by Leslie North
All the kids were outside for recess. Inside the primary school, everything was quiet. Vane McClellan paused outside the classroom to straighten his tie. Maybe wearing a full suit to a parent-teacher—guardian-teacher, rather—conference was overkill, especially on a blisteringly hot June day like this. But getting invited to a conference three days before the end of the school year couldn’t be a good thing, and Vane knew he needed to make a good impression on Annabelle's teacher.
The click of high heels on the tiled hallway brought back memories... as well as the urge to duck around the corner before he got caught outside of his classroom. Which was completely illogical. He was a grown man, not a scared kid on his first day of boarding school.
The feeling of being a grown man lasted exactly as long as it took for him to enter the classroom and attempt to fold his six-foot-six-inch frame into one of the child-sized chairs. With his knees up near his chin, he didn't feel like an adult at all. And he definitely didn't feel like a parent.
“Ah! Mr. Bishop?” Annabelle's teacher shut the door to the classroom and gave him a wide smile.
Vane resisted the urge to shoot her a grin. She was definitely the hottest teacher he'd ever seen. Even the professional get-up she wore to teach wasn't enough to hide her compact, curvaceous body, and her legs made his mouth feel dry. Her blond hair was caught up in a high topknot, but at the end of a long, hot day a few wavy strands had escaped to tumble past her shoulders. Her smile was wide and open, but her eyes had a cat-like tilt to them that made looking right at her distracting. But she was also about to yell at him about the shitty job he was doing parenting Annabelle. He turned away, and looked out the window.
“It's Mr. McClellan, actually,” he corrected gently. He'd made that same correction nearly every single day since he'd enrolled Annabelle in fourth grade here. “I'm not her dad, I'm her guardian. Her dad was my cousin.”
The teacher smacked her head. “Of course. I'm an idiot. Of course, I remember.” She held out her hand for him to shake, and he had to shift his limbs around awkwardly to accept it. “Maggie Stewart. I'm Annabelle's teacher. I see you at drop-off, but I don't think we've ever been formally introduced. Thanks for coming in.”
“Of course. Is everything okay?” It was a stupid question, he knew. Of course it wasn't okay. He knew he was barely holding it together for his niece. The fact that she'd been sent to live with him after Colby died—Vane still couldn't believe his cousin's cancer had progressed that quickly—had been a surprise to them both. Fatherhood was not something that came easily to him, and he was piling up mistake after mistake. He cleared his throat. “If you're going to bring up me putting her in private school again, I've already been over this.”
Miss Stewart leaned across her desk. Wait, was she a Miss? Or a Mrs.? Or Ms.? Dammit, he could never remember. He snuck a glance at her left hand. Miss or Ms., then. Cool. Very, very cool.
Miss Stewart clasped her hands together “No, that's not why I asked you here at all.” Vane looked out the window rather than give in to the temptation to sneak a peek at her pretty spectacular cleavage. “The end of the school year trip is this Wednesday, and I know that Annabelle really wants to go.” Her smile seemed genuine enough, but Vane still bristled. “But you haven't signed the permission slip yet.”
“I know. That's on purpose.”
She sighed. “Well, I called you in to see if I can allay any fears you might have about the trip. It's fully supervised, with one adult for every five kids. We're not going far, just to the amusement park, and dinner will be provided. The teachers take turns grilling—it's really quite an event.”
“I'm sure it's fine,” Vane interrupted with a sigh. Dammit, it felt like he was always saying no when it came to Annabelle. “But Annabelle can't go because I've had a renovation come up at the last minute.”
Her eyebrows arched up. “That's right. You're an architect, correct?”
He nodded. “I'm renovating a historic property, and a contractor just became available last minute. It's a tight timeframe given the season, so we need to start ASAP. Annabelle and I will be headed there first thing Wednesday morning.”
She ran her tongue along her teeth, a move that Vane knew wasn't meant to be sexy but seemed all the more so for how unconscious it was. “I can appreciate you're in a bind with your work and all that, Mr. McClellan—”
“Vane. Please call me Vane, Miss Stewart. Ms.”
She wrinkled her nose adorably. “Maggie, then. Okay, Vane, like I said, I understand your time crunch. But Annabelle only just started with us here at Fairlawn. She was so shy in the beginning, it's been really wonderful to see her blossom and make friends.”
Vane gripped his knees. Every word she said sent a stab of guilt through him. “Is that true? Because from the sound of the notes you send home, everything is terrible.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “Those notes are meant to pass on information. Not judgment.”
“Could have fooled me,” he snapped.
She narrowed her eyes. “We're on the same side here, Mr....Vane. We both want what's best for Annabelle.”
“Right. And as her guardian, I'm trying to do exactly that.”
She kept talking right over him. “And I feel like denying her the closure of this trip, a chance to say goodbye to her friends before you move her to a new school?” She spread her hands in a gesture of surrender.
Vane turned away. A chance to say goodbye. Closure. These were words that were brought up nearly every time he talked with another adult about Annabelle. Her doctor. Her nanny. Her therapist. His brother when Vane balked at the idea of Colby having an open casket funeral. “She needs to have closure and a chance to say goodbye.” He'd been bending over backwards to give her that for the past nine months, and it still didn't feel like enough. When would he stop feeling like he was failing her in every way?
“Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk here,” he told Maggie, even though he was pretty sure she thought he was a jerk any way. “It's a matter of bad timing. That's it.”
He tried for a smile. It probably looked like he was grimacing, he realized. Or baring his teeth. He was at the end of his rope, and he looked like it. Every glance in the mirror confirmed it. Bags under his eyes. A haunted look. Maggie probably thought this was just a vanity project for him. Billionaire architect can't stop working long enough to make a little child happy; he knew how this script went. But the truth was, he and Annabelle both needed this renovation. It wasn't just a historic property, it was the McClellan beach house, where he'd made his happiest childhood memories. It was quiet, away from the stress of the city and the demands of his job. He and Annabelle could connect there, he hoped. Maybe she could start making some happy childhood memories of her own.
“Is that it then?” he asked Maggie, making to rise from his seat. “Are we all squared up on why Annabelle isn't going on the trip?”
“You can't push out your plans just one day?”
“I need to be there to greet the contractor when he arrives. It's just not possible.” He unfolded himself and extended his hand without looking at her. “Thank you for your concern though—”
She gabbed his hand and yanked it towards her hard enough to knock him off balance. Startled, he glanced at her face. Her eyes were wide, blazing at him with such fierce intensity that it unnerved him. Up to this point, she'd just been another pretty face, but now he could see the fiery passions that burned under her bubbly exterior.
“What if I bring her to you?” she asked, in a wholly different tone of voice than the perky teacher-speak from before. “She trusts me. We have a bond. What if after the trip, I drive her to meet you?”
“You would do that?”
She nodded. “Of course. I love Annabelle. I'd be happy to help.”
Vane could hardly believe what he was hearing. Maggie was one of those people who let their emotions blaze out from their faces. The naked honesty he saw in her eyes made his head spin. “There's a storm,” he warned, gently pulling his hand
from hers. “Supposed to be coming up the coast that night.”
“Oh, they like to hype those up, but they never amount to much.” She nodded slowly at first, then faster. “Yes, this will totally work!” she cried, clapping her hands together. “What do you say?”
Are you for real? That's what Vane wanted to say. Are you real? Nobody should be this excited about playing chauffeur. Nobody should look like the idea of driving up the coast in a storm was the start of a grand adventure.
But Maggie's eyes were shining, and Vane already felt like he'd been enough of a negative jerk for one day. “Okay, well, thank you,” he said, ignoring the warning twist in his gut. “I know Annabelle wants to go on this trip, and she does trust you.”
“Do you trust me?” She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him quizzically.
To his surprise, he nodded. “I do. You're her teacher. Plus,” he chuckled. “I know where you work.”
She laughed. “Not for long. Wednesday is my last day here, too.”
“Is that right?” Now that it was decided, Vane wanted nothing more than to slip away while it was still going well. “How about that.”
“I start a new job in the fall.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “Teaching in rural Alaska. A five-year post.”
“Nice. Stability is good.”
She laughed. “So they say. But I've never stayed in one place for that long.”
“Really?” That sounded awful.
She shrugged and then smiled brightly. “So that'll be an adventure, right? Trying something new and all.”
Vane blew out a long sigh. “Sure,” he said dully. No, thank you. Every day since he'd found himself awkwardly driving a sullen Annabelle back to his house had been an adventure. He was frankly sick of it. Screw trying new things. He'd give everything for things to just stay the same for a while.
Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Ward.
Available 24 October 2019.
www.leslienorthbooks.com
BLURB
Connie Bonner has spent her life working hard and following her passion, never too worried about how things will work out or where her life is headed. But after one unforgettable, passionate night with Brian O’Leary, her gorgeous former boss, her life has ground to a halt. Now, she’s pregnant. Facing the biggest responsibility of her life. Worse, Brian’s new girlfriend and soon-to-be fiancée is demanding Brian not be named the father and that Connie sign a non-disclosure agreement. But when Brian begins to help Connie prepare for the baby, she finds herself dreaming about not just their child but a family with the billionaire as well.
Brian is convinced that Connie’s pregnancy is just a small hiccup on his way to the perfect life he’s dreamed of since he was a poor kid on the wrong side of the tracks. He’s already amassed fortune, and has found the perfect, practical fiancée who comes with a major tech deal, putting his goal almost in reach. He has no room in his life for the always-cheerful Connie, but he finds himself more and more drawn to her despite his looming goal. She’s the opposite of everything he needs in life. But if that’s true, why is it so hard to resist her?
As the pregnancy progresses, Connie wants Brian to see that there’s more to life than making money, and that they’re meant to be a family. But with everything working against them and a baby on the way, time is running out for them to find their happily ever after.
Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Accidental Baby here.
EXTRACT
Chapter One
Brian O’Leary didn’t do patience very well.
Which is why the Saudi prince currently lollygagging around Brian’s San Diego headquarters made him clench his fists behind his back.
He was steps away from closing the deal. Steps that he could count on one hand. Hell, he could practically feel the signature already scratching over paper. The deal that he’d worked tirelessly to organize, to orchestrate, like the delicate masterpiece it was—the deal that would push him over the threshold of billionaire.
He’d been working his entire life for this moment.
And Prince Yariz was intent on inspecting every square inch of the office, as if he might find a deal breaker by the water cooler.
“Sir, if I could accompany you back to my office, we can—” Brian began.
“What about the development offices?” The prince arched an eyebrow. Brian understood that signing today’s contract meant five years of dealing with this guy and his software company. But sacrifices had to be made in the name of financial security and goal achievement. At this point, Brian would offer one of his own limbs to get this guy’s signature on the paperwork.
Brian had been crafting triumphant emails and celebratory phone calls in his head for weeks now. He could already imagine the pride in his mother’s voice when he called her up in South Bay to tell her about the deal. She hadn’t been struggling for a good number of years—not since Brian made his first million, at least—so it wasn’t so much about taking care of her. She was proud of him, no matter what; at least that’s what she always told him and he almost always believed her. Getting Prince Yariz’ signature on the contract would be the icing on the cake and he’d achieve his goal of reaching billionaire status five years earlier than planned.
Growing up destitute and desperate, after his dad had skipped town leaving his mother, him and his younger siblings struggling for survival, his ten-year-old self promised his tearful mother that he would always take care of her and he had.
Brian straightened his back, trying not to let his irritation seep out and stain the whole deal. He gestured toward a nearby hallway, which led to the development area. The two walked down the neatly carpeted hall, decorated in beige and brown tones. Brian’s favorite. It was calming. Neutral. Distantly woodsy. He pushed open the glass door at the end of the hallway. The open-plan work space of the development team greeted them, lined with wall-to-wall windows overlooking downtown San Diego.
At first glance, it was a pristine image of industriousness and productivity. A snapshot of the modern American workplace. Brian smiled. Yes, let Prince Yariz take it all in.
The distinctive sound of feminine laughter sent a ripple of interest through him. From across the room, Constance Bonner sat at her desk surrounded by several of the male developers as they watched something on her computer. The laughter from the other developers dried up as one by one, they noticed our arrival and quickly slunk back to their desks. All except for Connie who had yet to notice us. Realizing that she was now alone, she looked up, her thick, black ponytail swishing over her shoulder. Pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, she leapt up, tugging at her black button-down shirt and too short plaid skirt. He could just make out the print on her socks, which stuck out above her black boots. Unicorns? Of course, it would be unicorns.
Brian pressed his thumbs against his temples as Prince Yariz began moving toward her like a moth to a flame. Connie was one of the top developers at the company. She was gorgeous, too, not that it mattered. But she was chronically, relentlessly, friendly.
It was a nice trait for an employee to have.
Except for right now.
Connie’s eyes seemed to grow bigger as she saw us walking toward her. Audio from her computer caught her attention and she quickly tried to close out of whatever had everyone engaged prior to them coming in the room. Her mutterings of, “Oh, no, no, no” almost had him feeling sorry for her but he also knew that everyone had been apprised of today’s VIP visit.
“Ms. Bonner,” Brian began, but Connie was too busy unsuccessfully trying to close out of whatever she had running. Realizing it wasn’t going to happen, she quickly turned off the monitor before fumbling for the audio on the speakers. In her rush, she ended up tipping over the speaker, which continued to torment her. With a loud sigh of defeat, Connie flashed one of those show-stopping smiles. Privately, he considered her a model who didn’t realize her potential. While his office didn’t adhere to a particular dress code, most of his
employees chose to wear standard office attire while Connie’s wardrobe tended to fluctuate somewhere between gothic punk and computer nerd. At least she wasn’t wearing one of her more questionable graphic tees today. Brian said a silent thanks for small favors even as the noise from her speakers continued to draw attention.
“Brian. Hi. I, uh, wasn’t expecting the VIP to visit us.” Connie’s eyes darted back and forth between Brian and the prince, as she bit her lower lip. She seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with her hands and flailed them at her side before setting her hands on her desk and holding them there. Brian could sense Prince Yariz stiffening at his side.
“The Prince wanted to see all of our offices.”
“Oh, I see. Well, welcome.” Connie went to sit back down, not realizing that her office chair had moved. With a stumble and an almost fall, she awkwardly landed back in her chair, her skirt flying up, giving the both of them a clear view of her Captain Marvel underwear. Letting out a loud breath of air, Connie blew on her bangs before she straightened out her skirt again, in what Brian was realizing was a nervous gesture. “Okay, so I should get back to work.”
Reaching to right her speaker, Brian could now make out the audio, which sounded very much like a woman in the throes of an orgasm.
The prince’s complexion paled. Eyes mere slits, his gaze swept toward Brian.
“We need to go,” Brian said tersely, stepping toward the door. He gestured for the prince to follow him. “Prince Yariz, we can continue our tour now.”
Connie watched with wide eyes and a clamped-shut mouth as Brian ushered the prince out of the development office. The only sound as they walked down the hall was the muffled fall of their steps. Yet confusion rang shrill between Brian’s ears. Wondering how to cover this gaffe. How to play it off. How to send Connie an email that told her exactly how he felt without having her report him for excessive use of exclamation points.
“Is that how employees behave here?” Prince Yariz finally asked.
