Power Play - A MFMMM Reverse Harem Billionaire Romance (You Can't Resist a Bad Boy Book 6)

by Layla Valentine

  Sliding into the driver’s seat with difficulty, I turn the ignition and turn the air conditioner on, full blast. I still haven’t entirely adjusted to the Brisbane heat, but it’s a work in progress. I know before long, I’ll spend less time cooped up in the house—especially if I manage to land a job.

  When the mall comes into view, I breathe a weary sigh upon seeing the distance from the nearest parking place and the entrance. No expectant mother parking to be found here, unfortunately.

  I wiggle out of the car, trekking towards the entrance of the mall. The sun beats down on my back, and sweat rolls down my neck. Before I can make it to the comfortable air conditioning, a dizzy spell washes over me. Stumbling to the side, I just manage to brace myself against a man who rushes to my side. I move to thank him, blinking slowly as I take in his features.

  He looks strangely familiar, vaguely reminiscent of the doctor I’d seen for my ultrasound. He has an entirely different hairstyle, though. It wasn’t as if the doctor could sprout a full head of hair and decide to move all the way to Australia. The very thought of it is ridiculous. It must be the heat getting to me.

  Regardless, seeing this deceptively familiar face makes me think of the life I’ve left behind. My crappy apartment wasn’t any big loss, but Dillon continues to haunt my every thought—be it waking or dreamful.

  The news stories have finally died down, and the only news I see of the business mogul is his success in additional corporate takeovers. Well, that and the gossip magazine that mentioned his new mansion. People are speculating that he’s seeing someone, but I know that can’t be true. I hope so, anyway.

  “Ma’am, are you all right? Can you hear me?” the man inquires gently. I blink blearily, taking the bottle of water he offers me. “You seem to be a bit dehydrated. It can’t be good for the babies,” he says.

  I frown, taking another gulp of water.

  “Thanks for the input, but…” I trail off, considering him strangely. “How do you know I’m having multiples?”

  He looks panicked for the briefest of moments before constructing his expression into a calm and collected one.

  “Just a lucky guess—looks like a bigger bump than usual.” He laughs awkwardly. “Do you need help getting home?” he asks gingerly, and my mind turns to the place that I consider my true home.

  While I know he means the place I’m staying in presently, Australia will never feel like home for me. The only time I’ve ever felt at home was in Dillon’s arms.

  Struck by the intensity of the sudden thought, I brush the man off and turn back to my car. A thousand thoughts are racing through my head, but the one that sticks out the most is the idea that I simply have to talk to Jenny. She’s managed to keep a level head throughout this; perhaps she can convince me of how ridiculous I’m being.

  Getting back into the car, I turn on the air conditioner again and drive in the direction of our currently shared house.

  Jenny is sitting in a lawn chair in the front yard, sipping a glass of water and flipping through the gossip magazine I’d brought home yesterday. When I get out of the car, she glances at me with an expression of concern.

  “Charlie, are you all right? You look a bit red in the face,” she calls out, jumping to her feet and rushing towards me.

  Giving her a guilty look, I reach out to take the magazine still gripped in her hand.

  “I want to go back,” I admit softly.

  She looks at me with an expression of confusion for a moment, but then realization seems to strike her. She looks briefly troubled, reaching out to take me by the hand.

  “You’ve never been truly happy here, have you?” Jenny asks sadly.

  Tears well up in my eyes as I try to think of an explanation that makes sense.

  “I’m happy being with my family, but…this isn’t home, Jenny,” I say firmly.

  She pauses to take a breath, gripping my hand and seeming to size me up for a long moment.

  “Get out of here, kid. You’ve got a billionaire to win back,” she teases.

  She pushes me back towards the car and I barely resist.

  “I’ll ship your things over as soon as you have a place I can send them to. If you hurry, you’ll probably catch tonight’s red-eye,” she insists.

  Surprised by how confident she seems, I glance over my shoulder at her.

  “You’ve been expecting this,” I realize out loud.

  Jenny sighs, shrugging her shoulders.

  “I know you too well. Now, go on. Call me when you’re safe in Chicago,” she orders.

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  Luck seems to be on my side for the time being, and I arrive just in time to score a ticket for a one-way flight to the United States. The flight attendant considers me rather strangely as I try to stuff myself into a seat—which is quite the task, considering just how obviously pregnant I am. She looks like she wants to ask whether or not I should be flying, but she appears to let it slide after a moment of thought.

  As the cabin lights dim and I begin to drift off, my thoughts lie with the man who has stolen my heart. I can only hope he’ll be happy to see me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charlotte

  I’m jolted awake by the pilot announcing that we’re preparing to land. As soon as we touch the ground and are permitted to get out of our seats, I pop the safety belt off and race towards the exit of the plane. There are an abundance of cabs outside the airport, and I can’t help feeling as if luck is still on my side.

  Flagging down a taxi, I collapse into the backseat and direct the driver to SharkTEC towers. He considers me curiously for a moment, but obliges my request. The ride is short, and I tell him to wait for me and keep the meter running for ten minutes—just in case.

  As soon as I step inside the building, I feel as if all eyes are on me. I spot Tiffany almost immediately, and rush towards her. She considers me with a somewhat scornful expression, stirring her coffee before addressing me.

  “What are you doing here, Miss Law?” she asks bluntly. Her obvious loathing for me is like a baseball bat to the knees, but I manage to remain standing.

  “I’m here to see Dillon,” I offer weakly.

  Tiffany raises a brow, continuing to simply stare at me. I’m almost sure she’s going to send me away, and as it turns out, I’m right.

  “Mr. Bradshaw isn’t here. I’m not quite at liberty to divulge where he is, even if I were to know,” she says dismissively.

  She glances towards my stomach, where my hand cradles my baby bump. Her expression turns briefly sympathetic, and she gives pause before speaking again.

  “He still frequents the penthouse, though his mansion has been completed. You might find him there,” she offers softly.

  Thankfulness jolts through me like electricity, and I reach out to pull her into my arms. She stiffens awkwardly.

  “Thank you,” I breathe, before turning my back on her and rushing out of the building.

  The taxi driver is waiting just like I asked, and I quickly direct him in the direction of Dillon’s apartment complex. That strange look returns, and this time, he apparently can’t find it in him to keep quiet.

  “Miss, do you know Mr. Bradshaw personally?” he asks curiously.

  I stiffen, smiling politely but refusing to answer. Taking my silence as an obvious affirmation, he chuckles under his breath but continues to drive.

  “I see a big tip in my future,” he sings under his breath.

  I roll my eyes, nearly on the edge of my seat as we arrive at the complex.

  “Want me to wait?” he guesses with a faint smile.

  “No, no. That will be all,” I mutter, giving him his cash before stepping out.

  I manage to sneak past the doorman, who is in the middle of conversation with a woman who looks as if she could be a lingerie model. I can’t help wondering if she’s here for Dillon as well.

  Shaking off the thought, I race towards the elevator and press the button for the top floor.
I’m blessedly alone in the elevator, and as the numbers rise, so does my heart rate.

  This could be the worst mistake of my life. If he doesn’t want to see me, there’s no telling how he’ll react.

  Stepping out of the elevator, I use the key I’ve been holding on to for nearly a year now to open the door to Dillon’s penthouse. Walking inside, I’m disappointed to see that the place seems relatively unlived-in. While some of his possessions still remain in the apartment, the air inside is stale and cold. It’s obvious he hasn’t been here for some time.

  All the same, I can’t find it within me to give up so easily. Continuing to search through the penthouse, I curse as my stomach collides with a priceless-looking vase that I remember from my last time being here.

  It crashes to the ground, and I’m not as fortunate as I had been that first day in his office, when I’d nearly destroyed his clock. Though the clock had seemed untouched, the vase shatters into what seems like a million pieces. In a blind panic, I hunch over to try to clean up the mess I’ve made. It’s a bit too late for that, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.

  I’m pulled out of my reverie as someone clears their throat behind me. The situation seems all too familiar, and I’m filled with hope as I turn around.

  There he is.

  Dillon Bradshaw. Love of my life, father of my children, and the man with the power to ruin my life, if he wants to.

  Oh, boy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dillon

  I can only watch with faint amusement as Charlotte goes from frightened, to excited, to frightened again, all in one split second. I haven’t been in the penthouse for some time, but I happened to hear from my secretary that there would be a surprise waiting here for me.

  I had hoped it would be the woman I so adore, but I certainly hadn’t expected as much. Tiffany had simply told me that I should check in, and my secretary has never let me down.

  “Charlotte,” I say warmly, and she raises her hand as if she wants to reach out and touch me.

  She refrains, however, drawing her hand back towards herself and pressing it to her own cheek. Tears begin to pool in her eyes, and as much as I want to tell her not to get emotional, I have a hard time following my own advice. It’s been so long. It’s been so goddamn long!

  I step towards her, and her breath hitches as she watches my every move.

  “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” I joke awkwardly, managing a smile.

  I can feel the tears beginning to roll down my cheeks as well. Damn my adoration for this woman.

  “Dillon,” she breathes, the name sounding so sweet on her lips.

  It’s all I can do to keep from pushing forward and capturing those lips with my own, but God knows how she’ll react. She seems to almost expect me to start shouting at her, and while I wish she thought better of me, I have to consider the conditions under which she departed the States. I can’t blame her for expecting me to be angry.

  Truthfully, however, I’m the happiest I’ve been in months.

  The media backlash from the story of our deal getting out was hard to deal with, and my public relations team is still struggling to tie up the loose ends. They still continue to encourage me to strike Charlotte from my mind and forget she exists.

  I refused to do so then, and as she stands before me now, I find that there is no way I could have easily banished her from my thoughts. In the time she’s been gone, I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with my feelings. All the anger, the sense of betrayal, was nearly immediately wiped away when I received news that she had left the country.

  There was a sense of certainty that I would never see her again. The sea of turmoil we seemed to toss each other back and forth across made me think that perhaps I was better off without her. Moreover, that she was better off without me. Seeing her now, however, quaking with barely restrained sobs barely a foot away from me, I know I can’t survive another day without her.

  I rush forward, drawing her into my arms. She immediately buries her face in my shoulder, her tears soaking my shirt.

  “I’m so sorry. I never meant…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to hurt you. After all we’d been through, and you leaving me at the doctor’s office, I wanted to hurt you as badly as I’d been hurt. The pain was thousands of times worse than that I felt losing my job. I lost the man I love. I can’t say I never meant to hurt you, because I did,” she chokes out, tears continuing to spill freely from the intense green eyes I’ve missed so much.

  Though I know the confession must be hurting her, I’m grateful that we’re finally being open with each other.

  “I understand. For a time, I wanted to see you hurt as well. After you released our story to the media, I lost dozens of potential deals. Hell, I probably lost hundreds.” I chuckle, and she clings tighter to me. “We’ve treated each other rather badly, haven’t we? For two people who claim to love each other.”

  She draws away, looking me square in the eye.

  “I do love you, Dillon. I never stopped,” she breathes.

  Unable to contain myself any longer, I press our lips together in a passionate, loving kiss. She presses against me, tangling her hands in my hair as our embrace intensifies. I draw away to catch my breath, and she stares at me so tenderly that my heart could break.

  “I never stopped, either. That’s why I’ve been tracking you since my team managed to locate you in Australia,” I admit. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she reaches up to cup my chin. “The lottery was my doing, as was the doctor that I insisted keep an eye on you at any given time you were in public. Our doctor, the best in the business. I even paid for his hair implants,” I laugh.

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe you. You really do care,” she says, pressing our lips together once more.

  It’s all I can do to keep from ripping her clothes off, but I don’t know how comfortable Charlotte will be with that until after the babies come. The babies!

  I jerk away, looking down at her stomach. I gently press my palm against the swollen bump. She shouldn’t have flown while she’s so close to her due date, but I can’t find it in me to be angry at her. She wanted to see me as badly as I wanted to see her, it seems.

  However, as I’m considering her stomach, something strange occurs. There’s a large and rapidly growing wet spot on the crotch of her maternity pants. My eyes widen, and she meets my gaze with wide eyes of her own.

  “Oh my God. I think my water just broke,” she gasps, bracing against me as to keep from collapsing.

  I draw her into my arms, carrying her bridal style as I had when we first learned about the triplets.

  “I knew it could happen at eight months, b-but it seems so early! The plane ride must have jostled them,” she cries out, tears streaming down her face.

  The thought has occurred to me as well, but I simply press my lips to her cheek and rush out of the penthouse. The elevator is blessedly waiting on our floor, and I lurch inside, holding her close to my chest. She’s babbling somewhat deliriously, and I can tell she’s furious at herself.

  “Charlotte, my love, calm down. They’re going to be fine. They’re going to be just perfect, like their mommy. We just need to get to the hospital, all right? Everything is fine,” I assure her.

  Milo is some miles away, taking the day off, so I sprint towards my sports car while I hold my beloved tenderly in my grasp. Unlocking the door, I gently buckle her in before running to the other side. Jumping into the car, I rev the engine and speed out of the parking lot.

  “I can’t…I can’t breathe,” she gasps, and I press the gas pedal down even harder. I reach over to grasp her hand, managing to keep us on the road as we make our way to the hospital. I could care less if a cop tries to stop us, all I care about is ensuring my family is okay. Fortunately, we zoom into the hospital parking lot without delay and I carry her the remaining distance.

  A nurse helps her into a wheelchair once we’re inside, and as much as I don’t
want to let her go, I have to see her taken care of.

  “She’s having a hard time breathing,” I explain urgently, and the nurse looks at Charlotte intently. “She’s supposed to have a C-section; we were told at our last appointment together,” I continue frantically, racing after the nurse as she rushes down the halls.

  “Crash cart! Get a crash cart ready!” she yells, and I feel as if my heart drops into my stomach.

  I try my best to remain calm while Charlotte is in so much pain. My beautiful lover, my beautiful babies…please let me not lose them over my own stupidity. If I’d never pushed her away, she never would have left the country. If she hadn’t left the country, maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

  “Dillon, hold my hand,” Charlotte calls out softly, and I race to keep up as the nurse wheels us into the maternity ward.

  Another nurse wheels the crash cart beside the bed, and the two of them work quickly to get Charlotte settled in. Placing an oxygen mask on her, the first turns to look at me carefully.

  “Are you the father?” she asks bluntly, and I nod my head fervently.

  “Please, tell me she’s going to be okay,” I beg.

  Tears roll down Charlotte’s cheeks, but she manages to even out her breathing with the help of the oxygen mask.

  “The doctor will be here…well, here he is,” the nurse announces, gesturing to the familiar man.

  I turn tearful eyes upon him, and he gestures his hands in a calming motion. He steps forward to consider Charlotte, tutting under his breath.

  “When I you boarding the plane, I was worried, so I went ahead and tagged along. You have nothing to worry about; you’re simply going into labor a bit sooner than expected, so if you two could take a few breaths…” he says soothingly.

  Charlotte sighs in relief, and I narrow my eyes at the doctor.

  “You knew she could get hurt and you didn’t stop her?” I demand, but the doctor ignores me.