Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance

by Ashley Stewart

  “How about you come out here and we have ourselves a little chat,” Gino said.

  “Let’s finish this between us. Let the girl go. She was never going to rat on you.”

  “One can never be too sure, ya know.” Gino glared at him with an insinuating look.

  Giovanni eyed the men. He tried to determine how many of them there were in total, and how he was going to kill all of them while keeping Cierra safe.

  “Your life is already over. Did you want to take her with you? And I assume it’s your child she’s carrying? Three lives lost?” Gino said.

  “No, you’re right Gino. Take my life for hers,” Giovanni said.

  “You don’t let me have anything, mother fucker! I take what I want! You think you could escape me after you murdered my father? He gave you a job and a life making great money and you turn around and whack my father?”

  Gino was getting himself worked up and was losing control. His frustration mounted. He grabbed Cierra and put the barrel of his gun up to her face, pushing it into her cheek until she let out a whimper. He held her by the neck as she stood in front of him.

  “Maybe I let you see what it is like to lose someone that you love,” he said.

  “I already know what that feels like. Let her go.”

  Giovanni held his hands up to show him that he had no weapons. It was a tactic he used to throw Gino off guard. He wasn’t about to alert him to the fact that he had three easily accessible weapons on him. He needed to wait for the right time to pull them and that meant he had to get Cierra out of the way first.

  Cierra felt Gino relax a bit as he was talking to Giovanni and took that opportunity to stomp on Gino’s foot then punch him in the groin. Gino doubled over in pain and released his grip on Cierra. She ran to the back of one of the black SUVs and hid.

  Giovanni saw his opening and reached behind him pulling out his guns. He began shooting at the men who were reacting to his movement and drawing their guns at the same time. He shot at them with both weapons in his hands, the wafting smell of gunpowder filling the air. He hit three of them as he hit the deck. Bullets flew overhead as the men scattered to find cover and then jerked back at the impact of Giovanni’s bullets hitting their bodies.

  Cierra watched the chaos ensue. She covered her ears from the loud sound of bullets being fired and hoped that one didn’t find its way to her. She was terrified for her baby and herself and prayed that it would be over soon. She knew that as long as gunfire was exchanged that Giovanni was still alive. She couldn’t see very much from behind the bulky vehicle.

  One lucky bullet left Giovanni’s gun and swirled through the air finding its way to the meat of Gino’s shoulder. The force caused him to drop his weapon and look for cover. He covered the wound with his other hand as he noticed the blood oozing out of the hole. Adrenaline temporarily dulled some of the intense pain that would eventually flood back to his nerves, and he used this time to run behind one of the SUVs.

  Giovanni finished off the last of Gino’s men with a bullet to his head. The man lay limp on the ground. All around there were men in black and gray suits lying in the front yard of the once peaceful cottage hidden in the woods. Giovanni stood up and brushed himself off. He knew Gino was wounded. Cierra got up and ran toward him, relieved and crying. He embraced her as she checked him to see if he was okay.

  “Giovanni, maybe we can work out a deal,” Gino said.

  He lay on the ground no longer looking like the power hungry bully he was just moments before.

  “We can put this all behind us. Walk away like nothing ever happened.”

  “That’s what we tried to do, but you wouldn’t let that happen,” Giovanni replied.

  He followed Gino as he slinked on his hands away from Giovanni. He nudged Cierra out of the way and stood over Gino.

  “Please,” Gino uttered finally revealing who he was underneath all the money and power.

  Giovanni looked at him. He had tried to take everything that was special to him. For a man who had nothing, Giovanni cherished Cierra and his unborn child.

  “No deal,” Giovanni said as he fired five bullets in Gino’s head and chest. It was just as cold and calculated as it sounded. There was no love lost between Gino and himself. He had killed dozens of men for Gino and his father for no other reason than money. It was never personal, just business. There was no way he would have mercy on a soul who tried to destroy everything he held dear in this life.

  Cierra screeched and covered her mouth with her hands. She closed her eyes and waited until it was over before lunging at him and throwing her arms around his neck.

  “Are you alright?” Giovanni asked.

  She didn’t answer but nodded her head in the affirmative. He held her tight. It was over. Everything they had been running from for so long was gone. No more Geremia family to come after them. No more running. They could stay where they were. Finally, they were safe.

  Chapter 29

  Cierra and Giovanni sat in rocking chairs on the front porch of their freshly painted cottage home. The sun was beginning to set and the sky splashed a spectrum of oranges and reds and yellows.

  Cierra slowly rocked their newborn son. She caught Giovanni staring at her and smiled. She liked it when he stared at her, it made her feel like he loved her and was proud that she was with him.

  “Admit it, you’re glad we stayed,” Cierra said.

  Giovanni gave her a sly smile.

  “You were right. It’s the perfect place to raise our son,” he said.

  “Are you sure you won’t get bored in a sleepy town like this?” she asked.

  “Nah. There’s plenty to do. Fishing for example. Lots and lots of fishing. Fishing for days.” He gave her a sarcastic grin.

  “Do you think you will miss your old life?” Cierra asked.

  “No way. The greatest adventure is yet to be had and it’s sleeping right there in your arms.” he said.

  The Billionaire’s Exclusive

  The Complete Collection

  Books 1-10

  Bella Rayne

  www.meadowrayne.com

  The Billionaire’s Exclusive Book 1

  Bella Rayne

  The Billionaire’s Exclusive

  Really, Angela should have been expecting the migraine that was now beating out a drum line along her temples; today was the day that she had to interview the billionaire hot shot David Westley, CEO of Westley Entertainment Studios, so of course things had to fall apart from the start today as she attempted to even show up for the interview in the first place. Thankfully, her alarm clock had gotten her up at the right hour, but it was nearly all for naught when her car decided not to start. Thankfully, her neighbor was something of a grease monkey, and had her on the road with enough time to make it to her interview, but with literally seconds to spare.

  Now, here she was, doing her best to ignore the inquisitive staring of Mr. Westley’s receptionist, and doing her best to rub the migraine out of her temples. She shot a quick message to her publisher, letting her know that she had, in fact, made it in time for her scheduled appointment, before turning her phone on silent and stuffing it back in her pocket.

  “Um,” the receptionist piped up, pulling her attention to the woman seated behind the counter. “Miss...um...Angel?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Angela,” she corrected.

  “Miss Angela, Mr. Westley is ready to see you now,” she said, not really looking up from her book. Some romance novel. How typical.

  “Right, thanks,” she stood. “So which floor are we meeting on, and where?” she asked.

  “Top floor, his office,” she responded in a droll tone. “The top floor is literally nothing but his office. Can't miss it.”

  She started another eye roll, but figured there was no point in wasting the energy; it's not like this lady was going to see it anyway.

  “Thanks,” she said again, and walked to the elevator, her high heels clicking as she went. Thankfully, she only had to wait a few mome
nts after calling an elevator before there was a low ding and the doors opened. Stepping inside and hitting the top floor button, she let the elevator close, and began to mentally prepare what she was going to say as the elevator began its ascent.

  * * * *

  David sighed as he removed his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. It was a long day already, and it hadn't even hit noon yet, if his watch was being honest about the time. Already, his secretary botched three things that he had to delegate to other members to fix, his personal assistant was nowhere to be found, and he had some interview for a magazine that was going to happen in mere minutes. This already tumultuous day was souring his mood, and he knew it would show in the interview if he didn't do something about it.

  With a sigh, he went over to his personal coffee maker, and prepped one of his favorite blends of coffee: a blonde roast, with hints of nutmeg and hazelnut, and set his coffee mug under the dispenser before hitting the corresponding buttons and loading his grounds in. As the machine gurgled to prepare his favorite drink, he chewed at his lip, staring at his desktop, still running the documents he had been working on. Documents that, if he were being honest, could potentially make him one of the most influential people in the country.

  Provided he played his cards right, that is.

  Business was always a delicate game of chess, he thought as he heard the coffee maker begin to fill his cup. He grinned as the smell of roasted nutmeg and hazelnut filled his nostrils, and he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. Once the dispenser had filled his mug completely, he shut it off and brought his freshly brewed drink back to his desk, taking a seat in his plush, luxurious desk chair. He fiddled with a coin in his pocket, the very same one that his father had given to him as a token of luck. It was a coin that had been misprinted, one that showed tails on either side.

  Setting it on the desk, he spun the coin expertly, watching its dance as he contemplated his next move on the corporate chess board. These things were such delicate matters, after all; he couldn't afford any more mistakes, and wasn't about to let the same mistakes that were holding him back, continue happening.

  The coin toppled over.

  * * * *

  The elevator doors opened to reveal a grand floor, the entire thing mostly one room, the exception being a few off shooting rooms that she guessed were bathrooms, and a boardroom, that created a short, faux hallway that led to the executive suite. The space was vast, she noted as she walked into the office proper through the small hallway.

  There was a solid wood executive's desk centered in the back of the room, with a wall of windows behind it looking out over the city. There was a small bookshelf that held some literature, and a coffee maker with all of the amenities that came with it on top. To her right, there was a plush set of couches and a coffee table, no doubt for entertaining guests much like herself, and she found herself a bit at a loss as she took in the opulence that she would most likely never know personally.

  At the heart of it all, sitting at his desk, was David Westley. A man that had his fingers in many pies, she knew, but was primarily in the entertainment business, and television broadcasting, specifically. But she knew some of his other business arrangements; restaurants, hotels, a few clubs, and even a clothes line. The man certainly didn't want for anything with the revenue he was raking in, she thought wryly as she approached his desk. He had his chair turned slightly away, as he was working on something on his computer, and had evidently not realized she had approached. He was handsome, she had to admit, with his dark raven hair, the streaks of gray at his temples giving him that silver fox style of sex appeal. She tamped down on that thought before it had a chance to blossom and cleared her throat.

  “Mr. Westley,” she addressed in a clear, crisp tone. He swiveled his chair toward her fully, his forearms resting lightly on his desk.

  “Ah, Ms. Angela Parker,” he noted with a smirk. “So glad you could make it.”

  * * * *

  “Thank you for accepting the Planetary Bugle's request for an interview,” she said, pulling her bag open and tugging out her digital recorder. “I'm a little surprised you accepted it at all.”

  He supposed he couldn't blame her for thinking that; despite its larger than life name, the Planetary Bugle was one of the smallest news magazines out there, and almost no one had heard of them. An exclusive interview with him, one of the most influential and successful people in the entertainment business, would certainly put them on the map.

  And leave them owing him a favor.

  “What can I say,” he said with a grin. “I like to help the little guys.” He rose and gestured for her to take a seat on one of the couches, which she did, with a quiet, 'thank you.' He came around and easily slid into a seat on the couch catty-corner from her, one leg crossed over the other casually. “Now, then,” he grinned, “shall we set up the parameters of the interview before we get started?”

  She nodded, and pulled out a notepad and pen.

  He frowned, not sure what on earth she would need those for when she has a digital recorder. “I hope I won't need to dictate to you,” he said with a chuckle.

  “No, no, that's what the recorder is for,” she tapped the top of it absently with her finger. “I'm just using this to take down what can and cannot be discussed in the interview.”

  “Meticulous,” he said with a nod of approval. Clearly much more meticulous than his current assistant, who had yet to answer any of his calls this morning and was beginning to push her luck, as far as he was concerned. He made a mental note to observe her as the interview went on, in order to judge her potential. “What's a woman with your talent doing at such a small magazine? I'd expect you to work with the International Investigator or one of the bigger ones,” he said smoothly, already knowing that, if he wasn't the one to plant that seed of doubt in her mind, he was certainly fertilizing the one that was already there.

  She bit her lip – ah, there it was – that moment of doubt, of not being able to find a good enough answer to that question. Or, at least, not one that she was comfortable giving, either to him, or to herself. He could easily expose that for his own gain. And hers, really; he could offer her so much more than a third rate magazine that was going nowhere but bankruptcy.

  “I, ah,” she swallowed. “I applied to a number of other magazines. This was the only one that was interested at the time as I had just graduated and didn't have any experience .”

  “And now?”

  “I have too much experience,” she barked a sarcastic laugh. “I now have too specific of a style, and am therefore not needed elsewhere where they can get someone, 'more malleable', as they put it,” she shrugged. “So here I am.”

  “How interesting,” he mused. “Anyhow, I'll keep my restrictions list short: I don't want to talk about my love life, and I don't want to talk about the weather.” He grinned at her peal of laughter. “Sound fair enough?”

  “More than,” she said around her giggles. “I can easily avoid both topics. Is there anything else you'd like to do to prepare for the interview? Some people have different preferences, so I always like to ask.” She let her laughter fade into a polite smile as she folded her hands in her lap.

  “No need,” he said with another charming smile. She hid her blush behind a hand, a movement disguised as brushing her hair away from her face – perfect, he was already winning her over, and he hadn't even proposed any offer or terms on his part. This woman was slowly but surely becoming putty in his hands, just like the rest of the world. “I already feel right at home talking to you.”

  “Alright, then,” she said, not bothering to hide her blush this time. “I suppose, if there's nothing else we need to take care of beforehand...” She pulled herself upright, straightening her posture as much as possible. “We'll begin once I count down, and start recording.”

  He nodded to her, and admired the way that her demeanor changed entirely; she went from a demure, blushing young lady into a no nonsense business woman
giving out instructions in a gentle but firm voice.

  “On one, then,” she grinned. “Five.”

  They locked eyes for a moment, and he knew she felt the spark between them.

  “Four.”

  She took a breath, most likely to relax herself so that she could more easily step into her role.

  “Three.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his button up shirt slipping just enough to expose a prominent collar bone.

  “Two.”

  Her voice grew breathy for a moment before she cleared her throat.

  “One.”

  * * * *

  “Mr. Westley,” she said in her firm investigator's voice. “Before we start, I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to meet with me for this interview today.” He grinned at her, and she mentally hoped in equal measure that he wouldn't tease her too terribly much in that silent, charming way that he'd been doing, and that he wouldn't stop. She wasn't sure which side she wanted to win, if she were being honest with herself.

  “Please,” he said with a hand wave. “It's my pleasure.”

  “Now, then,” she said with a clearing of her throat. “Westley Entertainment has steadily risen to become one of the biggest television entertainment businesses in the west, and is already in the top twenty networks internationally. Why do you think that is?” For anyone else, this might have been seen as a safe question, but she knew there was the possibility of there being something fishy going on with Mr. Westley, and his reaction could determine whether or not she would do some more digging into just how his corporation rose so quickly in the ranks.

  “Easy,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I simply outbid other companies on low budget shows that most didn't think would go anywhere, and invested more into their budgets. It let the writers do more with their stories, which in turn lead to the shows being better, and we made a lot more money. Then I repeated the process with several other shows,” he answered without batting an eye.