BEG (A Standalone Billionaire Romance Novel)

by Kristina Weaver

  “I just called to let you know Frank will collect Benjamin from school, so you don’t have to rush away just yet.”

  “Thanks, Lucian, I was actually just about to leave, but now I can stay for dessert. We’re trying to give Cam a pep talk, so….”

  “Tell Cammy that unless she wants to be attending Brody’s wedding soon, she should make her move and get rid of that model he’s been screwing. Bye, love.”

  I hear her squeal something just as I put the phone down, and grin when the man himself comes storming into my office and throws himself into a seat, his hands scrubbing harshly at his messy hair.

  “You gotta tell her to stop, man. Ariana broke up with me last night because she thinks I’m in a committed relationship with that lunatic.”

  “That lunatic happens to be my little sister, I’ll thank you to remember.”

  I don’t tell him that Cammy had nothing to do with Ariana’s defection or that all it had taken for her to drop him that fast had been a quarter of a million and a good word to a designer I’ve known since uni.

  Yes, I’ve done my brotherly best to ensure that my spoilt little miss gets her heart’s desire. I may not believe in love, but I know what it’s like to be obsessed with something you don’t think you’ll ever have.

  So I’ve provided some assistance.

  “Luc, man, you’ve gotta tell her to stop.”

  “You gave her false hope by having dinner at her place.”

  Brody blanches and looks away, blowing out a frustrated breath.

  “You want her, Brody. Anyone with eyes can bloody well see it. Why not take the plunge and try?” I ask, willing him to choose his words carefully.

  He’s my best friend, but that certainly won’t stop me from employing the fighting skills I’d picked up from a friend’s brother who’d lived in a rather dodgy part of London.

  “Luc, she wants marriage and babies and the whole shebang. Like, now. I don’t think I’m ready for all that yet.”

  “Well, bloody get ready then, you sod. You’re twenty-five, not a bleeding puppy anymore. There are worse things than having a wife and children at your age, mate. You could be alone.”

  Shit, I can’t even believe I’ve gone and said something so completely honest that not even I can escape it.

  The words make Brody smile, one of those shit-eating grins that make me want to get back to settling my problems with my fists instead of my intellect.

  “Take some of that sterling advice and put it to good use, will ya, and maybe I’ll consider giving in with Cam.”

  “Sod off and get back to bloody work, you sly bugger.”

  He laughs as he’s leaving, the sound rivalled only by my own chuckles as I scratch my head and start thinking of what I’d done to bring me to this point since the moment I’d divorced my ex-wife to come and find my Ashley.

  With the memories comes the familiar ache that seems to flood my lungs with pain, but for once I push past it and allow the feelings in, shoving at my natural need to avoid as I close my eyes and remember the first time I laid eyes on her.

  The first time I fell in love.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “Cammy called and told me that Brody asked her out on a date.”

  I’m saying this as I spread that expensive moisturizer all over my arms, legs, and face as Lucian reclines on the bed, his gaze distant, as if he’s far away and lost in thought.

  When he doesn’t respond to that little tidbit I frown and crawl onto the mattress, getting closer and watching his eyes for long seconds. This is so unlike the usually hawk-eyed stare I’m usually squirming beneath that I actually check his chest to make sure he’s still breathing.

  Yup.

  “Uh, Luc, are you okay?”

  My voice seems to snap him out of it, and he looks back at me, smiling in a way I’ve never seen before. Like maybe he likes me a little more than he did when we met again.

  Go Goldens!

  If this plan of theirs works, it looks like I may not be the only pathetic, lovesick loser in this relationship.

  “Lucian, are you feeling okay?” I ask, resting on my haunches beside his hip. “You look a little out of it.”

  “I’m fine, love, just had a really long day,” he murmurs, pulling me down onto his chest.

  I sigh and rest my head beneath his chin, softly stroking his smooth skin as I wait for him to elaborate. Sometimes he’s the most closed off person I’ve ever met, and at others—with Ben—he’s the nicest, most affectionate dictator.

  I wish he’d let me in more and share his troubles, maybe give me a chance to return the comfort he’d offered after I’d crawled through those dark woods…

  “Benjamin has a match tomorrow, and I’ve got a late meeting I can’t reschedule,” he finally says, changing the subject.

  “He’ll understand, Lucian. He’s not a baby.”

  I hope. As far as I can tell Ben seems to think Luc hangs the moon and stars. The kid sees Luc as his father or something, even if he still thinks of me as his insufferable older sister and still won’t let me hug him, no matter how patient I’ve been on that score.

  “I’m going, so that should be okay for him.”

  His eyes and the curl of his lip tell me exactly how great my little bro will feel about a pesky girl attending his soccer match.

  “No offense, love, but what you know about football is completely tragic, and the lad knows it. I feel terrible about this.”

  Yeah, well, not as terrible as feeling like the dreaded third wheel on this tandem bike the two of them have going. Geez, you’d think I’m nothing more than the hired help for all the attention they pay me when they start talking sports.

  Men.

  “Are you sure that’s all?”

  I dunno, but he seems really out of sorts tonight. Oh shit.

  “Is this about those toys that we were looking at? Because I swear, those things are so not my speed. We mostly joked and laughed about how women would walk after using them a time or two, and Cammy was telling us about—”

  “Oh, Christ, please do not use my sister’s name in a sentence that involves sexual aids. I don’t think I’ll survive that shite,” he grunts, inching my lips together between his thumb and index finger.

  The look on his face makes me bust my gut, and I flop back down onto his chest with a groan, feeling the day crash around me.

  “You tired, love?”

  “Hmm, I made some cookies for the old lady that comes to the tea room every day and helped her walk her dogs home. Those things are not dogs: they’re freaking horses.”

  What I don’t say is that I’m getting listless having to keep myself bottled up whenever I’m around him. Honestly, I’ve lived for three years without needing to tell anyone but Ben that I love them, and now all of a sudden I can’t hardly stand to be around him for fear of letting those three soul-sucking words out of my mouth.

  I’d had to bite my lip bloody at dinner. It had gone something like this: ‘Here’s your food, Lucian. I love you.’ I’d maimed myself trying to keep that last part in, because honestly, who is so desperate that they tell someone they love them over roast beef and garlic potatoes?

  Me, apparently, since it had been so close I’d caught Ben giving me one of his skeptical looks as I’d shoveled food into my mouth and kept it full for the duration of our meal.

  “Go to sleep, love. I’ve got you.”

  Yeah, he really does. He’s got me so bad I wonder if he’ll sound this happy when I say it and demand an answer in return.

  What, you thought I’ve gone so soft I’ve lost the apples my mama raised me with?

  Not freaking likely.

  ***

  “Aw, but she don’t know nothing about soccer, Luc.”

  I bang the frying pan of bacon onto the table and give them both a glare, just daring them to say another word about women and sports.

  “What’s so hard about it, huh? There’s one ball and two goals. You either get it in there and s
core points, or you don’t and you lose. Seems pretty goddamned cut and dry to me, you little savage.”

  See, here’s where Mary would probably tell me that I’m taking my own personal shit out on a helpless kid. She’d be right, but come on and give me a break.

  I’ve just spent twenty minutes silently puking and retching into the toilet while Mo and Shmo over here slept blissfully. And now I’m frying bacon, my favorite food ever, wondering why I’ve never noticed that it smells like a zombie’s rotting nut sack.

  “Uh, love, are you okay?”

  No (I say this silently in a really high-pitched, crying whine). I’m not. I think you were right that time we had sex and you told me you were putting your son in me.

  I’m pretty sure he’s in there right now and incubating like a savage, because I feel all grossly emotional and nauseated, and my boobs that were totally fine yesterday now feel like two lumps of bruised and beaten steak.

  “I’m fine, Lucian. The two of you need to eat your breakfast and get outta here before I lose my shit all over the place,” I warn. “Not know anything about soccer…” I mutter, attempting a glass of orange juice. “I’ll have you know I played soccer for two years before the team captain started thinking I was into chicks and came on to me. I’m awesome.”

  Okay, so I’d been a sub for two years, but that still counts because technically I had been on the team even if I hadn’t ever really played.

  They’re looking at me like I’ve lost my freaking mind, which I probably have thanks to whatever messed up mix of hormones I currently have soaking into my previously perfect brain.

  “Is there something wrong with the breakfast I just spent thirty minutes making?” I ask sweetly, giving them a feral grin that scares even me, though I can’t see it.

  Their expressions are enough to tell me how nuts I look. The thought is enough to shift my vile mood to a degree less violent, and I smile again, pointing wordlessly at their food.

  They eat every scrap and practically bolt out of the house.

  “I need a favor,” I say five minutes later when Brit answers her phone with a huff and muffled male cursing.

  “What’s up?”

  See, this is why I’ll count these women as mine even though I’ve only known them a few short weeks. I can call any one of them at any hour and know that they’ll be up and fighting fit to help me.

  “I need you to go to the pharmacy and get me a test.”

  The squeal that echoes through the phone is shrill and unpleasant enough for the man in her bed to bark out a yell and maybe fall out of bed when I hear a thud and muttered cursing.

  “I’m on my way, sugar!”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “Congratulations, mama, you’re definitely knocked up,” Brit titters, waving the pee-laden stick like it’s a freaking trophy.

  “Would you please stop touching that thing? It’s full of my pee,” I mutter before dropping my head onto my arms and staring sightlessly at the table beneath me.

  “Oh, come on, Ash, this is good news. Here, eat a slice of dry bread. You’re green.”

  “I’m not unhappy about this,” I say around a mouthful of bread, sighing when it hits my stomach and does something magical by calming the roiling acid. “I just feel really shitty right now is all. I didn’t know morning sickness could be this terrible.”

  “You should have seen my sister Brianna when she was pregnant with my niece. She barfed at all times of the day and couldn’t keep a thing down. It got to where her doctor wanted to put her in hospital—oh, what am I saying! No, Ash, don’t cry!”

  I laugh at her almost hysterical, frantic expression and pull my lip back in, giving her a droll stare.

  “Get over yourself, loser. I know all about pregnancy. I’m not dumb. I was just hoping to be further along before I got this way. Shoulda known his sperm would be overachievers,” I mumble, feeling well enough to attempt the orange juice again.

  When it slides down and stays there without killing me, I take another sip and look back at the two pink lines that say I’m officially knocked up and heading for motherhood.

  “Yeah, well, at least you’ve got Mr Overachievers and aren’t stuck with Mr Let’s Screw. I swear, I was so hoping this one wouldn’t suck. Oh well, I’ll just have to keep looking.”

  She says it jokingly, but I see and hear the wistfulness and feel like a total heel for bringing her into this and complaining when I should be grateful and jumping for joy at the huge positive turn my life has taken.

  For one, I no longer have to work—correction, I’m forbidden to ever mention myself and a job, ever. I have a great home that not only shelters me and mine but is beautiful to boot.

  My brother is so much better that most days I have trouble remembering his problems, and my husband is a good man. He may not be into emotional sharing and everything the heart entails, but he’s kind and caring and makes me happier than I have any right to be.

  And now I have a baby on the way!

  My heart explodes with happiness all of a sudden, and I jump up, toppling my chair with a whoop and a smile that makes Brit follow suit, clapping her hands like a schoolgirl.

  “Oh, Ash, go on and go tell your guy the good news. Can I start calling the girls, or…?”

  “Give me an hour to tell him, and then you can go batty and tell everyone you want,” I say, kissing her at the door before bolting for my car.

  Good things come to those who work for them, Mom had always said, and know what? I’m finally starting to get that.

  ***

  Luc

  This morning… I can’t even begin to understand what this morning had been about, but I think my baby may have started her period and is feeling the effects of some really bad PMS.

  Benjamin had been laughing his arse off in the car, the whole way to school, even as he turned and walked backward, his eyes still locked on my shell-shocked face.

  “She’s got one mean temper, Luc. I told ya, didn’t I?” he’d said around a few chuckles that had grated on my already stressed nerves.

  Yesterday, after a long afternoon spent thinking, with not a scrap of work getting done, I’d faced a few very bad home truths about myself, my plans, and our past.

  I’ve been wronging her on so many levels since I’d strong-armed my way into her life that I cannot even begin to understand why the woman hasn’t killed me in my sleep.

  I owe her an apology, a few very lengthy explanations, and three very important words that I should have given her a long time ago.

  I’m no good with talking or sharing myself, though, and I bloody well know it, so I’ve decided that showing her will go down a lot better than my terse words and uncomfortable silences ever will.

  “Mr Jasper, your wife is here to see you, sir.”

  “Send her in.”

  I’m surprised and a little put out at her sudden arrival. She’s never shown a scrap of interest in my business and has never come here after leaving that night all those months ago, so I know that whatever has brought her here must be really important.

  “Love, what’s wrong?” I ask as soon as she’s in the door.

  She ignores me totally and flings herself at me, her eyes shining with tears even as she laughs and kisses me to silence.

  “Nothing, Luc, absolutely nothing. Everything is just perfect,” she whispers, kissing me lingeringly before pulling me to the seating area and pushing me down.

  “I need to tell you something. Just don’t freak out, okay?”

  Well, now I’m really feeling anxious as she bites her lips uncertainly and reaches into her bag and hands me a small plastic—

  “When?” I breathe, not moving a muscle when I realize what she’s given me and what this means.

  “This morning, after I upchucked half my stomach and liver,” she says, laughing at my open mouth and startled eyes.

  The shock and elation are so great that I can do nothing but stare at the stick, recalling the fact that she’d been awake and
dressed before I’d even woken—something unheard of, since Ashley is not a morning person—and the unhealthy pallor of her skin as she’d cooked breakfast before almost killing me with the scalding hot frying pan.

  It all made sense now. Her mood, the way she’d lit into Benjamin when before she would keep calm no matter what the lad said or did.

  My poor little love is pregnant and ill and…I’m going to be a father, I realize, turning my eyes up to her. My eyes are wet and misty, but I can’t find the will to give a fuck about showing her this weakness, not now, when everything I’ve aimed for has finally slid into place.

  With my child in her, I finally have that insurance that my cold heart needs to feel secure. She’s mine now. Forever. No matter what happens or how much I mess up, Ashley and I will always be connected by the child we’ve created.

  “Oh, love, you’re…”

  “Well, duh, Mr Tycoon, you already told me you were putting him there. Why so surprised?” she asks, laughing when I pull her down onto my lap and kiss the hell out of her smiling mouth.

  “Are you happy, love?” I ask minutes later when she pushes me away for air.

  I can’t say why her answer is so important to me, since I really can’t say I’d give a shit if she’s happy or not. I’ve always wanted my baby in her, and that’s exactly what I have.

  It’s not like I’d ever have given her a choice, since I’m still the controlling dick I’ve always been.

  But for some reason I’m hoping that she’s as happy to have part of me in her as I am to know that it’s there.

  “Again, duuuh. Of course I’m stoked. I love babies…well, most babies…oh, all right, I like the thought of us having a baby!” she titters, grinning back up at me. “Just think, in nine months we’re gonna see if human and alien DNA can in fact create a semi-normal life form.”

  “Ha bloody ha. You’re a regular riot, aren’t you. Now shut up and kiss me so we can go tell the bleeding world.”

  Our lips are a hair’s breadth apart when a screaming, jumping, clapping bundle of pure terror comes storming in and launches herself at us, almost unmanning me in the process.