Womanizer Heir (The Heirs Book 4)

by Brandy Munroe

  “I definitely need to start renovations on my shower. I’ll call Richard and find out who did his.” I reached for my cell. She slapped my hands, giggling.

  “Sit down and drink your coffee. I’ll get some breakfast going before you’re late for work,” she scolded me.

  We sat and ate in comfortable silence. I loved that we didn’t need to fill every minute together with mundane chatter. We could sit and catch each other sneaking glances of appreciation.

  “If you’re serious about doing boudoir, I think we could help each other’s business.” I got an furrowed eyebrow. “Theo is looking to rebrand his band. I would like to add the boudoir photo idea in the mix when I meet with him.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “With social media, these guys’ images are everywhere. Good and bad. If we make enticing photos of the bands, images approved by them, they take back control over what is out there. What do you think?”

  “I think you are looking for a reason for me to come work for you.” She moved closer and kissed my cheek. She walked to the sink to put her dirty dishes in. “I have to go.” Putting a key in my hand, “Lock up when you leave,” she told me.

  She grabbed her purse and keys and left.

  That wasn’t a no. I didn’t think that was a no. I wouldn’t push it. Not yet.

  I was serious about using the idea of promoting new images, online and poster. Other rock bands had done the sexy pose route. Boudoir, in good taste, would be something new for Theo’s band. I grabbed my stuff. I needed to get home to shower, change and head to the office.

  I no longer had an empty calendar.

  The next two weeks flew by. I spent my days working and my nights curled up with the woman I loved. Some nights we simply curled into each other and slept, one of us leaving early or the other coming in late.

  It didn’t matter. The minute I laid beside her or she climbed in bed next to me, my world was perfect.

  One morning when I asked her why the neighbors had not been complaining about the noise coming from her apartment. I laughed when she told me that the apartments on both side of us were vacant.

  It saddened her that most of the small shops in the aged building were also vacant. It seemed the small mom and pop places were being shut out by large giant chain stores. She feared that her landlord may one day give in to these corporations and sell out.

  One more reason I explained for her to come and work with me out of my building.

  She scoffed at my idea and chastised me about giving the landlord one more reason to sell.

  “This place should be declared a historical building,” she huffed one day. “That would prevent those vultures from badgering poor Mr. Cartwright. They need to learn to take no for an answer.”

  Again I took this opportunity to drive my point across.

  “Angel, the place is half empty. It might be in Mr. Cartwright’s best interest to sell. He must be losing money with the upkeep on this place alone. You know you will always have a place in my building if that happens.”

  Ones again I got the laser death glare.

  “I have an appointment with my therapist, lock up when you leave.” She grabbed her purse and keys and left. No kiss on the cheek. No see you later. She just left.

  She seemed a little off this morning. I hoped it was nothing more than her concern for Mr. Cartwright. She never did confide what her therapist suggested about her medication after her last appointment.

  I didn’t want to overstep boundaries.

  We were practically living together. I spent all my free time here. Was she concerned I had not asked her to my place? I was hoping she would let me know when she was ready.

  Fuck, I wasn’t a mind reader.

  Was she waiting for me to make the next move?

  Chapter 27

  Angelic

  I knew something was off. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but now, I had to face facts.

  My therapist was right. I had to face the dreaded task of taking that elevator. Jackson lived in a penthouse apartment.

  As much as I loved my place, it might not be my place for much longer.

  A good a place as any to start would be surprising Jackson at his office. I knew I could do it. I’d done it many times before. Control my breathing. Be content with the knowledge that at any time, I could hit a button and get off.

  Twenty-five floors to his office. I could do that.

  Slow steady breath.

  Don’t watch the floors light up.

  The doors opened. I stepped out. Made it, no panic attack, no incident. Just a short ascent to the twenty-fifth floor. Nothing to it.

  Anita was not at her desk. She must be on an errand.

  I made my way to an open door, hoping it was Jackson’s office.

  I walked up and froze.

  Standing in an opened trench coat, with nothing on underneath, was the woman I remembered as the photographer assistant. Standing in Jackson office. Dressed in only a trench coat. With Jackson staring at her.

  The elevator door dinged, Anita stepped out. My eyes shifted from Jackson to the elevator, Jackson, elevator.

  Could I get back on that elevator in this shocked state? It was one thing to tackle it without this image in my head.

  How long had I been standing here, seconds, minutes? I chose elevator. I sprinted and jumped in before the door closed.

  Before Jackson could stop me.

  I couldn’t breathe. Don’t watch the buttons. Floor twenty. I told myself.

  I can do this. Breathe and don’t count the floors. Fifteen.

  I couldn’t allow myself to hyperventilate. Not yet. Home, I needed to get home. I could panic when I got home. Ten.

  So close now. Floor five, four, three, two, one. Ding. Then everything went dark.

  My eyes fluttered open. I had a raging headache. I didn’t remember anything beyond the elevators opening.

  “Water?”

  I looked up to see Jackson handing me a bottle of water, his tone sedate.

  There was no point in asking where I was and how I got there. I knew I was in Jackson’s office. More likely carried here because I passed out hyperventilating during my panic attack. An attack brought on by seeing my boyfriend standing in this very office with a nearly naked woman.

  I sat up and he sat beside me, making no attempts to touch me.

  “I panicked.” It came out low and apologetic. “I saw that woman. I know there’s a logical explanation. There has to be.” I took his hand and entwined our fingers. “In my heart, know I trust you. But what I saw… please God make my head understand what I saw.”

  “That woman was the photographer’s assistant. She thought she could sleep her way into filling her old boss's position. Apparently she never got the no fraternizing with your superior memo. She was released from her contract for that stunt,” he explained.

  “She’s been escorted out the building and her pass taken away.” His tone was cool, carefully understated.

  “I’m sorry I panicked. I ran. We promised no running, and I ran.” I needed him to forgive me. I should have chosen to stay and stand my ground. Even if the outcome would have been different.

  “Don’t apologize.” He cupped my face between his soft masculine hands. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same if the roles were reversed.” His blue eyes were sincere in that statement.

  “Now, Angel, can you tell me why you took an elevator twenty-five floors to see me?”

  “Can you close the door? I would like a little privacy and I think your staff is concerned.”

  He headed out, talked to Anita and everyone was dismissed. He returned, closing the door behind him, and took a seat next to me.

  “Remember the conversation we had about the condom?” I felt my face flush. I shouldn’t be embarrassed about such topics with Jackson after everything we had shared and done.

  “Oh, I definitely remember that conversation,” he growled in that sexy low voice of his and f
ixed his eyes on me with his panty melting glare. That sheepish grin, that was what got us here in the first place.

  “Well, you’re off the hook for condoms.”

  “Yes,” he fist-pumped into the air.

  “Not so fast. You’re on the hook for getting me pregnant.”

  Chapter 28

  Jackson

  I always believed when a woman told me she was pregnant with my child, my first call would be to my lawyers. The second to a DNA clinic.

  The minute Angelic told me she was pregnant, the air left the room. My heart began pounding in my chest. Every fucking cheesy chick flick about how the guy got the girl was how I was feeling. My smile was so wide, my face was ready to split.

  Every elated emotion screamed across my face. I was ecstatic.

  Why did she look devastated?

  I placed my hand on her taut belly. It wouldn’t be flat for long. It was filled with my seed. A life growing inside. A life we created.

  “How far along?” I wanted to know every detail. I expected to attend every appointment. Every ultrasound. I didn’t want to miss a single day.

  “I’m six weeks along. Apparently Plan B is only ninety-nine percent effective. That, with the reduced effectiveness of my birth control, who knows if it was in the shower, or when the condom broke, but it was definitely the weekend on the island.”

  A single tear escaped. This was not what she wanted.

  I pulled her to my chest and stroked her hair, “Angel, this is incredible. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling us we wasted eleven years already. It’s time to stop wasting time and get our shit together.”

  She pulled away. “Get our shit together? Jackson, having a baby is more than us getting our shit together.” She was emotional. Maybe the shock of what she saw earlier and having to deal with telling me this had her defensive. Then again, it could be pregnancy hormones.

  “I want to do right by you, Angel. And I want you to do right by me.” I couldn’t have her believing this was a bad thing.

  This was a fucking great thing.

  “I love you Angel, and I want to take care of you and our baby. The same way I want you to take of me and our baby. I want us to do this together.”

  Her face softened, some of the tension from earlier disappearing. She needed to rest and let it all sink in.

  I sent her home with my driver. I told her we would order in. All I wanted was for her to rest and we would talk as soon as I could clear my schedule and leave for the day.

  I knew what I had to do. I knew how to take the stress away. To help her understand this was meant to be.

  We were meant to be.

  I entered the apartment to find her sleeping on the couch. She was covered in the afghan her grandmother made her. One of the few belongings she was able to hold on to over the years. She appeared peaceful.

  I looked for the tell tale signs of distress. No tear stains on her smooth cheeks or pillow. No mountains of snotty Kleenex lying on the floor. She hadn’t spent the afternoon crying.

  That had to be a good sign.

  I leaned in and kissed her forehead. She stirred and sat up. She stretched and patted on the space beside her, signalling me to sit.

  Her eyes were bright and clear. Not red from crying. This was a very good sign.

  She tilted her head to the side and scrunched her forehead as she looked at me.

  “You look tired,” she observed.

  “I had a lot of loose ends to tie up before I came home.” I needed to take care of everything that would make her feel secure before I came to her.

  “We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?” It was a statement, not a question. She’d decided and from all indications, she wanted the same thing I did.

  “We’re going to be all right, Angel. Everything's going to be perfect.” I made sure of that, but I didn’t tell her, not yet.

  “Mr. Cartwright sold the building.” I expected this would upset her.

  “I know, Angel. He sold it to me.”

  Her head snapped up. I was getting the death glare again. I didn’t get it. She should be hugging me. Thanking me for saving her business. Her home.

  “You bought it. Without talking to me. Without asking how I would feel if you owned my apartment. My business.”

  Yup, she was pissed. Not the reaction I was expecting.

  “I did it for us. Now you won’t have to move and you only have to work when you want.”

  Her voice raises a few octaves. “You mean I only get to work when you want me to. For you. The rest of the time I’m to what… stay home, barefoot and pregnant? Is that what you meant by taking care of me?”

  She bolted off the couch, pushing me away. “You’re taking control of my life like every other man. How many times have I told you I won’t work for you? I guess now I don’t have a fucking choice. What am suppose to do, Jackson? Beg you to let me go to work?”

  In a mimicking tone she pleaded with me, “Please, Jackson, please, can I go to work today? Can I do something creative and fun? Can I do something that gives my life meaning? Are the only things I’m allowed to have meaning in my life with now you and this baby?”

  I didn’t understand where the animosity was coming from. I had never led her to believe I wanted any of those things from her. My goal was to make her life simpler. Not add more stress. She was not letting me explain.

  She grabbed her purse and keys.

  She seriously was not leaving, not right in the middle of this disagreement. Could I even call it an disagreement when I’d not even got a word in?

  “Are you running away, Angel?” I knew I shouldn’t have taunted her in this frame of mind. I didn’t know what else to do.

  “I’m not running, I’m walking. I need time to think. Alone.” She headed to the door and left.

  Not looking back.

  I was sitting on the couch, head in my hands. There was a tightness in my chest. I remembered the scene in Alien when the alien ripped the man’s chest open. That was how I felt. Like my chest was being ripped open.

  Would the separation in my heart never be filled?

  How could things have gotten so bad, so fast?

  Was she right?

  Was I trying to control everything?

  She was gone.

  What had I done and what the hell was I supposed to do now?

  Chapter 29

  Angelic

  There was something to be said about familiarity. That was where I found myself. Surrounded by something familiar. Sights, sounds and even smells. I knew it was him before he said a word.

  “Hey, Ang.” That sultry voice that used to wet my panties. Nothing today. Nope. Seems there was only one man that could reduce me to a pile of mush with nothing more than saying my name. And this man wasn’t it.

  “Hey, Liam.” I didn’t make eye contact.

  “Anne said you were sitting here alone. She said you look like shit. Like you’re off your meds.” I knew he wasn’t judging. I also knew he wouldn’t be here unless Anne was concerned.

  It made sense she would call him. Liam considered the owners of this bar family. I spent many a nights getting drunk in this bar with Liam.

  I looked him in the face, “So, is Anne right, do I look like shit?”

  “You alway look beautiful to me, Ang, you know that.” Why couldn’t I be in love with this man? This man who has done so much for me over the years? This man, who could be spending his night with any one of the hot babes in the bar, but was sitting here. Telling me how beautiful I look when I knew Anne was right, I looked like shit.

  He stared at the five shots sitting in front of me. “Off your meds, drinking, what’s up, Ang?”

  I passed him one of the drinks, he threw it back and made a sour face. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Virgin shooters,” I reply. “One of Anne’s specialties.” I giggled.

  “Fuck, Ang, did you just giggle? He looked disgusted with me. “You never giggle. You’re not drinking an
d you look like you lost your best friend. Now, I know that’s not true because your best friend is sitting on a bar stool beside you.”

  He stood up and took my hand, “let’s dance. You still like to slow dance, don’t you?”

  I took his hand and let him lead the way.

  He linked one hand into mine and placed the other on the small of my back. I leaned into him. He was warm and comfortable. I laid my head on his chest. Still no butterflies. I liked being here like this with him. I liked being with my friend.

  We swayed to the music. I felt better.

  Calm.

  Familiar.

  After a few minutes of comfortable silenced, he ask. “How bad is it, Ang?”

  I knew he would figure it out. That’s why I loved him.

  “Really bad. I think I really fucked up this time.” I fought the tears threatening to fall.

  “If he loves you, he won’t let you fuck it up.” He kissed the top of my head. “I guess this is one of those times when a fuck buddy wouldn’t help matters.”

  “No, a fuck buddy would not be a very good solution this time.” I giggled.

  “You’re giggling again,“ he teases.

  “He makes me want to giggle. Makes me want to be vulnerable.” I knew I could always be honest with Liam. We were more than friends, more than fuck buddies. We loved each other.

  Just not in the same way I was in love with Jackson.

  Laim's tone suddenly turned dark, “He didn’t make you beg, did he? I swear to God, Ang, if he ask you to beg I will make him disappear.” He brought his hand to my head and stroked my hair.

  Still, nothing.

  Not flaming passion.

  No wet underwear.

  Nothing.

  “No.” If I was honest with myself, I was the one who threw that accusation at him. “He did something he thought was right and I overreacted. Beside, you can’t make him disappear, too high profile.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “No one is too high profile for us,” he mocked. I knew he was right. If the Steele brothers need someone to disappear, they disappeared. They built their living on it.