5+Us Makes Seven_A Nanny Single Dad Romance

by Nicole Elliot

  I squeezed Eden as we approached the house, sighing with pleasure at the feel of her shapely body. She patted me firmly on the butt, and ruffled the back of my neck.

  “Now get that door open and get upstairs on that bed. That’s an order.” I leaned in to kiss her passionately as she opened the door, hand fumbling with the lock.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Eden

  I rolled over, hand resting on Jack’s chest as he dozed off, his chest gently rising and falling. The cover was completely off of him, and I ogled his naked body without shame. I still found him incredibly attractive, and I squeezed his biceps, dirty thoughts entering my mind.

  I looked down at his cock and felt a stirring of pleasure, a heat rising within me.

  I could wake him up quite easily…

  I decided to let him sleep for a while longer before jumping on him. Though the desire was strong, and I felt my face flushing at the thought.

  We had fucked like rabbits since he’d got me home safe and couldn’t get enough of each other. I was taken away by his appetite for sex, and I wasn’t complaining. After such a long abstinence, I knew it was healthy for the both of us.

  I felt a twinge in my stomach, and nausea rose. I lurched upright, heading for the bathroom.

  I sudden realization came over me as I stared in the mirror, washing my face. My hand froze.

  No, can’t be.

  Excitement and nervousness rose within me accompanied by a slight feeling of panic.

  Well, only one way to find out.

  I took a pregnancy test from the drawer under the sink and breathed deeply before using it, locking the door in case Jack rose to see what I was doing.

  I placed the test on the counter and began pacing nervously, reading and re-reading the instruction manual. I waited for what I guessed was enough time for the results to be showing. I sighed with relief as I saw the result.

  ***

  Later that day Jack and I were sitting at my kitchen table, a big lunch finished on the table in front of us. Jack patted his belly contentedly. A smile crossed my face as I stared at him, love in my eyes. He smiled back, a huge grin spreading across his handsome face.

  I rose to go to the fridge, grabbing a cold beer for Jack. He exhaled a big lungful of air.

  “Had enough of that last night. Might wait until tomorrow,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Open it. Drink some.” He frowned at me, cracking open the can and taking a big swig.

  “I’ve got something to tell you.” His face froze with shock. Dread spread across his features. I took a big breath, exhaling slowly.

  “I’m pregnant, Jack.”

  He nearly spat the beer out on the plate in front of him. Eyes wide with panic as he looked up at me.

  “Wha… what? How… I mean how do you know?” His unassailable confidence had vanished, and for once I saw fear in his eyes. Then he started to smile nervously at me.

  “Pregnant. Wow. Ok, that’s good. Isn’t it?” I laughed at him and went over to sit on his lap.

  “Yup. ‘Fraid so, Jack. I mean, you did it to me. So it’s your fault, really.” I poked him in the chest.

  “Well, I didn’t hear you complaining!” We both laughed, though Jack was still in shock.

  “Wonder if it's a boy or girl? Shit, we need a bigger house, Eden. We…”

  “Whoa, slow down Jack. We’ve got nine months to get that sorted. Don’t worry. Try and relax.” He nodded. I squeezed his shoulder.

  He looked up at me, eyes looking intensely into mine.

  “Guess that means I’ll have to marry you now, right?” His eyes sparkled with humor. I slapped him playfully on the chest.

  “Jack Storm. If that isn’t the best proposal a girl has ever heard, then I don’t know what is! Now, kiss me. And carry me back upstairs. I’ve got something to show you…”

  Defending The Mafia Princess

  A Bad Boy Bodyguard Romance

  Ivy Blake

  Chapter One

  Alexandra

  “For the last time, Alexandra, it’s not going to happen. Please, just drop it so we can eat in peace. I’ve had a shit day, and I just want to drink this wine, eat some junk food, and slump in front of the TV.”

  I clenched my fists under the table and glared at him, giving him the slight frown that I had practiced in the mirror earlier. Normally it was effective, but at the moment, he wasn’t having it.

  “Don’t even try it, sweetheart. I’ve had enough bullshit at work, so that it’s just not gonna work on me today. I said no, and I mean no. That’s the end of it.”

  I sighed defeatedly but wasn’t ready to give up just yet on what had thus far been a week-long argument, played out in small one or two hourly episodes every evening.

  “Dad, I know you don’t like it, but I’m not a little girl anymore. All I constantly see on Instagram are pics of my friends all over the world, and believe me, there isn’t a chaperone in sight in any of them! Cocktail bars, pool parties, gorgeous hotels...just young people having fun with no danger nearby!”

  I raised my dainty, recently manicured eyebrows and pouted slightly again. If this was some random guy, I would have leaned forward and showed a hint of cleavage, guaranteeing a quick end to the argument.

  But unfortunately, this wasn’t some random guy. This was my father.

  He wistfully glanced up from his large glass of wine, looking almost annoyed that I was distracting him from it. “You can’t see the chaperones because they’re damn good at staying out of sight. That’s why the good ones cost so damn much! I’m not insisting on this just because I think you’re some special little snowflake, believe me. I have my reasons.”

  And here we come to the brick wall again, I thought to myself, knowing we would soon begin skirting around the issue of why I needed protection, although Dad would never actually answer the question. But I decided to take the chance and engage the argument anyway. “Why do I need a bodyguard then?”

  If my psychology degree had taught me anything at all about body language—which it had, considering that I’d graduated Summa Cum Laude—it was that my dad wouldn’t be swayed. Regardless, I refused to give anything away, despite the fact that I was nearing the end of my patience and almost ready to fold.

  I’ll make it worth my while when I do though, that’s for damn sure! I thought bitterly.

  Dad sighed and tore his eyes away from the TV for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I can’t explain, I’ve told you that. I’ve signed confidentiality agreements that would put me in jail if I even told you what kind of paper they were written on.” He drained his glass of wine.

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. Not sure that’s how you’re supposed to drink a $300 bottle of red wine, Dad...

  “Look, I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal,” I offered.

  Dad sat up and put on what I called his ‘business mode’ face, his head slightly raised and his shoulders back with his hands crossed in front of him. “I’ll tell you what I can do, even though it’ll still get me in trouble. I might be able to talk my way out of it though, but only on the condition that you agree to my terms.” He paused for a moment and smiled. “Oh, I almost forgot. As a sweetener, I’ll cover all your travel expenses, not just the flights and accommodation.”

  I sat up, my eyes widening. This was more to my liking. My dad was a very rich man, but the money he had put aside for me when I was younger was being held in trust in the form of shares in his company, and I couldn’t spend a penny of it until the trust matured in just under two years.

  And I wanted to go on vacation now.

  “What’s caused the sudden generosity, Daddy?” I asked. “Did someone slip something into your wine?”

  He gave me a sympathetic laugh. “No, Alexandra. My company’s share price has risen rather considerably in the last few days, with the positive media reaction over the completion of our last contract. Which was front page news, I hasten to add. Oh, and following the news ar
ticle, the companies are now queuing up to get us to sign more software development contracts.”

  Dad still referred to the company as his even though he’d sold the majority stake to a large multinational software and hardware development conglomerate when I was young. The share price had risen sharply, making us billionaires on paper almost overnight, and it seemed we were even richer now. Not much of that mattered to me though, at least not until my shares matured and I’d have more money than I could ever spend.

  At the moment though, I just wanted to enjoy the last few years of my early twenties before I had to worry about buying a house, having kids, or any of the burdens that would come with either. And by fun, I meant luxury travel. partying, sightseeing…

  And sex. Not necessarily lots of it. Just good sex from a man who knows what he’s doing, not like the small handful I’d experienced casually at college, small being the operative word…

  “Deal?” Dad barked, bringing me out of my daydream.

  This is it, then. Time to concede defeat on favorable terms. “Okay, Daddy. If it really means that much to you, I’ll let you hire someone to look after me. As long as they don’t get in the way, cramp my style, or cockblock me.” Dad winced, making me regret my choice of words. “Well, you know what I mean. I am 22 now, you know.”

  “I know. Anyway, here’s what I can tell you.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You know I manage the software development of part of the company, right? A position I was given when I returned to work, after your mom passed away. Let’s just say that I manage the development of software that either helps kill people or helps to stop people from being killed. And not just for companies, but for armed forces and governments too. And there’s lots of nasty bastards out there who would do anything to get their hands on it.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant for a second. He rarely spoke about Mom. She had died after a brave but short battle with an aggressive form of cancer when I was three. Dad later told me that he had sold the majority of his company at the time of her diagnosis, so he could be there to support her and look after me. I could tell that he still wasn't over her death and would probably never be. And the loss made him even more protective of me, which was touching but could be very smothering at times.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I’ve already told you more than I’ve ever told anyone outside of work about what I do. But hopefully you understand that I’m not just being an overprotective old bastard. I want you to have fun and do your own thing, but I want someone there...just in case, ya know?”

  “I know,” I said as sympathetically as I could manage, even as the excitement started to build up. After almost two years of planning and re-planning, chatting about the details with friends, and a week of arguing with my dad, I was finally going travelling! And with Dad covering my expenses, travel, and hotel, I’d be travelling in sublime style and luxury. None of that slumming it with dirty backpackers, getting fleas or crabs or whatever you’d get living in a hostel, or sleeping with unwashed travelers.

  For me, it would be first-class or business-class, the best hotels, and nicest restaurants. Not to mention clean, wealthy, handsome, and hopefully well-endowed men.

  Hey, a girl can dream, right?

  Chapter Two

  Cruz

  I looked up from my whiskey glass, my cold blue eyes fixing the older businessman sitting opposite of me with an intent stare. “How much?” I said in a soft but deep monotone.

  “You heard me. Listen, I’ve had a look at your previous work and spoken to your...references. I know this isn’t the type of contract you usually take. And I may be being damned paranoid, but I can’t shake the feeling that the risk is greater than you or anyone else suspects.”

  “Right. So, this isn’t simple babysitting, knocking some sense into some over-friendly jocks. I know, Andrew.” As I spoke, I saw my potential future employer flinch.

  “How the fuck?” The older man leaned forward, his hand reaching for the panic button under his desk. “I never told you my name, did I?”

  I leaned back, trying to relax my muscular frame into as non-intimidating of a position as possible for someone standing 6’ 5” and weighing 260 lbs. “You don’t need to press that. I’m on your side. Plus, your name is on that certificate over there.” I gestured with my glass towards the faded yellowing certificate on the far wall a good ten feet away.

  If I was being completely honest--which I never was, especially when trying to impress or intimidate--my eyes weren’t that good. I’d heard of the heat this guy was facing through some old mob contacts. The sort of contacts you needed when you were an ex-vigilante slash criminal-turned-gun for hire, mercenary, bodyguard--hell, I’d do a fucking dog protection service if the money was right.

  I had even managed to find out his address, name, and a good idea of what his pretty daughter looked like from squinting at her almost-private social media pages. From what I could see, she was about an eight. Maybe a nine after a few drinks. I had fleetingly found myself wishing I was a few years younger, but immediately stopped those thoughts right in their tracks. I knew what happed when I got involved with women--trouble. So, I vowed to keep this one strictly professional. Besides, I knew this man’s daughter was probably way out of my league.

  “Truth is, Andrew, I’m good. I’m really fucking good. That’s why I’m expensive, right?” I took another gulp of whiskey.

  Jesus, this is nice stuff. If this is what he keeps in his office to offer to muscled scarred thugs, I wonder what he keeps in his private collection? Probably fucking gold plated bottles, I thought.

  I leaned forward on my elbows, my t-shirt barely managing to contain my bulging biceps and chest muscles. I raised my left eyebrow, knowing it would accentuate the scar running along it. I knew I looked mean and hard as fucking nails. “I know the heat you been gettin’. I know the type of hardcore criminals who want in on what you develop. And these guys don’t fuck around. Good thing is, neither do I. I shoot first and ask questions later. And I ain’t bad in a fistfight either. And when I say I ain’t bad, I mean I ain’t never found no one who can beat me.”

  I drained my whiskey and Andrew poured me another, his gaze not lifting from my face. I had his full attention and knew he was either impressed, intimidated, or slightly jealous. Probably all three.

  “Thanks,” I said, raising the glass. “Last one for me. If I drink more than three, bad shit seems to happen, even if I ain’t looking for it!”

  I took a smaller gulp and continued my sales pitch, not that it was needed. I just enjoyed attention-- especially the kind this guy’s dolled-up secretary with the nice butt and tight top had given me in the waiting room. I wasn’t looking at her, but I knew she kept looking at me.

  “So, let me backtrack some,” I continued. “I took the liberty of doing some research and called in some favors. I’m a step ahead of these bad guys. And let me tell you, nine out of ten of them won’t even come close ‘cause I still got favors I ain’t called in yet. I helped a lot of people out in the past, see?” I winked. “And I’ve done this shit before, tangled with the sort of bad dudes breathing down your neck. And I won.”

  Andrew averted his gaze, composing himself. “Very impressive,” he muttered.

  Yet, my charm hadn’t worked for long. He sat back up straight, resuming his businesslike demeanor more quickly than I’d expected; he was tougher than he looked. But then again, you’d have to be to sit in an office all day, year after year.

  “Like I said earlier,” he continued, “I did my research too. Not, uh, in the same way as you, but still. I thought you were good before you walked in here. Now I know you’re the man for the job.”

  He stood slowly and held his arm out, his palm slightly facing upward. Passive, but not to be ignored.

  I stood with one fluid and graceful motion, particularly for a big man who’d had three whiskeys. As I towered over the businessman, his eyes widened, clearly impressed. I
grabbed his hand firmly, but not in a bone-breaking way. “All right,” I said. “Consider me hired. Now, you probably don’t have me down as the type of guy, but I’m legit these days. So I’m gonna need a contract and 10% upfront. Expenses, right. Ain’t putting that shit on plastic!”

  I gave him what likely appeared to be a smile, grimace, and smirk all in one, trying to break the ice, but probably looking like I had indigestion. Smiling didn’t come easy for me since, well…since my wife ran out with the fucking Fed-Ex guy. Or milkman. The details didn’t matter too much. Last I heard, he didn’t walk too good these days, whoever the fuck he was.

  Again, I forced the thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t time to dwell on the past. Plus, I wasn’t a fool these days.

  “I’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon to get the contract,” I said. “I don’t do snail mail, email, or fucking text messages, for that matter. Like to stay under the radar. Makes my job a damn sight easier an’ all. I trust that’ll be enough time for your pretty secretary to type something up?” I jerked my thumb behind me, gesturing to the door.

  Andrew laughed. “Her? I pay her to answer the phones, look pretty, and flirt with any old businessman I think might be trouble. Works as well as you’d imagine. So, no, I’ll do this one myself.”

  I barked a short laugh. “Fair enough. ‘Least you know it’s done right the first time, eh? I know exactly what you mean. Don’t get far in my line of work unless you trust number one, and those handful who have proved they ain’t corrupt as fuck or morons. Or both. Those are the worst.”

  He half turned on the way back to his desk, pausing to pass me a parting gaze. “You know what? I think our jobs might be more similar than you think. You just described high level corporate bullshit in one sentence! I’ll have to remember that line…” He sat back down in his plush leather armchair and nodded my way. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  I nodded, guessing that meant, ‘Fuck off now, we’re done here.’