Billionaire: Billionaire Boss Romance: What the Boss Wants, He Gets (Bad Boy Alpha Billionaire Boss Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Older Man Romance)

by Tia Siren

For that reason, he decided to fly her back to America. But not to Chicago, but Pennsylvania where no one knew who she was.

  “Time is running out! It’s almost daylight. Sooner or later he’ll be here to shoot us all down. Hurry up!” The pilot shouted in anxiousness.

  Anton managed to convince his pilot friend to return her to where she came from. It was a costly move. Millions were spent just to keep her and their baby safe. He must have used a quarter of his fortune to ensure his family was taken care of.

  Rain of tears kept on pouring down her face as he wiped her cheeks in shared agony with her.

  “Why? Why does it need to end like this? Anton…. Please, please… come with me.”

  As she let her words fall, his heart was being torn in half. No one foresaw this coming. Neither him nor her. As in no one. Everything could happen in a blink of an eye.

  “I-I can’t….” He sobbed.

  “But why? We can live far away from here. In Alaska? Or even…..” She paused thinking of a place they could hide.

  “Antarctica? What? Say something!” She cried out.

  “No matter how hard we try you know he’ll track us down. You don’t know him, Tasia. He’s a nefarious man.”

  “I don’t care. If you’re gonna stay here, I’m gonna stay too. We’ll die together.”

  “Are you insane? What about the child in your womb? Our child. Don’t you care about it? Your mom? Please, don’t make it hard for yourself and me. Go now. I beg you!”

  As soon as he dropped the last word, a tumultuous sound of roaring cars dominated the quiet atmosphere in the private airport’s runway where the airplane was waiting. Her tears dried up as her heart quickened beating. She was alarmed.

  What would she do now?

  “Go now….” He pushed her toward his friend.

  She screamed and screamed. The veins in her neck almost ripped out of her skin.

  His pilot friend seized her as he pulled her into the airplane.

  “Let go of me! Anton….” She squealed.

  The plug door slammed. She could not see him anymore.

  Whirling in a circle, the propeller whistled loudly as it was about to take off. Gun shots fired in the mid-air, aiming at the airplane for it to stop. Bullets made out of bronze were no match against the steeled surface of the flying fish, specifically designed for heavy duty.

  “You betrayed us! How dare you.” Java’s fist crashed against Anton’s jaw.

  He blocked out.

  ****

  Damped. Cold. Filthy.

  Anton’s hands were tied on a thick plumbing steel pipe under the warehouse. Mice were licking his wounds as they squeaked and squealed in delight. He was still unconscious.

  “What are we gonna with this mongrel? He’s a traitor. He deserves to be killed. He breached the rules and regulations of Sekret rynka.” One of the brothers said.

  “Just wait. We need to find out where she’s gone first.” Java spoke.

  Cold and dirty water from the drainage splattered all over Anton’s face, forcing him to wake up.

  “Hey, traitor. Wake up!”

  “Ha?” Anton weakly replied.

  “Where is she?” Java yelled.

  A sudden worry crept into Anton. Tasia?

  “Hey, I’m talking to you. Answer me!”

  A horse’s riding crop whipped against his face, head, neck, chest – anywhere it hit. It was painful like his father’s beating when he was just a kid. His most feared nightmare came to life. He hated pain. He’d had his fair of it since he was a boy. But, would he give in?

  “I-I don’t know,” He replied weakly.

  “Liar!” Another whip struck his face.

  Flesh split in half, his wound kept oozing blood. He was determined to keep his family safe. Although he never wished to leave his unborn child fatherless, he could not afford to lose them either. One way or the other, someone had to make a sacrifice.

  He already made a decision. And he was adamant to stick with it. Death’s grip had no power over him.

  “Tell me, or else I’m gonna tear you and your slut girl into pieces.”

  Slut? How dare you! Fury boiled in Anton’s blood. “Be careful with your mouth, you fat cunt!”

  Java stepped back slightly, frightened to see him turned red in wrath.

  “What would you do now? You’re bound and helpless. No one can help you. She’s not here, and she’ll be gone forever when I find the cave she’s hiding in.”

  “Don’t you dare lay your hands on her. I have many tentacles, Java. I could easily kill you in this instance.”

  “Oh, really? What about if I cut one off?”

  He whipped his left leg repeatedly to the point where Anton could no longer bear the pain in silence. He screamed in an agonizing cry, calling Tasia’s name for help. He kept on struggling, and at one point the rusty plumbing pipe broke where he was tied on.

  Java fell over by the pipe’s impact. It hit his right thigh, pushing him away.

  Realizing luck was on his side for the first time, he stood up in relief. A shadow in the drainage caught his attention. Papa? He thought as he saw his father’s reflection in the dirty water.

  It must have been his own hallucination created by his initial insensibility during the time he was unconscious.

  It as it gave him the strength to face Java.

  “I told you I have many tentacles. Bad grass is hard to die. Say your last prayer.”

  No one was left in the underground, except Anton alone.

  It was now Java’s turn to taste the dose of his own medicine.

  Chapter Nine

  Sitting by the window, Tasia’s mother, Tonya, was thinking about her daughter. She was regretful of gambling their house for the sake of her entertainment. Tasia had not come back home for over a year now. She spent Christmas alone. No gifts. No Christmas trees. Just a simple meal.

  Knock. Knock. Knock. Someone was outside the entrance door.

  “Who’s that?” Tonya yelled.

  No one answered. Instead, the knock kept on going, louder and louder.

  For goodness’ sake. Who’s that? “I’ll be right there. Hang on minute….”

  As she opened the door, a slim black woman stood before her with a baby girl clutched in her arm. She did not recognize her. She had changed so much. That little girl she had once taken care of was now a full grown woman.

  “Tasia? Is that you?” Tears welled up in Tonya’s eyes. Disbelief clouded her mind.

  “Mama?” Tasia began to cry.

  “It’s you. Thank goodness, you’re alive. Oh, my daughter…”

  Lifting her arms up, Tonya let them rest on her daughter’s shoulders as she pulled her in closer, savoring the moment. Every second of it was more precious than diamonds. It was a gold that can never be purchased, its value beyond a price one could afford.

  The baby smiled at her grandmother sweetly, entertained by her reaction.

  “Is that my granddaughter, Tasia?”

  “Yes, Mama. Her name is Alexis.”

  “Oh, sweet heaven. She’s beautiful!”

  “Like mother, like daughter.” She laughed.

  “Where’s your husband?”

  “Ummm… Let’s talk about that inside Mama. I don’t think this is a good place for that topic.”

  “Yes, of course. Sorry, darling. Come on in.” Tonya shut the door.

  ****

  It had been days since Tasia had arrived back in Chicago. Since then, she had been praying that her mother would not ask about Alexis’ father. She thought Anton was already dead, and she did not want to keep her hope up, afraid to be hurt again.

  Since he was gone, Alexis had been her source of strength. She was the reason she found the courage to visit her mother again. Without her child, she would have gone insane by now.

  “Alright, Alexis, mommy and grandma will take you to the park. You like that, don’t yah?”

  Alexis giggled, exposing her toothless gums.

  “Mama…�
��

  “Yes, Tasia?”

  “Are you ready? I’m gonna take Alexis to the car, alright?”

  “Yes, darling. Just make sure you put her in the car-seat. She’s not allowed in the front passenger seat.”

  “Cool. Thanks!” Tasia made her way down the stairs to the carport where the car was parked.

  Driving to the park, Anton came to her remembrance as she noticed Alexis was sleeping. She really looks like her dad when she’s asleep.

  As they came to stop at the intersection, Tonya noticed her agitated face. “Is there something bothering you?”

  “Ha? Ah, no… I’m alright, Mama. I’m just thinking of what we should feed Alexis when she wakes up.” She lied.

  Truth be told. She was thinking of Anton.

  Sitting on a red picnic mantle, she watched her baby crawl around. How she wished Anton was there to see their daughter’s growth. But he was not. He was dead. As least that was what she thought.

  Not far off, Anton stood under a tree, trying to find the courage to approach his family. Papa, if you ever hear me, please help me be a father that I should be to my daughter.

  Since the time Anton saw his father’s reflection during the fight with Java, he was convinced his father had long desired his forgiveness. As Anton allowed himself to forgive, a sense of relief followed him all the time. It was the power of forgiveness that had taught him healing.

  A cold breeze hissed at him. Goosebumps stood up on his skin. Was it his father’s spirit who was helping him out?

  “Alexis, don’t go that far,” Tasia told her daughter.

  Oblivious to who was behind her, a hand grabbed Tasia’s shoulder. She recognized his smell and the texture of his palm. Don’t tell me his ghost is haunting me?

  Every doubt was abolished when she heard him speak.

  “Tasia?”

  She could not get it wrong. His strong, but soft Russian accent was remarkable.

  “Anton?” She excitedly turned.

  Gems of precious tears began to roll down involuntarily from their eyes. They were both speechless – tamed with surprise and gladness that miracles really do happen. And a happy ending was possible.

  “How did you find us?” She asked with thankfulness in her voice.

  “I’d do everything to find you and our daughter.”

  He shifted his gaze at Alexis while she was crawling around, exploring her skills. She got her golden brown hair from her father. Her eyes were Hazel, a little bit lighter than her mother’s eyes. But her skin tone was mixed. A little lighter than Tasia’s. And a little darker than Anton’s.

  “She’s beautiful. She looks just like you, Tasia. Can I hold her?”

  “Yes, of course. She’s your daughter, you know. Our child.” Tasia blushed.

  Taking her up from the ground, she wiggled her hands as she played with her father’s nose and eyes. Her smile was priceless. Suddenly Anton felt that same sensation of love that his father must have felt when he had held Anton for the first time.

  Watching, Tasia was crying. The tears of pain and sorrow were replaced with tears of joy and thanksgiving. Finally, they could now live in peace and harmony without worrying about tomorrow.

  She stood up, and then approached them. As she did, Anton wrapped his arm around her while the other was holding Alexis – the chain that interlocked them together.

  *****

  THE END

  BWWM Romance - The Russian’s Love Child: Tyra’s Story

  ''It's okay, Tyra, hold on to me,'' Natalie said as Tyra collapsed into her arms.

  Father Smith had told me it would be like this, Tyra thought. But which of the emotions had he meant? The Grief or the guilt? Tyra was experiencing both. Two of the most powerful human emotions were wracking through her at will.

  ''Tyra, we're so sorry for your loss.'' Tyra lifted her head from Natalie's shoulder. It was Mr. and Mrs. Radley Samuels, Tyra's boss and his wife.

  ''Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.'' Tyra didn't think she could speak, but the words came out somehow. Natalie handed her another tissue and for a moment, Tyra could see clearly again. She looked to her left and saw a line of mourners waiting to express their condolences to her.

  ''If only I hadn't been so selfish,'' Tyra said to Natalie as they walked up the cemetery path. It had taken an eternity to work through the line of those seeking to express their condolences and Tyra was exhausted. ''It was foggy, and I knew dad didn't want to drive that day. It was me. Me moaning that they hadn't been to see me in my new home in the city. Lord knows, I think I even suggested they weren't interested in me anymore.'' She held onto Natalie again as another insufferable wave of guilt rammed at her. ''No, I killed them. Dad would never have taken mom out in the car on a day like normally.'' Natalie didn't know how to comfort her friend. They were both just twenty-three and beginning to make their way in the world. Losing parents wasn't supposed to happen until later in life.

  *****

  Three weeks after the funeral, Tyra stood outside the jewelry store on West 47th Street and looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time. I've been working here for seven months, and this is the first time I've properly taken the place in, she thought. Grief-stricken and riddled with guilt; she felt her senses had become sharper since the passing of her parents. It was as if someone was making her take notice of the world. Making her appreciate what can so easily be torn away from you, in an instant.

  West 47th Street was full of jewelry shops, but none as grand as J.P Samuels. They might as well have called it, 'Jewelers to the rich and famous,' she thought. For that's what it was. A place where the rich came to gorge on expensive stones. The front of the store was imposing. Between the cleanest store windows in New York, there were columns of polished black granite. The entrance was in the middle of the store and it too was surrounded by shiny black stone. The door itself was made of bulletproof, reinforced glass. What Tyra liked best about the facade was the sign. It was made of copper and ran the length of the store. The background was dark and the letters that had been forged onto it were polished and stood out better than any other letters on the street.

  ''Welcome back Tyra. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom and dad,'' Leon said. ''Thanks, Leon. It's very brave of you to say so.'' She'd found that most people just turned away from her, not knowing what to say. Not Leon. It was his job to stand inside the door and keep out the undesirables. He was perfectly equipped to do so at six feet seven and two hundred and fifty pounds, but it involved hours standing in the same place, day after day.

  ''Tyra, my girl,'' Radley Samuel's said. He'd been waiting for her. Normally, he didn't stand in the shop.

  He had others to do that for him. His job was managing the business that his grandfather had started. ''Come with me.''

  Tyra followed him through the store. They walked past glass cabinets filled with beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, and watches. At the back of the store, they went through a door and down a corridor. The first door on the right led to a security room. Tyra had never been in the room, but she had seen inside once when the door had been open. It was full of monitors and the latest lock down systems. It was all hi-tech, and she had no idea about any of it.

  Radley pushed open the first door on the left and showed her into his office. How can anyone spend hours in an office with no daylight? she wondered. There were pictures of his ancestors on one wall and a giant flora vase in the corner. What she liked most about his office was the carpet. It was deep red with the company crest woven into it.

  ''Tyra, please sit down.'' He pointed to a button backed armchair that stood in front of his mahogany desk. ''I want you to tell me how you are feeling. You've been through a lot, and I want to make sure you’re feeling up to working again.'' I wish I had a daughter like her, she's so graceful and kind, yet determined and motivated, he thought.

  ''Well, honestly speaking, I'm still feeling awful.'' You can tell him everything; he cares for you, she told herself
as a moment of doubt crept into her mind. ''I weep a lot, especially in the evening and I feel guilty. So guilty.'' She noticed how closely he was listening to her. The furrows on his forehead were deep with concern for her, and his eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking any sign that a return to work may be too early.

  ''There is nothing I can say to you that will make you feel better. All I can do is tell you what happened to me when my son was killed.'' Killed? I didn't know he'd had a son, she thought. The thought that someone close to her had also suffered such a loss made her feel better.

  ''My son was only nineteen. He was studying business at New York University and working here at the weekends.'' He stopped talking for a moment, took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. Tyra knew him to be fifty-nine. He was quite tall and very thin. It was as if he was so involved in his business he forgot to eat.

  He looked at her with a pained expression as he continued. ''One morning, he left home to go to college, and he never came back again. A man who had been drinking all night decided to get into his car and drive to the girlfriend he had left for dead in her apartment the previous evening. When he fell asleep at the wheel, it was my son he hit.'' Tyra noticed a crack in his voice. ''Walking down the street minding his own business.'' He took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

  ''Oh my God, that's awful,'' Tyra put her hand to her mouth.

  He nodded. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened her with this, he thought. ''At first, everything was a blur. It was only after the funeral had taken place that it really hit me. After the funeral, everyone seems to disappear. All the kind words and supporting arms are no longer there. You are suddenly alone.'' He ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and looked towards a photo on his desk. Tyra couldn't see who it was. She assumed his son.

  ''The Undertaker had warned me about it. A deep hole, he'd called it, and I fell into it.'' When he paused, Tyra thought about where she was mentally and recognized what he was describing. ''The Undertaker also explained that there is something called the cycle of grief. You go through stages of grief, and if you are lucky, eventually come out the other end. The last stage is called the acceptance stage. You stop all the blaming and come to terms with what's happened. Of course, you're still sad, but it gets easier.''