Unprotected: A Cinderella Secret Baby Romance (69th St. Bad Boys Book 4)

by Cassandra Dee

  Because I’ve been arguing with Charles about this control thing for months now. And he’s stuck in the mud. Nothing’s gonna change the man’s mind. But if he's really serious about this marriage thing ….

  The girl's face flashed in front of me again. Yeah. Maggie, the pit bull charmer. She was my ticket to control of our conglomerate. Sweet and charming as hell, with a fresh face and a way about her that no man or dog could resist. My father was a combination of both so, yeah, the female was just the ticket.

  In a cute designer dress and a sweet smile, my parents would both fall for her. She could be the Jackie O, the Queen of Camelot. And it’d be easy. And after my father handed over the company to me, we’d break up.

  Charles never said we had to stay married.

  Simple.

  Damn, I’m good.

  Leaning back in my chair, a grin washed over my face. Things were looking up for the first time in a long time … and shit, but playing with this girl was gonna be fun.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Maggie

  The animals were such angels today, even the ones with problems. If only every day was this good. I hummed to myself and carried on making notes on a chart for a black lab that got adopted a couple hours ago. Such a happy ending for the sweet thing. It was nice when people didn't just come to the pet store for a puppy or a pure-bred. Older animals and mixed breeds need love too.

  “Hey, Maggie!”

  Heaving a sigh, I looked up when Leah called my name. She'd been a real bitch since that cute guy with the pit bull left yesterday. It was insane, to be honest. Again, Leah’s got two kids and a doting husband. So why was she being so mean?

  “What’s going on?” I called. “What is it?” She probably wanted me to lift and stack heavy bags of dog food again.

  “Come out here, there's somebody to see you.”

  See me? Who? Must be a pain in the butt customer she didn’t want to deal with herself.

  “I'll be there in a second,” was my answering reply. The notation on the black lab's chart was only halfway done, and I wanted to finish it. The customer could wait.

  But Leah’s blonde head popped around the door then.

  “Come now!” she hissed. “Get your butt out here. You want to come now!”

  God. How annoying.

  “Fine,” I sighed. It was probably a fake emergency. But I dropped the pen on the chart, carefully taping a stickie to flag my place. Hopefully I could get rid of this person sooner rather than later and pick up right where I’d left off.

  After all, it was late. Already eight thirty, and we closed at nine. As usual, I smelled like wood chips, sweat, and doggy shampoo at the end of a long shift. Not exactly Elizabeth Taylor’s White Velvet or Black Velvet, whichever it was.

  Sighing, I pushed my hair back from my face and went out to deal with this new disturbance.

  Leah grabbed me as soon as I walked out the door.

  “Stand up straight,” she hissed before wiping something off my cheek and steering me past the shelving to the main part of the store.

  “What the--?”

  Why was my coworker being so pushy, fussing over me like a clucky hen?

  I stumbled and almost fell, but caught myself just in time on a display of kitty condos.

  But then my mouth dropped open.

  Because it was the guy from yesterday.

  The one with the pit bull who needed training.

  “Um, hi!” I said, flabbergasted.

  What did he want? He couldn’t possibly have run out of food, he’d just bought two hundred dollars worth yesterday.

  “What can I help you with, sir?” came my stammering question.

  The alpha flashed a grin, making my knees go weak.

  “No need to be formal. I'm Evan. Evan Lincoln.” The man’s voice was low and confident, just sexy and deep enough to slither between my legs and make me melt. And he said his name like it was supposed to mean something to me.

  What was going on?

  The name Evan didn’t ring any bells.

  Should it?

  Did I miss something?

  “Great,” I parroted. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Mr. Lincoln looked around, blue eyes scanning the store.

  “Can we talk someplace more private?” he asked.

  At eight thirty on a Friday night, the shop was nearly empty. One customer was taking forever deciding whether to buy one gerbil or two while Leah lurked nearby in an obvious way, eyes watching my every move instead of paying attention to the cash register.

  I nodded at her, willing the woman to disappear but she only stared back at me, nosy as ever.

  Dammit.

  “Sure,” came my hesitant reply. “But we only have a small back office. It's not really a conference room or anything like that. It’s more of a storage closet, where we keep papers and files.”

  “That works,” he nodded, voice smooth. “Just lead the way.”

  What?

  This was so weird.

  What was so important that we needed a private space to chat?

  But the customer is always right, especially one who comes into your store and spends mad moolah. Especially one who looks like a dark angel descended from heaven in his perfectly cut black suit, charcoal hair swept off his forehead.

  So I walked down the aisle, the big man trailing me. And just like last time, his eyes were glued to my ass. I could feel it, that blue gaze devouring me as my bottom jumped and danced on its own.

  What in the world?

  I’m a sales associate at a pet store.

  Mr. Lincoln’s clearly a powerful businessman.

  So what did the alpha want with me?

  But in two minutes, we entered the back office with all the shelves stocked full with everything from doggie beds to invoice forms. Piles of random stuff balanced precariously, threatening to tip over and spill onto the floor. Gingerly, we tucked ourselves in, the man shutting the door behind his broad back.

  That left about three feet of space separating us. Take that back. With my big boobs, there was only two feet of space between us, my girls wiggling and jiggling.

  Suddenly, the air grew hot and steamy. I fanned my face with an open hand, then stopped abruptly. How stupid. He had to know why I suddenly felt hot. I swallowed and shot him a nervous smile.

  “Sorry,” was my breathless apology. “A/C doesn’t reach back here and our fan is broken,” I said, nodding to an old-style metal contraption.

  “No worries,” he growled, blue eyes intense. “This works.”

  But his body was so big. Wide shoulders stretched practically from wall to wall. I took a fumbling step back, crushing some random papers. God, I was burning up but didn't want to look like any more of a fool by fanning my face again. He was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen up close. Mr. Lincoln smelled so good too, like spice and male musk. Make that pine trees and sex in the snow.

  Suddenly, I realized just how hard my heart was beating. Could he hear? Could he see for that matter? My face flushed again.

  But the alpha just stared.

  Intense blue eyes heated me up from the inside. Like he was touching me, hard and dirty.

  Oh god. My nipples stiffened, impossible to control.

  “Um,” I started again, biting my lip nervously. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  A slow, languorous smile stretched his lips.

  “I have a proposition,” the man drawled.

  I started, jerking back a step. What was this? Did he think I was a hooker or something?

  But he laughed.

  “Not that kind, don’t worry pretty baby.”

  The billionaire put his hands in his pockets, casual and relaxed, and leaned back against the door. But then something unexpected happened. As my eyes followed the flex of his fingers, I saw it then. The bulge at his crotch. The massive tent that was impossible to miss.

  His dick was hard.

  Oh my god!

  Thi
s gorgeous man was stiff from being in the same small space as me!

  My eyes flew to his, but the man wasn’t even embarrassed. Instead, he leaned back even more, voice growling.

  “A proposition,” he repeated casually. “For a real pretty girl.”

  I gulped, my eyes fluttering to his face, and then back down to his crotch. I couldn’t stop staring for the life of me. How big was it? As long as my arm, from wrist to elbow? How would it feel inside? And shamefully, my mouth watered then, cunt beginning to drip.

  But I made myself reply.

  “Um, how can I help you?” was my tiny squeak. “What can I do?”

  Those blue eyes gleamed.

  “Well, I have is a unique problem you see. Something that might be up your alley.”

  My face flushed. Did he mean sucking his woodie? Squeezing him tight in this back office until he erupted, my hand was covered with hot male jism?

  No.

  Couldn’t be.

  We just met.

  We hadn’t even really met met, he was just a customer in the store.

  So I took a deep breath.

  “What's that?” I asked in a voice that trembled.

  What could he possibly want?

  The man grinned wolfishly then.

  “I need a fake fiancée.”

  There was no way I heard him right.

  “What? I’m sorry?”

  He said it again but it didn't make any more sense the second time.

  “I think you'd be perfect for that role.”

  Shocked, I stared at him with my mouth open. It was the craziest idea ever.

  “You don't even know me!” I managed in a feeble voice.

  “I don't need to know you,” he drawled, eyes assessing my curvy figure. “I saw what how you handled Bowzer. You have the exact qualities I need for this project.”

  I gaped at him. No way were my dog whispering skills relevant to a fake fiancée role.

  “No, I don’t think so,” my words came, head shaking slowly. “That doesn’t sound right. Maybe you just need some rest. The dog must be wearing you out.”

  This time Mr. Lincoln laughed, tipping his head back and flashing that bright white smile.

  “God damn, you're cute.” He chuckled again the sound rolled over my body, making me shiver. Why oh why did the sexy ones have to be crazy? Because this was a lunatic proposition for sure.

  But then Evan upped the ante.

  “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to pose as my fiancée for a month,” he growled, blue eyes harsh.

  My mouth dropped open. What? Ten thousand was inconceivable. It was more money than I’ve ever had. It was what I made in a year, working part time at DoggyMart.

  “What?” I gasped. “What? What?”

  I wish I could say something smarter than one word on repeat. But the offer was over-the-top insane and totally flabbergasting. This guy must be really crazy. And now I was trapped in the back office with him. Oh shit. How to get out of here? I needed to escape. Was there any way I could call out to Leah for help without him knowing? Was this kind of insanity violent? His eyes were nice though. Not kind, but safe. But I bet people thought the same way about serial killers before they chopped them up too. So I took a deep breath.

  “Listen,” I said, hands up placating him. “We don’t know each other. You don’t know me. This can’t be right. There must be other women you can ask.”

  But the alpha cut me off.

  “Naw, that’s a no go,” he growled. “Like I said before, you have a way with aggressive animals and I'm guessing it's the same with people. My father is the human form of Bowzer, a scary SOB that'll bite before asking any questions. Just like you did with Bowzer, I think you'll have a way with him too.”

  I was completely taken aback.

  “Even if I did agree, your father is a man, not a dog!” came my protest. “I can't do it. No way.”

  Evan’s smirk came back full force then. Because he knew exactly which buttons to press. Reaching inside his jacket pocket, the billionaire pulled out a checkbook and pen before scribbling something and ripping it out with a flourish.

  “Here,” came his grunt. “Does this change your mind?”

  My eyes went round, dollar signs cha-chinging before my gaze. Because it said ten thousand dollars, the four zeroes like round o’s staring at my face.

  “Tell me your real name, Maggie, and I'll fill it in nice and legal. Or you can do it yourself,” he rumbled persuasively.

  And shamefully, my tongue answered.

  “It's Margaret Lake,” was my breathless whisper.

  In a flash, the alpha scribbled.

  “Here,” he grunted. “Ten g’s delivered to Margaret Lake. Does that help?”

  Again, I was speechless. This was a lot of money. So much more than I'd ever seen before. I could do a lot with it. Pay my tuition at the college for the next couple of semesters, pay rent. Wow. Maybe I could even take more classes at the college and get my degree faster. I blinked at him in shock and stood there stiff and lifeless.

  The billionaire’s brow quirked.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  My fingers tightened around the check and didn’t want to let go. The cash could change everything. God, I didn't think I could say no. So I didn't. I bit my lip. And before I knew it, the answer was out.

  “Okay.”

  That wolfish smile showed itself again.

  “I knew you would see things my way, Margaret Lake.” Then he turned, one hand on the door knob before stopping. “Be ready at eight o' clock tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.”

  What? Oh my god! Everything was moving so fast. This man, the check, and now actually going out with him someplace.

  “Wait, but why are you doing this?” I asked in a trembling voice, fingers gripping the paper so tight that my knuckles showed white. “Why do you need a fake fiancée?”

  The dark man merely smiled again.

  “You’ll see,” he rumbled. “You’ll see when you meet my dad.”

  I was meeting his parents tomorrow? What in the world? Couldn’t be. So my brain rewound to one of the few things that it could process.

  “But you don’t know where I live!” I called again to his departing back. “You know nothing about me.”

  He stopped, turning to flash a brilliant smile over one shoulder.

  “Then I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” was his amused drawl. “See you at eight.”

  And with that, Mr. Lincoln was gone, long legs striding to the exit, sure and confident. And even as my cheeks flared, excitement took root in my breast. Because suddenly everything seemed to sparkle, the world going Technicolor. It shouldn’t have been this way, and yet … I wanted to see how the next chapter unfolded.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Evan

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jones. Everything looks really good.”

  “I'm glad.” The woman who'd been cooking for me for years, finished arranging two place settings on the table and passed me to go back into the kitchen for a vase of flowers.

  Flowers?

  Please. This is a bachelor apartment. I’ve got the giant entertainment system, the man cave out back, and a cook and household staff. I’m a single guy living in the lap of luxury.

  But Mrs. Jones wanted to make things nice for my lady guest, bustling this way and that, fussily arranging things.

  But it’s fine.

  Because Maggie’s gonna play a key role in my life. For the next couple months at least.

  After I left the pet store, I thought about taking her to dinner at my parents’ place. That’s what I was paying her for after all. To pull the wool over my dad’s eyes so that he relinquished control of the company. But common sense told me to chill and get to know Maggie before embarking on the grand tour.

  Because Charles and Evelyn aren’t exactly dumb. My dad runs a billion dollar conglomerate and my mom’s led a couple charities in the last decade or so. So they’re not idiots, and bringing a
new girl over without prepping her was full-on suicide. It’d never work.

  So yeah, I needed to get to know Maggie first. And damn, but I was kinda looking forward to it. The girl’s easy on the eyes, and she’s got a sweet personality to boot. What could be so bad about this?

  Savory smells filled my nostrils. Yum. Mrs. Jones went all out, making lemon butter salmon on a bed of risotto, along with some homemade sweet breads, rum punch, and a chocolate cake displayed nice and elegant in the center of the table. Oh yeah, all the stops were being pulled out tonight.

  I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes to eight.

  My driver left to pick up Maggie about an hour ago, so she’d be here soon. And like a fussy idiot, I even leaned forward and straightened the napkins before my hands jerked away.

  What the fuck?

  I don’t do place settings. I don’t do flower arrangements.

  And yet my fingers were itching, dying to make things perfect. What the hell? What the fuck was wrong with me? But at that moment, Mrs. Jones came out of the kitchen with her coat on and her purse on her arm.

  “Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Lincoln. If you need anything else, please call.”

  As long as I’ve known Penny Jones, she's acted like a fifties sitcom mom, always smiling and always with delicious food to share. And after fifteen years together, she was more like a mother than a housekeeper, even if we did call each other Mr. and Mrs.

  I nodded approvingly.

  “Thanks for your help, Mrs. Jones. I appreciate that you did this on such short notice.” Of course, Penny was getting a big bonus for rushing the dinner. After all, everything smelled and looked good enough to be from a five star restaurant, just the way I liked.

  And right on time, my phone buzzed.

  “Excuse me,” was my polite nod.

  As expected, it was my driver, Trevor, telling me Maggie was on her way into the building. Perfect timing.

  “Thank you, Trevor. We’re ready up here.”

  “Sure no problem, Mr. Lincoln,” his cheerful voice boomed through the phone. “See you in the morning.”

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Jones was letting herself out the back door.

  “Good night,” she smiled, eyes twinkling. “Enjoy yourself.”