“Ooh, what’s that?” she asks, eyes wide. “Is it for me?”
“Maybe it’s a gift for Sam. What do you think about that Big Eyes?” he teases, holding the bag high enough, so she can’t reach it.
“No, it’s not. It’s for me. Sam told me,” she says, hopping up and down with one arm outstretched.
Both Lincoln and I laugh. The kid doesn’t miss a trick.
“Yes, it’s for you,” he says and hands over the bag.
I pat a spot beside me on the sofa, signaling for her to sit with me. My stomach’s a little woozy, which is nothing new lately.
Our eyes meet over the top of her head as she fishes her gift out from the thick thatch of tissue paper. I can see he’s just as nervous as I am. What if Maddie turns out to be one of those jealous kids who doesn’t want to share the attention?
“What is this?” she asks.
“Open it, you big silly,” Lincoln prompts.
She pulls out the t-shirt.
I hold my breath as she lets it unfold in front of her.
The words are clear. Big Sister.
We watch, neither of us saying a word, as she takes it all in silently.
“Honey?” I whisper, my throat is nearly choked with emotion.
“Sweetheart?” Lincoln asks, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
“Does this mean…I’m gonna get a brother or a sister?” She runs one hand across the front of the shirt over the words, as though she needs to touch it to believe the message.
“A brother,” I explain. “You’re going to have a baby brother. In around five months.”
“Five months?” She jumps up, glaring at us. “I have to wait five whole months for the baby to come?”
“Um…” Lincoln and I exchange glances. “Does this mean you’re happy?” he asks.
She stares at us curiously. “Why would I be anything else?”
“Um… Just us being silly,” Lincoln replies.
She throws herself into his arms, squeezing him around the neck. “A baby! A brother! I’m gonna be a big sister?”
“You really are happy, honey?” I ask, my eyes misting. I couldn’t bear it if Maddie had been moody or mad about the baby growing in my belly. It would have broken my heart.
She comes to me, smiling from ear to ear, and looks down at my belly. It’s only ever-so-slightly swollen four months in. “Is he in your stomach now?” she whispers.
I nod, too choked up to speak.
“Do you want to see if you can feel him kick?” Lincoln asks.
Maddie frowns. “Is he being naughty? Is he kicking Sam?”
“No, honey, he is just moving around and that feels like a gentle prod.”
“Ohhhh.”
“So do you want to feel?”
She nods and places one palm over where the baby is sleeping. I’ve never seen such reverence in my life.
Lincoln takes my hand, his fingers closing over it, reminding me that I have everything.
Life is perfect.
Second Epilogue
Lincoln
Five Months Later
Come on over, sweetheart.”
Maddie’s eyes are as big dinner plates as I usher her to the bed where her stepmother and new baby brother are resting. It’s been a long twenty-four hours, but definitely some of the happiest of my life.
Sam looks as though she feels much the same way, her eyes heavy with fatigue but a gentle smile firmly in place nonetheless. She’s exhausted, weak, her hair in a tangled bun, but she’s never looked more beautiful or more overjoyed. All because she’s holding her son in her arms.
Our son.
“Hi, honey,” Sam coos when she sees Maddie with me. “I’m so glad you’re here. This little man has been anxious to meet his big sister.”
Maddie seems to almost swell up with pride at the thought of being the new baby’s big sister. “He has?” she asks in a hushed whisper. “I wanted to meet him, too.” She walks over to the side of the bed.
I lift her up and put her on the bed so she can sit beside Sam and the baby. Jacob. My boy.
“He’s so small,” she whispers in awe.
“He is small,” Sam replies, stroking Maddie’s hair. “But I’m pretty sure he recognizes your voice by now, too. I’m sure of it. From all those books, you read to him. You should talk to him.”
“I should? His eyes are closed so he must be sleeping. I thought you weren’t supposed to wake babies up when they’re sleeping.”
Sam and I laugh gently at this.
Sam smiles at her. “Sure, but I don’t think you’ll wake him right now. He’s had a very, very long first day of life. But he does want to be with you. Do you think you want to hold him for a little while?”
My daughter gasps softly, like her stepmother just voiced a dream she didn’t dare speak aloud. “Can I? I would love it.”
“Of course.” Sam shows her how to hold her arms and very carefully puts the bundle half in her hand and half in her lap.
I’m fairly sure my heart will explode with love as I watch my wife hand our son to our daughter. It’s the most precious moment of my life.
Maddie looks down into the baby’s face, examining him closely. She looks up at me, then at Sam, and starts bawling—like ugly crying.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” I ask, moving to her side to hold her close to me. I don’t want her to feel like she’s second best now, like she doesn’t count anymore. She’s my first. And no child no matter how many come will ever take her place.
It isn’t that at all. “I’m just so happy,” she weeps, leaning against my chest, still holding her baby brother. “I’m so happy.”
I look to Sam, whose eyes are also sparkling with unshed tears, just like mine are. Yes. I know how Maddie feels.
The End
The CEO & I
Published by River Laurent
Copyright © 2017 by River Laurent
The right of River Laurent to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the copyright, designs and patent act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-911608-07-3
Created with Vellum
Appreciation
Thank you Leanore Elliotte and Brittany Urbaniak
Chapter 1
Luke
He’s fucking flirting with her!
Fury slams into my head. The guy at the immigration counter continues to look her up and down. Then the smarmy bastard lifts his eyebrow in a completely inappropriate way. My hand clenches the handle of my briefcase to stop myself from going over to him, knocking his head off, and shoving it up his—
Jesus H. Christ!
Where the hell did that come from?
Jade Emerson is not my girlfriend. She’s my damn PA! She works under me, scratch that, for me. Plus, she’s married. I never mix business with pleasure. And she is the last person to turn my head. I’m pretty certain that I’ve never met a woman who is more determined to look like someone’s grandmother. Coke bottle glasses, not a lick of makeup, severe bun, dowdy clothes. She’s got it all. The works.
Although, to be honest, her utter lack of sex appeal was one of the reasons I hired her. I make it a point not to work with attractive women. I didn’t always have that line in the sand, but I’m thirty-four now, and I’ve bedded enough women to know the score.
Basically, I’m sex on a stick.
That’s not bragging or conceit. It’s just the way things are. I see the looks I get from women when I walk by. Their eyes widen, their lips par
t, and they focus on me like nothing else in the world exists. Throw the fact I’m filthy rich into the equation and suddenly, I’m irresistible. That’s fine outside of the office, but in an office environment, it’s a damn nightmare.
I want to keep things strictly professional. Partly, because I don’t need that kind of complication, but mostly, I just don’t want to be the guy who bangs his secretary. I find the whole idea sleazy and vulgar. It’s not who I am.
Hiring married, dowdy women like Jade Emerson makes it easy to stick to my rule. Even if they are the type to cheat on the side, they understand I’m not in their league. It’s great for me too; I’ll never be distracted or tempted. Sure, some men might find her sexy. Notice the reaction of the fool at the counter, but not me. My type runs to models, ‘it’ girls, or just straight up bimbos. At least, this is how it’s supposed to work in theory. And how it has worked for the last two months she’s been with me.
Peanuts for brains returns her passport and she hurries to join me. My theory has worked for the last two months and there is no reason it should not work for the foreseeable future. Deliberately, I glower at her.
“Sorry, it took so long,” she says meekly, tucking her passport into her purse.
“Try to keep up, Mrs. Emerson.” Turning on my heel, I start striding away. I can hear her sensible librarian shoes clacking on the polished floor as she jogs alongside. I know I’m being an ass, but I’m still reeling from the crazy moment in my head when I got all possessive over her.
My nostrils flare suddenly. “What’s that smell?”
She blushes. “One of the stewardesses spilled the fish surprise on me.”
Now, I can’t help staring at the color seeping up her neck and into her cheeks. I frown with irritation. I’m losing it. What’s wrong with me? Sure, I’ve been working flat out all week and I was exhausted before the nineteen-hour flight from New York, but this just isn’t me. I don’t lust after my secretaries. Especially, plain Janes like her.
I glance at her brown turtle-neck top. “We’re in Bangkok. Why are you dressed as if we are on a trip to Alaska?”
“Uh…huh, I thought it might be cold in the hotel,” she mutters, her eyes sliding away.
I shake my head and carry on walking towards baggage claim. Just forget it, Luke. She is some other man’s problem.
The airport is ultra-modern and clean, but it’s packed with travelers, clogging up the walkways in the terminal. Although, the crowd parts easily in front of me. I tower over most of the people here. They move out of my way like I’m going to knock them over if they don’t. It’s not far from the truth. I feel impatient and restless. I put it down to the fact that I’ve got a lot riding on this trip.
“Did you confirm our reservations for this evening?”
“Yes. Table for six. Nami. 8.00 p.m.”
I nod with satisfaction. “Good. If we land these Japanese clients, it’ll be our first step toward breaking into the Asian markets. An entire hemisphere of untapped potential, ripe for the taking will open up.”
“Yes, Mr. Remington.”
“What’s on tomorrow?”
She checks her phone. “You’re scheduled to be at the economic conference for the seminar on Developing New Business Markets in the morning at Conference Room Chakrii. It starts at eight, but the two speakers you were interested in listening to, start at nine and eleven respectively. You have an hour to kill in between, so I’ve scheduled for you to meet with Mr. Dimitriou who has flown in specially from Singapore for that meeting.”
“Great. Is lunch with Carl still on?”
“Yes, at one. I’ve booked a table at the Golden Orchid restaurant.”
I nod. “You will be joining us, right?”
“If you need me?”
“Yes, I do. You’ll have to take some notes.”
“I’ll change the reservation.”
“My session is after lunch?”
“That’s right. Your presentation is at 2.30 p.m.”
“You brought the slides for it?”
“They’re in my suitcase.”
“Good.” I run my hand along the back of my neck. The airport is fully conditioned and I am already sweating. “What am I doing after that?”
“It’ll be 4.00 p.m. by then. I thought you might want some free time to rest, or do some sightseeing.”
I spear her with a disapproving look. “Mrs. Emerson, this isn’t a vacation. I didn’t get where I am in the world by taking it easy and walking around like a goddamn tourist. We’re here to work. See about scheduling something for tomorrow evening with the Norwegian delegation. I don’t want any down time while I’m out here. Might as well seize every opportunity we can.”
“I just thought—”
“Well, stop thinking. Let me do that. Your job is to keep my life running smoothly, so I can think. Speaking of which, go grab our bags. I need to make a call.”
She scampers off obediently, and for a second I stare at her ass, even though it is impossible to tell what it actually looks like under all the layers of clothes she wears. Today, she is wearing a pant suit. It’s a nice suit. Very professional. The problem is it’s at least two sizes too big for her. She practically swims inside the fabric. Like a kid wearing her mother’s clothes.
Her choice of clothing is quite incredible. Once she came to work in a grey suit that was so meritless and ugly I nearly said something, but I managed to hold back. Her fashion choices are none my business.
I chuck her out of my head and call head office in New York. There are a couple of deals being negotiated that need my input. I give the senior vice president his instructions, and hang up just as my PA rushes back, rolling both our bags on either side of her.
Her face is flushed with exertion and despite the thick lenses of her glasses, I see dark circles under her eyes. I guess it can’t have been much fun for her travelling in coach with screaming babies all around her and the air stewardess spilling fish sauce on her. I consider saying something nice, but I bite the comment back. Our relationship is perfect at the moment. Jade Emerson is without doubt one of the best PA’s I’ve ever had, and I’m damned if I’m going to ruin it.
We get out of the airport and the heat slams into me. It’s like being in a sauna. “Where’s the driver?” I ask her impatiently.
She looks around, concerned. “He should be here.”
“Well, I don’t see anyone with a placard with my name on it.”
“They use iPads for that now,” she murmurs.
“Whatever they use,” I say irritably.
She pulls her phone from her pocket. “Let me call and find out what’s going on.”
I cross my arms impatiently, as she begins speaking to someone on the other end of the line. “No, that’s not what I emailed,” she says calmly. “I’m sorry your driver wasted his time by coming here an hour ago, but if you take the time to check my email, you’ll see that I sent the correct instructions and the flight was neither delayed nor early.” She pauses. “How long will it take you to organize another car?” She listens then frowns. “No, we can’t wait here for an hour. I’ll find alternative arrangements. For the record, I’ll be expecting a refund of the payment I have already made.” The other person raises his voice and she listens to him ranting with pursed lips. Two months with her is enough to know that means she’s dealing with an asshole, but she’s just too professional to stoop to his level.
Anger rises up in me. I can be hard on her, but I won’t stand by and let someone treat her like shit. She doesn’t deserve that. “Is everything, alright?” I ask her.
“No, but I can handle it,” she says, holding the phone slightly away from her ear.
“I know you can handle it,” I say, meaning it. “It’s not you I’m referring to. It’s the asshole on the other end.” I extend my hand to her. “Give me the phone.”
I can tell from her slight hesitation that she doesn’t want to, but she knows better than to disobey a direct order from me. She passes t
he phone to me.
I put it to my ear.
By now, the man on the phone is not just yelling, he’s going ape-shit. His accent is thick, but I make out ‘stupid fucking bitch’ just fine.
This is the point where I cut him off. “Stop speaking. Now.”
He is so shocked he stops mid-sentence.
“Now, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, speaking to my assistant that way, but you’ve gone way over the line. If you were here in person, I would teach you a lesson in manners. And if I didn’t have better things to do with my time, I’d go down there personally to see that you never speak to a woman that way again.”
“Sir, I apologize for—”
“Did I say you could fucking talk?”
The man goes completely silent for a moment, before making the mistake of opening his trap again. “No, sir, but—”
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to hang up this phone. Then I’m going to spread the word to all my associates that your car service is blacklisted. If I were a betting man, I’d say the majority of your clients are businessmen. Well, not anymore. You might want to start looking for a new job now.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
She is staring at me wide-eyed.
I hand her phone back to her. “Too much?” I ask.
A slow smile spreads across her face. “Could be, but he was an asshole.”
“Send an email to all your friends about these guys.”
She cocks her head in confusion. “My friends?”
“Well, not your friends, exactly. But all the other assistants to my friends. The ones you deal with on a daily basis. Tell them never to use this car service again. Whatever the hell it’s called. Maybe then our friend will learn a bit of humility.”
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