Triplet Babies for My Billionaire Boss (A Billionaire's Baby Romance)

by Lia Lee

  “Logan,” I whisper over his shoulder. “Don’t threaten her. She’s barely holding it together—she could snap.” My years of behavioral study are setting off alarm bells in my head, and suddenly I recall every word of those case studies I thought I’d never need to know about. Threatening someone who’s already emotionally compromised is not the right approach; it can push them over the edge and force them to take acts of desperation. Especially if that person has a weapon; and this one does. We have to get through to her on a different level entirely.

  She’s close enough that I can see the tears welling in her blazing eyes. “I can’t,” she says, her voice cracking. “I won’t walk away this time. I want to know my daughter—is that so much to ask? Please… I know I screwed up before. Give me another chance…”

  Logan shrugs us both off, cutting Jolene short again. “You had your chance. You had every chance. For God’s sake, Rose was only a few days old when you left, Jo. What kind of mother does that? No fit kind… you don’t deserve a second chance, not now, not ever, do you hear me?”

  “Don’t say that…” Jolene pleads, near to tears.

  “Don’t go begging for sympathy when you have none for anyone else. You’re incapable of a single, decent human feeling!” Logan shouts.

  “Shut up!” Jolene cries, placing her shaking hands over her ears. I swallow hard. The scene is painful to watch and is attracting the attention of nearby carnival goers. Despite Logan’s hurtful censure, I know in my gut she’s not crazy, nor inhuman; her responses are mostly rational and self-aware. She’s unstable, certainly, but not deranged. She’s just a mother who wants her child and a fresh start. No impulse or motivation could be simpler or purer than that; I understand that now more than never.

  Logan seems beyond hearing, his anger escalating out of control. “Get this through your baked-out skull, Jolene. You will never, never have a relationship with Rose. Not while I’m alive…”

  “Shut up!” Jolene screams, dropping her hands and reaching inside her jacket. “Then you can die,” she adds, pulling the gun from its folds and leveling it straight at Logan. My stomach twists and I feel like I’m about to pass out. If I lost him now, there’d be two more fatherless children in the world. I can’t breathe, and I’m seeing stars as my vision threatens to fade and go dark. I lean my head down against Logan’s shoulder, my fingers digging into his strong arm as he goes stiff, readying for a fight.

  “Logan,” I whisper. I close my eyes, willing my head to clear. “Don’t say anything else, just watch for Rose.” I draw two deep breaths and raise my head. Then I take a slow, deliberate step out from behind him. Jolene’s gaze slips sideways over me, and she seems even more afraid of me than of him. A slight, small woman, both Logan and I tower over her by comparison.

  “Who are you?” she squawks in surprise. “Get back, or I’ll finish him right now.”

  “Jolene,” I say calmly, my brain seeming to switch into a different mode like I’d just pressed the power button on a hidden, powerful machine that shows me exactly what I need to do. “Rose is right behind you. Don’t let her see this. Put the gun down.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Logan

  Brave & Crazy

  “You’re lying, she’s still on the merry-go-round,” Jolene says, the gun barrel wobbling violently in her unsteady hands, still pointed at my chest. Every fiber of my body is tensed like a drawn hunting bow, ready to spring. Adrenaline surges through my veins, through every limb and every cell; Quinn has purposely stepped into the line of fire, left herself purposely open and exposed, and I’m about to lose my mind with fear for her.

  Several yards beyond Jolene’s frail, wispy frame I see a stranger lift Rose off the carousel platform and attempt to comfort her. She doesn’t see us and is clearly panicking. I’m torn in two wanting desperately to protect both her and Quinn, unable to fathom what’s possessed Quinn to pull this dangerous stunt.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you,” she says to Jolene, holding her hands out, palms upward in a gesture of openness. “My name’s Quinn. I know Rose, and I know she wouldn’t want to see her daddy get hurt. Please put the gun down.”

  Jolene shifts her aim to Quinn, and a cold blackness takes root in my soul. If anything happens to Quinn I’ll never forgive myself; I’m responsible for getting her in this mess. I have to find a way to take out Jolene without letting her get off a shot.

  “Put it down now, Jo,” I say. “Last warning.” Quinn glances my way and silences me with a subtle flick of her hand. The gesture says that she has a plan, and I’m not part of it.

  “I know you’re upset, Jolene, and that you’ve had a rough go of things,” she continues. “You love Rose, too—I can see that. I understand you want to be with her. You’re her mother, you’ll always be her mother. No one can take that away from you.”

  I’ve never heard Quinn speak in this tone of voice; it’s assertive but soft and soothing. I’m dumbfounded at the nerves of steel she’s displaying, and the effect it’s having on Jolene. Maybe the sympathetic words are getting through to her. I stay still, but with my muscles still jacked into high alert, ready to catapult across the small distance between us at the slightest false move from Jo.

  “Damn right,” Jolene says. “I gave birth to her.”

  “Of course you did. Bringing life into the world is a great thing, but a hard thing, too. I’m sure you were just overwhelmed. You never meant to hurt anyone, and you won’t hurt anyone now, will you Jolene?”

  “I want my daughter,” Jolene says, stamping her foot. “No one gets hurt if you just let me walk away with her, nice and quiet-like.”

  Quinn shakes her head slowly. “That can’t happen, Jolene. Not until you get more help. When you’re better, you can see Rose, I promise you. I’ll see to it.”

  Jo seems confused, and her agitation starts to build again. “No! I’m not waiting anymore. I’m already better, I want her now,” she cries, her arms quivering from the effort of holding up the revolver. I’m terrified it just may go off in her clumsy grip. Jolene shakes her curly head as if trying to rid it of Quinn’s words like a swarm of buzzing insects. “Just shut up!” she barks, wagging the business end of the gun at Quinn. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’d better give me my daughter right now, or I’ll shoot. I will!”

  I can tell by the feverish look in her eyes that she’s on the brink; she’s going to go over the edge any second. I’ve seen it too many times before. It’s all I can do not to jump her right now—take a bullet if it came to that. Better my miserable ass than Quinn, or some innocent bystander.

  “You won’t,” Quinn assures her in firm, confident tones. “I know you won’t because, you see, I’m a mother too.” My head jerks in her direction at her words. What is she saying? She lowers her hands slowly to her midsection to stroke her belly. “I’m going to have a baby. It’s still inside of me, and I know you don’t want to hurt a baby who isn’t even born yet, do you, Jolene?”

  Jolene blanches, and her jaw quivers. “No,” she gasps, as though insulted at being accused of such a thing. My brain is on overload trying to take in what I’m hearing, or what I’m seeing. Quinn is pregnant? The idea knifes through me like a heated blade. Have I done it again, carelessly impregnating a woman like a worthless jerk? Or is it a calculated lie—a trump card to persuade Jolene to stand down? Either way, I’m blindsided, wracked with guilt and completely speechless at Quinn’s handling of this bizarre situation in front of us.

  “That’s good because if you hurt me, I will never get to see my baby,” Quinn pleads. “And I want to see my baby, just like you want to see Rose. How would you feel to never be able to see her again?”

  “I will see her.” Jolene nods, sniffing back her building tears. “You can’t stop me.”

  “I know how much you must miss her—that you’ve never got a chance to hold her, kiss her and put her to bed at night. Don’t you want to do all those things?”

  “Yes!” Jolene shrieks, t
he tears now spilling down her cheeks.

  “Then you have to put the gun down. If you don’t, you may never see Rose again.” Jolene’s breath is coming in heaves, her watery gaze darting back and forth and her body trembling uncontrollably. “You’ll go to jail,” Quinn continues. “Is that what you want? For Rose to have her mother locked away and never know her?”

  “No,” Jolene gasps.

  “Just put the gun down, and that won’t happen. Please. Rose needs her mother. Do it for her.”

  Jo dissolves into helpless, convulsing sobs and her shaking arms collapse to her sides. As her knees buckle, the handgun clatters to the pavement, and she covers her face with both hands. “For Rose,” she wails.

  I dive for the discarded weapon at the same moment Quinn rushes forward to catch Jo in her arms as she crumbles to the ground in a sobbing heap. I’m stumped at the amazing strength and compassion of this brave, brilliant young woman, and I thank the moon and stars and whatever powers that be that have brought her into my life. If my child is inside of her, I’m the most undeserving son of a bitch in the world. I look gratefully into her luminous blue eyes as she cradles and comforts Jolene—a stranger to her who could have ended us both—in a gentle, forgiving embrace. A tired smile curves her beautiful lips.

  “Everything’s okay. Go get Rose,” she urges quietly. “I’ll find you.”

  I get to my feet just as two hefty men working security arrive to secure the handgun and take control of the situation. A police SUV pulls slowly into the area, sounding an intermittent woop of its siren to clear the crowd. I step back to give them space before I turn and cut a swath through the shocked onlookers to get to Rose, who I find lodged in the arms of a kind-looking middle-aged woman.

  “Daddy!” she cries, reaching out to me with her tiny arms.

  “I’m here, Rosebud. Daddy’s here.” I can barely choke the words past the ball of emotion trapped in my throat. “Thank you,” I say to the lady as she hands Rose off to me. I hold my little girl close amid the crush of people, flashing lights and ringing sounds of the carousel, memorizing the feel of her precious warm body against mine, and the sweet smell of her just-washed hair, and vow I’ll never let her from my sight again.

  I know that’s not possible, but the day she was born I’d promised to be the best father I could possibly be. And if Quinn is telling the truth, I have twice as many reasons to live up to that promise now. I never thought I could love anything or anyone as much as Rose, and as much as I hate myself for what I’ve done, the thought of Quinn carrying my baby fills me with a silent, indescribable joy. When she’d said, “I have something to tell you,” I have no doubt this was her incredible news.

  I start back across the parking lot to find Quinn and tell her how much it means to me, how grateful I am, and that I’ll stand by her; that I love her now more than ever.

  “Can I have ice cream now?” Rose asks in that long-suffering, but irresistible whine that only exhausted four-year-olds can pull off. I laugh in spite of the terrible ordeal we’ve just been through. We all have our priorities, and while Rose’s is her stomach, right now mine are my daughter, my woman, and our unborn child. My family.

  “Yes, sweetheart, in a minute. I think I can use one, too.” Or a stiff drink. Maybe there’s a flavor of ice cream that has booze in it. I see Quinn’s golden blonde head moving through the river of people between us, and I quicken my pace. I don’t intend to let her out of my sight again either.

  “Quinn!” I shout.

  She catches sight of me and hurries toward us. “Logan! Rose!” she calls. We jostle our way through the dissipating crowd and meet each other halfway. Everything around us seems to dim and fade away as she flies into mine and Rose’s waiting embrace. Nothing else exists except this moment; this joining of everything in my life that’s good and special and so very right—the only things that matter.

  “Kin!” Rose squeals, overjoyed to see her favorite babysitter again, grabbing coils of Quinn’s golden hair.

  “Oh, Rosebud! Look at you! I think you’ve grown… I’ve missed you so much!” Quinn says, ignoring the yanks on her tresses in favor of the kisses Rose is plastering to her cheeks.

  “You’re the bravest, craziest girl ever, you know that?” I say, shaking my head in awe.

  “Jolene’s in custody. She’ll be taken to hospital for evaluation,” Quinn says, smiling through Rose’s onslaught of kisses and hugs.

  I nod in acknowledgment and lean in closer. “Is it true?” I ask, my voice an expectant whisper. “You’re pregnant?”

  Quinn turns her attention from Rose and fixes me with her clear, wondrous blue gaze that I want to get lost in forever. I already have my answer just by looking into them, but she gives a small nod of her head. “I’m not so brave, but maybe I am crazy. Crazy about you and Rose. And that I’m going to have your baby.”

  Epilogue

  Quinn

  A New Dawn

  I’m glad it’s Christmas break. After a round of killer term exams, I can really use a few weeks off. I get tired easily, and Dad worries I’m not getting enough rest. He assures me that the first trimester of a pregnancy is the toughest, and I’ll be feeling much better soon. I’ll take his word on that, seeing as he’s the doctor in the house.

  He didn’t freak out or play the disappointment card when I told him my news. Quite the opposite. Having a grandchild on the way seemed to lift his spirits and help him finally break through his lingering grief over my mother. While he wasn’t entirely surprised to find out that Logan is my baby’s father, it took him awhile to get used to the idea.

  “There it is, sweetheart,” Logan says, pointing out the window of his truck. Firmly buckled in the booster seat between us, Rose claps her hands and kicks her feet in excitement. “There’s our new house.”

  As we pull up the long drive, I’m impressed by both the size of the sprawling, Australian sheep station style house and the rambling three acres it occupies. It’s beautiful, surrounded by trees but with plenty of open space for the pony that Logan’s getting for Rose’s fifth birthday. I can’t wait to see her face when it arrives.

  “That’s an awfully big house for such a little girl. What do you think, Rose?”

  “I like it!” she says. “We can have a puppy now!”

  Logan and I exchange exasperated glances. “I thought you wanted a pony,” he says.

  Rose flashes her sweet but mischievous smile that always melts our hearts. “I want both!”

  We all laugh as Logan parks in front of the house with its wide, wraparound porch and brightly painted door that welcomes us. The moving truck will be along in a few minutes, so we start unloading the few light boxes that we’ve brought with us.

  “Don’t you be lifting anything heavy,” Logan warns me as he opens the tailgate. “Why don’t you take Rose inside and have a look around first?”

  “Okay,” I say, taking Rose by the hand and leading her up the steps. Though it seems like only yesterday that I saw Logan and Rose for the first time, moving into the house next door, after everything that’s happened, Logan told me how he felt it best to find a new place. Somewhere secluded and quiet. I’ll miss having him and Rose so close by, but this country property is perfect for them, and only just outside the city. It’s an easy drive for him to take Rose to see her mother in the rehab facility each week.

  I’m proud of him for keeping the promise I made to her—that she and Rose will get to know each other at last. Their first visits seem positive, as Logan says Jolene has been surprisingly patient and low-key with Rose. No mention of the “mom” word yet, as it’s way too soon for that, but so far they’re off to a good start. I also know it will be part of Logan’s healing process too; to begin to repair the scars of his difficult past.

  After informing my dad about the baby, it also became too awkward for both he and Logan to continue to live next door to each other, and since I still have studies to finish, a move for Rose and Logan was really the right thing to do. I
’m looking forward to graduation and will have my degree well before the baby is born in July. For now, I just want to help them get settled and enjoy the holidays.

  “Wow,” I say, turning a three sixty inside the large, open living space on the main floor. The exposed log beams stretch across a high ceiling and angle down toward the full span of windows along one wall. The view is spectacular, the misty blues and grays of the Superstition Mountains looming in the distance.

  “Wow!” Rose echoes, skipping around the room. “Where’s my room?” she asks.

  “I’ll bet it’s upstairs,” I say, noting a lovely winding staircase leading to the upper floor. Trust a construction professional to appreciate fine craftsmanship and design when he sees it. “Let’s check it out.” I take her by the hand and climb the curving staircase as Logan enters the house with an armload of boxes.

  Rose runs into all of the four bedrooms, shouting “this one’s mine” in each one. I laugh and follow behind, enjoying our exploration of the second floor. There are two good-sized bedrooms on one side of the landing, and both a large master suite and a fourth, smaller, bedroom on the other. I gaze out the window of the master bedroom, taking in the equally fantastic views from this side of the house. They’re both going to love it here. I love it already and plan to visit on as many weekends as I can.

  I wander into the separate bathroom, envious of the beautiful marble tile and the luxurious Jacuzzi bath. I’m not showing yet, but I’m sure I could use some soothing, fragrant soaks in that tub when I’m big as a whale in my eighth month. I’m also jealous of the huge walk-in closet in the suite. I’ve lived in the same house with my parents for as long as I can remember, and though Dad could afford bigger, he was never into the material trappings of success. Family was foremost, and we loved the modest home we had. None of the closets were even a quarter of the size of this one!

  As I admire the space, Logan walks in with a few boxes of clothes and sets them on the floor. I can hear Rose singing a nursery rhyme in the small bedroom next door.