Pretend Honeymoon (Romance)

by Bella Grant

  Table of Contents

  COPYRIGHT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  NOT SO INNOCENT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  CONNECT WITH BELLA GRANT

  COPYRIGHT

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the prior written permission of the author.

  Copyright 2017

  Chapter 1

  Laurel

  “Oh, yes, baby! Oh, God, that feels so good!”

  “You like it, baby?”

  “Yes, yes. Oh, yes, don’t stop.”

  The moaning and groaning hit me as soon as I walked through the apartment door. Any day but today, was the first thought that came to mind. I could deal with this any other bloody day, but not the day I got laid off from work. Not the day I’d spent worrying about my mother, who had been rushed to the hospital. Just not this fucking day.

  I couldn’t choose between bawling my eyes out and marching towards the sound to create a big scene. I had been strong through everything that had gone wrong. I hadn’t cried once. I took my sacking with a grain of salt, even knowing I had no real reason to be fired except my refusal to entertain the idea of sleeping with my boss. Some legal action could take place, but when it came to my word against his and him being the millionaire, I packed my box and left.

  “How badly do you want this job, Laurel?” Mr. Foxx had asked me this afternoon when he’d called me into his office and closed the door.

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir,” I had replied nervously. He always tried to flirt with me or brush up against me. He was one of those men you avoided being completely alone with for too long.

  He’d swiveled his chair from his desk, got to his feet, and strolled over to where I sat. He’d leaned down, a finger tracing the inside V-neck of my blouse. “What will you do to keep this job?” he had whispered. “I’m going to be honest with you, Laurel. You’re not qualified for your post. You know that. I know that. You lied about completing your degree—you never did.”

  I’d sucked in a deep breath, my heart pounding in my ears. I’d told a fib for a good cause. Besides, I’d completed three out of four years in Business Administration at college. I’d learned the majority of the content taught at business school. Why should it matter that I didn’t have the funds to pay for final year?

  Given the hard task of debasing myself and sleeping with the boss to keep my job, I’d chosen to walk away, listening to his angry voice calling me a fool. “It would have been good between us.” What he did constituted sexual harassment, but since I’d cheated the system to begin with by claiming to have a business degree, the odds were against a judge believing I was fired because I’d refused to be sexually harassed anymore.

  What I would have liked was to return to my apartment and unburden myself to my boyfriend about my day. The terrifying call from my mother that she was in the hospital but not to worry as it had only been a scare had sent me into a tizzy. My mother was the only family member I had, and her heart condition had worsened over the years to the point where she was no longer able to work. She tired easily and was due for heart surgery soon—if I could find the money to pay for it.

  Instead of comfort, though, this betrayal completed my day.

  “Will you come for me, baby?”

  “Yes, yes, I wanna come!”

  The loud cries continued. Of course, they had no reason to temper their moans since I was home early. I wanted to say I was surprised and devastated, but I wasn’t. Sad, yes, that I’d allowed this to happen. Again. And again. And again. Had he really convinced me the last time that he would change? I looked down at the cheap engagement ring on my finger. He’d asked me to marry him merely to appease me in the moment, and gullible as I was, I’d accepted it. Not only because I loved him but because I also needed his help financially and emotionally. He could be a good listener. He just sucked at being faithful.

  I closed the door behind me and followed the moaning and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Whomever he was screwing this time was a screamer. I was surprised the neighbors weren’t banging on the door, shouting for them to shut up. I wasn’t a screamer.

  I was relieved he’d shown some decency and used the guest room. The last time he’d done this in our bed, and I had forced him to buy a new one. I wanted to see who she was, but what difference did it make? The first two times I’d caught him, I’d screeched at him to such an extent, a banshee would have been envious. Now, nothing was left inside me.

  Nothing was left here for me anyway. No job. No man. Time to cut my losses and say goodbye. I could always go back to my hometown in Taylor and start over. At twenty-four, I had more than enough time to do so. Yes, that was exactly what I would do.

  With a heavy heart, I continued to our bedroom and pulled two suitcases from the closet. I tugged clothes from the rack and dumped them on the bed. Emptying the drawers, I packed as quickly as I could. Each drawer I opened, I slammed closed as my anger mounted despite simply wanting to leave—drama-free.

  The moaning continued so I banged louder. I blinked furiously at the tears fogging my eyes as I listened to her screaming about how deep he was inside her. I dashed the tears away and zipped the suitcases closed before marching to the adjoining bathroom to retrieve my toiletries.

  When I re-entered the bedroom, Scott stood inside the door, looking nervously at my bags. I paused to observe him and felt hatred creep inside me. Not hatred for him but for myself for allowing him to do this to me. A cheater always cheated, especially when a foolish woman like me allowed him to get away with it.

  I supposed women would find him attractive. Tall and athletically built with deep blue eyes and blond hair framing a handsome face. He was the hot guy I’d met when we were in college—the one I dropped out of. I should have known better than to date a model. What had been cockiness on my part when I’d snagged him had turned into humiliation. He couldn’t resist the flirtations of women.

  He had managed to pull on his boxers though his cock was still erect, pressing against the material. I wondered if the other woman was still here or if she’d slinked out.

  “Shit, Laurel, I—”

  “Save it, Scott,” I snapped at him and walked stiffly to my week
end bag, the one I used when I visited back home. I dropped my case of toiletries inside. I would probably leave a few things behind, but I didn’t care. The son-of-a-bitch could dump it all out and make room for his new roommate. I wanted to get away and should have done so a long time ago.

  “I can explain, if you’ll let me.”

  I spun around to stare at him in disbelief. I tapped into my theatrical side and started to imitate him. “‘You like that dick? Take that dick, baby. Come for me, baby.’” I adopted my normal voice and tugged the ring from my finger to fling it as hard as I could at him. He ducked and it sailed over his head. “There’s the fucking explanation for you!”

  Grabbing my two suitcases, I tried not to leave with a forlorn expression. Forlorn because almost everything I owned could easily fit in the two cases. He lounged in front of the door, blocking my path.

  “Laurel, don’t do this,” he pleaded. “You’re only going to come back anyway.”

  Heat rose in my cheeks because he had good reason to believe so. I always returned to him, but not this time. Hauling the suitcases up, I warned him, “Get out my way, Scott, or I swear—”

  “You swear what? Come on. You know we can forget about this. It was a mistake, and I didn’t exercise good judgment. Laurel, I lo—uff!”

  I kneed him in the groin, hard enough for him to double over, clutching his dick, but not enough to maim him as I should have done. “I said get the fuck out my way, you cheating slime! You’re a disgusting piece of shit and you can bet I’m not coming back to you this time.”

  I wasn’t usually a swearer. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d swore outside of dealing with this jerk.

  “You damn bitch. That fucking hurt.”

  “Don’t tempt me to kick you in the nuts again.”

  I continued hauling the suitcases after me as I hastened from the bedroom and to the front door of the apartment.

  “If you leave, don’t think about coming back!”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot!” I sneered at him. A man like him didn’t deserve me coming back to him. I retrieved my set of keys for the apartment and threw them on the floor before leaving.

  Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, I thought about the long journey I had before me. And not only the two-hour drive from San Antonio to Taylor, either. Somehow, I’d have to find a way to pick up the pieces of a life which had been flushed down the toilet. No job. A mother who depended on me. A broken relationship. No apartment.

  Things could only get brighter, right? Or so I told myself until halfway through the journey to Taylor, I broke down in tears.

  Chapter 2

  Jarrod

  “Ahem, Ms. Pepita Little, sir.”

  At the unusual redness of my butler’s face, I frowned, ready to ask him what the matter was, but the matter soon became evident. The beautiful, well-endowed woman who walked by Henry and into my home office was enough to make any man outside of a whorehouse uncomfortable. I shouldn’t think of her that way when I knew nothing about the woman, but good God, did she not know the position she had applied for?

  I tried not to look at the size of her knockers, but I’d have to be blind not to notice them. I couldn’t even begin to guess what size bra she had to wear to contain them. The way she pushed her chest out further as she advanced into the room spoke volumes. She clearly knew her breasts were eye-catching and wasn’t beyond using them to get what she wanted.

  They weren’t the only contribution to my conclusion that she would not be a suitable fit for my twin daughters. I could hardly fault a woman for carrying large breasts, but the way she flaunted them was definitely a no-no. The ad had asked for professional attire when attending the interview. She had opted for the sexcretary uniform—short, navy-blue skirt that showed far too much thigh and a tight, white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone to show off her tits. Her stilettos were ridiculously high.

  This woman hadn’t come to be a nanny for the kids. More like a nanny for a billionaire. Me. Damn. For this reason, I hadn’t wanted my name included in the advertisement, but my assistant at work had botched that part.

  “Mr. Simpson, it was very nice of you to agree to see me,” the Little woman announced, taking a seat across from me without being invited to.

  “Uh, Henry, that will be all.” I dismissed the butler before turning to the interviewee. My hopes were dashed. She was the last in a long list of women I’d interviewed for this position. I’d have to return to the applications to select more women to interview or put out another ad.

  “Ms. Little, thanks for coming,” I started awkwardly. “Can you tell me a little bit about yourself and your employment history?”

  “No problem.” She started talking about experiences that had nothing to do with child rearing, such as working at a restaurant and a Walmart store.

  “But do you have any experience working specifically with children?” I narrowed the question for her, although I wondered why I was bothering.

  “Well, I’m a mother of five,” she replied with a bright smile and leaned forward in the chair to show the creamy tops of her bosom. Not to be distracted, I glanced down at her CV. She was supposed to be twenty-seven, and she already had five kids?

  “What I need is a full-time, live-in caregiver for the children,” I explained to her. I tried to be as diplomatic as possible without dismissing her as I longed to do.

  “I can do that,” she replied enthusiastically. “I’m a nurturer. I’d teach them all the things little girls need to know. You know, how to do their hair, put on make-up, things like that.”

  I doubted that at eight, my daughters needed to learn those things. Still, I couldn’t refrain from asking my next question out of curiosity. “Who would take care of your children while you’re away from them?”

  “Well, they all live with their father,” she answered with nonchalance. “He’s in a better position to take care of them.”

  “I see. Well, Ms. Little, I’ve a few more applicants to interview. If you’re the most suitable candidate, I’ll give you a call.”

  “I can do other things besides taking care of the kids,” she commented when she got to her feet. “Anything you can think of, I’m always open to give a hand.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. Little.” If I ever need a stripper. I smiled at her to cover my true thoughts. “My butler will see you out.”

  “I’m looking forward to that call, Mr. Simpson.”

  My face fell into a scowl when the door closed behind her. Maybe I was too choosy, but Anabelle and Isabelle were special given the recent crisis they had been through. The last thing they needed was someone in their lives to confuse them any more than they already were. They hadn’t had the strong foundation children needed, and though it was a long shot, I wanted to make it up to them now by finding the most suitable mother figure two little girls could have.

  As usual, thinking about my daughters weighed heavily on me. I couldn’t get over the feeling of failure. Like I had disappointed them, although technically, I hadn’t known of their existence until a couple months ago. I, Jarrod, confirmed bachelor, was considered a loner, and I liked it that way. I never planned to get married and never planned on having children either—not from lack of trying on the part of women I had dated in the past.

  But almost two months ago, my world had changed drastically when I had learned I was a father, not of one child but two, two little girls with the sad blue eyes. I needed someone perfect for them, someone who could be a mother and see to their needs. Perhaps if they were boys, raising them would have been easier, but I didn’t quite know how to raise two girls. I didn’t want to wreck them any further than they already were.

  A sharp knock on the door pulled me away from my musings. “Come in.”

  Henry walked through the door, leaving it ajar. “Just checking if there’s anything else you require, sir.”

  “A caregiver,” I said on a sigh. “I can’t believe we didn’t find one suitable
person.”

  “Well, there were quite a few women who seemed up for the challenge,” he remarked.

  I knew the ones he was referring to. If looking for an ordinary caregiver, some of these women would have been fine, but they were too young and inexperienced. They were intelligent— some even had degrees, after all. The salary advertised was more than many businesses were willing to pay recent college graduates. I needed someone I could trust, though. Someone who wouldn’t try to dig their hooks into me after I explained the true nature of this job. A decent woman with a beautiful heart. Looks weren’t necessarily important for what I had in mind.

  “Hmm,” I responded noncommittally. I wasn’t letting my staff know where my head was. While I trusted them, I refused to share my plan with anyone other than the intended party. “I’m going to need my assistant to put out another ad,” I finally said.

  “That would be a good idea,” he agreed. “Well, if there is nothing more you need, I’ll be off now.”

  “Yes, yes, have a good weekend, Henry.”

  “You too, sir.”

  Once more, I was left alone with my thoughts. I should check the twins’ progress. Their teacher was still with them, although she should have left an hour ago. At least I’d done that right. Anabelle and Isabelle weren’t ready for learning in a room full of other children who thought them weird for barely speaking. Mrs. Bishops was a wonderful woman who worked intently with them. They were far behind, so I had chosen home education for them at this time.

  “Mr. Simpson.” Think of the devil…

  “Come on in, Mrs. Bishops.”

  She pushed open the door and walked inside, closing it behind her. She was a tall brunette, a little plump, with eyeglasses. I reached for my top drawer where I’d already drafted her check for the week along with a hefty bonus. She was a teacher worth her weight in gold.

  “Here you go, Mrs. Bishops,” I said with a smile, offering her the check in an envelope. She took it tentatively from me and looked a little uncomfortable, so I sought to reassure her. “I do appreciate the time you’ve taken with the children. I know they’re not the easiest to deal with, but for what it’s worth, I think they have made some progress.”