When I'm With You: Part Eight: When We Are One Read Free

want to know that right now,” Lucien said.
    Francesca’s face looked ashen. Something flashed in her dark eyes as she stared at Lucien’s solemn face.
    “I agree. Of course we’ll have to hear more about this, but later. We need to go to London, Ian.”
    Ian looked into Francesca’s face. She saw the sleety misery in his eyes when he gazed upon his fiancée . . . the dawning emptiness.
    “I want to know,” Ian said. “I’ve wanted to know about the son of a bitch that was my father for most of my life. You
know
that, Francesca.”
    “Whoever your biological father was won’t change who you are,” Elise heard Francesca whisper in a pressured fashion.
    “It was for rape, wasn’t it?” Ian rasped, seeming not to have heard Francesca. “Trevor Gaines was a rapist.”
    A wave of dizziness struck Elise in the short pause that followed. She didn’t know if she swayed or not, but suddenly Lucien was staring at her, his hand on her elbow. She sat automatically when he lowered her to the couch.
    “He was indicted on two counts of rape, but by all accounts he was probably guilty of more. It was only the two they had sufficient evidence on to prosecute. But there’s something else. I might as well tell you,” Lucien said. “Now that you know his name, you’ll find out soon enough. In addition to being a rapist, Gaines was a serial reproductionist.”
    “What’s that?” Elise asked when no one spoke. Lucien glanced down at her. What she saw in his eyes made her want to weep: a hopeless sadness, a bitter disgust that could never be purged.
    “A serial reproductionist has a sick obsession with impregnating women. He does it by seduction and craft—by discovering women’s cycles and sabotaging birth control, perhaps weakening a condom to ensure it breaks during intercourse, increasing the likelihood of impregnation. He might compulsively give sperm for insemination. When his means fall short, he might resort to rape. Trevor Gaines used all three tactics, and quite possibly others that we aren’t aware of. The police suspect that he impregnated close to twenty women, although Gaines often bragged to Herr Shroeder—the private investigator I hired—that there were more. Many more. We were like trophies to him.”
    Nausea struck Elise when she realized the
we
Lucien referred to was all of Trevor Gaines’s offspring.
    “Until you understand the psychological profile of such a man, it’s very difficult to comprehend his motives and actions . . . and even then . . .” Lucien shook his head.
    “I think I remember reading something about him. The Gentleman Rapist—or something idiotic like that. Isn’t that what the English newspapers called him?” Ian asked.
    Lucien nodded. “He was a wealthy man, with supposed noble blood, as well as being a brilliant scientist and inventor. He was also one of the sickest fucks ever born. He wanted nothing to do with his children. He just got some twisted, narcissistic satisfaction out of knowing he proliferated so greatly, planted his seed far and wide. It was all a twisted game to him, the selfish bastard,” Lucien added bitterly under his breath.
    “Lucien, this all seems so far-fetched,” Francesca said suddenly. “How can you possibly know that this man is yours or Ian’s father?”
    “In my case, I know because he agreed to a blood test. Trevor Gaines definitely is—or was—my biological father.”
    Elise made a shaky sound at his barren tone. She hated seeing his pain exposed, and she had no one to blame but herself for what she so unexpectedly witnessed.
    “Was?”
Ian asked sharply. “Don’t tell me he’s dead.”
    “He just died several weeks ago, of a sudden heart attack while in prison.”
    “He’d better be thankful from hell that he died naturally,” Ian muttered viciously, his sudden blaze of anger sending a chill through Elise. Francesca’s eyes widened in anxiety as she studied her lover’s profile.
    “I’ve had similar thoughts ever