Pregnant with the Tycoon's Heir (The Ladies of The Burling School Book 5)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  “I’m fine!” she whispered to the empty apartment. “Perfectly fine! Last night was a good thing! I stepped out of my comfort zone and had a wonderful time!”

  But it wasn’t! Bowing her head, she couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror. She was ashamed. She’d always told herself that she would be better than her mother who had gotten pregnant, only to abandon her child to the whims of the universe.

  That was one of the main reasons she’d never had random sexual encounters, never wanted to risk having sex unless she was emotionally involved. The risk of getting pregnant was too great. Yes, Naya was fully aware of contraceptive methods. But first of all, her bouts of sexual activity were few and far between…and up until last night, disappointing. Yes, last night had been…amazing. Mind-blowing. Shockingly satisfying!

  And never to be repeated!

  Pregnancy wasn’t something she was willing to risk. Not for anything! Not until she was in a committed, loving relationship.

  At least they’d used condoms last night. She’d been assured of that. Relaxing, she pushed last night from her mind. Last night had been…an aberration. A moment that she could smile about and move on. She didn’t do one-night stands and, although her night with Pierce had been…magical…Naya would never repeat it again!

  Glancing at her watch, she realized that she was very late and picked up the pace. She had to get to work and stop thinking about last night. She had an important meeting first thing this morning and she had to be in top form.

  Chapter 3

  Naya shut down her computer and sighed with relief. “It’s over!”

  “You okay?” Bonnie asked, stepping into Naya’s cubicle and slumping down into the chair. “Good grief, there is a lot of tension around here today! Any idea what is going on?”

  Naya agreed. Shaking her head, she admitted, “I’m clueless. But Mark was in rare form today, wasn’t he?”

  Bonnie groaned, leaning her head back as she closed her eyes. The morning had been difficult. Mark, their boss and head of the marketing department, had been snapping at everyone during the morning meeting, demanding new marketing ideas, ordering everyone to clean up their offices so that the area looked more “organized and orderly”. He’d even snapped at a few people to go home and put on more “professional” clothing. “Something is definitely bothering him, which means that he’s on a mission to make our lives miserable.” She lifted her hands to her head, her fingers tangling in her blond hair, then let out a soft groan of misery. “I just want to go home and sink into a hot bath with a glass of wine next to me.” She sat up straight and looked at Naya, who wore the same exhausted expression. “What are your plans for the night?”

  Naya contemplated her options. She really needed to talk with someone about Mark’s criticism of her today, but Bonnie wasn’t an option for that conversation. She was a decent friend in the office, but she was also the departmental gossipmonger. Bonnie was the type of person with whom Naya went to lunch, not the type of person one discussed private, personal, or painful problems with.

  And despite Naya’s constant mental reassurance that the previous night with Pierce was just a fluke, an aberration in her world and she’d never have another one night stand, she still couldn’t shake a nagging sensation of impending doom. Although, she couldn’t eliminate the desire to talk with Pierce about today’s events either. She had enjoyed talking with him last night over dinner, laughing with him and, although there had been a constant hum of sexual awareness, she’d felt…oddly relaxed during the meal.

  Unfortunately, talking with the handsome stranger from last night was definitely not an option! Even if she wanted to see him again, she didn’t have his phone number. Naya supposed she could call the hotel and ask for his room number, but…well, she hadn’t even noticed the body guards last night when they’d gone up to his suite. So, she definitely hadn’t taken the time to look at the room number. And this morning…she’d been too embarrassed and frazzled to look for a room number. Good grief, Naya wasn’t even sure if she knew the floor! So no, calling up a…hookup? Was that what last night was?

  Ugh! She hated to define last night in those terms, Naya thought, tapping her pen thoughtfully on her desk. No, last night had been…something else. Something that shouldn’t be called a “hookup”. No way. It had been too…special.

  Yes, calling a one-night stand “special” felt a little ridiculous. But it really had been amazing.

  “Hello! Anyone home?” Bonnie teased.

  Naya blinked, startled that she’d gone off into her own world. “Sorry,” she sighed. “Had a long night”

  Bonnie laughed slightly, shifting the extra chair as if settling in for a long conversation. “What are your plans for tonight? And please don’t tell me you’re cleaning,” Bonnie laughed as if she’d said something hilarious.

  Naya shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide her reaction to Bonnie’s comment. Cleaning was Naya’s way of soothing her frazzled nerves. When life became too chaotic, she cleaned. Cleaning restored order to her world, allowed her time to think, helped her regain control.

  So, she came up with a different plan. “I think I’m going to visit my mother, see if she’s doing okay,” she replied. Even as she said the words, a nauseous sensation swelled up in the pit of her stomach. She felt the same way every time she decided to visit her mother. One would think she’d be used to it by now, but Naya wouldn’t ever get used to the anxiety of visiting her mother.

  “That’s a good idea. Mothers are the best, right?” Bonnie smiled, completely unaware of Naya’s history with her mother. “It doesn’t matter what’s going on in my life, I know that I can always call up my mom and talk to her. After our conversations, my world is right once again,” Bonnie laughed, then sighed as she leaned forward slightly. “But that’s not on my agenda for tonight. Wine. Hot bath,” she announced and pushed heavily out of Naya’s extra chair. “See ya tomorrow!” Bonnie headed out with a friendly wave.

  After Bonnie’s departure, Naya checked her cell phone. “I’ll just give her a call first,” she muttered and dialed the number as she tossed her purse over her shoulder, walking out of the marketing department. It was oddly deserted at this time of the night. Normally, the marketing department was humming with activity, even in the evenings. The people who worked here were creative and vibrant. But after today’s tongue-lashings from their boss, everyone probably needed to get away and recoup.

  Unfortunately, her mother didn’t answer her phone. After five rings, Naya hung up. No answer.

  The lack of a response caused the nausea to intensify. Standing beside her car, she debated going home and sinking into a hot bath or just getting over the inevitable by heading to her mother’s apartment.

  Naya hated ignoring problems. It was always better to face them head on, so instead of pretending that her mother’s natural tendencies hadn’t kicked into gear again, Naya pressed her lips together and walked out of the building. Five minutes later, she got into her car and nervously drove out of the downtown area where the high-rise buildings were. Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of her mother’s apartment door, and knocked hesitantly. No answer. Naya looked around, wondering if she might be visiting with one of her neighbors. Her mother was a social butterfly so it was entirely possible that she was just out visiting.

  “Please please, don’t let her have gone on another ‘trip’,” Naya muttered to herself. Another round of knocking didn’t produce her mother’s smiling face. Turning, she looked out at the parking lot and sighed. The apartment complex wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but it was something her mother could afford. It wasn’t a horrible place though. And the last time Naya had visited, her mother had seemed to be happy. A bit too thin, but cheerful and excited.

  “Naya!” a voice called out.

  Naya turned and a surge of relief washed over her as she watched her mother’s ancient car putter into the parking lot with her mother calling from the open window. “I’m here, honey!” she
hollered.

  The nausea in her stomach eased as she watched her mother park and get out of her car. “I just went to the grocery store. I’m here,” and she reached into the back seat and pulled out two fabric bags of groceries. “I’m here!” she repeated.

  Naya smiled, trying to hide her relief, and waved to her mother, even starting down the stairs to help with the groceries. “Need help?” she called back.

  Naya got to the bottom step, relief making her almost giddy and light headed.

  “I’m here, honey,” Jessica Banks wrapped her arms around Naya’s shoulders, giving her a gentle hug. “I haven’t left, Naya,” she said as she kissed Naya’s cheek. “I promised that I’d tell you before I left and I will.”

  Naya smiled, ignoring her mother’s reassurance. Naya had heard it before but, when Jessica needed to go, she just left, unconcerned with the pain her departure might cause those left behind. It had happened too many times over the years, the first time when Naya was only five years old.

  “What’s in the bags?” she asked when her mother pulled back and shut the back door of her car. The hinges squeaked with protest and Naya mentally reviewed her bank balance, wondering if she could afford to buy her mother a new car.

  That’s when she really saw the colorful bags perched on the sidewalk next to the car. “And where did you get these bags?” she asked, picking up the first one and looking at it carefully. “They’re gorgeous!” Which wasn’t a lie. The bags were made of two pieces of cotton fabric with an outside pattern and an inside pattern. The two patterns didn’t match in any way, but they looked good together. Even the straps coordinated with the fabric bags and they looked sturdy enough to carry a load of heavy rocks!

  “I made them!” Jessica scooped up the other bag. “At my AA meeting last week, this woman talked about how she was struggling to keep from drinking again, so she decided to choose a hobby.” As they carried the bags upstairs, Jessica continued. “So, the woman decided to crochet hats. She found an instructional video online and…well,” Jessica beamed at Naya, her eyes bright with excitement, “she discovered that she really liked it! She found that she could make one hat a night when she got off work, doing it while she watched television.”

  “That’s awesome, Mom,” Naya replied, stepping into her mother’s apartment and looking around. All of the furniture was still here. With this observation, another bit of her tension left her body. In fact, there was a “new” chair sitting in the bedraggled den. Her mother worked at the soda-bottling factory down the street and only earned ten dollars an hour. So, she didn’t have much money for buying furniture. Naya had offered to buy her mother some nicer pieces, but Jessica had refused, telling Naya that she wanted to do this on her own.

  Jessica found her furniture either at the Goodwill store downtown, or when she was really lucky, grabbed abandoned furniture on street corners. It wasn’t what Naya would prefer, but her mother seemed ecstatically happy with every piece she found. And in reality, the pieces Jessica had acquired really weren’t all that bad. Some of the corners of the fabric were worn thin, but they were all comfortable. What’s better, the furniture her mother acquired seemed to make her happy and a happy mother was a woman who might stick around.

  “Do you really like the bags?” Jessica asked, looking at Naya as if she needed reassurance. “That woman at my meetings who made the hats said that she’d sold them at that open air market downtown. She told us she’d paid ten dollars for a ball of yarn and she could make three or four hats from it. Then she turns around and sells the hats for ten dollars each. She only had to buy a table to put her hats on. She made over three hundred dollars that day.” Jessica clapped her hands. “Can you imagine? Three hundred dollars in one day!”

  Naya grinned, truly excited for her. “That’s amazing, Mom.”

  Jessica took milk and bread out of her fabric bag, nodding as she put everything into the fridge. Including the crackers, even though they didn’t need to be refrigerated. But Jessica wasn’t really a detail person, so Naya didn’t mention the crackers and fridge issue.

  “I thought about the woman’s idea for a while and didn’t really like the idea of learning to crochet. But then I remembered my mom teaching me how to sew when I was a kid.” Jessica put the coffee into the fridge as well, so she didn’t see the pain flash across Naya’s features at that statement. “I found an old sewing machine at the pawn shop. It was only fifteen dollars, but it still works. So I got some fabric and started making these bags! I figure I can make two or three each night and sell them at the outdoor market too!”

  Jessica turned around and looked at Naya with a mixture of hope and fear. “What do you think, honey? Will it work? Do you think these bags will sell?”

  Naya turned and looked at the stitching on the bags and the contrasting, but somehow cohesive colors, nodding her head. “Mom, these are fantastic! You’re a very good seamstress. How long does it take you to make each one?”

  Jessica beamed at Naya’s reassurance, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Only about twenty minutes. The first few that I made were hard and I messed up, but now I have the measurements right.” She ran a wrinkled hand over the other bag. “Everyone’s into saving the environment these days. I figure these are all cotton and better even than the reusable bags one can buy at the grocery store. And I make my seams stronger than those cheap, reusable bags the stores sell. Plus, you can just toss these into the wash if they get dirty. Unlike those nasty things from the grocery store. They don’t wash in the washing machine right, do they?”

  Naya laughed. “They are horrible in the wash. The last time I tried washing one, the seams ripped apart. But yeah,” she said, nodding her head as she looked at the colorful bags. “These are really great!”

  Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m going to make as many of them as I can and maybe see how well they sell at the market. If they work out, maybe I can make some other kinds of bags as well.”

  Naya smiled and put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “This is a really good idea, Mom. Not only are they well-made and colorful, but customers can buy the bags at your table, then put all of the stuff they buy from the other vendors into the bag. So you’re helping eliminate those horrible plastic bags.”

  “Right!” she replied enthusiastically. “I’m saving the environment, making shopping more fun because my bags are brightly colored, plus, I’m making a bit of money for myself!”

  Naya leaned in and hugged her mother. “I think it’s a great idea! And I can help you get the word out about your bags too.”

  “You can?” she asked, her eyes wide. “But…how?”

  Naya pulled back, trying to hide the hurt she felt. Her mother still didn’t grasp what Naya did for a living. “Mom, I’m a marketing expert, remember? Getting the word out about new products is what I do.”

  “Oh,” Jessica replied, looking stunned for a long moment. She looked down at her hands, then back up at Naya. “You’d do that…for me?”

  Naya heard the strange tone in her mother’s question and stopped pulling items out of the other bag. Turning, she looked at her mother, startled to see the anxiousness in Jessica’s aging features. “Of course I’d do that for you, Mom.”

  Jessica smiled, but her expression looked bemused. “Even after…well, what I did to you all those years ago?”

  Naya turned away and peered into the bag, pulling out the box of cereal and putting it in the fridge, since apparently that was the only place her mother stored food. “Mom, that’s in the past.”

  “Is it?”

  Naya turned and looked at her mom. “It is. You’re here now.”

  Jessica’s hands twisted nervously and she shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m getting help, honey,” she told her daughter. “I’m seeing a therapist.”

  That was news! Naya stopped unloading the groceries. “You are? Who?”

  She smiled and shrugged one shoulder, an odd, self-conscious smile to her features. “My
AA sponsor mentioned that the Women’s Clinic over on Milton Street has volunteers who provide therapy sessions. The patients pay a fee based on a sliding scale.” She shrugged a bit, looking down and fidgeted with the rough skin around one of her fingernails. “Since I don’t make a lot of money at the bottling factory, I pay nothing. And the woman who I talk to is really nice. She’s helping to figure out my triggers.”

  “What triggers?” Naya asked softly, curious despite herself. Naya had learned not to believe in her mother, not to count on her. Naya knew that Jessica’s need to “leave and explore the world” was stronger than her maternal instincts. Naya had learned that painful lesson very early in life. And the foster care system hadn’t been a kind environment.

  “You know,” she shrugged as if trying to dismiss the question. “The triggers that set me off. The stuff that gets me to a place where,” she paused and took a deep breath. “When I feel like I can’t handle life. When my problems get to be too much and I just…take off.”

  Tears sparkled in her mother’s eyes as she explained.

  Naya’s heart suddenly pounded in her chest. She abandoned the groceries, and turned to lean against the counter. “Is that what happens, Mom?”

  Jessica looked down at her fidgeting hands. “Yeah. I just…get a bit overwhelmed. Monica, that’s my therapist, she says that everyone gets overwhelmed. It’s just a natural part of being alive.” Jessica didn’t look up. “I didn’t know that, Naya. I didn’t know that everyone else felt this…pain in their chest when life became too difficult.” She looked at the wall, blinking back tears. “I thought I was the only one that felt…frustrated and overwhelmed.” She took a breath and nodded her head. “Monica is helping me to understand and process those emotions. She says that I need to ask for help before I get overwhelmed to the point of needing to leave again.”

  There was a long silence as Naya took that in. It explained…so much! Naya blinked back a few tears of her own. “You do, Mom. I ask for help too, all the time.”