The Lawyer's Pregnancy Takeover (Destiny's Child Book 2)

by Zee Monodee

  She struggled not to let out a scream as the car made its way to the East End. Why did the world conspire to make it oh so hard for her?

  Half an hour later, she was at the restaurant on Canary Wharf, the last place she wanted to be, but this was her mother they were talking about. No possibility of escape. Easier to suffer in silence. Hadn’t Jane done that most of her life? She’d practically become an expert at bottling things up and keeping her peace by now. A lauded quality to possess when one had the likes of Marenka Maurel in their existence.

  The brightness of the exterior dimmed to a hushed semi-gloom when she stepped into the restaurant. The interior of Frannie’s was classy, subdued, and elegant, done in gleaming dark wood and red velvet chaises and banquettes. She’d never understood how her mother, or even any woman, could favour this place, with its almost sterile, gentleman’s country club atmosphere where even the clink of the cutlery against the Limoges tableware seemed subdued. She could almost ascribe the tasteful downplaying to resemble Tabitha’s Cove, but the latter had had a way more welcoming, warm vibe. Another shudder took hold of her.

  Thinking of Tabitha’s brought Michael to mind again, but she shrugged the idea of him off. One issue at a time. She didn’t have it in her to deal with anything but the bane of her existence when the woman called and made her snap at attention.

  The hostess led her to a seat, and as she was sitting down, she spotted her mother, or actually, the huge fur coat that walked in. Who wore fur during the day in March, anyway? She rolled her eyes. Trust Marenka to seek attention this way.

  Jane sighed. However, despite the outrageous clothing combinations, her parent never once hit a wrong note. Like now. Removing the coat after kissing Frannie on both cheeks, Marenka revealed a stupendous outfit of a long-sleeved cream silk blouse and a pair of camel-coloured jodhpurs tucked into knee-high boots that could almost pass for riding accoutrements.

  Jane groaned. Seriously? Her mother had style, though, and the kind of flair that cleverly camouflaged she was a real bitch in sociable disguise. At close to sixty, she could pass for Jane’s elder sister. Her tumultuous love life alone fed the tabloids half of their material. From the minute Jane had realized this at around twelve or thirteen, she had tried hard to bury herself in the sand so that none of Marenka’s waves could crash like a tsunami on her life. When things—anything, really—went wrong, Marenka had a nasty way of blaming her, so she also steered clear of her parent to escape those recriminations.

  So far, she had managed to do both by keeping her mother at arm’s length. They met and spoke regularly, but Jane allowed no access into her life, personal or otherwise. The only way to survive around Marenka.

  “Darrrling,” Marenka shrieked before she engulfed Jane in a hug, the sound at odds with the quiet atmosphere, but this was Marenka Maurel—no one would ever tell her to lower her tone, let alone shut up.

  Jane extricated herself from those deceptively thin but steel-strong arms. “Hello to you, too.”

  “You look a bit pale. When was the last time you stepped out in the sun, Jane? A little bit of sunshine wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

  And here it went again. Marenka was convinced Jane was a hypochondriac with a phobia of death—that’s what she liked to tell all her therapists to account for Jane’s propensity to remain far from her.

  “I’m fine. Just busy with work.”

  Best to deflect. She wasn’t going to let her mother know she was pregnant. All hell would break loose. Marenka would be sure to claim the news and twist it so it revolved around her and her alone. Of course, it would be Jane’s fault that she’d dared steal the spotlight.

  “That boss of yours. No wonder he exploits you, when you will never stand up for yourself.”

  Two strikes in less than two minutes. Her mother was in high spirits, it would seem.

  Her stomach heaved, and she threw a quick glance around. She had ordered ginger tea to calm her nausea, and the waitress hadn’t brought it yet. The way things were going, she would need much more than soothing ginger before the quarter-hour was out.

  “You really are looking quite sick.”

  Jane glanced at her mother. It amazed her that the woman had even noticed anything that didn’t concern her shallow little self.

  “Yes. I’m just tired.”

  “Ten hours of sleep every night, Jane. Beauty sleep. Lord knows you are in dire need of it usually, but I didn’t think it possible for you to look even worse. You have proven me wrong today.”

  Jane rolled her eyes, but also made sure to not make it noticeable. Her mother was the life of every party. When would she have time to sleep so many hours? Of course, she never got up before ten-thirty, but still, that couldn’t account for those rested, fresh good looks.

  Squinting, allowing herself a good look at Marenka’s face, she gave a small gasp. “You’ve had a face lift again?”

  “Tut-tut, darrrling. Nothing more than a little Botox.”

  So that’s what the trip to India had been about.

  Her tea hadn’t come, and her stomach was starting to burn. This state of affairs must’ve blipped the memo from her brain to her tongue to keep quiet, because she found herself starting to speak.

  “You’ve been having a little Botox for a decade now. When are you gonna accept that you’re growing old?”

  Goodness, had she really said that out loud? Poked the sleeping lioness with a pointed stick?

  “If I can, never.” A crystalline laugh followed the reply.

  The sound grated on Jane’s ears, but a part of her was relieved that her mother had not jumped on the irreverent question to let her know how much of an insolent brat she was.

  “You are so dreadful at times, Jane. Loosen up, will you?”

  Okay, so that’s the direction this encounter would take. Marenka was out to poke fun at her. Fine, she could withstand it. So she shrugged in reply.

  “How do you think you’ll land a man by being so uptight?”

  There we go again.

  “I’m not looking for a man.”

  Her mother huffed. “Of course you’re not. Just look where you are today. That is proof enough of your stance, isn’t it?”

  Her mother was on a full roll. Minutes tended to look like hours in such cases.

  Just bugger off, will you? she yearned to say, but she bit her lip instead. The metallic tang of blood registered on her taste buds, making her stomach twist further.

  Where the hell was her ginger tea? She would seriously puke over anything soon if she kept this up.

  “Not all of us have your knack to pull men from every direction, Marenka.”

  Where was the Sellotape when she needed it? She had let that fall from her mouth? That was akin to sending a tiny bomb onto a territory that could return fire with nuclear warfare.

  “Tut-tut. No need to be rude. That’s what happens when a girl doesn’t have a man. She gets bitter.”

  And jealous. Jane heard the words, making her want to scream. As if she’d be jealous of someone who would ditch a wonderful man just because she’d grown tired of him and had spotted another prize.

  But it seemed the crisis had been averted. She couldn’t see nuclear-type damage around her. Yet.

  “Is there something you wanted us to talk about?”

  Best bring this back to neutral ground. Well, as neutral as it could get with Marenka. A headache was building at her temples, and she still didn’t have her bloody tea.

  “Actually, yes.” Marenka took a deep breath. “Darrrling, I’m getting married!”

  Wait a second—she hadn’t just heard that, had she? Granted, almost every encounter when her mother was single resulted in this declaration after a while … Had she conjured it in her head, maybe?

  “What?” Her voice was a croak, all notions of ginger tea and nausea forgotten.

  Marenka nodded before she reached for Jane’s hand. “I’ve met this adorable man.”

  She shouldn’t have been shocked. But
somehow, she was. And her mother initiating physical contact beyond what was necessary for show? This spelled something fishy.

  But something else tugged at her. She couldn’t bear to watch the blissful rapture on her mother’s face, and for once, just once, she wished she were in such a position, too. Where a good man would step up for her and with her … Like Michael Rinaldi would, if he ever found himself in that position.

  She shook herself. Enough thinking about that exasperating man. She already had too much on her plate. Bile rose and stung her oesophagus, making her yearn to retch. And green calling to green, she supposed, the bitch in her, inherited no doubt from her parent, raised her ugly head at that very second, taking over.

  “Don’t tell me you’re marrying your toy boy.”

  Oh, yes, she’d wanted to hurt with that statement, and a flash of victory went through her at the sudden dejected expression on Marenka’s face.

  Score one, finally, for Jane. Never mind the consequences such an attack would surely warrant on her mother’s part.

  But Marenka just bowed her head, and when she lifted her gaze back up, her face looked tense. “He is younger than I am.”

  She should’ve seen this coming. But no, she hadn’t been prepared for that. All Jane’s elation went down the drain. Not only was her mum actively hunting, but doing so across age borders, too. How was she supposed to take that?

  “Hence the Botox from India, to look much younger than you usually do.” She pursed her lips, trying hard to push the green monster back in. The fight had left her, and she didn’t have it in her anymore to battle on so many fronts.

  “Yes.” Marenka then nodded solemnly.

  Jane watched her for a long moment, growing increasingly annoyed as her tea had yet to materialize, and also by the fact that she found herself lying at the very bottom of a dark pit of gloomy loneliness.

  Something twisted and foul burned its way inside her chest. Why couldn’t she have the chance to win just once? Was that too much to ask? She so wanted to hit back at her mother right then.

  Then the solution to that dilemma presented itself in her mind. She, too, had news to impart. Let the chips fall where they would after that. She was done caring.

  Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Marenka, you’re going to be a grandma.”

  Chapter Four

  By the time Jane made it home that Friday evening, the clock showed close to nine. Nothing new there, she mused while climbing the two flights of stairs to reach her three-bedroom flat in an old, restored building on a posh street in Chelsea.

  After entering the spacious apartment, she pressed her back against the closed front door and let out a sigh.

  What a day. Between meeting her mother and Umberto’s silent treatment, she had no idea how she’d survived.

  How could you do this to me?

  The outraged words had resounded in her head all through the afternoon. Trust her mother to jump on her high horse and bring it all to her. Well, she had news for Marenka Maurel. Jane was her own person, and if her mother wanted to disinherit her because her ungrateful daughter had brought shame to the family name ...

  She snorted. It had more to do with making Marenka appear old than with her being unmarried and without any prospects. Her mother hadn’t even bothered to ask who the father was and whether or not he would do the right thing by Jane. No, it always revolved around Marenka. How dare Jane have thought otherwise?

  They hadn’t even had lunch. In the middle of all the horrendous ranting that had greeted her announcement, she had upped and left … to move straight into her boss’s heavy, speculative silence.

  Lucky for her, the proposed financial draft for the Brinks deal had come back through courier around one o’clock. She’d then had a chat over the phone with Rory O’Hanlon, Michael’s PA, going over proposed amendments, and for the rest of her Friday, the documents had kept her company.

  As usual, she was the last to leave the office. In the taxi on the way back, she’d dreamed of nothing else but a quiet night downing pizza in front of Love, Actually. Frankly, she didn’t know of a better way to end the week.

  The aroma of home—her perfume mingled with some of the scented candles she dotted around the place—tickled her nostrils, and she breathed in deep, letting the calming feeling of finally being here, in her sanctuary, take over.

  Peeling herself from the door and cutting across the wide entry hall, she shed her low-heeled pumps and let her feet sink into the thick grey carpet that ran throughout the rooms. A small measure of bliss filled her at the soft contact, and she sighed. She could finally relax, and had all of Saturday and Sunday to look forward to. A blissful weekend with no deadlines to rush towards. When was the last time she’d had a free weekend?

  The peal of the doorbell broke through her Zen, and she groaned. Please don’t let it be who I think it is.

  Muffled thumps on the wooden door started, accompanied by high-pitched, feminine squeals. “Jaaaaane!”

  Another groan left her. What had she done to the Universe to never get any peace? She didn’t need this. Not now. Not ever. Maybe if she didn’t answer, they’d think she wasn’t here.

  “Open the door, Jane. The light is on inside, means you’re home.” Further thumps on the door.

  No escape. Here, too, easier to suffer than fight. Reluctantly, she went to the entrance and opened the panel.

  Two identical blonde dolls jumped in, squealing with joy as they lunged at her, each trying to choke her from either side.

  Pushing them away, she coughed to ease some air into her closing throat.

  The girls went inside, no doubt headed for her lounge. Following in their footsteps, she stopped on the threshold to the cosy front room. As expected, the two were already sprawled on her shell-pink, brocade-upholstered settees.

  Ileana and Ilyanka Petrova were identical twins. From the long blonde hair that resembled spun candyfloss, the tanned limbs that seemed endless, to the dimples in their picture-perfect cheeks, they were almost impossible to distinguish. They hailed from Russia, and Jane was pretty certain their father had to be a member of the Russian Mafia or else one of those filthy-rich oligarchs to be able to provide the girls with the kind of opulent and carefree lifestyle they indulged in here. At barely eighteen when they’d moved in, the twins had come to live next door five years earlier. They were both models, but neither of them had had any cosmopolitan outlook when they’d first settled here.

  Jane had taken them under her wing. From neighbours, they had become fast friends, and now, she considered the twins as the younger sisters she’d never had. The obnoxious, your-every-business-is-my-business type of younger sisters.

  “Do you know we’ve been waiting for hours for you to get home?”

  The absence of any squeal in the whole sentence told her that Ileana had spoken. Good, she’s wearing the sea-blue tube top tonight. Ilyanka was in red.

  “Why would you do that?”

  Her voice rang heavy with weariness. These two loved playing ‘Guess what’ games. She could be in for the whole night before she learned what their point was if she didn’t give in and play along.

  They both shook their heads, hair flying in every direction yet with a ‘structured’ look that reminded her of an advert for shampoo.

  “Jaaaaaane! It’s Friiiiday. You forgot or what?”

  A headache started to thrum. She didn’t have it in her to cater to such decibels right then.

  “Whatever you do, Yan, don’t squeal, will you? My eardrums really can’t take it.”

  The twins giggled. After exchanging a concerted glance, they turned back to her with a pointed stare.

  “No.”

  She knew what they were getting at. Friday night equalled partying at the clubs for them. No way would they drag her into their hike to every hip place in Chelsea. This kind of trip was all right for early twenty-somethings, but she’d crossed into her thirties and had no qualms accept
ing she was too old for that kind of deal.

  “Awww, come on.” Ileana bounced on the sofa. “When was the last time you let off some steam? You’ve been cooped up in this place for ages.”

  With good reason. Horror flooded her when she recalled her previous night out. The last time she had partied away, she’d ended up shagging her very taken neighbour. Not that the girls knew. She’d rather die before letting them in on such gossip.

  But she seriously couldn’t do this today. Wouldn’t sounded more like it, actually. She brushed their words away with a wave of her hand. “I’ve had a tough day, okay? All I want is some rest.”

  “Jaaane!”

  “No.”

  She then made her way into the kitchen where she retrieved a pizza from the freezer and proceeded to unwrap it and place it in the microwave oven.

  The cacophony of the twins’ voices escalated as they joined her in the kitchen. She blanked them out, a habit she’d developed out of sheer necessity. The girls were darlings, and she was very fond of them, but they could also get on her nerves like no one else. Okay, minus her mother. Ileana and Ilyanka came in a close second.

  “You’re not watching that dreadful movie again.”

  She glanced up at the veiled threat. “Try me.”

  Ilyanka left the kitchen and came back a few moments later with the white DVD casing in her hand. She popped it open and showed Jane. “And how will you, when the disc is gone?”

  “You …” Jane started to say, but the words choked in her throat. The little gits.

  “Come with us to the Chelsea Lair, and I’ll tell you where I hid it.”

  She stared at them. So now, they resorted to blackmail to get to their ends? “I’ll buy a new DVD.”

  “When? Tomorrow? And don’t even think of streaming it. We can also block your Internet connection easily. Face it. You’d be better off with us at the club tonight.”