"Where is she? And when can we see her?"
He had to smile. No questions or recrimination, just pure and simple acceptance. He loved that about her.
He leaned back, a wave of relief washing over him at her reaction. "I don't know yet. Everything feels so uncertain. I haven't even figured out what to say, or how to step into her life without causing more pain." He looked at his mother, searching her face for guidance. "I'm scared, Mom. I want to do right by her, but I have no idea how."
"First things first." She patted his hand briskly as she continued to stare at the clear photos. First chance, she was going to have them printed and framed. "We have to tell the rest of the family." She looked up at him. "Who's the mother?"
When he told her the name, her brows lifted in surprise. "I know her, know the family and also know that they're very respectable. She wants to keep my granddaughter away from you?"
He nodded. "She never intended for me to know." A fresh wave of anger had him almost choking. "I gave her an ultimatum."
Eloise gripped his hand. "Was that necessary? You want her cooperation, not have her backed into a corner and giving her the opportunity to strike back. The fact remains that you left her..."
"We weren't in a relationship." He reminded her tightly.
"And she might not have agreed with you there. You're my son and I love you dearly, but the way you lived your life before was very questionable. Your father and I never said anything about your lifestyle because as long as you were not hurting anyone, it was fine. But you obviously caused hurt and pain, not just..." her voice petered off.
"Say it please." His face looked like it was carved from stone, and she felt a flash of grief for his torment. "I screwed up royally and I did it more than once." He rose and walked over to the mantle. "I know all of that," he turned to face her. "Abigail told me some hard truths to try and get me to back down. It did not work. I want my daughter. I have a right to her."
"If you can come to some sort of middle ground..."
"She's refusing to even think of that. I've given her two days to tell Zoe the news and then I'm acting."
Chapter 6
An irritated frown touched his brow when the doorbell sounded. He was knee deep in witness statements and did not relish the interruption. A peek at the camera had his frown deepening. Jillian.
With a resigned sigh, he pushed away from his desk. He had come straight from the firm and grabbed takeout on his way to his place. His daily lady only comes three times a week and today was not one of her days. He was certainly not in the mood to fix himself something to eat.
The chicken Alfredo did nicely with a bottle of dark red. He was halfway to the front door when he remembered he had kicked off his shoes. The buttons of his navy blue shirt were undone.
With a shrug, he also recalled that Jillian was not company, she was family and would not mind his state of undress.
Punching in the code, he tugged open the heavy mahogany door. There she stood with glorious red hair spilling over her black knee length jacket.
"You certainly took your time." She murmured, sweeping past him.
One thick brow lifted as he shoved the door closed.
"Well, goodnight to you too." Andre muttered, irritation growing. "Did we have an appointment that I forgot?"
Turning to eye him over her shoulder, she smirked. "The day that Andre Blake forgets an appointment is the day they start putting heaters in hell. Meaning it would have frozen."
"I get the picture." His eyes flashed dangerously. "May I take your coat?"
"Maybe later." She started forward. "Offer me a glass of wine."
Tamping down impatience as well as irritation, he strode past her and into his office. Marching over to the cabinet, he selected a glass and poured wine from the bottle he had been drinking from.
Jillian watched him with part amusement and part dread. She had gone with impulse and could see the impatience in every line of his long, lean body. He wanted to boot her out, but Andre Blake was a stickler for being polite and courteous, even if it killed him. She was about to shake up that calm composure that ensured his constant wins in the courtroom.
"Thank you."
With a curt nod, he went behind his desk. Files were stacked neatly on the left, with his phone, packets of paper clips, a stapler, a glass of unfinished wine and a paperweight Abigail had given him for Christmas.
"What're you working on?"
Leaning back in his chair, he arched a brow at her. "A case."
