Wreckless Engagement: The Russian Engagement Series

by K. Marie

  After reading John’s initial email out of curiosity; which had been general in conversation, I’d neither read nor responded to any of the others. I simply deleted them instead. Him emailing me was inappropriate. John clearly hadn’t gotten over our break-up, had in fact tried contacting me several times before the wedding. I never responded. I knew he was aware I’d married Garland; though I hadn’t told him, but Marie did.

  What could John possibly want? Why was he still reaching out to me?

  With a tired sigh, I grudgingly clicked open the email this time instead of deleting it, I was curious as to what he had to say.

  I’m not surprised the first paragraph of the email read as John lamenting the fact that I’d married Garland. After all, I told him I wasn’t ready to remarry. And he didn’t hold his punches in that regard. I didn’t begrudge him his complaint, but as it turned out, I just didn’t want to marry him.

  As I got to the end of the second paragraph, the breath whooshed suddenly from my lungs in surprise—my heart lurched in my chest. My eyes felt as if they might pop out of my head as I stared at the computer screen in horror.

  John had finally lost his mind.

  Not only was he pissed about me having married Garland; he’s even more pissed over my pregnancy. But the unbelievably crazy part is, John seemed to be under some insane illusion that the baby could be his.

  Huh?

  He’s accusing me of having named Garland as the father so that he would marry me; because of course, Garland is rich.

  “Oh my God…” I breathed in dismay.

  Why in the hell would John be under such an illusion? He was demanding to talk to me; stated he wanted a paternity test. Jesus Christ.

  Had John truly lost his mind?

  I sat staring at the computer screen, frozen, not knowing what to do or how to react. Do I dare respond to this nonsense?

  This shit couldn’t be real. John was just screwing with me, right?

  I should probably just ignore the email, just delete it. I told myself.

  Is this what he’d been trying to contact me about all this time?

  It isn’t true, of course!

  There’s absolutely no question of Garland being the father of my baby, of that I’m positive. So, where in the hell did John come up with the notion that the baby could be his? It’s absurd really, seeing as he had no way of knowing how far along I am.

  But still, those are some seriously fucked-up allegations.

  Agitated, I poised my fingers to hit the reply button, but stopped myself. I should probably think this through before responding in anger. My instinct was to just delete the damn thing and forget its existence, but something made me hesitate.

  Why was John doing this? He couldn’t seriously believe the baby to be his. He must still be truly angry to be making such an allegation just to screw with me. Unbelievable.

  He’d demanded I call him, and perhaps I should. The sooner I got this nonsense cleared-up, the better. But first…I needed to think this through, to decide whether or not to tell John to fuck-off.

  Conflicted, I finally picked up my phone to call Marie. She would be coming to spend the week after Christmas with us; and I couldn’t wait. We’d flown back to Michigan only once since moving—for Thanksgiving. Since then, I had been actively campaigning for her to move here permanently.

  When Marie answered, I skipped the greeting. “Marie, you are not going to believe this!” I cried in a hushed tone; as not to be overheard by anyone.

  I quickly ran through everything—all of John’s ridiculous accusations in the email, expressed my alarm and worry over it.

  After exclaiming her own outrage over the situation, Marie grew suddenly quiet. “Shit…this might be my fault, Camry. When I ran into John that time; he asked about you, and I told him that you’d gotten married and were now pregnant. I’d been trying to discourage him from any hopes he might have still had for the two of you; he was looking too eager. Anyway, after his initial shock, he made a nasty comment about how you’d magically changed your views on marriage—and how you’d wasted no time getting knocked-up. So, being a bitch, I snidely commented that you’d actually gotten knocked-up in Miami, while still engaged to him,” Marie confessed.

  “I’m so sorry, Camry. In hindsight, I probably should have kept my damn mouth shut. If I had, John would have no clue that you were pregnant—or how far along you were,” Marie said in apology.

  My God. I sat shaking my head in astonishment. John had obviously done some quick math, figuring the baby could just as well be his. The question is, if I didn’t name him as the father, why did he care? Why couldn’t he let this go, let me go?

  “I don’t know what to do, Marie, how do you think I should handle this? Should I respond to his email?” I asked with growing anxiety.

  “John is only doing this to screw with you, Camry, he’s still bitter over your break-up. And to find out you’d so quickly married Garland and gotten pregnant; that just made things worse. Again, that’s my fault,” Marie offered, sounding remorseful. “Who knows whether he truly believes the baby to be his or if he’s only looking to cause problems for you? It’s probably best to just ignore him and hope that he goes away. But if he contacts you again, you should probably just respond back telling him you’ll get a DNA test when the baby is born. Don’t forget to mention he’ll just end up looking like a damn fool,” Marie added in disgust.

  I let out a frustrated groan. “Jesus…this can’t be happening. What if he persists? I may have to tell Garland this bullshit!” I cried, becoming even more upset.

  Garland never for a second doubted the baby was his. But if John persisted, I would have to tell him. I didn’t think withholding something this serious from him was advisable. If Garland found out without me having told him…I didn’t even want to think about it. The level of betrayal he’d feel is unthinkable.

  “Calm down, Camry, you don’t have to tell him just yet. Like I said, John just might go away if you don’t respond to him,” Marie cautioned.

  “But what if he doesn’t go away?” I prompted, not believing it could be that easy. “He’s sent several emails already. I’m not worried about the results of a DNA test, but it’ll kill me to have Garland doubting our child is his,” I told Marie, swiping angrily at the tears that had started to fall. I silently wished for John to fall into a dark hole somewhere.

  Could this be karma coming back to bite me in the ass?

  I still felt a little guilt over how things ended between John and me, but I’d moved on, I hoped he had too.

  “I could always send a couple of guys over to his house…” Marie suggested absurdly, like she’d been hanging around too many gangsters.

  I grimaced at the thought. As much as I’d like to punch John in the face right about now, I wasn’t yet at the point of leg breaking.

  I also wasn’t yet ready to let John win.

  “I don’t know, Marie…if John decides to make more noise about this, I’ll have to tell Garland,” I said reluctantly. “But first, I think I’ll just respond to his email—to try and gauge whether he’s actually serious or just looking to make me miserable. I won’t tell Garland unless I’m absolutely certain John’s going to be a problem,” I decided.

  He’s going to be a problem.

  I emailed John back yesterday after talking with Marie, and he wasted no time in responding.

  He wanted me to call him—no, he actually demanded I call him. If not, he said he would take it up with Garland instead.

  Now I’m pissed. This was coercion and blackmail!

  How dare John threaten me as though I’ve done something wrong? He had no case; as I’d stated in my email to him. But it didn’t seem to matter, John’s goal was to make me miserable. Whether his claim is easily disproved or not, he knew that he had several months in which to make my life insufferable.

  I considered calling him, but quickly squashed that thought. I wouldn’t let John intimidate or coerce me into doing what he w
anted. What was he looking to gain anyway by threatening to go to Garland? Did he think this was something I’d want to keep hidden from my husband?

  Why else would he use Garland as a threat?

  John was full of shit, but whether he’s bluffing or not, I couldn’t take that chance. Him contacting Garland to spew his lies was the stuff made of nightmares.

  Not only did that seem an unwise endeavor on his part—possibly even a dangerous one, but it would only make me look guilty in the eyes of my husband, had I not told him first. I didn’t want to tell Garland, but I’d rather tell him than let John screw with my head.

  Shit. Garland was going to be livid. But then, he would be livid either way.

  I’ll have to tell him.

  My heart sank with dread. John’s vengeful game was working…he was about to hammer the first crack in my marriage.

  With an impending sense of doom, I wondered how in the hell one even goes about telling their husband something like this?

  Thirty-Six

  C A M R Y

  I considered waiting. Waiting to see if John persisted in his claim, or simply waiting period, because I didn’t want to deal with it. But even as baseless as I knew John’s claims to be, I knew that if I kept something this potentially serious from Garland and he found out, it would be catastrophic.

  I found him in his office that evening after putting Autumn to bed. He’d gotten home later than usual, so we hadn’t had time to talk. Not that I was in any hurry to depart this particular bit of news. In fact, I was damn near terrified. How do you tell your husband that another man is claiming to have fathered his child?

  I couldn’t, so I’d just printed out a copy of the emails for him to read himself; I didn’t want to ad-lib.

  “Can I pull you away from that for a few minutes?” I asked, indicating the documents he’d been studying. I lingered nervously in the doorway, hesitant to cross the threshold.

  “Of course, Camry, you’re always my favorite distraction; you know that,” he said.

  Oh God…I can’t do this.

  Giving him a nervous smile, I forced myself to step further into the room, approaching his desk as if wading through quick-sand. It felt like I was walking to my doom. I had no idea how Garland would react, but I’m guessing it won’t be good.

  I can’t do this.

  Hating what I had to do, I second-guessed my decision again. My stomach roiled at the thought that I was probably about to tarnish his view of me, even if only temporarily. I knew a DNA test would clear things up, but I still had about fourteen weeks to go before I gave birth. All of a sudden, it felt like an eternity.

  Clutching the email papers in my hand, I reluctantly extended them to him. “I received these yesterday and this morning, it’s all bullshit, but I felt you should know,” I told him, feeling increasingly lightheaded.

  Garland eyed me quizzically as he took the papers from my hand, then lowered his gaze to focus on the print.

  Too anxious to sit, I shuffled nervously as he read, my heart beating a rapid tattoo in my chest as I started to pace the floor. Other than a slight narrowing of the eyes, I got no indication as to Garland’s reaction to what he was reading. But after a nerve-wrecking couple of minutes, he finally looked up at me.

  “Why would he believe the baby to be his?” he asked in an even tone.

  Twisting my anxiety-ridden fingers, I repeated what Marie told me about what might have gotten John going on that particular track.

  “I don’t blame Marie, she feels terrible. She had no idea her jibe in my defense would create this issue,” I said in her defense.

  “Is this the first time he’s contacted you about this?” Garland asked.

  “He’s sent a few emails over the past couple of months, but I just deleted them without ever reading them. I only opened the one from yesterday because I thought it was perhaps time I told him directly to stop emailing me. He obviously hadn’t taken the hint already,” I answered bitterly, loathing John for being such a dick.

  Garland leaned back in his chair and studied me, not saying a word.

  And my heart dropped down into my stomach; setting off a ricochet of anxious butterflies.

  There goes my shine.

  “Please tell me you don’t believe that?” I questioned disbelievingly, pointing a trebling finger at the offending paper.

  “That’s pure bullshit! There is no doubt who the father of our baby is. If John wants a DNA test—I’ll give him one, but he’s only doing this to hurt me,” I said, fighting back tears of anger.

  Garland just continued studying me, his silence deafening for long agonizing seconds, before he finally spoke again.

  “I believe you, Camry. You told me I was the father and I never questioned it, I don’t question it now,” he finally said. “Did you respond to this email?” he asked, holding up the one from today.

  Relieved by his answer, I finally took a seat in the chair opposite his desk—the chair that Autumn had apparently commissioned, resting my wobbly legs.

  “No, I didn’t respond, I wanted to speak with you first. But, I was also hoping to just ignore him and hope he’d go away,” I answered tiredly.

  Admittedly, it probably wasn’t the best way to handle it, but it was sure worth a try.

  I observed Garland warily; trying to gauge his mood, but his admirable calm gave nothing away as usual. He said he believed me about the baby, and I didn’t think he would lie about something like that. But, I wondered if he was pissed about the whole thing in general.

  What a mess.

  “This will likely have to be dealt with, but for now, continue ignoring any further emails,” he told me. “On second thought, just forward them to me,” he said instead.

  G A R L A N D

  I waited several minutes after Camry had gone before picking up my phone.

  When the man answered, I got straight to the point. “Get me everything you can find on John McKellan, more than what you gave me before. I want to know that son of a bitch’s every move from the moment he breathed life into this world, and don’t leave a single stone unturned. I need that information yesterday, so make it top priority,” I said, before hanging-up.

  The bones of my fingers crackled under duress as I clenched my fists, feeling murderous; an overwhelming need to hurt somebody. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes, willed myself to relax. I never reacted out of anger, nothing ever got resolved when one allowed anger to take over. But, if there was one thing that could push my buttons quicker than any other, was somebody fucking with my family on any level.

  I am no doubt a damn fool where she’s concerned, but I believed Camry when she told me she was pregnant with my child. I believe her now. That she’d come to me proved she had nothing to hide. Camry might be a lot of things; stubborn, emotional, hot-headed and soft-hearted for certain, but duplicitous wasn’t one of them. I could read her every thought from her facial expression alone, she couldn’t successfully tell a lie to save her own life. Camry wore her heart on her sleeve, was too damn naïve, and too trusting of others. After all, she’d married me, didn’t she?

  No, if she were being deceitful, I would know it.

  So then, what was McKellan playing at? I thought the bastard was ancient history, no longer a problem. I knew he hadn’t been sniffing around Camry since the day I encountered him at her condo. I knew that because Camry’s security detail provided me with that information. I had security put on Camry right after that incident. I knew McKellan was a dick and didn’t trust him not to return—even after Joe threatened him bodily harm.

  I also had Drakos run a security check on the asshole just in case, to ensure he didn’t have a criminal record. Only to find out he did. He had a personal protection order placed on him by an ex-girlfriend about four years ago. She accused him of stalking her, so I knew McKellan was potentially dangerous. Since the bastard hadn’t shown back up at Camry’s house, I didn’t think anything else of it.

  But, any man who would
stalk a woman is a problem, and any man who would even think of stalking my wife is less than smart. McKellan had just made a mortal enemy of me…and I’m the last problem any man wants to have.

  C A M R Y

  I exited the bathroom wrapped in an over-sized towel, to find Garland lying casually on the bed with both hands clasped behind his head. He’d stripped himself of everything but black boxer briefs.

  “Hey sweetie, didn’t expect to see you lying there, I thought you’d work longer,” I said as I approached the bed.

  I’d come up to our bedroom to prepare for bed after our conversation in his office about twenty minutes ago. Typically exhausted early in the evening, I often went to bed and fell into a coma long before Garland ever made it up.

  “I found I could no longer focus on work,” he responded, taking in my towel-clad body.

  I clutched my towel to my chest as I eyed him with worry. “I’m sorry Garland, but I doubted there would ever be a good time to tell you something like that.”

  “You figured right. But I’m more concerned with how you’re doing, Camry, come here,” he said.

  I looked at him in surprise. Though I knew I’d done nothing wrong, I couldn’t help feeling guilty over the entire John fiasco. Yet, instead of being angry or distrustful of me—as I thought he would be, Garland was worried about me. He didn’t have to constantly tell me that he loved me, because he showed me.

  I made my way to the opposite side of the bed, not daring to crawl across it to get to him. That’s so not sexy when you’re pregnant. But once I’m standing before him, Garland reached out to grasp my hand, gently pulling me closer. Following his lead, I climbed onto the bed and straddled him, before leaning over to kiss him.

  I looked into Garland’s eyes and had no problem reading his thoughts.

  He reached to undo my towel where it sat knotted between my breasts, and I instinctively brought my hands up to still his actions. Though Garland had in no way made me feel as if he wasn’t still sexually attracted to me, I’ve grown a little self-conscious of exposing all in front of him.