Billionaire's Baby Promise. Sarah M. Anderson
He wanted at least one place to be a sanctuary for Christine.
She was one of the last people to come back into the auditorium as the band started up. This was the kind of church that had a rock ’n’ roll band in addition to gospel singing and hymns. It had a little bit of everything, with high definition video presentations and surround-sound audio.
He watched Christine without staring at her. As she settled into her seat, she nodded and smiled and said a few things to the people around her. People treated her as they would any good acquaintance they saw once a week—they were friendly, but not overly warm. Which was good. He wasn’t sure how far that first story had gotten. Christine as a news item hadn’t been picked up by network television yet. Wonky political sites didn’t have much reach outside of the political set. Plus, they were in Colorado, not Missouri.
The service was a solid hour and a half of preaching and singing and clapping. It was an engaging service, but Daniel wasn’t really paying attention. He was mentally running through all the potential outcomes.
Natalie had already started flooding the internet with positive mentions of Christine. Even if Christine wasn’t actually discussed in the article, Natalie was referencing her in the title to drive down search engine results on the other news articles. More official press releases would be released on Monday and Tuesday.
As tempting as it would be to think that would be that, Daniel knew better. Christine and her daughter were too tempting a target, the political writ large on something that should’ve been personal. The primary voting for the special election was a mere two months away and, God forbid Murray actually get his party’s nomination, the election was only two months after that. A lot could happen in four months.
The service ended with a thundering song that brought everyone to their feet and they stayed there, chatting with friends as the crowd thinned. Other parents made a beeline for the direction of the day care—but not Christine. She leaned on a pew, smiling at the person who’d been sitting in front of her—but Daniel noticed the way she was surreptitiously glancing around the room. Looking for him.
Suddenly, he was gripped with a strange urge to make her see him. He wanted her to look at him and recognize him and—he knew it was completely unreasonable—he wanted her to be happy to see him.
He had no business wanting such a thing. Obviously, what he really wanted was to be absolved of any guilt he had about the situation she now found herself in.
And then it almost happened. She did notice him. Her eyes grew wide with recognition. But it wasn’t with happiness. At best, he would call her expression one of grim acceptance.
He deserved nothing more.
He gently inclined his head to the left, gesturing toward the hallway. Her chin moved down ever so slightly.
Daniel headed into the hall, which was bustling with parents trying to get their children back into winter gear and children refusing to be coddled. The hallway was almost as loud as the band had been—and that was saying something. Another few minutes passed before Christine appeared. Daniel did not follow her. He focused on looking lost and overwhelmed. In all this noise, it wasn’t hard.
By the time Christine and Marie reappeared, many families had left and it was starting to quiet down. Christine was tickling the little girl’s tummy and Marie was shrieking with joy. Unexpectedly, Daniel felt an overwhelming urge to protect her. Marie was completely innocent and for the time being, anyway, he was glad Christine had called him.
She was looking for him this time. Her gaze met his and the lines around her mouth tightened. It was not a reaction he enjoyed inspiring in people.
That wasn’t entirely true. When he was looking at an opponent, the little sign of displeasure would be a good thing. But it bothered him coming from her.
She said loudly, “Sweetie, I think we left your hat in the day care,” before turning around.
Daniel followed at a safe distance. No one else did. The day care was downstairs and, outside of the room, there was a grouping of chairs and a sofa, along with some toys and books on a beat-up coffee table. It looked like someone had donated a living room and the church had stuck the whole set in a glorified hallway, but it was quiet and no one else came in or out of the day care.
Christine settled onto the couch and clutched Marie as if she were afraid to let her go. “I wasn’t sure if you would actually come.”
“I gave you my word.”
Her brow wrinkled. An irrational need to wipe away the doubt hit him. He wanted to make her smile, like he’d seen before the service. He wanted that smile all for himself.
He wasn’t going to get it. “You’ll forgive me if that doesn’t mean a lot to me at this point.”
She still had a lot of fight in her. A grin tugged at his lips, which made her eyes widen. “Understood, but when I make a promise to you, I’m going to keep that promise.”
He hadn’t always operated like that. But he had turned over a new leaf when he had accepted his role in the Beaumont Brewery and the Beaumont family. He did not lie to his relatives. And he wouldn’t lie to Christine.
She gave him a long look, as if she were debating whether or not to believe this particular statement. “So, what do we do now?” But the words had barely left her mouth when Marie squirmed off her lap. Christine set her down and the little girl began to sidestep her way around the coffee table.
“I have a few questions and a couple of suggestions. And then we’ll come up with a plan that minimizes the disruption to your life and keeps Marie as safe as possible.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding her head. “All right. Although I can’t imagine there’s something about me you don’t know. Not if you’re the one who found out about her first.”
He felt a pang of regret—but at the same time, he was encouraged. That backbone of steel gave a flinty edge to Christine’s vulnerability and damned if he didn’t like it.
No, no—not like. Appreciate. He appreciated her resolve. “Again, let me apologize for that.”
She tried to shrug, as if his destroying her life had been just another day. “All’s fair in love and politics.”
“No, it’s not.” She looked up at him sharply, but he went on, “How much contact do you have with Marie’s father?”
She winced. “I don’t. Every now and then, I’ll send him a picture, but he doesn’t even reply to those anymore. He pays child support on time, though—my father made sure of that. It’s the only thing he’s ever done for me.”
“That’s my next question,” Daniel said, forcing himself to ignore the pain in her voice. He was trying to make it better. “How much contact do you have with your father?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t want to breathe the same air as me. He blames me for his last loss—even though he’s lost so many elections. He’s convinced himself that if it hadn’t been for me, he would’ve won that one.”
“You don’t think he would have?”
She slumped in the chair. “Of course not. His world is black and white. He’s right and everyone who doesn’t agree with him is wrong. Most people can’t live like that. I know I couldn’t.” She grimaced, something that was supposed to look like a smile and failed. “Needless to say, I was always wrong.”
Her words made sense on a level Daniel didn’t want to inspect too closely. “I don’t think you’re wrong, Christine.”
Whatever attempt at a smile she had made faded. “It’s nice of you to say that but I still don’t know why you’re here or what you think you’re going to get out of helping me.”
“What I want isn’t important. It’s my responsibility to shield you and your daughter from the coming storm. That’s all there is to it.”
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