His orders are simplemarry his half brothers gold-digging widow and bring her children into the fold.
But his convenient wife is nothing like he expected...
If black-sheep billionaire Deacon marries Callie, his father has promised him legitimacy...and acceptance. But Callie is not the gold digger Deacon was promised. She makes him burn with need...and rethink his selfish motives. Is deceiving Callie and her sons a price hes willing to pay for his fathers love?
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author BARBARA DUNLOP has written more than forty novels for Mills & Boon, including the acclaimed Chicago Sons series for Mills & Boon Desire. Her sexy, lighthearted stories regularly hit bestseller lists. Barbara is a threetime finalist for the Romance Writers of Americas RITA® Award.
Also by Barbara Dunlop
Sex, Lies and the CEO
Seduced by the CEO
A Bargain with the Boss
His Stolen Bride
From Temptation to Twins
Twelve Nights of Temptation His
Temptation, Her Secret
The Illigitimate Billionaire
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
The Illegitimate Billionaire
Barbara Dunlop
www.millsandboon.co.uk
THE ILLEGITIMATE BILLIONAIRE
© 2018 Barbara Dunlop
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Version: 2020-03-02
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For Shaina, Jacob, Karl and Heidi
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Extract
About the Publisher
One
In an absurdly masculine room, deep in the halls of Clarkson Castle, Deacon Holt carefully neutralized his expression. He wouldnt give Tyrell Clarkson the satisfaction of seeing anger, envy or any other emotion.
Drink? Tyrell asked, making a half turn toward Deacon from the inlayed walnut bar. He held up a cut-crystal decanter that Deacon could only guess held decades-old single malt.
Tyrell was well-known in Hale Harbor, Virginia, for indulging in the finer things.
No, Deacon answered. He had no idea why hed been summoned today, after being shunned his entire life, but he was positive this wasnt a social occasion.
Tyrell shrugged and poured two glasses anyway. He cut partway across the library and bent at the waist to set the glasses on opposite sides of a dark wood coffee table.
In case you change your mind, he said and gestured to one of two brown leather armchairs flanking the table.
Deacon preferred to stand. He wanted to be on alert for whatever was coming.
Sit, Tyrell said and folded himself into the opposite chair.
Though he was in his late fifties, Tyrell was obviously in good shape. He had a full head of hair, and his wrinkles were few, giving his face character. By any objective measure, he was a good-looking man.
Tyrell was rich. He was clever. He was powerful.
He was also detestable.
What do you want? Deacon asked.
The rest of Hale Harbor might jump to Tyrells commands, but not Deacon.
A conversation.
Why?
Tyrell lifted his glass and turned it in the light that beamed down from the ceiling fixtures. He gazed at the amber liquid. Glen Klavitt, 1965.
Am I supposed to be impressed?
Youre supposed to be curious. When was the last time you tasted fifty-year-old single malt?
I forget. Deacon wasnt rising to the bait, even though they both knew he wasnt in a tax bracket that would allow him to casually spend whatever 1965 Glen Klavitt cost. Not that hed be foolish enough to blow his money on it anyway.
Sit down, boy.
Im not your dog.
One of Tyrells brows went up.
Deacon expected Tyrell to react with anger. He mentally braced himself for the onslaught, realizing hed been looking forward to a fight from the moment he walked through the oversize castle doors.
But you are my son. Tyrells words, though softly spoken, fell like cannonballs into the cavernous room.
Deacon held still, half expecting eight generations of Clarksons to rise from their graves and rattle the crested shields hanging on the stone walls.
He tried to gauge Tyrells expression, but it was inscrutable.
Do you need a kidney? he asked, voicing the first theory that came into his mind.
Tyrells mask cracked, and he almost smiled. Im in perfect health.
Deacon didnt want to be curious about anything to do with the Clarkson family. He wanted to turn on his heel and walk out the door. Whatever was going on here, he wanted no part of it.
Tyrell had two healthy, living legitimate sons, Aaron and Beau. He didnt need to reach out to Deacon for anythingat least, not for anything that was honorable.
Will you relax? Tyrell asked, gesturing to the empty chair with his glass.
No.
Stubborn
Like father, like son? Deacon asked mildly.
Tyrell laughed.
It was the last thing Deacon had expected.
I dont know why I thought this would be easy, Tyrell said. Arent you even a little bit curious?
I stopped caring about you a long time ago.
Yet, here you are.
Deacon knew Tyrell had him there. Despite his anger, despite his hatred, despite the twenty-nine years of resentment, Deacon had come the first time Tyrell called. Deacon told himself he was here for a confrontation with the man who had impregnated and then abandoned his mother. But the truth was hed also been curious. He was still curious.
He sat down.
Thats better, Tyrell said.
What do you want?
Do I have to want something?
No. But you do.
Youre not stupid. Ill grant you that.
Deacon wasnt sure if Tyrell expected a thank you for the backhanded compliment. If he did, he was going to be disappointed.
Why am I here? Deacon pressed.
I assume you know about Frederick.
I do.
Tyrells youngest sonand Deacons half brother, though theyd never been introducedFrederick had died of pneumonia six months ago. Rumor had it that Fredericks lungs had been seriously damaged as a child, when hed been thrown from a horse. The fall had also broken his spine and confined him to a wheelchair.
Did you know he lived in Charleston? Tyrell asked.
Deacon hadnt known where Frederick lived. Hed only known Frederick had left home after college and never returned. Everyone in Hale Harbor knew Frederick had a falling out with his father and walked out of the Clarkson familys life. Deacon had silently admired Fredrick for doing it.
Frederick has two sons, Tyrell said. His gaze didnt waver.
Deacon was surprised at that news. He wasnt an expert on spinal cord injuries, but he wouldnt have expected Frederick to father children. He supposed they could have been adopted.
He didnt know what Tyrell anticipated as a response to that particular revelation. But Deacon didnt have anything to say about Fredericks sons.
The oldest is four, the other eighteen months, Tyrell said.
Congratulations? Deacon ventured.
My only grandchildren, and Ive never met them.
I dont get where this is going. Deacon had sure never met Tyrells grandsons.
The entire Clarkson family did their best to pretend Deacon didnt exist. Aaron and Beau knew perfectly well who he was, though hed never been sure about Tyrells wife, Margo. It was possible Tyrell had been successful in keeping Deacon a secret from her all these yearswhich begged the question of what Deacon was doing in the castle today. Surely Margo would be curious.
Tyrell took a healthy swallow of the scotch.
Deacon decided to try it. What the heck? It might be the one and only thing his father ever gave him.
He lifted the expensive tumbler to his lips and took an experimental sip. The whiskey was smooth, rich and peaty, not bad, but hed sampled better. Then again, the company might be tainting the taste.
I want to see my grandsons, Tyrell said.
So see them.
I cant.
Whats stopping you?
Fredericks widow.
It took Deacon a beat to comprehend what Tyrell meant. Then he grinned. Poetic justice had visited Tyrell. Deacon took another sip of the whiskey, silently toasting the widow. The scotch tasted better this time, really quite good.
You find that amusing? Tyrells words were terse.
Someone keeping the powerful Tyrell Clarkson from something he wants? Yes, I find that amusing. Deacon saw no point in shading his feelings. Tyrell couldnt possibly think Deacon gave a damn about Tyrells happiness.
Tyrell seemed to gather himself, leaning forward, his chin jutting. Down to brass tacks, then. Lets see if you think this is funny. Ill trade you what I want for what you want.
The words unnerved Deacon. At the same time, they put him on alert. You havent the first idea of what I want.
Dont be too sure about that.
Im completely sure about that. Deacon had never even had a conversation with his father, never mind confided his hopes and dreams to him.
Ill acknowledge you as my son, Tyrell said.
It was all Deacon could do not to laugh at the offer. I could have proved our relationship through DNA years ago.
I mean, Ill make you an heir.
Put me in your will? Deacon wasnt falling for a promise like thata promise changeable with the stroke of a pen.