LITMIR.BIZ

      Her first communication in years—and it was from Byron’s secretary.

      Her head was suddenly clear, the dizziness and anticipation replaced with hotly righteous anger. How dared they? How dared they dismiss Summer, summon Clara as if she were a servant? How dared they offer to pay her expenses—as long as she provided receipts like an untrustworthy employee?

      Although Byron’s father had always thought she was a gold-digging good-time girl, she had just naively hoped Byron believed in her, believed in their daughter. Despite everything.

      Byron had spent so much time stringing her along, promising her they would be a family, but he hadn’t even had the guts to tell his father about the baby. And once his father found out that was the end.

      It was a straight choice: Clara and Summer or his family fortune. Turned out it was no choice at all.

      Even then he had lied, promised he’d find a way, that he loved her, loved Summer. Her heart twisted painfully. He had just wanted her to leave quietly, to not make a scene.

      Clara’s eyes locked onto the photo that sat on her otherwise clutter-free desk and the anger left just as suddenly as it had arrived. Dark hair, dark eyes, just like her father. Clara’s feelings didn’t matter here; Byron’s behaviour didn’t either. Summer was the one who counted and this was the first communication she had had from her daughter’s father in years. He wanted to meet. Maybe he wanted to be involved.

      Or maybe not. But she had to try. If only she didn’t have to do it all alone. Of course her parents would come with her if she asked, but she didn’t trust them not to threaten to castrate Byron with the butter knife—or actually do it. Not that he didn’t deserve it but it wasn’t quite the reconciliation she was hoping for.

      Her parents were amazing. Supportive and loving and endlessly giving with their time. Clara couldn’t have managed without them. But every now and then she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be part of a couple, to have a co-parent. Someone who was there all the time to laugh with at the funny bits, to burst with pride at all the amazing things only a parent could truly understand. To help when things got a little bumpy.

      It wasn’t that she minded being both mother and father to her daughter, she just wished for Summer’s sake that she didn’t have to be.

      Clara scrolled back to the top of the email and reread it intently. If it were just going to be Byron, then meeting him alone would have been difficult, probably emotional, but eminently doable. His father’s presence changed everything. He was a hard, harsh man. Clara sagged. She tried so hard to be strong but she really didn’t want to do this alone.

      ‘Here, drink this.’ A coffee slid across the desk, rich and dark. ‘You look like you’ve had a shock.’

      Clara reached out for the white mug, absurdly touched by the gesture. ‘Thanks,’ she said, blinking rapidly. No, don’t you dare cry, she told herself fiercely.

      ‘I make a good listener, you know.’ He was back leaning against her desk, cradling a mug of his own, concern in his eyes. ‘Besides, you know a lot of my family secrets.’

      Clara opened her mouth, a polite rebuff on the tip of her tongue, but closed it as a thought hit her.

      Maybe she didn’t have to be alone after all?

      The memory of his earlier offer hung there tempting, intoxicating. He owed her a favour. Anything she wanted. What if she didn’t have to face Byron and his father alone?

      ‘I’ll do it.’ The words were sudden, abrupt, loud in the quiet office. ‘If you guarantee me double time in office hours, treble at evenings and weekends, the bonus at the end of the six weeks and...’ she swallowed but forced herself to look up, to meet his eyes ‘...and you will accompany me to one meeting. Agreed?’

      It was Raff’s turn to pause, the blue eyes regarding her quizzically, probing beneath her armour. ‘Agreed,’ he said finally.

      Clara exhaled the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. ‘It’s a deal.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday.’

      His hand reached out to take hers, folding over it in a gesture that was far more like a caress than a handshake. ‘Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at noon.’

      ‘But...’ Clara tried to withdraw her hand but it was held fast in his cool grip ‘...I thought you needed a date to meet your grandfather on Sunday.’

      He smiled, the devilry back in his eyes. ‘I do, but we need to get to know each other first. You and I are going on a date.’