His fingers curled into fists. “I regret those words,” he said stiffly. “I would take them back, if I could.”

“Is that your version of an apology?”

It had been, yes, but her mocking tone made it clear it wasn’t good enough. That he wasn’t good enough.

Rowan wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused.

And then he questioned why he’d even be offended. He’d never cared before what a woman thought of him.

He’d be a fool to care what a Copeland thought of him.

“It is what it is,” he said, the helicopter dipping, dropping. They’d reached the Ontario airport. His private jet waited at the terminal.

Her head turned. She was looking down at the airport, too. “Why here? Do you have a place in Palm Springs?”

“If I did, we’d be flying into Palm Springs.”

“I find it hard to believe you have a place in Ontario.”

“I don’t.” He left it at that, and then they were touching down, lowering onto the tarmac.

Rowan popped the door open and stepped out. He reached for Logan but she drew back and climbed out without his assistance.

She started for the terminal but he caught her elbow and steered her in the other direction, away from the building and toward the sleek white-and-green pin-striped jet.

She froze when she realized what was happening. “No.”

He couldn’t do this again, not now. “We don’t have time. I refuse to refile the flight plan.”

“I’m not leaving Los Angeles. I can’t.”

“Don’t make me carry you.”

She broke free and ran back a step. “I’ll scream.”

He gestured to the empty tarmac. “And what good will that do you? Who will hear you? This is the executive terminal. The only people around are my people.”

She reached up to capture her hair in one hand, keeping it from blowing in her face. “You don’t understand. I can’t go. I can’t leave her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jax.” Her voice broke. “I’ve never been away from her before, not overnight. I can’t leave her now.”

“Jax?” he repeated impatiently. “What is that? Your cat?”

“No. My baby. My daughter.”

“Your daughter?” he ground out.

She nodded, heart hammering. She felt sick to her stomach and so very scared. She’d forced herself to reach out to Rowan when she’d discovered she was pregnant, but he’d been even more hateful when she called him.

“How did you get my number?” he demanded.

“Drakon.”

“He shouldn’t have given it to you.”

“I told him it was important.”

He laughed—a cold, scornful sound that cut all the way to her soul.

“Babe, in case you didn’t get the message, it’s over. I’ve nothing more for you. Now, pull yourself together and get on with your life.”

And so she had.

She didn’t tell him about the baby. She didn’t tell him he was having a daughter, and whatever qualms she had about keeping the information to herself were eventually erased by the memory of his coldness and hatefulness.

Her father had broken her heart, shaming her with his greed and selfishness, but Rowan was a close second.