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

by Zee Monodee

  Ilyanka waved a newspaper in the air. “You’re front page news, Jaaane!”

  Had she really heard those words? All her blood drained down to her legs. “What?”

  “Look here.”

  Ilyanka turned the paper so Jane could see the first page.

  The large image on the left was a picture of her and one of Michael side-by-side. Her horrified gaze landed on the massive headline.

  “Tycoon and Heiress Bumping It!”

  No, this couldn’t be happening … Maybe she was still asleep, and dreaming, though this sounded more like a nightmare …

  With strength born of desperation and revulsion, she snatched the paper from Ilyanka. “Give me that!”

  Dropping into a heap on the couch next to the blonde, she started reading. Bile rose to her throat.

  Tycoon and heiress bumping it!

  Prepare your tissues, girls. One of the most eligible bachelors of Europe has just been snagged! And he’s getting a baby, too, in the process!

  More inside!

  Looking worse and worse. Her breath grew shallow as her brain started firing away. What were they on about? Her fingers felt like thick rubber sausages as she tried to open the pages, but failed.

  Ileana took hold of the paper. “You really want to read this, sweetie?”

  By this point, Jane was breathing in heavy gulps. Her skin had grown cold, getting clammy now, but she tried her best to fight the sickness away.

  “I need to.” Her voice came out barely a croak.

  Ileana stroked Jane’s back before opening the paper to the proper page, placing it in her lap.

  Jane trained her gaze onto the article. Pictures of Michael and of her were scattered all over the piece. Taking a deep breath, she started to read.

  Nitro Mike is taken, ladies. The lucky girl is named Jane Smithers.

  You may be wondering who she is. It’s in fact a mystery she’s escaped the social radar for so long. The name Marenka Maurel must surely ring a bell for everyone. Well, Nitro Mike’s girl is none other than the Serial Bride’s daughter!

  And Jane also happens to be the daughter of the late David Smithers, the genius professor from Oxford who also had a penchant for beautiful women and fast cars. His death during a Paris-Dakar leg still remains in the annals as one of the most devastating accidents to happen during the race on the African continent.

  In case you don’t remember, David Smithers’ mother is Veronica Arana of the Arana empire of Venezuela. This allows Jane to thus compete for title of wealthiest heiress with the likes of the girls from big-money families like the Hiltons and the Mittals.

  So it seems Nitro Mike earned himself quite a pedigree where his new flame is concerned. The couple has been spotted at Tabitha’s Cove last week, and many wonder how long they’ve kept their affair secret. There hasn’t been a hint of any romantic involvement of any kind for both of them recently.

  Imagine the surprise, then, when the couple was spotted walking out of the surgery of a renowned gynaecologist near Kew Gardens. He had his arm protectively around her waist, and she leaned against his chest as they made their way to his car, the very picture of romantic bliss.

  Now, why would a couple go to an ob/gyn’s office together, unless … there was a bun in the oven? Information sourced from the doctor’s entourage prove there is no doubt that a little Rinaldi is on the way.

  Is the daughter made of the same stuff as her mum? Only time will tell, since we haven’t heard any mention yet of wedding bells for the couple.

  Do remain on the lookout—we’ll bring you more as soon as we have it. Mark our words—after a royal baby, this is the biggest news on the baby boom front this year.

  By the time she’d finished the article, Jane’s insides felt like they had been on a deathly roller coaster. This couldn’t be happening. They had all their facts right about her, and now, all this was splashed for the world to see. She couldn’t hide anymore—they’d pulled her out of the secure shadows and into the treacherous spotlight.

  And what of Michael in all that? No, no, no …

  Dropping the paper on the floor, she rushed into the bathroom where she chucked the contents of her stomach down the toilet.

  The twins joined her and squatted down on either side. One of them stroked her hair while the other pressed a wet wipe in her hand. Jane dragged the tissue on her face and forced herself to calm down.

  She had to stop panicking. No one ever managed to do something efficient when panicked. So first order of the day—calm down … and maybe get in touch with Michael.

  In the lounge, her phone started ringing, and refused to stop.

  She hung her head. Goodness, she couldn’t do this …

  “Will you be okay, Jaaane?” Ilyanka hopped from one foot to the other. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would be so hard on you. And I didn’t think of the baby. Is he fine? You’re not upset with me, are you?”

  Right, best to focus on the here and now.

  She placed a hand on the girl’s arm and gave her a wan smile. “It’s not your fault, luv.”

  No, it was her fault. All her life, she’d tried to remain out of the tabloid spotlight. Guess it had backfired in her face today, and spectacularly, too, at that. The very secrecy she’d shrouded herself with in the past two decades had played right into the reporter’s game.

  How could she have thought that with a mother like hers and a bloodline like her paternal grandparents’, she could live in relative anonymity?

  “You will be okay, won’t you?” Ileana reached out and touched her shoulder.

  She didn’t miss the concern in their voices. The girls were almost always funny and ditzy, but they had hearts of gold, and they’d fight tooth and nail for those close to them.

  The three of them stood up at the same time, and she reached out and hugged both girls to her.

  “You’re my best friends. Never forget that.”

  “Aww, Jaaane.” Together, they nearly squeezed the life out of her.

  Jane winced. Might need to tamper down the emotional reunions with them in the future. “I have to get ready for work.”

  And right, too—focus on what she could do, what she could control. How about business as usual, then?

  “And we need to go to bed.” Ileana clapped her hands and jumped. “We’re meeting with a lot of people for the wedding later today.”

  She groaned. “Don’t mention that.”

  But the girls were oblivious. “The ceremony and reception will be in Damian’s garden. We contacted the florists, the caterers, the baker, the marquee-makers, everyone.”

  Right.

  “Did you remember to contact the priest?”

  The two girls looked at her with horrified expressions.

  “Oh my God, we forgot.”

  ***

  An hour later, Jane threw a glance at her phone. The device was on silent, yet the lit screen from the furiously popping notifications couldn’t hide the fact that every paper in London and every reporter worth his salt was trying to get in touch with her.

  After donning her linen suit, coat, and shoes once the girls had left, she grabbed her bag and exited the flat. Thankfully, the whole building was quiet. Not everyone actually worked here, so most residents didn’t come out until noon.

  It suited her fine. She wanted to meet the fewest number of people possible in her current situation.

  What would Michael think? He was in the Middle East, and as far as she knew, Viewstand, the stinking piece of trash that had splashed her and Michael’s ‘affair’ on its first page, didn’t have a circulation there. But he would know what to do once he got back; the news would surely have died down by then, anyway. She shouldn’t stress too much over this. Today’s paper, tomorrow’s fish and chips wrapper and all that.

  She hailed a cab in front of the building. As she stepped in, she caught a quick glimpse of light reflecting off a shiny object across the street.

  A camera? She squinted. Was that a man
hiding in the bushes, and was he shooting pictures of her?

  A gasp escaped her. The paparazzi?

  She caught the cab driver watching her in his rear-view mirror. For once, she was glad this one didn’t think he needed to be on a racetrack, but his covert scrutiny made her nervous.

  “Say.” He tipped his chin forward. “You ain’t that bloke’s missus, by any chance? The one on the paper today?”

  Oh, Heavens.

  “Why, it sure is you!”

  She huddled lower in her seat.

  “Hey, you know what, luv? Tell ’em all to go to Hell. You found your man; you keep him. And congrats for the babe, too.”

  Okay … so she hadn’t been expecting that.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, still stunned.

  He dropped her in front of the bank in the City. As she was leaving, he called out.

  “Hey, luv. You don’ mighty give a bloody fuck ’bout that damn gossipy lot. They simply jealous.”

  Inside all those swear words, she heard the concerned and caring note, and she turned and smiled at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again.”

  Surprisingly, the cabbie’s words actually did help. Buoyed, she walked to the elevator with a confident, resolute step, not paying attention to the stares and whispers around her. One would think people who worked in a bank wouldn’t read such trash, but it appeared trash crossed all barriers.

  With a sigh, she settled at her desk, but her respite proved short-lived.

  In stormed a very angry, distinguished-looking older Italian man a few minutes later. He spewed words in a tirade she didn’t understand at all, and his whole body seemed to bristle with repressed fury.

  But he didn’t faze her. “You need a pail of water to cool down?”

  He blinked at her, stunned, before continuing with his diatribe.

  She cut him off again. “I speak Spanish, not Italian.”

  He stopped, his hands in mid-air. “You said you didn’t know Michael!”

  Uh-oh. She hadn’t thought beyond the moment, and one of the confrontations she most wanted to escape was now—already!—before her.

  How would she get out of this?

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Isn’t it? You told me you had never met him before. And now, the papers say you’re expecting his baby. You can’t have gotten pregnant in the past few days, surely; you said so yourself you were already pregnant when he was in the office. Don’t think I wasn’t listening! And I had to learn about it through the paper! The bloody paper, Jane. Why didn’t you tell me? Does he want to cut me out of his life so much that he wouldn’t let you tell me? And how could you keep this a secret, too?”

  Hearing his rushed words made compassion bloom in her chest. He did sound as if he cared. His face was red, and thick, silver locks had broken from his smoothed-back hair to fall over his forehead. She had never seen Umberto so agitated, and at that moment, her heart went out to him. He deserved the truth. Some of it, at least.

  She stood and walked up to him, placing her hand on his arm.

  “Come.”

  She led him to his office. He meekly followed, as if the outburst had drained him of all his fighting energy.

  She took them to the sofa in the far end of the room and made him sit down, before she sat next to him.

  “Listen to me.” She took his hand in hers. “The situation is a lot more complicated than what it looks like.”

  He wrapped his warm palm over the back of her hand and peered forward. “Talk to me. Please.”

  She gulped at the naked request in those words. At that moment, she finally knew she was more than an employee to him. She was a friend, if not family already.

  So she took a deep breath and delved in.

  “Michael and I have a lot to work through. We ...” She paused, not knowing what to say.

  Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him more. Even to her, the whole thing seemed so totally absurd. Umberto might be a friend, but she had never unloaded on anyone. She took burdens on, and not the other way around. She wanted, and needed, to be very careful as to how she handled the situation.

  “Why didn’t he want me to know, Jane?”

  And that was the crux of the matter. His only son was supposedly about to become a father and had not let him know. It must hurt. She wanted to hug him, but all she did was squeeze his hand.

  “It’s nothing like that. Everything happened really quickly, and we got swept up, often losing our own footing in there.” And wasn’t that the truth! “There wasn’t any time to think rationally.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to lie and tell him Michael would have told him if impending fatherhood had really been upon him. She couldn’t take it upon herself to say this and find out he would’ve done the opposite.

  “I wanted to keep things quiet for a while,” she continued in a soft tone.

  He eyed her warily for a long time. “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going to have my son’s baby.”

  His voice had rung with awe. Guilt crept up her, and she averted her eyes. Michael would know how to handle this situation; she was so far out of her depths, it almost felt like she’d reached a new dimension.

  “There’s some stuff I need to handle urgently.” Blame it on work—that always did the trick.

  She stood, keeping her gaze down when she walked through the big room and reached the closed door that led into the waiting room and her office.

  She pushed the heavy panel, and before she could take a step, a bright flash blinded her. She had just enough reflexes left to step back and slam the door closed. Another flash burst as the wood swung into place.

  “Oh my God.” She gasped.

  “What’s the matter?” Umberto rushed over to her.

  She looked up at him. “There’s a paparazzo out there.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Where? In the waiting room?”

  She nodded.

  He stalked to his desk. “I’m calling security.”

  The next few minutes passed in silence before they heard the ding of the elevator and raised voices. The sounds came through a tad muffled where they stood, but Jane could make out that security was hauling the photographer out of the room. When they heard the lift close again, Umberto opened the door a few inches and peered out.

  “The coast is clear.”

  She exhaled a breath and winced. Pain had built behind her skull, and the headache threatened to make mush of her. This couldn’t be happening. Everything was just getting worse.

  “What was that about?” she asked as she let herself fall into her chair.

  “Tabloids.”

  Umberto’s voice implied he knew what he was talking about.

  The ding resounded again, and this time, the bank’s head of security himself walked in.

  “Sir, mam.” He nodded. “Sorry for that incident. We thought we had all bases covered, but that little swine managed to sneak in.”

  Jane knew she should feel relief, but her senses picked up another train of thought. Was he implying … “All bases covered? What do you mean?”

  “Well ...” The man shrugged. “Since this morning, we’ve had reporters poking their noses in and asking questions on every level. Some employees called it to our attention, and we have been hauling them out. Like I said, this paparazzo here went through the net.”

  She had to have heard wrong. “You mean there were more than one?”

  “A good dozen, I’m afraid.”

  “Dio santo!” Umberto threw his hands in the air.

  Jane would’ve said something in the same vein, but she couldn’t speak for sheer shock. This was, utterly and completely, an epic nightmare.

  And if the situation was like this at work, what would it be like at home? She’d really seen a paparazzo earlier. She had to find out.

  With dread flowing heavy in her veins, she went to the phone and called the twins.

  Ileana answered on th
e fifth ring.

  “Yes?” Her voice was sleepy.

  “Luv, sorry to wake you, but can you do me a favour? Look at the front window and tell me what you see?”

  “Why? Okay, never mind.” She whined now. “It’s really because you’re asking.”

  “Thanks, darling.” Jane waited with baited breath, and had to move the phone away from her ear when Ileana let out a shrill word in Russian. “What is it?”

  “You won’t believe this, but there’s a swarm of reporters with heavy-duty cameras out there. You know those really big focus lenses? They’ve got that. Oh, wait, there’s a TV crew van pulling up—”

  “Thanks. I gotta go.” She cut the call and let herself slump back into her chair.

  Only one thing she could do now, and only one person who would know how to handle this. They’d run out of time.

  She picked up her mobile and dialled the number. When she met the damn voice-mail again, she left a message.

  “Call me. ASAP!”

  ***

  Michael came across the message five minutes later. Worried out of his mind by the frantic tone of her voice, he punched in her number and waited for her to pick up. The line was busy, and he waited, but to no avail. All he got was her voice mail.

  “Bloody hell!”

  Had something happened to her? Or to the baby? Had she had an accident? All sorts of crazy scenarios played out in his head.

  The phone rang in his palm. Rory.

  “What?” He had no patience left to answer in a civilized manner.

  “Sir, we have a problem.”

  No, not him, too. How many issues was he supposed to handle? He had managed to conclude the bloody deal, gotten the damn papers duly signed, but a lot of work remained to actually carry out the merger.

  “What now?”

  “I’m sending you a file.”

  A second later, the phone gave an alert that a file had come in.

  “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”

  He cut the call and swiped the screen until he reached the document, letting out a string of curses as he took in the first words.

  So now, the tabloids were on their back? Bloody hell!