moved in with her grandmother, she’d known none.

This baby’s needs came before hers or Damon’s.

She needed to find a way to make this new development work for her.

“If I were to agree,” she croaked out through her dry throat. She swallowed, willing her voice to work. “I have some conditions of my own.”

His eyes widened slightly but he nodded. “Tell me.”

“I’d marry you if it meant Gran would be taken care of.” Lily stepped back and wrapped her arms around herself. She’d walk over broken glass for that sweet woman.

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” His mouth curved.

“But bringing a baby into the equation is a different matter entirely.” She took a deep breath and stepped farther away, outside his aura. “I’d want to bring this baby up on my own. One thing I learned from living with my parents and then Gran is it’s not the number of people in the family that matters, it’s the capacity to love, and prioritize each other. To be emotionally reliable for each other.” Gran would be there for her now, too, and that was all she needed.

She braced herself to explain, to tell him the truth. As their baby’s father, he deserved it, and she needed him to understand. “I’d never cut you off from your own child, but you have to know already that your version of commitment isn’t what a child needs. Your priorities.” She trailed off, not sure how to word it without causing offence. Not sure how to tell him she didn’t want the cycle of the Blakely men’s frozen hearts thrust upon her innocent baby.

Uncertain, she clasped her hands together in front of her belly. “We would work out beforehand what role you’d want to play. Visitation rights that don’t interfere too much with your work.”