Grace knew better than to trust her voice again, so she simply nodded and fumbled for the cash in her purse, then left the store as quickly as she’d come. But the stranger’s words had rent her utterly in two. Because, for as frightening and life-changing as it would be to have another baby in nine months, she could also see how amazing it would be for her son to have a sibling so close to his age. After all, look at Dylan and his brothers and sister, who were all so wonderfully close.

Grace was extra careful not to wake Mason as she carried him and his stroller up the stairs, but his eyes opened the moment she got inside. For the next thirty minutes, she tried everything she could think of to get him to fall back to sleep. Not only because she knew he still desperately needed the rest, but because the clock was ticking down and Dylan would be knocking on her door soon.

Finally, he lay peacefully in his crib, his breathing slow and steady as he cuddled his blanket and stuffed animal close.

It will be okay, she told herself as she took a moment to watch him sleep. Everything will work out, one way or another.

Grace closed the bedroom door with a soft click and was just about to pick up the plastic bag containing the pregnancy test when there was a knock on the door.

Oh no, Dylan was early! She quickly brushed her hands over her face and hair, even though she knew he’d take one look at her and instantly know something was wrong.

Working to draw from her newfound confidence, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that no matter what happened from here on out, she’d proved that she and Mason would be okay. They would not only survive, they’d thrive.

Without looking through the security glass, she opened the door. “You’re earl—”

Her words fell away as she realized she wasn’t speaking to Dylan.

“Hello, Grace.” Richard Bentley smiled at her without so much as a shred of guilt or remorse. “I’m here for my son.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Grace had played out this scenario a thousand times during the past ten months. Each time she’d thought about what would happen if Richard changed his mind about not wanting Mason, fear had skittered up her spine. But now that he was really here, all she felt was anger. Such deep fury that he’d dare to come and claim the son he’d walked away from without so much as blinking that she nearly slammed the door in his face.

But she knew she needed to think clearly, needed to make sure she learned exactly why he’d had a supposed change of heart, so that she could bolster her fight to keep her son from him. And she also needed to keep him physically as far from Mason as possible.

She stepped out on the landing in front of her apartment and closed the door behind her. “Why are you here?”

“I saw a picture of you holding a baby at a Sullivan party.” On his face she could see the primal urge to claim his child now that he’d finally seen Mason’s picture and knew for sure he existed. “Which one of the Sullivan men are you screwing to get an invite to a private celebration?”

There was a picture of her and Mason from the party Tatiana had thrown for Mia? Grace knew with perfect certainty that none of the Sullivan girls would ever pass on their personal shots to the press. Not when Mia, Tatiana, and Nicola already had to deal with far too much pressure from the paparazzi. Had one of the wait staff secretly taken pictures and leaked them? Was that what those flashes had been when she’d been holding Mason and speaking with Mia? And did any of the Sullivans know yet that it had happened?

Fear was trying to clamp around her chest, but she wouldn’t let it. Wouldn’t let anything rob her of the ability to think clearly.

“I’ll bet you’re doing the architect, aren’t you?” Richard continued with a sneer. “I shouldn’t be surprised you landed on your feet, given that seducing rich men is your specialty. Still, I didn’t think you’d be able to get a Sullivan to fall for your tricks, especially dragging a baby around with you.” He gave her his best threatening look. “I want to see him. I want to see my son.”

By the barest of threads, Grace held back from punching him in the face. Not just for talking about her as though she were a slut with ulterior motives, but for daring to bring Mason into it. But she knew better—knew that if she so much as laid a finger on him, he’d likely call the police to have her arrested, and she’d be unable to protect her son while dealing with his charges.

“He isn’t yours,” she said first, knowing the truth of it all the way to the depths of her soul. “And he’s at his babysitter’s,” she lied. “But that’s irrelevant, given that you didn’t want to see him before, didn’t even want him to exist. What could possibly have changed?”

He’d looked so confident when he’d greeted her a few moments ago, but now she saw the first flicker of confusion cross the face she’d once been foolish enough to think was handsome. How had she not seen the weakness beneath the veneer of polish learned at the boarding school and Ivy League college his parents had sent him to?

“You’ve changed,” he replied. “You used to be so—”

“Malleable? Naïve?” She shook her head. “All that changed the minute I realized what you and your family are really made of. What makes you think you have any right to come here?”

“I never thought you’d go through with it. That you’d actually have the kid on your own. But when I saw the pictures of you and him, I realized I already had the son I’ve been trying for with my wife—”