anger rose again in acknowledgement of what he’d missed out on, but Rico pushed it down. He had to be cool, controlled. Stake his claim and leave Gypsy in no doubt as to who held the power between them.
He saw her hitch her chin up imperceptibly. ‘You wanted to talk?’
He inclined his head slightly. ‘As I told you earlier, I now have proof that I’m Lola’s father.’
Gypsy crossed her arms across her chest, inadvertently pushing her breasts forward. Rico kept his gaze lifted with an effort, and shifted irritably on the desk.
‘And…?’ Gypsy asked, with all the hauteur of a queen.
Rico bit back a reluctant smile. He had to hand it to her for bravado. No one stood up to him the way she did. And he admired that, even if he didn’t like admitting it.
‘And that means that I am now going to exercise myrights as her father to care for her, provide for her and protect her—as befitting my heir.’
Gypsy’s generous mouth tightened. ‘You can do that all you want. Just let us get on with our lives and we can work out some custody arrangement.’
Rico sneered. ‘You think I am going to allow you to return to that hovel of a flat with my daughter?’ He dismissed the very notion with a slashing hand, making Gypsy flinch slightly. Perversely that made him contrite, and angry for feeling it. ‘I am not interested in custody arrangements. And I am certainly not interested in being forced to stay in the UK so that I can drive into that ghetto twice a month to see my daughter for a few measly hours.’
Gypsy’s arms fell, her hands clenched into fists by her sides. ‘We’ll take you to court. You can’t do this.’
He arched a mocking brow. ‘You’ll take me to court with what ? Your leftover tips from the restaurant? Believe me, Gypsy, any court you drag me to will be packed to the rafters with my own people. The best that money can buy. Do you honestly think that any judge will look favourably on a mother who wilfully cut the father of her child out of their lives for no apparent good reason? What judge will deny me my right to have access to Lola when they hear how you took it upon yourself to make her solely yours?’
He saw how she paled in the dim light, how she swayed for a moment, and with a silent curse he nearly got up to steady her. He saw her visibly compose herself. He could almost hear her brain whirring.
He decided to go for the jugular. ‘You have no job. You have no prospects, despite the degree you say you have. To work you’re going to need childcare, betterchildcare than a pensioner down the road, and to afford childcare you need to work. It’s a catch-22.’
White-lipped, her green eyes huge in her face, Gypsy bit out, ‘So tell me what it is you want.’
Rico relished the moment before speaking. He had Gypsy exactly where he wanted her. ‘What I want is the fifteen months you owe me. You and Lola living with me for fifteen months, so that I don’t miss out on another day of her development.’
This time Gypsy did sway, and Rico got to her just in time to lead her over to a chair and sit her down. In seconds he was back, with brandy in a glass. She waved it away, saying distractedly, ‘Don’t drink…’
He put the glass down, but stood over her and restrained himself from hauling her up and shaking her. She was acting—she had to be. This apparent vulnerability couldn’t be real. And what on earth was wrong with the prospect of fifteen months living in the lap of luxury?
She looked up then, a hopeful light in her eyes. ‘Fifteen months…and then you’ll let us go?’
Rage bubbled inside Rico’s gut. How delusional was she? And why did her eagerness to get away from him cause a spike in his gut? ‘Not as such…But I am willing, after fifteen months are up, to help set you up in employment, help you find somewhere to live…help you get back on your feet. Providing, of course, that I have full and unimpeded access to Lola and a say in her future.’
Her mouth
He saw her hitch her chin up imperceptibly. ‘You wanted to talk?’
He inclined his head slightly. ‘As I told you earlier, I now have proof that I’m Lola’s father.’
Gypsy crossed her arms across her chest, inadvertently pushing her breasts forward. Rico kept his gaze lifted with an effort, and shifted irritably on the desk.
‘And…?’ Gypsy asked, with all the hauteur of a queen.
Rico bit back a reluctant smile. He had to hand it to her for bravado. No one stood up to him the way she did. And he admired that, even if he didn’t like admitting it.
‘And that means that I am now going to exercise myrights as her father to care for her, provide for her and protect her—as befitting my heir.’
Gypsy’s generous mouth tightened. ‘You can do that all you want. Just let us get on with our lives and we can work out some custody arrangement.’
Rico sneered. ‘You think I am going to allow you to return to that hovel of a flat with my daughter?’ He dismissed the very notion with a slashing hand, making Gypsy flinch slightly. Perversely that made him contrite, and angry for feeling it. ‘I am not interested in custody arrangements. And I am certainly not interested in being forced to stay in the UK so that I can drive into that ghetto twice a month to see my daughter for a few measly hours.’
Gypsy’s arms fell, her hands clenched into fists by her sides. ‘We’ll take you to court. You can’t do this.’
He arched a mocking brow. ‘You’ll take me to court with what ? Your leftover tips from the restaurant? Believe me, Gypsy, any court you drag me to will be packed to the rafters with my own people. The best that money can buy. Do you honestly think that any judge will look favourably on a mother who wilfully cut the father of her child out of their lives for no apparent good reason? What judge will deny me my right to have access to Lola when they hear how you took it upon yourself to make her solely yours?’
He saw how she paled in the dim light, how she swayed for a moment, and with a silent curse he nearly got up to steady her. He saw her visibly compose herself. He could almost hear her brain whirring.
He decided to go for the jugular. ‘You have no job. You have no prospects, despite the degree you say you have. To work you’re going to need childcare, betterchildcare than a pensioner down the road, and to afford childcare you need to work. It’s a catch-22.’
White-lipped, her green eyes huge in her face, Gypsy bit out, ‘So tell me what it is you want.’
Rico relished the moment before speaking. He had Gypsy exactly where he wanted her. ‘What I want is the fifteen months you owe me. You and Lola living with me for fifteen months, so that I don’t miss out on another day of her development.’
This time Gypsy did sway, and Rico got to her just in time to lead her over to a chair and sit her down. In seconds he was back, with brandy in a glass. She waved it away, saying distractedly, ‘Don’t drink…’
He put the glass down, but stood over her and restrained himself from hauling her up and shaking her. She was acting—she had to be. This apparent vulnerability couldn’t be real. And what on earth was wrong with the prospect of fifteen months living in the lap of luxury?
She looked up then, a hopeful light in her eyes. ‘Fifteen months…and then you’ll let us go?’
Rage bubbled inside Rico’s gut. How delusional was she? And why did her eagerness to get away from him cause a spike in his gut? ‘Not as such…But I am willing, after fifteen months are up, to help set you up in employment, help you find somewhere to live…help you get back on your feet. Providing, of course, that I have full and unimpeded access to Lola and a say in her future.’
Her mouth
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