by T. S. Ryder
“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about right now.” She hopped up to open the door. “Please, just go.”
When she shut it behind him, loud sobs wracked her body. She was in love with the son-of-a-bitch, and he couldn’t wait to get away from her. She’d meant nothing to him.
***
Trevor sat in his office on Christmas Eve with his feet up on the desk, all alone, with a bottle of bourbon. He was trying to focus on the numbers. Their profits had increased, thanks to Laken’s suggestions, but not enough to keep Eleanor from forcing him to sell the company.
His thoughts wouldn’t stop returning to Laken. The day he’d met her in Coffee Hut, by chance. This gorgeous woman behind the counter, someone he knew, and he could do something to make her life better. Give her a good job, with benefits and normal hours.
And what had he done? Lusted after her, filled his mind with filthy thoughts of her, of things he’d wanted to do to her.
Their first kiss, she’d looked up at him like he’d hung the stars for her. Her words haunted him. It was heavenly. And I want to do it again.
And, God help him, the first time he’d taken her. The way he’d pressed her against the wall and assaulted her senses until she came all over his greedy hands. That had been her first time. She’d never forget it, and now she’d have to think of him whenever she took a lover.
His hand clenched around the bottle. He never wanted to think of her taking another lover. He wanted to be the man who held her, pleasured her, cared for her, for the rest of his life.
He sat up in his chair, feet flying to the floor. Jesus, he’d fallen in love with her. He’d left her because he couldn’t stand the thought of making her miserable, that he wasn’t enough to make her happy. He’d left her, even though he wanted her more than water, more than air.
And, damn, he’d made a colossal mistake. He didn’t want to set her free. Hell, she was a grown woman. She could make her own choices. What he wanted to do was go to her, ask for her forgiveness, and love her until the day he died. And maybe a little longer after that, because he couldn’t imagine any situation in which he wouldn’t still love her. He’d probably pine for her in the afterlife.
He crossed the room and swung a painting on hinges out. He had a ring in his wall safe, one that his grandmother had given him. He’d never given it to his wife because it just never felt right. He’d thought maybe he’d have kids one day and he’d pass the ring onto them. Maybe he still could.
But first, he decided as he punched in the combination, he’d give it to Laken and ask her to be his wife.
He pulled out several papers, stocks and bonds, and a thin envelope he’d never seen before. He reached for the ring, but something nagged him about that envelope. He hadn’t put that in here, and the only other person who had the combination—Laken’s father—was dead.
He slid a finger under the flap and opened it. A document was inside, stapled together along the top. He flipped to the back page and saw a notary’s stamp and seal. He turned back to the first page and scanned it.
Shit, this was the elusive will no one could find! Frank had stuck it in Trevor’s safe to protect it, make sure someone unbiased would find it, and Trevor hadn’t been in the safe since before Frank had died.
It had never occurred to him Frank would put the will here. Why hadn’t the big lug just filed it with an attorney? Frank always did things the hard way.
Trevor scanned the will and sat down on his couch as his legs turned to rubber. Laken had told him about her stepmother keeping her college fund savings and Eleanor wanted to sell the business she’d inherited.
The beauty of finding this document was that Frank had left a considerable sum of money and his half of the company to his daughter. Eleanor held zero stake in the company. Laken was half-owner in the business she’d been working as a secretary for.
Trevor strode with determination to the copy machine. He’d go file this at the courthouse after Christmas so it would become a directive for Frank’s estate and then he’d take a copy to Laken. He’d help her hire a lawyer and she could get what she deserved.
He paused as the copies came out into the tray. There was just one problem. What if she didn’t believe he loved her? What if she believed he was only trying to marry her because she now owned one-half of his company? He could only hope he could convince her of the truth.
Chapter Five
Laken picked up the stuffed animals all over her living room, holding one of the teddy bears close, as she tried to straighten up. Jen and Jason had come and gone, bearing handmade Christmas gifts. Laken felt no better. Jen had tried to console her, once Laken told her about her affair with her father’s business partner and best friend, by telling Laken that Trevor was too old for her.
Laken couldn’t care less about that. Trevor was a good, genuine, caring man and she wanted him in her life forever. Even more important, she wanted him in the baby’s life forever.
Here she was, alone on Christmas Eve, pregnant, single, and broke, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. She put the stuffed animals away but kept the teddy bear she was cuddling. Somehow, it made her feel just the smallest bit better. She loved Trevor—she knew that now. Now that he’d left her, she realized she shouldn’t have been so hard on him just because he got jealous.
She should have let him explain and reassured him. Of course he was a little insecure about their age difference. Anyone would be. But she only wanted him, and she hadn't made him see that.
She’d go to Trevor and try to talk some sense into him, except there was the baby to think about now. What if he thought she’d gotten pregnant to try to trap him into marrying her? It happened, sometimes, especially to men with money and a business, like Trevor. For that matter, what if he thought she just wanted a way into her father’s company and she was just using him to get her foot in the door? To fight Eleanor as an equal, finally.
She knew Eleanor wanted to sell the company her dad and Trevor had worked so hard to build, so she and her kids could live off the fruits of her father’s labor. What if he thought she just wanted revenge on Eleanor?
Damn it all, if a million what-ifs didn’t race through her mind. She cared about the company, but she wanted Trevor more.
She wanted a stable life for her baby, but it wasn’t just that. She adored Trevor, she loved him, and all she wanted was to spend the rest of their lives together.
Clutching the teddy bear tighter, Laken realized she couldn’t keep living in fear of the dreaded “what-if.” She had to tell Trevor the truth. She was pregnant with his child and she was in love with him. The worst he could say was that he didn’t want either of them.
Which would crush her, of course. But no, she wouldn’t even allow herself to think that way. She was going to take a shower and march over to Trevor’s house to tell him she was in love with him. And pregnant. She wished she didn’t have to tell him that right away because he really might believe she’d done it on purpose.
She supposed she’d just have to trust him to love her enough to believe that she hadn’t. And this wasn’t a hundred years ago. Nothing said he had to marry her if she got pregnant. She’d make sure he understood—she wanted his love or she wanted nothing from him.
***
Trevor had showered and shaved. He’d called the estate attorney and informed him of the will’s existence, and faxed a copy over.
They’d have to go file the original at the courthouse, but at least Laken was taken care of, as her father had wanted.
He might not have wanted her with Trevor, but Trevor was willing to live with that. He’d fallen for Laken, and he had to be with her.
He walked up the dirt path to her small bungalow and knocked on the door.
She answered in her purple robe, hair wet. “I was just getting ready to come find you.”
“May I come in?” he asked.
She nodded and he led her to the couch. “I found your dad’s will. He put it in my safe. You are fin
ancially secure and you own half the company. I’m telling you all this because I want to be transparent with you.”
A hand drifted to her mouth, but she just nodded. “Okay.”
“Listen, Laken. I’m in love with you. If we have to sell the company to prove that, then it’s what we’ll do. It’s completely in your hands, darling. Along with my heart and my life. Everything I am is yours.”
Tears streamed down Laken’s face. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. “Please don’t think I’m trying to trap you, because I’m not. I—”
“Stop.” Joy spurted through his veins, reaching every part of him and opening his heart to the tiny creature in her womb. Laken was carrying his child. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. But, you have to believe me, I love you. You can choose us both, or you can let me go—if that’s what you want—and I’ll understand. Either way, I won’t keep your child from you. And I don’t want your money. I don’t—”
He grabbed her, claiming her mouth and kissed her slowly, languidly, like they hadn’t almost lost each other. Because now, they had the rest of their lives ahead of them, together. “I love you. This seems an awfully easy dilemma to solve.”
He got down on one knee and pulled his grandmother’s ring from his coat pocket. “Make this the most wonderful Christmas I’ve ever had. Please, say you’ll be my wife.”
She looked down at the ring, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, yes. It’s all I want.”
Together, they made their way to the bedroom and made love.
Afterward, Laken admired her ring as they lay cuddled in bed together. This was exactly the way their lives were meant to be. They would love each other, and that sweet baby until they drew their last breath.
*****
THE END
The Mobster's Secret Baby
Description
“Without manners, we all turn into animals,” he said.
“And what’s wrong with animals?” she whispered.
Sylvia
All my life I’ve been on my guard, looking over my shoulders because my dad’s a mobster. And now he has made me a prisoner in one of his friend’s homes. Fedor Volkov, the big Russian mafia boss.
I expected a cold-hearted monster, but he’s sexy as hell with a beard that sets my belly on fire. He stands for everything I despise, yet I can’t stop thinking about him. I want him to be the one to take my virginity. Especially since that would royally piss off my dad.
But I got way more than I bargained for...
Fedor
Every two years I take a vacation in my holiday home, alone. But this time, Will Stern has begged me to take in his daughter and protect her against his enemies. I couldn’t say no. Will is one of my best friends.
I didn’t expect her to be all grown up, though, a sexy young twenty-three-year-old with endless legs and a cleavage to drive me mad. But I can’t break the code, I am her guardian. I know I should stay away from her, but it’s almost like she’s out to make me fall.
How much longer can I resist?
Chapter One - Sylvia
“I don’t understand what the need for this is!” Sylvia stood aside while her father threw open the doors of her cupboard and started flinging clothes into a large duffle bag that he had brought with him.
“Think of this as a vacation, sweetie,” Will Stern said, barely looking at his daughter while he continued the task at hand - packing his daughter’s belongings.
“A vacation? I don’t need a vacation, dad! I just got done with college. I need to find a job.” Sylvia took a few steps in her father’s direction, trying to follow him around the room, but he now laid an arm on her dresser and just swept all her makeup and boxes of little trinkets into the bag. Sylvia shrieked with fright.
“Be careful with those, dad!” she yelled, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He had only one thing on his mind, and he didn’t look like he was going to take a break.
“I’ll get you a job when you come back. It’s just for a couple of weeks. It’ll be a nice break for you, after all the hard work you’ve put into your studies. You’ve never been to Puerto Rico,” Will said, finally zipping up the bag. He thought he had packed everything, but Sylvia had already made mental notes of all the stuff that he hadn’t put in - her shoes, the scarves, her prized collection of perfumes.
“Okay, dad,” she said softly, hoping that a gentler approach might work better. She walked towards him as he stood bent over the duffle bag and put a hand on his shoulder. Will Stern whipped around with a crazed look in his eyes.
“Dad, I thought those days were behind us,” Sylvia asked, the color rising in her cheeks. She was so tired of this. All her childhood had been spent running away, hiding, always looking over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. It was what had killed her mother. All that nerve wracking will to survive, to live. Her father had been a small-timer then, he worked for someone else, one of the Russian mob bosses. But now that he had a gang of his own, his own security, his own source of income, Sylvia thought that those days of looking over their shoulders were over. That their lives were never going to be in danger anymore.
“It’s never truly behind us,” Will said, sitting down at the edge of her bed with a thump. He looked exhausted.
Sylvia put her hands on her hips, standing with her legs apart. She could feel the rage rising up her shoulders, she was exhausted too. When would she ever be able to lead a normal life?
“You have the money now, dad. You can pay off people. Frighten them…I don’t know what. You can do something. You don’t have to run away!” Sylvia breathed in deeply, nearly pleading with her father. She didn’t want to leave New York. Not when she was just beginning her job hunt. No matter what promises her father made, the kind of work he’d find her was not the kind of work she wanted to do. She wanted to get away from the mob world, away from the world of money laundering and thugs and stories about people getting killed or beaten to pulp for not paying their dues.
Sylvia wanted to lead a normal life, work at a startup, have a regular desk job, get a cat.
“I’m not running away. You’re going to Puerto Rico by yourself. I just don’t want you to get caught up in this. I don’t want your life to be in danger,” Will said, running his hands through his closely cropped dark curly hair. Sylvia noticed the graying of his sideburns. She hadn’t realized before but her father was getting old. But this didn’t mean that she wasn’t still angry with him. For trying to snatch a normal life away from her, again!
“Well, I’m not running away either. I’ve had enough of this. I’m staying right here. What the Hell am I going to do in Puerto Rico of all places?” Sylvia folded her arms across her chest, and then she saw the shift in her father’s eyes. He was determined. She had seen that look in his eyes very often in the past. She knew it scared people, but it didn’t scare her. She looked back at him directly, defiantly.
“You’re going. You’ll be staying with my friend. He owns a mansion there. He’s on holiday there and he’s agreed to take you in for a few weeks. You’ll be safe with him.” Will stood up from the bed and picked up the duffle bag up. Sylvia could feel tears bubbling up in her eyes, from the rage. She knew she had lost the fight. There was no convincing him now.
“I know what all your friends are like. They are all like you. Dirty criminals. You’re all alike. You’re all disgusting!” Sylvia screamed after her father as he left the room, expecting her to follow him as he went.
Sylvia clenched and unclenched her fists, she stamped the floor repeatedly, and then breathed out deeply to calm herself. This was not going to work. Her father would eventually get his men to physically drag her to his waiting car outside if he had to. Her struggle, her reasoning was useless.
So instead, Sylvia just opened her cupboard again. She pulled out one of her Louis Vuitton bags and started stuffing in the shoes her father had forgotten to pack, and then her scarves and her perfumes.
Just a few more weeks of
this life, she told herself as she packed. Then it’d be over. Then she’d be done with this life and would start afresh. Maybe she’d leave the country. Maybe she’d move to London or Sydney or somewhere else where her father couldn’t hunt her down. Sylvia could feel the blood boiling in her veins, but she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do about it now.
Chapter Two - Fedor
Fedor Volkov swirled the glass of Scotch in his hands. It was only midday, but he was on vacation now, so he allowed himself the treat. Back in Chicago, he didn’t take his first drink before all the day’s work was done, not before midnight. He needed to be thinking straight at all times.
He definitely needed this break. Puerto Rico was good for him. His mansion was isolated, well-guarded and he never invited any of his friends or associates along. A few weeks at his getaway meant just that: a getaway. In complete isolation. It gave him somewhere to think, to actually think.
But Will Stern might have spoilt it all. He had called on his direct line the previous night, sounding crazed, afraid. If Will sounded afraid, it had to be something big. He nearly begged Fedor to hide his daughter, to give her protection till he could sort out this gang war. Fedor couldn’t say no, he couldn’t say no to one of his closest friends. Will and he had both risen through the ranks together. Will was an outsider, he wasn’t Russian, but he had the guts to play with the big boys. They always had each other's backs, and this poor girl didn’t even have a mother anymore. He couldn’t possibly say no.
“Boss, she’s here,” he heard Pyotr’s voice say in Russian behind him.
“Bring her in,” Fedor replied and folded one leg over the other, sinking a little further into his leather chair.