The Alpha’s Gift_Bad Alpha Dads_The Immortals

by Monica La Porta

  “He’s in the backroom, working on a new dollhouse,” his mother answered with her warm laughter. She opened the door for him, and they walked into the house.

  The foyer smelled of citrus and fresh cut lilac, and the old hardwood floor was polished to a mirror. When Max was a kid, he used to slide on those floors with his worn Converse sneakers, driving his mother crazy. Sometimes, he longed for those simpler times.

  “You look tense, Max.” His mother stopped in the middle of the room, tilting her chin up to better look at him. “Is everything okay?”

  He had never been able to hide anything from her. In the past, he had wondered about her sixth sense that was always right. For a mortal, the woman resembled a witch, and a powerful one at that.

  Under her unwavering scrutiny, he caved. “Mr. Stamper—”

  “The paranormal PI?” his mother asked.

  Her worried expression made him raise his hands and hurriedly add, “It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  “It’s about the lawsuit?” she asked.

  “No, it’s something else.” It surprised Max once again how he hadn’t thought of tribunals, lawyers, and disgruntled employees once in the entire day besides when Marie had mentioned the lawsuit earlier.

  “What is it then?” His mother threw her hands in the air in defeat.

  “Let’s go to Dad’s cave, and I’ll tell you guys everything, I promise.” He crossed his fingers against his heart and batted his lashes at her. “And afterward, you have to show me your new rose.”

  His mother playfully slapped his shoulder. “Don’t you dare do the big-eyed stare at me. It hasn’t worked since you were eleven and transformed into a moody preteen.”

  She was being nice. When Max’s dragon shifter’s nature manifested at puberty, he became the adolescent from hell. Any other family would have washed their hands of the problematic youth no school wanted to deal with. But not the Prizes. Augustus and Corinne had fought for their son’s rights and nurtured him with their selfless love. They, not the army of teachers who chalked up Max as too much work, channeled Max’s energies into writing software. And here he was, a billionaire, thanks to his mortal parents, who understood he needed to be loved, not labeled.

  “Let’s go then, and prepare to tell the truth, nothing but the truth, mister.” His mother led the way toward the back of the house, where his father’s craft room lay behind the kitchen.

  “Hi, Dad.” Max strolled into the crowded space filled with shelves containing dollhouses in various scales.

  His father raised his eyes from a miniature vignette and pushed his lighted magnifying glasses up his forehead. “Max!” He smiled and rose to hug his son.

  Slightly shorter than Max, Augustus was still a tall man with a leaner build, but similar enough that people often didn’t realize they didn’t share blood.

  Augustus Prize started building Victorian dollhouses soon after they bought their house, and the hobby quickly became a fulltime job.

  Max walked to the nearest shelf to admire one of the smaller scale miniatures his father was famous for. Leaning to look at a cottage that fit into his hand, he said, “Did you make this for the Seattle Miniature Expo?”

  “Yes, and this quarter-inch scale over here as well.” Augustus pointed at the little house sitting in front of him on the table.

  At the door, his mother tapped her foot impatiently. “Max has some news for us.”

  “The lawsuit,” his father started.

  “No, not the lawsuit. Something else,” his mother said, giving Max one of her bright smiles.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you must promise not to freak out.” Max raised his brow when she made a face. “Promise.”

  His mother rolled her eyes.

  His father chuckled, bringing his hand to his chest before saying, “I solemnly promise not to freak out, no matter what you say.” He left his chair to join Corinne.

  Max turned his stare to his mother, who nodded and finally promised when her husband gently squeezed her arm.

  “So, last night, I received an unexpected package,” Max said. “It said, ‘A gift for the Alpha.’”

  “A package?” her mother asked. “And they know you’re a shifter!”

  “Let him talk.” His father hugged his mother.

  Max didn’t know where to go from there but needed to have this conversation with his parents before the investigator arrived, so he plowed through it.

  “A baby,” Max said.

  “What?” his parents said at the same time.

  “Someone left a baby girl at my apartment.” Needing support, Max leaned against the edge of the table, being careful not to break any miniature.

  “A baby girl,” his mother repeated.

  “Why would anyone leave a baby girl at your apartment?” his father asked.

  “I have no idea,” Max answered. When his parents both raised their eyebrows in mirrored doubt, he sighed and said, “I really have no idea why. She isn’t mine if that’s what you are thinking.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Corinne asked.

  “Because,” Max answered, not wanting to enter that particular conversion with his mother.

  “Then whose girl is she?” His father regarded him with a long stare.

  “I’ll find out, and I’ll send her back to her family.” Even to Max, his words sounded harsh, but there was nothing else to do. “The baby isn’t mine,” he repeated.

  His mother left her husband’s embrace and grabbed Max’s hands. “I want to see her.”

  Exactly what Max had been dreading all along. “No.” Max shook his head and gently pried her hands away.

  “What if she’s yours?” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

  If there was something that could bring Max to his knees, it was his mother’s looks. “She isn’t,” he repeated yet again.

  “You’ll take a paternity test, right?” his father asked, but it sounded more like a command.

  “Already done,” Max answered.

  A knock on the front door saved him from having to answer any more question.

  9

  After her bath, Amber Rose had fallen asleep, and Vivienne couldn’t get enough of looking at the beautiful baby girl softly snoring. Once in a while, Amber Rose would scrunch her face and make the loveliest of noises or clench and unclench her chubby hands over her blanket.

  “You really like babies.” Max’s low voice rumbled from the entryway, startling Vivienne who jumped, smashing the glass milk bottle she was holding against the corner of the nightstand.

  “I’m sorry—” She eyed the damage she had done and cringed at the sight of the Persian rug soaked through with baby formula. Grabbing a few of the baby’s cotton napkins, she immediately went to work on the stain that would soon smell something awful. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.” As the words left her mouth, a question filled her mind. How much would it cost to have that rug cleaned? It looked like a very expensive one. Maybe she had been hasty in offering, but it was only right, wasn’t it—

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, startling her anew because he was crouching by her side, and she hadn’t noticed him crossing the room. His hand lowered over hers. “Don’t worry about the rug. The cleaning company will take care of that.” Prying the wet napkin from her fingers, he dropped the cloth on the floor and pulled her up. “Did you have dinner?”

  Dazed, Vivienne shook her head. “Not yet. I was waiting for Amber Rose to fall asleep—”

  “Amber Rose?” he asked as his eyes cut toward the sleeping bundle. His expression was bright with an amused light.

  “I named her—” Vivienne lowered her gaze to her cowboy boots. She then remembered that Mr. Billionaire didn’t intimidate her and raised her chin, popping her hip to the side. “I can’t very well babysit her without a name, can I?” And since she was warming up to the topic, she added, “And when did you plan to tell me that I’m supposed to put my life on hold to take care of your baby?” />
  Max raised his brow, his mouth curving up at the corner in one of the sexiest smiles Vivienne had ever seen. Damn it! How could she keep her cool around this man when even a smile sent her senses in overload?

  “I like the name,” he said, taking her by surprise.

  “You do.” She made it sound like a question.

  “I do.” Max propped his hip against the wall and crossed his arms over his large chest. “And I thought it was clear that I need you here until I find the baby’s family.”

  “Well, it was only clear in your mind because I’m sure you’re used to having your every whim taken care of before you even have to ask.” Deep inside, Vivienne knew that she was lashing out because her reaction to him frightened her but couldn’t stop her tongue whipping.

  Shrugging, Max said, “It might be. I pay my people well enough to expect a certain quality of service.”

  “You conceited—” Vivienne stopped before her loose mouth and unthinking brain put her in more trouble than she was already in.

  “Yes?” Max waved his hand, motioning for her to keep talking.

  “I think I’ve said enough,” she admitted. She should’ve apologized but couldn’t bring herself to do so.

  “That’s too bad because it sounded promising.” Max’s eyes shone with a predatory light. “But as much as I like verbally sparring with you, I’ve come to invite you to dine with me.” He winked at her. “If you can stomach eating with a conceited prick,” he said before adding, “I suppose that was the missing word.”

  Vivienne felt her cheeks warm. “Something in that vein.”

  “Thought so.” Max laughed. “Now, would you accompany me?”

  Vivienne’s eyes went to the baby girl who was adorably snoring. “I can’t leave Amber Rose alone.”

  “Of course not.” Max looked at the baby sleeping inside the carrier. “We can take her with us to the kitchen.” He leaned to grab the carrier, but Vivienne was faster.

  Lifting the carrier by the handle, she gave him a hard stare. “No offense, but you might shake her.”

  “You’re right. I’m not used to handling baby girls.” Max’s lips quirked up into a naughty smile. “Adult girls, though,” he let the sentence trail before adding, “They are my area of expertise.”

  “Do women fall for your cheap charm?” Vivienne asked, trying to hide her shameful reaction to him. As much as she wanted to feign indifference, the man fascinated her.

  “Every single time,” he answered, his dimples showing when he smiled brightly. “How was your day?” he asked, changing the topic before Vivienne could think of an appropriate comeback. His legs covered the length of the hallway in long strides.

  “It was nice. Amber Rose is a sweet girl,” she answered, lagging several steps behind.

  Max paused and turned, waiting for her to catch up with him. “I’m glad to hear that.” His eyes lowered to the bundle dangling from her hands. “She looks like a sweet child.” The merest hint of longing colored his comment. “I don’t understand how someone could abandon their kids. It’s wrong.”

  Vivienne’s first instinct was to rebuke him for planning to do the same to Amber Rose. Instead, she asked, “And how was your day?”

  A surprised frown marred Max’s handsome face, but he soon smoothed it. “It was eventful,” he said. “Thank you for asking,” he added.

  “Any new game coming out soon?” she asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” he answered, his voice more excited and his eyes brighter than a moment ago.

  “Anything you can reveal?” she asked, entering the kitchen after him.

  “Do you solemnly swear to never talk about it with another soul?” He motioned for her to place the carrier on the high countertop.

  After crossing her mouth, Vivienne threw an imaginary key over her shoulder, eliciting Max’s beautiful laugh.

  “It’s a farm simulator with a twist.” He moved around the island and bent to grab a pan from one of the drawers.

  “What twist?” Vivienne watched as he gathered a few more utensils on the countertop before walking to the French door fridge that occupied the space of three regular ones.

  “While playing the game, you earn points that you can redeem at a real farm. It would be nice to educate the new generations to shop locally and organic.” He shrugged.

  “That’s an awesome idea. I can’t wait to play with it.”

  “I can add you to the beta team if you want,” Max said. “You can test the game before its release, but the catch is that you have to report bugs and give honest feedback. Is it something you’d like?”

  “I’d love that, thank you.”

  “So, is babysitting your full-time job?” he asked after a long moment of silence.

  “For now, yes,” she answered, wondering about the reason behind his question. “I love taking care of children.”

  He nodded. “It’s nice to work in a field you are passionate about. For a long time, I struggled to find my way, and if my parents hadn’t supported me when I started creating silly games, I’m not sure what I would’ve done with myself.”

  Max’s confession touched her.

  “I have to thank my family as well for all their support. I wouldn’t be the person I am if they hadn’t fought for me,” she said before she could think better of it.

  “Why did they have to fight for you?” He gave her a puzzled look before hastily adding, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  Vivienne didn’t mind telling him about her secret that wasn’t a secret, but coming out to a shifter could go either way. If Max turned out to be a bigoted racist, she would have to leave his apartment and Amber Rose, and she’d hate to do that. She also would hate if he were a racist at a more personal level, but that was entirely different territory altogether.

  “I’m a half-breed,” she finally said, locking her gaze with his, waiting for his reaction.

  Max’s eyes widened for a moment, but his expression didn’t change to disgust as it so often happened in Vivienne’s experience. Instead, he looked at her without judgment, warming her heart, and it made saying the next part easy.

  “I’m only half super. My mom is mortal, and my father already had Jack from his previous marriage. My parents moved to Seattle to escape persecution,” she said.

  Mixed-shifter families faced racism all over the States. Washington was one of the few safe places for half-breeds.

  “My father feared for both my mother and me, and when I was one year old, he sold his car shop, and packed our van. One night, my family left the small city of Roxton behind, never to look back.”

  “Your father did the right thing,” Max said. “Racism makes me sick.”

  “I agree.” Vivienne breathed a relieved sigh. Had he had a different reaction, it would have hurt. “Let’s talk about something less depressing,” she said.

  “What about the weather?” he asked with a serious expression.

  “It’s Seattle,” she answered, mirroring his seriousness, but couldn’t help but laugh a moment later, and Max started laughing too.

  “What about you?” she asked when the laughter died down and a more poignant vibe filled the air between them.

  “What about me?”

  “I told you my secret.” She raised a shoulder and gave him a pointed look.

  He seemed to think about it for a moment, but eventually tilted his head and said, “I was adopted by mortal parents—”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not common knowledge.”

  “How come a shifter child ended up in a mortal family?”

  “My biological parents abandoned me behind a garbage bin—”

  Vivienne gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” Her heart broke for this huge man, who had once been a small baby, unwanted by his own family.

  “They didn’t even have the decency to leave me outside a shifter orphanage.” Max shook his head, pain etched in his handsome traits. “The garbage man fou
nd me and called the mortal police. Corinne, my mom, was the social worker assigned to my case. She says it was love at first sight.” He smiled. “She also immediately realized I was different and it didn’t make any difference to her and her husband. They took me in and raised me cocooned in love. I was lucky. If instead of my mother, a different social worker had been called that day…” His eyes became darker.

  “May I ask you something?” Vivienne hugged herself.

  “Sure.”

  “Was your reaction to Amber Rose so strong because of your past?” She knew it wasn’t her business and had refrained from asking earlier but couldn’t help the question any longer.

  Max passed a hand through his hair. “Yes. I’d never abandon a child of mine, and it makes me mad to think that someone didn’t want her. A parent should care for her daughter, not leave her at some stranger’s door.” He shook his head. “I simply don’t understand.”

  “It’s hard to,” Vivienne said, wanting to hug him so hard she had to keep her arms crossed tightly under her chest. Her own painful past demanded to be shared, too, but she couldn’t, not yet.

  After a moment of tense silence, Max walked around the counter and said, “Okay, dinner—” Legs wide, he stood before the open fridge for a moment as if deciding what he needed. “Quiche Lorraine or Amatriciana pasta?” he asked, pointing at the well-stocked shelves.

  “They both sound amazing,” Vivienne answered. “Let’s go with Italian tonight.”

  “Amatriciana it is then.” He reached for a few ingredients and brought them to the countertop.

  “Is that bacon?” she asked, trying to memorize what he was doing. Vivienne’s love for cooking showed in her soft curves. She would never say no to a good meal.

  “No, that’s guanciale.” He moved to the pantry and grabbed two cans of tomato sauce, labeled in Italian.

  “What’s guanciale?” Vivienne tilted her head to read the sauce brand.

  “It’s Italian cured pork cheek or jowl. It's used in classic pasta dishes. If you ever had spaghetti alla carbonara or bucatini all'Amatriciana at a restaurant, it’s what they usually use.”

  “I’m afraid my Italian cuisine experience varies greatly from yours. The places I can afford are not authentic, and I’m pretty sure that even the Italian names in their menus are spelled wrong,” she said.