Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two

Two Weeks in Geneva: Book Two

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Thank You!

Beneath the Boss: Excerpt

Copyright

by

Lydia Rowan

The silence was unbearable.

Quinn dared not break it.

Not after he’d demanded to see Ethan. Not as they’d walked down the halls of ARc-light and into the garage to leave without saying a word to anyone. Not during the excruciating almost twenty-minute ride to her house, during which she ran the gambit of emotions from dread to near panic, all while he sat still and silent as a stone, rage rolling off him in waves.

For some stupid reason, she’d convinced herself that this would never happen, that she and Alexander had had a fling, but that it was in the past and he’d never have reason to speak to her again, except,
maybe
, an occasional passing interaction via e-mail about work. Or, her other clearly very flawed line of reasoning had convinced her if that Alexander happened to find out about Ethan, he might be upset for a little while, but he’d come to realize that she wasn’t asking for anything from him and she was more than capable of caring for her child. And then he’d go back to his life in Geneva, leaving her and Ethan to theirs in North Carolina. She might send a picture every now and then, arrange a phone call here or there, but there’d be no worries about visitation, Alexander attempting to control the way she parented, or—her heart almost stopped at thought—him pushing for custody.

Looking at Alexander now, the rigid set of his jaw, the tense bunching of the muscles in his shoulders, the way he held her phone, picture of a smiling Ethan plastered on the screen, in his grip, tight, like he was afraid to let it go, and like he’d do tremendous harm to anyone who dared try to take it, suggested that she’d been wrong. Very, very wrong. And the realization that had been creeping over her during the ride hit like a punch in the gut when she finally pulled up to the curb in front of her house.

Her mother’s car was parked in the driveway, and Verna’s was parked in front of her next-door neighbor Joe’s house, slightly blocking his driveway, as was her habit. Good, she’d have backup.

She’d need it.

Hand on the ignition, she took two deep breaths and spoke before he could unbuckle his seat belt. “Alexander, I know you’re upset”—the rage in his eyes made “upset” seem a bit of an understatement—“and you have every right to be,” she hastily added, “but I need you to be calm before I can let you in there.”

The tick in his jaw suggested her words were having the opposite of their intended effect.

“‘Let me in there,’ Quinn? You couldn’t keep me out.”

His bitter-cold tone and the even colder look in his eye, the shift from the fiery heat that had been there moments ago so swift she’d completely missed it, told her he spoke the truth.

“I didn’t mean that; it’s just, he’s so young, and I don’t want to upset him. He doesn’t know you and—”

“And whose fault is that?” His words were pitched low, but the brutal, angry edge was more shocking and disconcerting than a full-throated yell could ever be.

“I know.” She looked away in shame. “I messed up, but I want to make—”

“What you want is not my concern, Quinn. You’ve done quite enough, and I won’t let you keep me from my…son,” his voice broke around the word, “for another moment.”

With that, he released his seat belt, jumped out of the car, and jogged up the driveway. Quinn wanted to dissolve into a puddle of shame and nerves, but there’d be time for that later. Right now, she needed to introduce her son to his father.

••••

The turbulent swell of emotions rushing through Alexander had him sick to his stomach. This had to be some kind of joke, or maybe a nightmare. There was no way he was standing in front of a cute little house, with cute little Quinn brushing past him to unlock the door so that he could go meet his son for the first time. And there was certainly no way that now, after all this and however muted, that the slight brush of her arm could still trigger a response other than boiling rage. Much as he hated to admit it, Quinn was right. He couldn’t see Ethan—his son—he teared at the thought—when his emotions were so raw and roiling.

“Quinn,” he put a hand on her shoulder and again experienced that gut-churning mix of anger and attraction, “I need a moment. Be here when I get back, and don’t do anything else stupid.”

She nodded and a part of him was disappointed in himself for using such gruff language and an unforgiving tone with her, but the other, much-larger, part said she’d gotten off easy. He walked back down the driveway and paced in circles on the curb, trying to come to the realization that this was actually happening and then wondering what the hell it meant moving forward.

He had a son.

His father had a grandson.

Oddsmakers would have lost a bundle on this bet. The standing assumption in his family was that he’d never go down this road, not again, so it’d be left to his siblings to carry on the family name.

His name.

Oh God, he didn’t even know his son’s full name. Or his birthday, hell, how old he was even. The boiling ball of anger in his stomach that had started to dissipate roared back to life, and he plopped himself on the curb, uncaring of his suit or whose property he was on and unable to imagine continuing to stand there without screaming or punching something.

A noise at Quinn’s door caught his attention, and he looked up as a large person—he thought it was a fuller-figured woman, but he couldn’t really tell through the boxy shirt and baggy jeans—emerged from the house. She—yeah, she was definitely a woman on second glance—looked at him with calm curiosity in her eyes and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He nodded back and watched her walk across Quinn’s grass and impatiently knock on the front door of the house immediately next to Quinn’s. As she knocked, her calm curiosity morphed into visible tension.

The door opened, though Alexander couldn’t see the person on the other side. The terse, “What do you want, Verna?” confirmed the occupant was a man, but he couldn’t hear her—he assumed the woman’s name was Verna and then he remembered Quinn having talked about her—answer, just saw her incline her head in his direction and then back at Quinn’s house. After an even more terse, “Fine,” from the man, the door slammed and Verna stalked down the driveway toward him.

Verna cast a long shadow as she stood over him, presumably sizing him up, though he couldn’t quite make out her features in the daylight. She lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “I’m Verna. Quinn’s best friend and Ethan’s godmother. We’ll chat more later, but I love those people, so please be on your best behavior. I don’t have time to explain what’ll happen if you’re not, but just trust me, you want to be, okay? Okay. We shall meet again, Alexander,” she said.

After an unexpectedly cheerful wave, she then walked toward the rusted-out car parked in front of the adjacent driveway and drove off, leaving a puff of black smoke in her wake.

Well, at least Quinn, and by extension he supposed…Ethan—he still couldn’t even think the name without his heart clenching and his blood beginning to boil again—had people looking out for them. At the thought, his anger surged even more. They were his family; he should be the one to look out for them.

In an attempt to calm himself, he took a deep breath and got a lungful of the black smoke that still lingered in the air. Strangely, though disgusting, it appeared to have been just what he needed, for he felt a calm settle over him. Or maybe he was just high on fumes, he thought with a humorless chuckle. It didn’t matter. He’d had enough of stewing on the curb.

It was time to meet Ethan.

By the time Alexander made it to Quinn’s door, he was unspeakably excited, the anticipation unlike any he’d experienced since he was a very young boy, and the rapid swing of his emotions left him light-headed. If this roller coaster didn’t stop soon, he might very well end up in a crazy house or a cardiac unit, but at least for the time being, the anticipation had overridden his anger.

He stood at the door a moment and considered knocking, but then decided against it. His grandmother would have been appalled at his lack of manners, but he wouldn’t abide any more barriers where his son was concerned, and as simple as entering without knocking was, he needed Quinn to know that he was going to be here, be a part of his son’s life, whether she liked it or not.

Without further ceremony, he turned the knob and walked through the threshold into Quinn’s house. There was a small foyer with a coat closet to one side and a flight of stairs directly opposite the door, which he assumed led to the second floor. To his left was an open archway that led to a living room that contained an entertainment center, coffee table, and two cozy beige sofas. Quinn sat on one, back facing him, and on the other sat an older woman dressed casually in Capri pants and linen blouse with tasteful gold earrings and a matching watch. Even sitting she was taller than Quinn and had a slimmer build, but their shared cheekbones marked them as mother and daughter.

She looked up at him, apparently startled, and Quinn turned, mirroring her mother’s surprise. Quinn stood quickly and swayed slightly before she wiped her hands on her pants, her brow furrowed, expression pensive, and walked around the couch.

“Mama, this is Alexander.” She gestured toward him. “Ethan’s father,” she added, seemingly as an afterthought. “Alexander, this is my mother, Lily.”

Lily stood and walked over to him, hand extended, eyes hard.

“Nice to
finally
meet you, Alexander,” she said, not even attempting to keep the scorn out of her voice. Whether it was directed at him or Quinn, he couldn’t tell. If he’d had to guess, he’d put his money on both.

Quinn’s shoulders sagged. “Please, Ma. Not now.”

“Harrumph,” was Lily’s only response as she eyed him up and down.

Alexander looked back at her, trying to keep his face impassive. His quarrel was with Quinn.

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

Lily looked back at Quinn, her expression softening.

“You sure, honey? I can stay.”

“It’s all right. I’ll be fine. And I’m sure Verna called Joe, so he’s right next door if I need him.”

So the neighbor was Joe. Alexander tucked that piece of information away for later.

“I love you, sweetie.” Lily hugged Quinn, her words kind despite her clear disapproval of the situation. “Give the baby a kiss for me,” she said as she walked out of the house, not giving Alexander a second look.

The
click
of the door closing rang loud in the otherwise-silent living room, and they stood there for a long, painful moment, looking at each other but not speaking. Finally, Quinn sighed and squared her shoulders.

“Come with me,” she said and headed toward the staircase.

He followed, thinking about how he’d imagined the circumstance of being this close to Quinn again much, much differently. And then, once they’d reached the top of the short flight of stairs, Alexander was hit with sudden rush of nervousness, the reality of what was about to happen washing over him anew. There were three doorways in the small hallway, and Quinn approached the first on the left. His heart almost stopped when looked at the door and saw “Ethan” spelled out in sparkly blue letters, stars, and moons in soft shades of yellow, green, and blue surrounding them.

Quinn opened the door and walked across the small room, and his gaze was riveted to the corner where a cherrywood crib sat. She reached into the crib, but the padded border, which also sported stars and moons in soft pastels, blocked his view of what she was doing. He desperately wanted to follow her, see what was hidden, but his feet were bolted to the floor.

Then Quinn looked up at him and smiled, ushering him over. It was the encouragement he needed, and he walked across the room, feeling as light as a feather. When he reached the crib, he stopped and closed his eyes and then opened them and looked down.