be uncaring and unfeeling, but he would pay someone to look after Dillon. That was the irony of the whole ordeal. Phil didnât want Dillon. He just wanted Brittâs attention and eventual surrender.
Never.
Breathing in the sweet scent of her baby, she felt a stub of temptation. But only for a second.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Phil stood there with his usual smirk, the nanny, who she had met before, behind him. Quinn stood to the side, briefcase in hand. She ignored him.
âIs the boy ready?â Phil asked.
âYes,â she murmured, keeping her features set in a mask of pain.
As soon as Dillon saw Phil, he buried his face in her neck and clung to her like he always did. And that made it so hard. She rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.
âHis clothes are packed,â she said, glancing at the case at her feet.
âNo lists?â Phil asked with a lifted brow.
âWould it do any good?â
âLetâs go,â Quinn intervened. âThe judge advises as little contact as possible.â He just wanted to get the transfer over with, and he could see that Phil wanted to linger, to keep needling Britt.
Phil shot him a cold stare, but Quinn didnât back down.
âGet the case.â Phil spoke to the nanny and reached for his son. The boy tried to wiggle as far away as possible. Brittâs features tightened in pain and Quinn felt a jolt in his heart. How had he gotten involved in this?
Phil gripped the boy around his waist and tried to pull him away from Britt. In doing so he made sure his hands touched her breasts. A look of disgust spread over her face, a look she couldnât disguise.
As Phil pulled Dillon away, the boy began to cry loudly, hands outstretched toward his mother. Britt clasped trembling hands to her face, and Quinn had to look away. This is wrong, he kept thinking, but there was nothing he could do. For now.
âYou know how to stop this,â Phil said to Britt, and the sadness in her eyes turned to anger. In that instance, Quinn knew Britt Davis was never going to bend.
When she didnât respond, Phil walked away with Dillon, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs, holding his arms toward his mother. She stood as if turned to stone.
âBritt,â Quinn murmured in a low voice, wanting to say something, anything, to take that look from her face.
She leveled that angry gaze on him and slammed the door in his face.
Chapter Six
How dare he!
Britt would never speak to Quinn again. He was of no concern to her now.
Her emotions overtook her and she slid down to collapse on the floor. The tears sheâd been holding in check burst forth like water from a broken pipe. Her stomach cramped with nausea and she drew up her knees to stop the pain. Loud, heart-wrenching sobs echoed around the room, but not even her anguish could block out Dillonâs pitiful wails.
Iâm sorry, baby. Mommy didnât protect you. Mommy screwed up.
She wasnât sure how long she sat there in her agony. It could have been a few minutes or an hour. Finally, she raised her head and wiped away tears with the back of her hand. She had to get her son back and would start her quest this instant. Pushing herself to her feet, she headed for her phone. It rang before she reached it.
Her mother, Britt knew without a doubt.
âHi, Mom,â she said into the receiver, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.
âAre you okay?â
âEmotionally Iâm a little ragged, but Iâll be fine.â
âOh, baby.â
âIâve decided to quit my job,â she blurted.
âOh. Thatâs rather sudden.â
âItâs the only way I can get Dillon back. Iâll find somethinâ else.â
âWhatever you feel is best.â
She could always count on her mom for support.
âWhy donât you come home and stay for a few days until you get usedââ
âThanks, Mom, but I have a
Never.
Breathing in the sweet scent of her baby, she felt a stub of temptation. But only for a second.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Phil stood there with his usual smirk, the nanny, who she had met before, behind him. Quinn stood to the side, briefcase in hand. She ignored him.
âIs the boy ready?â Phil asked.
âYes,â she murmured, keeping her features set in a mask of pain.
As soon as Dillon saw Phil, he buried his face in her neck and clung to her like he always did. And that made it so hard. She rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.
âHis clothes are packed,â she said, glancing at the case at her feet.
âNo lists?â Phil asked with a lifted brow.
âWould it do any good?â
âLetâs go,â Quinn intervened. âThe judge advises as little contact as possible.â He just wanted to get the transfer over with, and he could see that Phil wanted to linger, to keep needling Britt.
Phil shot him a cold stare, but Quinn didnât back down.
âGet the case.â Phil spoke to the nanny and reached for his son. The boy tried to wiggle as far away as possible. Brittâs features tightened in pain and Quinn felt a jolt in his heart. How had he gotten involved in this?
Phil gripped the boy around his waist and tried to pull him away from Britt. In doing so he made sure his hands touched her breasts. A look of disgust spread over her face, a look she couldnât disguise.
As Phil pulled Dillon away, the boy began to cry loudly, hands outstretched toward his mother. Britt clasped trembling hands to her face, and Quinn had to look away. This is wrong, he kept thinking, but there was nothing he could do. For now.
âYou know how to stop this,â Phil said to Britt, and the sadness in her eyes turned to anger. In that instance, Quinn knew Britt Davis was never going to bend.
When she didnât respond, Phil walked away with Dillon, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs, holding his arms toward his mother. She stood as if turned to stone.
âBritt,â Quinn murmured in a low voice, wanting to say something, anything, to take that look from her face.
She leveled that angry gaze on him and slammed the door in his face.
Chapter Six
How dare he!
Britt would never speak to Quinn again. He was of no concern to her now.
Her emotions overtook her and she slid down to collapse on the floor. The tears sheâd been holding in check burst forth like water from a broken pipe. Her stomach cramped with nausea and she drew up her knees to stop the pain. Loud, heart-wrenching sobs echoed around the room, but not even her anguish could block out Dillonâs pitiful wails.
Iâm sorry, baby. Mommy didnât protect you. Mommy screwed up.
She wasnât sure how long she sat there in her agony. It could have been a few minutes or an hour. Finally, she raised her head and wiped away tears with the back of her hand. She had to get her son back and would start her quest this instant. Pushing herself to her feet, she headed for her phone. It rang before she reached it.
Her mother, Britt knew without a doubt.
âHi, Mom,â she said into the receiver, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.
âAre you okay?â
âEmotionally Iâm a little ragged, but Iâll be fine.â
âOh, baby.â
âIâve decided to quit my job,â she blurted.
âOh. Thatâs rather sudden.â
âItâs the only way I can get Dillon back. Iâll find somethinâ else.â
âWhatever you feel is best.â
She could always count on her mom for support.
âWhy donât you come home and stay for a few days until you get usedââ
âThanks, Mom, but I have a
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