by Vanessa Rose
“Then do that,” he said. “I’ll be waiting out front.”
Jeri speared another piece of buttermilk pancake and wiped her lips on a paper napkin before heading to the restroom. Once again, she ran the water. She scrubbed her face clean before drying her skin with a rough bit of towel and moving though the diner, hoping that the gown still covered her bare feet. She searched for her Bartlett.
“Kevin!”
Christopher was there, banging Bartlett’s body into the hood of his truck as he kept demanding where Jeri was and what she as up to.
“That’s none of your concern,” Bartlett said. “Why don’t you just---?”
“Tell me where she is!” he screamed, his fist curled back into the air when Jeri charged forward and wrestled it to his side.
“Jerilyn?” he asked in a halting voice. “Thank God. I just… I have to tell you that---”
“Save it,” Jeri said. “And stay away from my friends.”
Kneeing him in the groin, Jeri felt a twinge of satisfaction work its way through her gut, and she rushed to Bartlett, cradling him close as she worked to wipe the grime from his cheeks.
“Let’s get you out of here,” she said. “Maybe it seemed like a good idea once, but no more.”
Jeri started to carry Bartlett away from the scene of the crime when Christopher lurched forward.
“I did not sign on to be something you could switch out for the blonde when you got bored!” Jeri said.
“Bored? Jerilyn, what are you---?”
“Is that why you’re here now?” she asked. “Because I fumbled the play and stopped you from taking a seat at the big boys’ table?’”
She kept Bartlett close and smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket as she met Christopher’s gaze and watched his lips part.
“And what?” she asked. “You going to lie some more and pretend that you only ever wanted me?”
His silence gave her the chance to keep going.
“Like you only smelled tomorrow or forever as far as you could throw me into another man’s arms. You cold-hearted-”
“I did not do that!”
Bartlett recovered his strength and slammed a fist into Christopher belly.
And it hurt her heart to see him cringe and hear his moan.
“Chris! Are you---?”
Bartlett looked to his shaking fists before turning his gaze back to Jeri.
“I didn’t mean to hit him so hard,” Bartlett said.
Jeri waved him off and sank to the ground. Looking down at the Christopher’s fallen form, she saw him grab for his stomach and struggle for air. He looked up and spoke in weakened voice. “Jerilyn, I…” His hands moved to her cheek, his smile starting to tell a different story.
“I told you not to touch---”
Bartlett was keyed up and ready to kill, but she wanted to hear Christopher out, even if she would never believe him.
“Wait,” Jeri said. “Just… just give him a minute.” Jeri pulled him to her chest, and she laid one hand on his arm and as Christopher sat tall and reached for her body.
“Jerilyn…”
He placed her hand on his chest. Mirroring the move, suddenly waning nothing more than to calm him, Jeri waited with her hand on his heart as he seized her fingers and spoke fast.
“I… I told Parsons where he could stick it,” he started. “I will never share you.”
Jeri started to lower her head into his neck when Bartlett’s hands were right there, pulling her away from the broken man.
“Jeri? We can still go if you want to.”
“I… I think that I…”
Her voice trailed off as she fell back to Christopher’s chest, and as she tugged on his tie, Jeri saw the smile beneath the tears in his eyes.
“I won’t share you either,” she said, stroking his hair and as she smiled and nearly kissed his lips.
“You… are you sure you’re down with this?” Bartlett asked. “Hate to think that I lead you down the wrong path.”
Helping him to his feet, Jeri moved closer to Christopher’s ear and whispered a single question.
“What am I to you? Really?”
Okay. So two questions.
Christopher raised his head and clasped her hands.
“You were someone… you are someone that I want to look after,” he insisted. “But just me. I don’t want anyone else to ever have you. Especially if they might hurt you.”
His raised his head to lock eyes with Bartlett’s, and then lowered his head. “Thank you,” Christopher whispered.
“For what?” Bartlett asked. “For bringing her around? Or because you think I’m going to leave her now?”
Bartlett watched Christopher strain forward as he started to answer, keeping Jeri’s hand close.
“Then stay,” he said. “Let me prove that I love her, too.”
“You… you love…?”
Jeri couldn’t finish the thought as Christopher smiled and kissed her cheek.
“I do,” he said. “Can you just give me a chance to explain?”
Bartlett took a step back as Jeri grabbed the king’s hand. She kept him close to her side as Christopher’s eyes darted between them.
“Say that again,” Jeri said.
“I… I didn’t actually say it once.”
That much was not lost on her, and Jeri waited for him to speak plainly when he massaged the bridge of his nose.
“I didn’t say it because… because it’s not the most important thing in the mix.”
“So what is?” Bartlett asked. “And choose your words carefully or I’ll make you cry.”
“He can do it, too,” Jeri said. “Hit just as hard and ask questions later.”
Christopher licked his lips and pressed his hands into his pockets.
“The most important thing is you knowing that… that I never set you up to be part of their sideshow. I just wanted you to look nice, to treat you well, and I’m sorry that I brought you back into their midst. I was proud to have you next to me.”
He sounded in earnest, and Jeri was ready to fall into him when Bartlett tugged on her arm and brought him around to face her.
“Jeri, I---”
“I… I have to have a moment with him,” she said. “Could you… please just hang around in case I need you?”
“Always,” Bartlett said. “But by all means. Have your moment.”
He left them, and Christopher seemed hesitant to take her into his arms when she touched his hands to his and managed a smile.
“So why did your try to change me?” she said. “You liked me when I was tilling the soil.”
“And I liked you in the tulle,” Christopher said. “Lady of the manor needs to have fresh threads. Did I do wrong?”
“No,” Jeri murmured. “But it’s not me. And I kind of liked it better when you handed me your flask and looked at me like I was an equal.”
“You are not that, Jerilyn.”
She was ready to kick him and tell him where he could stick it when he lunged forward for a quick kiss, his lips dragging down her neck as he whispered into her hair.
“You are so much more,” he purred. “And if you want the mud and the blue jeans, then they’re yours. Just don’t run away from me. Ever again.”
Staring hard into his eyes, Jeri still felt a tinge of doubt when he spit into his palm and offered his hand.
“Your terms,” he said. “Just give me another chance, and I’ll take care of you the right way.”
He crushed his kiss to her lips, and Jeri started to wrap her arms around his neck when she backed off and sighed into his eyes.
“Can I take care of you, too?” she asked. “And the land?”
“As long as you ditch the barn and stay in my bed.”
“So a promotion!” she teased, cuddling closer to his chest and inhaling the thin sheen of sweat passing through his shirt as she lifted her head to look into his eyes. She hoped that her smile would take away his frown.
“Are we go
od?” he asked.
“Better than good,” Jeri said. “You’ve given me a chance to make the land flourish.”
“And is that all I am to you?” he asked.
“No. I… I think that you’re forever.”
Kissing him hard and fast, Jeri remembered all the times she wished to break free from her past and find something sweeter on the other side. Somehow this snuck up on her without her realizing that this… that he was the dream come true. Christopher might take some time to whip into perfect shape, but when he held her this close, they were already halfway home.
“Guys?”
Bartlett’s voice seemed a million miles away as she stayed in Christopher’s kiss, and when she finally pushed back in search of air, there was only warmth in her heart. And something… something fresh and foreign falling through her hair.
“Guys,” Bartlett said. “Look up. It’s snowing in Celina.”
The Billionaire’s Secret Baby
Vanessa Rose
© Copyright 2018 by Vanessa Rose. All rights reserved.
No part of this novel may be reproduced, duplicated, distributed or transmitted in either electronic or print form. Neither may it be stored in a retrieval system, database or in any form without prior written consent from the author.
Table Of Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1: In the Pits
Chapter 2: Jewelry Lasts Longer Than Love
Chapter 3: Science to Her Art
Chapter 4: For Love or Money
Chapter 5: The Next Big Thing
Chapter 6: Late Arrival
Chapter 7: Clarity in Retrospect
Introduction
Dylan brought the helicopter down nice and easy while the six other people on board gripped the armrests of their chairs. The landing pad was clearly marked but surrounded by towering pine trees that grew a bit too close for comfort. Dylan felt a smile cross his lips and he cleared his throat before he spoke into his headset.
“Watch your heads when you get out, gentlemen. Thanks for flying with me,” he said.
He looked into the overhead mirror and saw the forced head nods and tense shoulders of the executives he'd chosen to accompany him on his trip to the Allegheny Mountains in western Pennsylvania. Dylan's assistant booked a rental property for them for a few days while he toured the countryside scouting new talent for his distribution line.
As soon as the skids were safely on the earth, there was a rapid shuffle of buckles and bags. One by one, the stuffed suits awkwardly climbed out of the modern but ominous helicopter they'd flown from Philadelphia. Dylan hopped out with the grace of a seasoned pilot and unlocked the outer storage to get his gear.
When everyone was off the landing pad and in the house, Dylan's assistant gathered them in the living room while Dylan played bartender. He had been doing business since he was a kid and had long ago grown out of board meetings. His corporate staff, however, were a little bit harder to break of the rigid culture. That's why he made them go on these excursions.
Their business demanded that they stay on top of all the latest trends. Dylan had proven time and again, with immense success, that trends start small. He specialized in travelling the globe to find the most brilliantly designed, handcrafted fashions, and then bringing them to high-end markets in the most affluent countries.
He found talent, helped them grow to produce enough of their wares to satisfy demand, and then distributed their goods to his network of boutiques. Dylan's reach was vast and his reputation as a stunningly handsome, powerfully good-looking man gave him a status that few ever reach. He had friends who ran governments in Europe and friends who ran small jewelry stands in South America, but he was the same to everybody. His genuine nature made him easily approachable and irresistible to women.
That was why he hired Marcos, the brilliant assistant he might never have found if he hadn't gotten a flat tire just outside of Memphis a few years back. Marcos was meticulous, diligent and had a memory like an elephant. It also helped that he was a gorgeous young gay man who knew exactly how to keep women from getting in Dylan's way. Most of the time, that's all Marcos seemed to do. Sometimes, however, he got to crack the corporate whip, too.
“First of all,” Marcos said to Dylan's staff, “you all look absolutely horrible. This is western Pennsylvania. Really? Suits?”
Marcos shook his head. He unzipped a large travel bag and produced individual vacuum-sealed packages of perfectly folded clothing. Marcos read the labels on each package and tossed it to its new owner. The executives all opened the packages and found pants and shirts Marcos felt would be more appropriate for the area. Smiling, he walked around and started to hand out belts. In another bag were shoes. Once all the men were holding their new attire, Marcos continued his directions.
“Please don't change here,” he said holding up his hands, “Instead, there are enough rooms upstairs for everyone. The room to the left is Dylan's. Once you're dressed, we're heading over to local fairgrounds to start our itinerary with an art festival. There's supposed to be a cute little fashion show there, too, so that's where we'll be focusing our attention. Once we're done with the festival, we'll meet back at the cars and probably head to dinner. Observation reports are due by 9pm. Now, go ahead and change. Try to leave the big city-ness with your suits, okay?”
Dylan appeared with a round of drinks for them all before his execs went upstairs to change into their Marcos-approved clothing. When it was only the two of them left, Dylan turned and thanked Marcos.
“Great job, thanks,” Dylan said.
Marcos nodded his head in acknowledgment, and Dylan turned to go get dressed himself. Western Pennsylvania was a new destination for him, and he was excited to get out and get a taste of their culture. He picked the art show because it drew artisans and craftsmen from all over the state. It wasn't that big, but it was notoriously ultra-concentrated with talent. Dylan didn't want to stick out too badly, but he didn't make an effort to dress out of his normal character. He was already wearing his favorite pair of motorcycle boots and faded denim jeans. He wanted to change out of was his flying shirt and into something short sleeved. With a black t-shirt on and his camera strapped around his neck, Dylan went downstairs to meet his staff.
Of course, he was the first one standing outside by the cars. He picked the Range Rover to drive and left the Jeep for Marcos. Neither of them trusted their associates, as wonderful as they were, to navigate twisting mountain roads by themselves. Dylan took in the views of the forest, thankful that Marcos had found this rental property instead of booking rooms at the nearest hotel, thirty miles away. From where he stood, Dylan could hear the music from the festival echoing through the canyons. The day was young and freshly upon them, and Dylan was anxious to get exploring.
After a few more minutes, the staff appeared and took their seats in the cars. Dylan led the way and soon they were turning along hillsides, rising and dipping with the road. A few of his execs seemed to be relaxing, and Dylan was confident that the rest would soon. After checking the GPS, Dylan made a right turn and the festival appeared down the road before them. Dylan pulled the Range Rover into a spot and the Jeep took one right next to it. They were still early, and everyone eagerly surveyed the designers and artisans setting up their wares.
Drifting among the chaos like wildflower on the wind was a fiercely beautiful, young black woman who immediately caught Dylan's eye. She had a camera strapped around her neck, too, but before Dylan could think to follow her, she disappeared into the crowd. Dylan looked a moment more, but Marcos was busy giving out marching orders. Sometimes Dylan wondered who the CEO of his company really was: himself or Marcos.
Chapter 1: In the Pits
A few hours into the art festival, the fashion shows started. They were much bigger than Dylan and his staff anticipated, and they were pleasantly surprised when they entered the large tents and took seats in the second row. Dylan, proudly wearing his camera and a company-issued media badge, to
ok a spot in the pits with a handful of other photographers who had come to capture the show. To Dylan's surprise, he saw her again, the sterling beauty from when he first arrived.
She was wearing an incredibly beautiful necklace that seemed to be custom designed to match the antique barrette she wore in her hair. Her white V-neck snugly hugged a perfect set of curves, and her ebony skin shone in contrast. She was fixated on the models walking down the runway, barely taking the viewfinder from her face.
Dylan absentmindedly held his camera up towards the runway, but his gaze ignored his own viewfinder in favor of the beautiful woman who stood a few feet ahead and to the side of him. She was in the dead center of the runway, and no other photographers tried to encroach upon her space. She and the music that blared around them mesmerized Dylan. It was too loud for him to talk, and he didn't want to disturb her anyway.
Suddenly, another photographer accidentally knocked into him. A quick apology from the offending passerby was enough to jolt Dylan back to reality. He started to pay attention to the show, but he was determined not to let the woman get away from him this time.
Eventually, after what felt like a million shutter sounds and bass beats, the show ended. Dylan kept an eye on his lovely lady almost the entire time, but as soon as the lights went back up, she was gone. Dylan searched around in disbelief, but she was gone. He fought his way against the crowd and caught glimpse of her. She walked just alongside the runway and hopped up on stage. She was just about to go behind the curtain with a beautiful smile on her face. Dylan followed her like a moth to a flame but with much more direction and purpose.
From across the runway, he caught eyes with Marcos who looked like he might have a panic attack. Dylan grabbed his phone out of his pocket and waved it in Marcos's direction. It was their signal that Dylan was off on an adventure and he would message if he were in trouble. In the interim, it was up to Marcos to keep everything on schedule. With a shrug of his shoulders, Marcos turned back towards their team and Dylan continued on after the beautiful woman.