Raising His Baby (The Sartoris Book 2)

by Lockwood,Tressie

  “Let me get you another cup. I bet I can make the coffee hotter in the microwave. How many creams and sugars would you like?”

  He bit out his answer, obviously resentful she even needed to ask. Sonya’s patience grew shorter and shorter. What bug crawled up his behind that he had to treat her this way?

  You know what? If this is how he is, I might already have my answer.

  She stomped around the kitchen, breathing her own fire. That morning she woke up imagining she would develop camaraderie with the other secretaries and that they would all gather in the kitchen to support each other in their dealings with their bosses. As she stood heating Romy’s coffee the most she got from the others was chilly glances as they passed by.

  “What did I do?” she wondered and folded her arms over her chest.

  The kitchen where she stood was a decent size with a door leading out from both ends. The side where Sonya had come into the kitchen led back to Romy’s office and a few others of upper management. She wasn’t sure of the layout of the opposite side, but it looked like more of the same from the kitchen doorway.

  “Ah, so you’re the piccola bellezza everyone is gossiping about,” came a voice from behind her.

  She spun around to spot a man who looked very much like Romy, whether older or younger, she wasn’t sure. From the suggestive grin, she guessed this was Cason, the youngest brother.

  “Hello, Mr. Sartori. Good to meet you.” She held out her hand, and he pounced on it, holding it between both his. He moved far too close for her comfort, especially since he was hot and single and she hadn’t had a boyfriend in a good while.

  “Do you know all the secretaries hate you?” he teased. “I can see why.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Why would they? I haven’t even met anyone. I was kind of dumped off this morning, and I’m trying my best to keep up with Mr. Sartori.”

  He grimaced. “It’s Cason and Romy. The only one that’s a stickler for the Mr. Sartori garbage is my brother Ezio. And to answer your question, it’s because the coveted position is to work as Romy’s secretary.”

  She gaped. “They want to?”

  He threw his head back and burst out laughing. “You’re priceless. I might keep you for myself.”

  She yanked her hand free of his. “I’m good where I am. Thank you.” The last thing she needed was to work for a man who thought he was rich enough that he could sexually harass her and get away with it. Maybe Cason Sartori did get away with it. “And don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I’m not afraid of a few cats.”

  His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I like you more and more.”

  The microwave dinged.

  “Excuse me. I have to get back to Mr….uh…Romy.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should take his advice about using their first names or if he was having fun at her expense. Maybe she should wait for Romy to tell her she could.

  When she left the kitchen, Cason fell into step behind her. She picked up the pace a bit, but she couldn’t distance him with the coffee in her hand and with his long legs. Unfortunately, not being used to heels, she stumbled just as she reached Romy’s office door and almost fell. Cason sprang forward to catch her arm. Her aching ankle unbalanced her again and sent her straight into his side while the coffee went another direction. Because she was so much shorter, the top of her head fit beneath his chin as if she were made to be there. The scent of Cason’s cologne tickled her nose, and she raised her hands to shove clear of his chest.

  “You’re done!” Romy roared. “Go to your desk and pack your things.”

  “Whoa, fratello,” Cason said. “It was an innocent accident. Calm down.”

  “Calm down?” Romy spouted. The two brothers flew into Italian, Romy spewing accusations, and Cason defending himself. Sonya strained to catch the gist of the argument, but it wasn’t easy. Both her head and ankle throbbed, and fear for the future made it difficult to concentrate.

  At some point, Romy ignored his brother and swung to face Sonya. “Why are you still here?”

  She’d had all she could take. “You can’t fire me.”

  Anger distorted his handsome face. “Excuse me?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “I’ve hardly begun. You blew up at me for every little thing. You didn’t even give me a chance. I’m not a mind reader. Nobody is. The instructions I was left with are sketchy at best, and I’m certainly not going to be called out of my name just because I spilled a cup of coffee. I don’t know what the heck you’ve been through that you’re spewing this kind of ugly attitude, but trust and believe you’re not going to keep anybody worth her weight if you keep it up!”

  Both men were silent for what felt like an hour. Each second that ticked by, Sonya regretted losing her temper more and more. Hadn’t she vowed to keep a cool head that morning, to do her work so well he would hire her permanently to the company? Even if she was right in everything she said, who’d want a secretary that told him off? She was so not getting another position from her agency.

  At last Romy spoke, and this time his voice was deathly calm. “What makes you say I called you ‘out of your name’?”

  Crap!

  She swallowed and licked her lips. Both men waited for an answer, and she didn’t want to give one. Not now. It was too soon to give details of her background that might lead him to the truth.

  “Well?” Romy insisted.

  She had no choice. “I understand Italian. I can’t really speak it, but I can follow along for the most part.”

  Surprise registered on their faces, and Cason broke into an interested smile. She ignored him. Romy strode to his desk and yanked open a drawer to pull out a sheet of paper. He scanned it and pinned her to the spot with a glower.

  “Knowing that this corporation is owned by an Italian born CEO with executives—myself and my brother—who are born and raised in Italy, why wouldn’t that information be included in your resume?”

  She couldn’t lie. The light in Romy’s eyes dared her to try. She made up her mind then and there that she didn’t like him. He didn’t deserve to be in Arron’s life. “It’s not essential to the position, is it?”

  “Anyone would have mentioned it to gain an advantage.”

  She raised her chin. “I prefer to make my way based on my other skills and not my half-developed ability to understand Italian. I mean what use would it be to understand anyway? I can’t read it. I can’t speak it, and if the person is speaking too fast, I run into trouble and miss a ton of information. What use would I be to you then? I’d only end up looking like a fool, boasting about something I don’t know much about.”

  Cason beamed. “That’s my girl. Thinking on her feet.”

  “You stay out of this, Cason,” Romy told him. He strode around the desk and leaned on it. When he folded his arms over his chest, the intimidation he probably hoped she would feel came through loud and clear. “You said I can’t fire you. I don’t like deception, and something tells me you’re not being completely honest.”

  “You are a bit sensitive lately, fratello.” Cason was also a jerk, but since he had nothing to do with Sonya, she didn’t feel one way or another about him.

  Romy went on as if his brother hadn’t spoken. “Give me one reason not to fire you.”

  She was trapped in her own scheme. If she had told him the truth from the beginning, she wouldn’t have found herself in this situation. Now she might have made things a lot worse for herself.

  The words stuck in her mouth. She clutched her hands together until her fingers ached. “The truth is… Darn it, my ankle hurts. Can I just take a little pressure off it before I tell you?”

  Romy’s narrowed gaze slipped from her hot face to her ankle, and his eyes widened. He jumped to his feet and barreled toward her. Before she knew what he intended, he whipped her up into his strong arms. “What kind of woman sprains her ankle and doesn’t even cry over it?”

  She dropped her chin to her chest and struggled to get words
out despite the flurries in her belly. Note to self. Romy’s chest is far different from Cason’s! Run away, Sonya. Run far far away!

  Chapter 3

  Sonya lay across a sofa with a hand towel clutched in her fingers. She hid most of her face. Her ankle had been elevated, and someone had already come to evaluate that it was indeed lightly sprained. She pretty much knew it. This wasn’t the first injury she sustained, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  The issue she faced at the moment was that Ezio had arrived, and he and Cason and Romy were having a conversation in a small conference room off Romy’s office. She heard their voices raised a few times, and they spoke in Italian. One of them must have informed Ezio that she understood their mother tongue, and the voices lowered. Too late, she’d already heard her name mentioned. Did they think she would sue them? In a few minutes, she bet a lawyer or someone from the legal department would show up to get her to sign release papers.

  She looked down at her ankle and groaned at the thickness of it. If she had her duffel bag, which she kept in the trunk of her car, she’d have an ace bandage. Maybe she could hobble down to the parking lot and get it.

  Just as she started to rise, the door to the conference room opened. Ezio stepped out first, followed by Romy and then Cason. Blue eyes exactly like Romy’s locked onto her, and goose bumps popped out on her arms and legs. She raised her chin. He was the type to try to intimidate a person. She wouldn’t go for it, job or no job. Probably a bully, too.

  “Ms. Davis,” Ezio said, “I’m going to have one of my men take you to the hospital.”

  Glad I wasn’t dying while you had a meeting about it.

  “The company will take care of all your medical expenses. Romy will go with you to sign off on everything. When you’re well enough, you’re free to return here. I can’t promise the same temporary position, but something in the same capacity will be available.”

  She got to her feet—or rather one foot and balanced herself with the arm of the sofa. “I can take care of myself. This isn’t the first time I sprained my ankle.”

  Ezio frowned. “You’re accident-prone?”

  She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. If he could prove she got hurt on purpose or often, he wouldn’t be liable. She rolled her eyes and started for the door, wincing in agony.

  Romy swooped in and grabbed her arm. Just like his brother previously, he held on and wouldn’t let her free until she reached the secretary’s desk and gathered her things. In the parking garage, Sonya paused in surprise at seeing the chauffeur holding the door open to a sweet ride she couldn’t identify but she was sure it cost a pretty penny.

  She looked at Romy. “Is this how you always treat your injured employees?”

  He reddened, which surprised her. The anger he displayed in the office seemed to have evaporated. Maybe guilt ate him up. “Not unless there’s a question of whether myself or one of my brothers was the cause.”

  She gasped. “Should you admit that?”

  He reddened a little more. “My word against yours.”

  She glanced at the chauffeur as he shut the door behind them. He was within earshot of their conversation. Loyal employees didn’t count, she supposed.

  Once they were in the car, Sonya sat back and shut her eyes. She breathed through her mouth, mentally adjusting to the pain. Someone had given her pain meds, but over the counter stuff meant nothing. A muscle-relaxer would be great with a cup of hot tea. She checked the time, and as if on cue, her belly rumbled. The morning was gone already, and it was time for lunch. Had she blacked out? It was like she’d gone through a wormhole, and time sped up.

  “Why have you gotten injured so often?” Romy asked, eyeing her. “Now that you mention it, you did seem unsteady on your feet. Is clumsiness the reason?”

  She laughed. This Romy was nothing like the madman from this morning. He was a little awkward and didn’t have the finesse and the charm of his brother Cason or the overbearing presence of his other brother, judging from the few minutes she had been around him. If she hadn’t seen the beast who blew into the office, she might have agreed that Romy was the nice one. Why was he putting on a different face now?

  “I’m kind of a tomboy,” she said. “I love sports, and I play them every chance I get. Right now—or rather not too long ago—I was on three soccer teams.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Interesting.”

  She wasn’t sure how to take that one word, but it didn’t matter much. The word “girly” had never defined her. She hated dressing up and was so opposite to her sister it wasn’t funny. Regardless, she liked who she was and lived her life the way she wanted. At least she did before Arron. Now her entire world revolved around him, and he was all that mattered.

  “You learned Italian as a hobby?”

  She looked out the window.

  He started to speak again, but her cell phone rang. She checked the display and found that the babysitter was calling. No way could she ignore it, but the timing couldn’t be worse. “Hello?”

  “Sonya, Arron’s not taking his milk again. He’s whining, and he threw the bottle at my head.”

  Sonya snorted and covered her mouth. She pulled herself together and glanced at Romy. He looked out the opposite window, and she hoped he wasn’t listening. Cupping the phone to her mouth, she lowered her voice. “Give him some cheese cubes with his lunch. I bought some yesterday. If he doesn’t want the milk, don’t try to force him. He might take some orange juice but only give it to him after he eats.”

  “Okay.”

  Sonya didn’t know what she would do once school started. She had known her teenage neighbor for years, and the girl always babysat during the summers. Sonya had taken a chance with her after a ton of glowing recommendations from other parents, but all of them had kids older than Arron. Her little sweetheart was only ten months old, and she knew he would soon be ready to give up the bottle completely. Maybe today. She gave her sitter a few more instructions and ended the call.

  “You’re a mother,” Romy said when she tucked her phone into her purse. No shame whatsoever about eavesdropping.

  “I’m actually an aunt.” She hesitated about telling him the rest, such as why the sitter would be calling her. This was the time. She needed to spit it out, but she was afraid he would kick her out of his car and leave her to fend for herself. Her own car was back at the office. Boy would she have a challenge getting it home.

  Romy sat in silence as if waiting for her to continue. She pressed her lips together.

  “Very well,” he said. “We’re here.”

  Sonya would have loved to rush out of the car and dismiss him, but she needed his arm. He held it out to her, and she grabbed hold. Strong tense muscles flexed beneath her fingers, and being so near, she got a whiff of his natural male scent. He didn’t wear cologne like Cason, but being so close to him was far more enticing. She couldn’t even imagine why.

  Romy stayed by her side as she sat waiting to see a doctor, had her ankle wrapped, and was given meds. He carried her prescription to the pharmacy and had it filled. Just as his brother said he signed all the paperwork, instructing the staff to send all bills to his company.

  Once they were back in the car, he turned toward her. “Lunch?”

  “Oh, no, I have a sandwich in the refrigerator at the office. I’ll get it and my car when I go back.”

  “You can’t drive yourself home, and a sandwich isn’t good enough.”

  She smirked. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got this.”

  “Lucca, J Street,” Romy called to the driver.

  “I said—” She gave up. There was no use fighting him in her condition. Besides the drugs the doctor gave her made her feel so relaxed she might need a couple hours to get fully alert again.

  “What’s the baby’s name?” he asked the minute they were seated at the table. “Pictures?”

  She blinked at him. Did the man have a sixth sense or what? “I don’t have any with me,” she lied.
“His name is Arron. He’s so sweet. Ten months…old.” Another mistake.

  Crap. He can’t figure anything out with just his age. I hope.

  They continued to talk, and before she knew it, she was telling him all about the little man that was her heart.

  “He’s so smart. I’m talking genius level,” she bragged. “He can already say some words clearly in English and—” She stopped cold.

  “Italian?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he suspected anything, and she was being far too obvious. Yet, she couldn’t get herself to calm down.

  “Yes, Italian. I know it sounds hard to believe for a ten month old, but that’s why I’m saying he’s a little genius. Trust me. It doesn’t run in my family.”

  “His dad’s side?”

  She fiddled with the napkin in her lap and then seized on an opportunity. “My sister and I don’t have the same dad, and she and I weren’t close. We didn’t grow up together. I don’t know her father’s side of the family other than a couple people’s names.”

  He nodded his understanding, but she wondered how much he got. The smooth deep voice still held the lilt from being born and raised in Italy. He worked with his brothers. She bet he didn’t know anything about broken families.

  They spoke some more, and by some miracle she managed not to put her foot into her mouth anymore. “Thanks for lunch. I really appreciate it.”

  He let her lean on his arm as they moved back to the car. She balanced with one crutch beneath the opposite arm and tried to put more weight on the crutch because even with fingertips touching him her belly did flip-flops. One would think she had never seen a man before. Romy was the wrong guy to fall for, so she mentally sucked it in.

  “I’ll take you home,” he said.

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve kept you from your work all day long. It was my clumsiness that caused the injury, and I signed the papers saying you all aren’t responsible. I’m fine. Really.”

  He frowned. The blue eyes had gone darker but not from anger. She turned her head, not wanting to look into his face any longer and have him guess she wasn’t just hiding her attraction to him but her identity. He wasn’t that bad. Maybe she should rethink what was the best course of action.