CHAPTER 1

Armel Mathieu de Roquefort swept along the hospital corridor, paused briefly to check the name above the door before he entered a ward, and strode purposefully towards the nurse seated behind the reception desk.

“Excuse me, I’m Armel de Roquefort and I'm here to see Harley Winston. I understand she was admitted yesterday,” he added, the hint of impatience in his voice making his accent seem more pronounced.

The nurse gaped at him but Armel was used to being stared at... for so many reasons. Women had stared at him since he was a teenager and at thirty-five his stunning looks, combined with an aura of wealth and power, meant that he was accustomed to being the center of attention.

When it suited him, Armel would respond to a flirtatious look with one of his devastating smiles, but today he had other things on his mind. There was only one reason why he was in that damn hospital, he acknowledged grimly, and the sooner he saw Harley and told her exactly what he thought of her latest stunt, the better.

“Uhm… Miss Winston… Let me check…”

Thoroughly flustered by the presence of six feet four of gorgeous, brooding Frenchman holding an angelic-looking little boy in his arms, the nurse hurriedly flicked through the pile of papers in front of her.

“Oh, yes, there it is… You may find her down the corridor, the third door on the right… But you can’t see her at the moment, the doctor is visiting her. You need to wait a minute, Mr…?”

The Frenchman was already striding along the corridor and the nurse scooted around the desk and chased after him. ‘De Roquefort’, he murmured coolly, not slowing his steps.

“Like I’ve said, my name is Armel Mathieu de Roquefort and it is imperative that I see Miss Winston immediately.”

*****

“Damn it! I didn’t need this!”

Harley sat on her hospital bed and stared gloomily at her bandaged wrist. The past twenty-four hours had been hellish and she hoped that any minute now she would wake up and find that it had all been a nightmare.

Instead, the throbbing ache of her badly sprained wrist and a splitting headache were evidence of the force with which her car had ploughed into a fallen tree, brought down during the ferocious storm that had hit the south coast.

She had been on her way home from the yacht club where she worked as a receptionist and fortunately, hadn’t yet collected her little baby boy from the day nursery when the accident had happened.

Little Raphaël was safe, and she was lucky to be alive, she acknowledged with a shudder, but her car was damaged beyond repair and she was going to have to take time off work, which was not going to help her ailing finances.

Harley had spent the night in the hospital with a mild concussion and the doctor had explained that the ligaments in her wrist had been torn and she would need to wear a support bandage for several weeks.

After prescribing strong painkillers he had told her she could go home, but she was worried about how she was going to manage to carry her little Raphaël and his stroller up and down the four flights of stairs to their attic flat when she only had the use of one hand.

There was nothing left to do but ask her grandmother for help, Harley fretted, her thoughts turning to the woman who had brought her up after her mother had abandoned her when she was just a little baby.

But Katherine Winston had taken on the role of parent out of a sense of duty rather than affection. For Katherine, ‘love’ meant harsh words, complaints, and cold shoulders.

Harley had endured a loveless childhood and when she had fallen pregnant and immediately been dumped by her baby’s father, her grandmother had made it clear that she would not support her or her child.

‘I did it once… This time, you’re on your own, little girl… I’m going to close my door and keep you and your problems out of my life…’

Those were the words her grandmother said when Harley came to her doorstep, asking for help. And she did close the door and left her all by herself to figure out what needed to be done.

She guessed Katherine had been furious when the hospital contacted her yesterday and passed on her request that she should pick up Raphaël from the nursery. She had half expected her grandmother to turn up at the hospital last night with her baby boy in tow, but there had been no word from the older woman and Harley was growing increasingly anxious.

Harley glanced up expectantly when the door opened and felt a sharp pang of disappointment when a nurse entered the small side ward.

“Excuse me… I was wondering… Have you heard anything from my grandmother? Has she called? She’s looking after my baby boy but she’s due to fly to New York any day now...”

“As far as I know, there has been no word from your grandmother, Miss Winston, but your little boy is here at the hospital,” the nurse said cheerfully. “His uncle is looking after him. Since the doctor has already done here, I’ll allow them both to come in.”

“His… what? Did you say his ‘uncle’?”

Harley stared at the nurse in bewilderment. Raphaël didn’t have… an uncle. She was an only child… thank God. There’s always been only her and Katherine.

“Yes. I asked Mr. de Roquefort to wait in the visitor’s lounge while the doctor was with you, but I know he’s really impatient to see you,” the nurse added wryly. “And the little guy too.”

*****

The Frenchman had to be the sexiest male on the planet, but it had been evident from the haughty expression in his flashing blue eyes that patience wasn’t one of his strong points. The nurse disappeared before Harley could question her further. The world had gone mad, Harley decided as she ran a shaky hand through her hair.

‘De Roquefort’?

That name conjured up a face from the past that she had spent the past two years desperately trying to forget. Hearing it again caused a peculiar cramping sensation in the pit of her stomach.

No… The nurse must have made a mistake. But who was this mysterious uncle? Who exactly was looking after her little Raphaël?

“Mummy!”

She glanced towards the door at the sound of her little boy’s gurgling laughter and focused on Raphaël’s angelic face, a heady mixture of love and relief coursing through her veins. But almost instantly her gaze moved higher and clashed with the cool blue stare of the man who had haunted her dreams for the past two years.

“Armel…?” she whispered disbelievingly.

Armel Mathieu de Roquefort… billionaire businessman, renowned playboy, and chief executive of the globally successful company ‘Dynamico’, which owned exclusive department stores around the world, instantly seemed to dominate the room.

Two years did nothing on him… He was even more gorgeous than she remembered, Harley thought numbly as her brain struggled to assimilate the shocking reality of his presence at the end of her bed. He was tall, lean, and devastatingly good-looking, his black jeans and matching sweater were effortlessly stylish and accentuated his athletic build.

Swallowing hard, Harley closed her eyes. For a few seconds, the image of his bronzed, muscular torso and the covering of fine black hairs that arrowed down over his six-pack abs flooded her mind.

Armel was the epitome of male perfection. For a few brief, incredible months Harley had enjoyed free access to his body and had reveled in the feel of his satiny skin beneath her fingertips as she’d trailed a daring path over the solid strength of his thighs. She still had a vivid recall of how it had felt to lie beneath him, skin on skin, their limbs entwined so that two became one…

With a low murmur, Harley released her breath and stared at his face, noting the male beauty of his sharp cheekbones and square chin, and the way a lock of his dark hair had fallen over his eyebrow.

His eyes were the deep, dense blue of a Mediterranean summer sky… the same shade as little Raphaël’s eyes. The thought sent her crashing back to reality and she frowned at the way her son was sitting contentedly in his arms.

It was a sight she had dreamed of frequently, but never in her wildest fantasies, had she expected it to happen.

“What are you doing here, Armel? And since when did you become Raphaël’s uncle?”

The shock seemed to have robbed her of her strength and to her chagrin, her voice sounded pathetically weak. Armel regarded her silently for a moment, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a harsh frown.

“It was easier to tell the hospital staff that I’m a relative… Or would you rather I’d explained that I’m the man you tried to trick into believing was the father of your child?” Armel queried pleasantly, aware that any hint of aggression in his tone could frighten the little boy sitting on his hip.

Harley gave a bitter laugh.

“Well, Armel, it wasn’t a trick… Raphaël is your son.”

“The hell he is!”

The denial came out as a low hiss and Armel abruptly lowered Raphaël onto the bed.