*****066:

The house in Malibu was half the size of the house in Montana, and even though there was a room for Abbie, who was now our full time nanny, there wasn't a school room, and certainly no room for the band. It was okay because they each had their own homes locally. However, Fred was in the guest room and Rafe had told Antonia we'd put her up. That left a downstairs room we used to store things in. Or an upstairs bedroom we hadn't yet decorated, and she'd be right next to our room.

Rafe got her a motel and a car.

But it was obvious by the time we got home the next day and got her situated, that she and Ben were attracted to each other, and wanting to spend more time.

It was time to meet with our lawyer and with Madonna Darajan. We both dressed in casual business clothes. Mine were too tight and uncomfortable--- and we discussed the need for a wardrobe change, wanting to allow his dad to design the whole maternity line for us, and me wondering if I would need maternity clothes or just a stretchy-er set of exercise clothes.

He drove the Ferrari to the law firm, where he'd made arrangements to meet with Madonna, who had requested no extra people be in attendance. Rafe refused. He told her he';d bring whoever he damn well wanted to. That meant me.

I thought I looked like the secretary, dressed in a tweed tight skirt and jacket, with a beige lacy under top, and a dark green under blouse. But Rafe was fine with it. He wore a suit--- but he wore it casually.

He helped me out of the car, as my stomach precluded me getting out of so low a vehicle gracefully---even though I wasn't technically showing to an unobservant eye, I was showing to me. He wrapped my arm in his and strolled purposefully inside. This place was very elegant. I had spent scant little time in lawyer's office's myself, but plenty of time amid the wealth of society's upper class. I was impressed, but Rafe acted as if he belonged there. We were escorted rather quickly after a few minor introductions to a beautiful upper level office with windows overlooking the city.

I knew John Crimmons and he knew me. He hugged me, and congratulated me in an outer lobby area adjacent to his office, and then spoke casually with Rafe as he preceded us. My heart was beating too fast, and my blood pressure was up, I could tell by the tension in my shoulders. Rafe seemed so relaxed, but his arm holding my fingers next to his body was hard, like a board. I knew he was dreading what was on the other side of that door.

"Hello, Rafe! How good to see you!" Madonna was six feet if she was an inch, which meant that I had to look up at her. Her long, long brown bouncy curls touched her waist easily, and the slinky half skirt thing with the see through blouse she wore was not meant to be businesslike. There was nothing even remotely businesslike about her. Her skin had that natural olive tone, her eyes were the warmest chocolate brown I'd ever seen--- tipped with gorgeous long lashes. She was breathtaking--- and I felt Rafe's reaction to her allure instantly.

She stepped to him for that customary peck on the cheek and he literally side stepped her.

"Madonna." He said, and his voice was flat, not cold, but definitely not welcoming.

She covered her initial volley and rejection by turning away. "I told you not to bring anyone else. Who is this person? Your secretary?"

I knew it, I knew it!

I looked like the secretary!

"Aubrey is my wife." Rafe said and led me to the sitting area where John was already heading, only he was heading to the bar, asking what everyone wanted. "I'll have ginger ale." Rafe spoke quietly, "And Aubrey ----?"

"I'll have water."

"We're expecting." Rafe told the room at large. I noticed that John's partner, Will Jones was already seated, with a brief case open in front of him, and another two well-dressed men and then two very casually dressed men were seated. I noted that one of the less formally dressed men was very young, and my heart clenched as I realized this could be the long lost son--- it really could. Any son of Rafe and this woman was going to be quite tall.

Will stood up and gave Rafe a hug of congratulations before he could sit down, and as Madonna sat next to the two less formally dressed men, I wished they'd just introduce us so I could quit judging them by their clothes.

Madonna looked from me to Rafe and her smile was completely frozen fake.

She didn't offer congratulations. One of her men translated our words into Russian.

I sighed. I did not understand Russian, I doubted that Rafe did. My dad spoke it fluently, that and the dialect of Mongolian that my adopted siblings spoke. I forced my mind to concentrate---all I really wanted to do was pretend I was not here.

First John opened the meeting by explaining why we were all here. He introduced Madonna Darajan's lawyers, two names I cannot pronounce, and her father, Pietro Darajan, and her son, Besarion Darajan--- who claimed to be Rafe's biological child.

He told us rather formally that Madonna Darajan wanted Rafe to publically claim his son, change his name and – inherit him--- put him in the will so to speak. She wanted back child support according to Untied States laws, and if Rafe refused she would go public with her claims and ruin Rafe's reputation, before she sued him for these things anyway, and any other potential emotional damages she could get.

I felt sick to my stomach. It was a wealthy person's nightmare.

"I will be happy to comply with her wishes." Rafe announced easily, and I almost gasped. We had not discussed this outcome. Compliance was not part of our deal. He'd told me the child was not his. "But first we will take a legal and lawful paternity test, and then my lawyers will draw up papers. I will acknowledge the boy if indeed he is my boy, but I will not pay any kind of previous child support, or any other emotional damages or anything. If she takes me to court to get more money I will expose her to the media for the money grubber she is, and if she fights me, you can bet I will fight her back. You all heard me. In this room, my very first reaction was to say that I would comply, easily, instantly and firmly, and I will---- unless you fight me Madonna Darajan, and then I will make your life hell, and I can--- believe me. I can do you far more damage than you can do me."

He stood up, and went to the boy and reached for his hand. The boy, stunned, fearful, took the proffered hand and Rafe hauled him to his feet. He was about four inches shorter than Rafe, with dark eyes and hair very similar to Rafe's as well. His build was thinner, less muscled, like a child. "No matter if you are my son, Besarion Darajan, you are a good looking boy." he eyed him up and down smoothing his shoulders, as the boy stood for inspection. I couldn't tell if his countenance was respectful, hopeful or despairing at the prospect of meeting his father--- or at least the man his mother claimed was his father.

I felt really bad for him. Rafe was polite, but nothing more. If this truly were father and son's first meeting, it didn't seem like Rafe was especially glad to see him.

Madonna had gotten to her shaky feet. She started a slow mocking applause her eyes flashing in irritation. "Well done, Styker, well done." Her high heeled feet and super model legs took her around the table the long way--- all eyes now on her. Besarion had taken a step back from the man who might or might not be his father. I privately thought he didn't look twelve--- he looked fifteen.

My heart started that funny fast rhythm. I felt like it was hard to breathe through the forty pound weight on my chest.

I could only imagine what Rafe was feeling.

"That was some performance. Quite convincing. You've gotten better at your show of bravado since last we met." Her clapping stopped as did her feet, right beside Rafe.

Rafe stared her down. He glared. His eyes were like flint---- if I'd ever seen flint--- wasn't it something romance novelists used to describe eyes now and then? Maybe more like steel. I'd seen that in novels too, and right now his whole countenance was like steel.

Then he snapped his eyes to John's. His hands rose in this mocking plea to get her away from him. My insides felt the same--- outwardly calm, even putting on a good show of bravado--- her word. But inside, I felt the air squeezed out of my lungs.

Would they fight? Would she scream at him? Would she show her true colors? Would they kiss and make up? There was what I interpreted as sexual tension between them. The way she stood, the way she ----leaned.

I imagined her hair billowing out over his arm and back....

I covered my mouth with my fingers and looked away.

John got to his feet late. He cleared his throat. "Will you agree to the paternity test?"

Her nose scrunched up slightly, mockingly, as she twirled a strand of her hair, never taking her eyes off Rafe. "There is no need."

Rafe's guttural woof showed what he thought about that.

John's eyebrows rose. "There will have to be proof. Surely you didn't come here expecting a permanent acknowledgment and compensation based on nothing but your word."

Her eyes slowly slid to John's. "Yes. I did, and I still do. He can look in the boy's eyes and see his own. How can he not? He is the spitting image of him. You cannot deny it, Rafe, he is your son."

"I'm not going to stand here while this bullshit goes on." Rafe said.

I stood up immediately, ready to go. I agreed. No mother should put her son through this, regardless. She should have agreed to the paternity test and then brought the kid if it was warranted.

Was she stupid? This was 2023---- we did paternity tests in the US.

And she was calling out a very wealthy man.... Someone who would demand proof.

From her slinky skirt waistband Madonna pulled a long white legal envelope. She twirled it in the air between them, her eyes fairly oozing self-righteousness. Her smile was saucy--- and secure. The envelope rested out of his reach between two fingers. "I have the paternity test, do you think I would come all this way for naught?"

"Yeah, that is what I thought." Rafe grabbed for it, but John was to them first and had snatched the envelope out of Madonna's hand before she saw him coming and could do any more taunting. Rafe and I sat back down.

John opened the sealed envelope and scanned the insides. He scanned for a few minutes, longer than I would have liked. Then he flipped the pages and examined the back of them, running his finger over the ink--- or something. "The stamp has been compromised. I want these papers examined by my own expert--- and I believe that a neutral and legal paternity test done here in America is required."

"Yeah, one that tests the father and the son. No such collection of DNA was performed on me, I can assure you." Rafe snorted, leaning back in his chair with his arms along both sides, his legs crossed as he shook his head. Then he leaned forward, dynamically and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Madonna still managed to look smug. "DNA was collected Rafe--- at our last meeting."

He sat forward, his eyes keen on hers, his shoulders tense and ready to spring.

For a split second I was confused, then I realized it.

Oh.

He'd met with her--- recently, privately. He knew about this. ...

He'd lied to me.

"Excuse me." I breathed and stood up, moving my chair back. It caught against Rafe's and he looked up at me. Our eyes met--- how can he not know that I know? I do know. It is that easy for me to read his body language. There was this sad sort of beseeching longing in his expression, but my heart was like stone.

Yeah--- he'd met with her--- and she'd collected DNA----

How could she have?

Did they kiss?

Did they have sex?

Did she cut him, and get a blood sample?

I pushed against his chair, got free and stalked quickly out of the room. I did not check Madonna's smug face. I wouldn't need to, now would I?

I heard John telling them that his lab could do an expedited report and we'd know in 24-hours. And then I carefully shut the heavy oak door.

*****