Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“You—” Arthur said, staring at Tristan and Zach in obvious distaste.
“Yes,” Tristan said, looking oddly strong and fragile now that he was in the safety of Zach’s arms. “I’m a poofter, too.” He grinned, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Must be the genes of the prick who fathered both of us.”
Arthur wasn’t amused at all. “I will not allow you to speak to me in such a tone. I’m your—”
“You aren’t my anything,” Tristan hissed out, all of his false cheerfulness gone. “You have only one son. The one you chose.”
Something shifted in Arthur’s expression.
Tristan smiled again, a nice, serene smile that was just a little too sharp around the edges. “And you know what? You made the right choice. I would have been nowhere as malleable as James.”
Jamie made a soft noise in the back of his throat. Ryan clasped his shoulder, rubbing his thumb in circles.
“Regardless of how you feel about it, I am your father,” Arthur said tersely.
“You’re twenty years too late,” Tristan said, barely moving his lips. “You had the chance to be my father. You chose not to be.”
“I couldn’t,” Arthur said. “Now I can give you—”
“I don’t want anything from you,” Tristan said. “I don’t need you and I don’t need the Grayson money. I have my own, plenty of it. You don’t have any business poking your nose in my life, Lord Lytton.”
“Well, it’s too late for that,” Arthur said.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Arthur looked…annoyed. “You think you and your adoptive brother were just conveniently discovered by a London football club’s scout? That it was a coincidence?”
Tristan paled. “You mean…”
“Yes,” Arthur said irritably. “Obviously I couldn’t force them to sign two French teenagers if they didn’t have the talent, but I did persuade the scout to give you a chance.”
Pale as paper, Tristan whispered, “Why?”
“Because you’re my son,” Arthur said, his jaw working. “Because you’re her son. And it was easier to keep an eye on you if you were in the same country.”
Tristan opened and closed his mouth. He gave a short, brittle laugh. “You had to take this away from me too, huh?” he said, his voice cracking a little before he turned around and left.
Ryan had never seen his brother look so livid. Zach grated out, “Get out of my house and don’t come back.” He left, calling Tristan’s name.
Silence fell upon the room.
Arthur was still staring at the place Tristan had stood.
Jamie was staring at his father. “Why?” he whispered hoarsely.
Arthur flinched and looked at his son, as if only now realizing Jamie was there.
“How could you?” Jamie said, his voice rising in volume. “He’s the same age as me. You had a woman on the side while Mum was pregnant?”
Arthur’s lips thinned. “Leave us,” he told Ryan.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ryan said.
Arthur glanced at their clasped hands with obvious distaste but was smart enough not to comment on it. “It’s complicated,” he told his son.
Jamie glared at him. “You already ruined Christmas for me. The least you can do is explain why you were cheating on your wife while she was pregnant.”
Arthur turned away to look out the window. “I was young and foolish,” he said briskly. “She was…she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I couldn’t stay away from her, even though she was from a different world: an uneducated gypsy, poorer than our lowest servants.” Arthur let out a harsh chuckle. “Your grandfather was convinced she had bewitched me. Perhaps she did. I wanted her like I’d never wanted anything in my life.”
Jamie took in an audible breath and said in a small voice, “Why did you choose us if you wanted them?”
“I couldn’t possibly leave my pregnant wife for a gypsy,” Arthur said tonelessly. “You know your grandmother had a weak heart. She had a heart attack when I told her that I refused to end my affair—that I wanted to divorce my pregnant wife.” When Arthur spoke again, he looked Jamie straight in the eye. “I’m not proud of myself. My behavior was reckless, impulsive and completely unfitting for a Grayson. I was a besotted fool. But it was a good learning experience. I learned that sometimes it doesn’t matter what we want. Sometimes we must do what we must. I broke up with her. My mother recovered and your mother didn’t find out—not then, at least.”
Jamie asked, “Did you know Tristan’s mother was pregnant with him?”
A shadow crossed Arthur’s face. “No,” he said tersely. “Since he’s a few months older than you, it appears she neglected to inform me of her pregnancy on purpose. She was foolishly proud like that. I found out that I had another son only when she appeared on my doorstep five years later. She looked…she looked very ill, nearly unrecognizable. She begged me to take care of the boy.”