At Gray’s gasp, Ciar corrected with, “I mean, she is my daughter, completely and totally mine. I adopted her. Imogen’s mother gave up her rights.”
Gray’s head was spinning until she had to lay both her hands on the smooth wooden top of the table to steady herself.
“Christ. I’m doing this all wrong,” Ciar swore again.
“Take a deep breath, son. You’re doing just fine,” Ciaran said firmly, nodding at his son to continue.
“Before Gray and I…before we made a go of things, I slept with a client’s wife in London. She and her husband have an open relationship. He’s a very old, extremely wealthy man, and Marie is only in her late thirties.
“They’re Russian, and I admit that I enjoyed speaking to Marie in my native tongue after we concluded business. She asked me to join her in her hotel suite for sex, and I did.”
Lochlann choked, and her mom scolded, “Ciar, there are children present.” To which Gray’s red-faced brother replied, “I’m not a child anymore, Mom, Jesus.” Her father patted hiswife’s hand, “He knows about such things, babe, and has since he was thirteen. Remember, I told you.”
“Without my consent,” her mom growled, “and clearly you didn’t stop with the birds and the bees. The absolute hell is that about, Thomas?”
Gray’s dad grasped her mother’s waist and sat her back in her chair, saying, “Might we discuss this later?”
Her mom clenched her teeth but nodded once, sitting back down, not before she looked at Ciar and said, “Keep it PG, or you’ll leave this house limping and not because I kicked your shin.”
If nothing else, some of the room’s tension dissipated. “Of course,” Ciar said solemnly. “Anyway, Marie and I spent the evening…together. The first time I heard that she was pregnant was the day after we got back from Colorado.”
He was back to speaking only to Gray, and she felt her face flush with the beginning of anger and jealousy.
“Marie’s husband had called my boss, Anders, and told him that I’d gotten his wife pregnant, and either I fixed the situation or we would lose them as a client. Anders and I made millions off Marie’s husband, but that’s not why I stepped up. Wait,” he smacked one of his fists into the opposite palm, “I’m jumping ahead again.
“Marie had told Anders that I was definitely the father, but I knew that was unlikely because I used…took precautions,” he amended, glancing her mother’s direction.
“Jesus, Mom, way to make this conversation more awkward,” her brother groused. “Do you think that I’ve no clue as to how a baby got in my sister’s belly?”
Her mom blushed fiercely, giving her father a stern look, to which he leaned over and kissed her. She sighed when he sat back and shrugged, conceding the battle to her husband for now.
Witnessing the exchange, Ciar scrubbed his face briefly, probably trying not to grin before continuing with his story.
“I set up a lunch meeting with Marie. After we discussed the situation, she finally admitted that me being the father was unlikely. She’d hooked up with some good-looking, blond playboy passing through London at an exclusive sex club two weeks after our encounter. Apologies, Josephine,” he broke eye contact with Gray to dip his head toward her mom.
“I did a DNA test. I was not Imogen’s birth father. Marie was…what she was, but she did care for her child, just not enough to go against her husband or the lifestyle that she enjoyed. She said that she would give up all her rights if I adopted her baby.
“Her husband offered several million pounds for the child’s care if I adopted her, which I accepted in Imogen’s name, but that isn’t why I did it.
“If I hadn’t claimed Imogen, if I hadn’t given her my name, Marie would have given her over to an adoption agency with no guarantee of her safety. That was,” he closed his eyes and winced, before continuing with, “not something I could live with.”
Gray was moved by Ciar’s conviction, but she was even more confused by his secrecy. Surely, he would have known Gray would have understood. She couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you just tell me? You had to know I would love Imogen. I do love your daughter. You didn’t even give me a chance. You left me rejected and alone for months.”
“I knew you would ask me why I felt compelled to adopt a child from a woman that I only had the shallowest connection with, and I didn’t want to tell you.”
“But you said it was because you didn’t want to chance Imogen going to an unworthy home. How would I not have agreed to that?” Gray insisted. Ciar glanced quickly at his fatherbefore focusing back on her, making Gray wary of his answer. Again, she knew there was something she wasn’t understanding.
“That’s the other part of the story, or the beginning of it, I suppose. Dad hooked up with my mother one night after meeting her at a pub. She was Russian. Anna Morozova. Dad didn’t know I was the result.” Ciar turned to his father and grasped his father’s shoulder, probably in comfort.
“Mama was a drug addict. She worked odd jobs and left me alone in whatever shared flat or hostel she could afford that week. I liked the hostels the best because I could raid the trash bins for food more easily than in flat complexes. She made enough money for her drugs with very little left for things like food or clothing for her son.”
Gray’s stomach cramped, not liking the turn in Ciar’s recounting. This was not a happy ending story.
“I didn’t go to school, and mama couldn’t afford a television or books, so I was pretty ignorant when I was finally given to Dad.”
Ciaran slammed his palm against the tabletop, shaking the glasses of water. “You were never ignorant. Never say such a thing again,” he demanded.
Ciar sighed but nodded his agreement. “I was uneducated,“ he amended, “but there were a few neighbors that would let me sit in the hallway outside their flats and watch their televisions when I was older, and we had enough money for a real place to stay.
