Little Secrets--Unexpectedly Pregnant

by Joss Wood

  A hand on her back steadied her. Sage slowly lifted her eyes to look into that familiar face, the high cheekbones, the stubble covering his strong jaw. Hard, black eyes. “You okay?” Tyce asked her, holding her biceps in a firm grip. He’d catch her if she fell, Sage thought, relieved. If her knees gave way she wouldn’t hit the floor.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered, wondering if she’d dropped down Alice’s rabbit hole.

  An indefinable emotion flashed in Tyce’s eyes. “Now that’s a long story. Take a seat and we’ll get into it.”

  Four

  Tyce guided Sage to a chair and stepped away from the table, deliberately walking over to the far side of the room and leaning his shoulder into the wall, crossing his feet at the ankle. It was an insolent pose, a deliberate maneuver to keep the Ballantyne men off-balance. Tyce had deliberately dressed down for this meeting; he wore faded, paint-splattered jeans over flat-heeled boots and a clean black button-down shirt over a black T-shirt, cuffs rolled back. Linc and Beck were dressed in designer suits; Jaeger was a little less formal in suit pants and a pale cream sweater.

  Sage, well, Sage looked stunning in the clashing colors of pink and red, most of her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, tendrils framing her face and falling down the back of her neck. She was innately stylish, yet people assumed it took her hours to look so perfectly put-together, but he’d seen Sage on the move; she could shove her hair up in thirty seconds, could dress in another minute. Sage wasn’t one for spending hours in front of a mirror.

  Tyce looked at her face and frowned at the blue stripes under her eyes, at the pallor in her skin. She looked like she’d dropped weight and it was weight she could ill afford. She kept sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, darting anxious looks at his face. Tyce, deliberately, kept his expression blank, his face a mask. She could’ve avoided this meeting, he reminded himself; she could’ve taken one of his many calls; they could’ve done this differently. But, after trying to reach her for two weeks, her refusal to see him or talk to him limited his options so he contacted Linc and convinced him that a meeting would be beneficial to all parties.

  Tyce watched as Linc stepped forward and placed both his hands on Sage’s shoulders, his gentle squeeze conveying his support. Jaeger and Beck flanked Sage on either side, arms folded and jaws tense. Her brothers were very protective of their sister and he hoped that this conversation wouldn’t turn physical but who the hell knew? When you were dealing with family and money and business, anything could happen.

  “Since you asked for this meeting, Latimore, would you like to get the party started?” Linc asked, his voice as cold as a subzero fridge.

  Tyce nodded, straightened and walked to the table, pulling out a chair at the head, another deliberate gesture. It was a silent screw you to their pecking order, telling Linc and his brothers that he wasn’t going to neatly slot into their order of command.

  Tyce rested his forearms on the table. He turned his head to look at Sage and wished that they were alone, that he could kiss her luscious mouth, trace the fine line of her jaw, kiss his way down her long neck to her shoulders. Peel her clothes from her body...

  Tyce sighed. He was imagining Sage naked because, yeah, that was helpful. He ran his hand across his face and caught Sage’s eye.

  “This could’ve gone differently, Sage. If you had taken my calls, answered my emails, had a goddamn conversation with me, I wouldn’t have had to do it like this.”

  Ignoring her frown, Tyce reached across the table and pulled his folder toward him. He flipped open the cover and withdrew a sheaf of papers and tossed them in Linc’s general direction. “Share certificates showing that Lach-Ty owns around fifteen percent of Ballantyne’s.”

  Four backs straightened, four jaws tensed. Linc picked up the share certificates, examined them and carefully placed them facedown on the table. “Would you care to explain,” he asked in a dangerous-as-hell voice, “why you own fifteen percent of our company?”

  Sure, that was why he was here, after all. “Technically, I don’t own the shares. I just paid for them.”

  Linc gripped the table, his hands and knuckles white. “Then who does own the shares and why the hell did you pay for them?”

  “My sister owns those shares because I thought it was right that she owned a percentage of the company her father left to you.” Tyce hesitated and thought that he might as well get it all out there so that they could move forward from a basis of truth. “I thought that, since your sister is carrying my baby, it was time to lay my cards on the table.”

  And that, Tyce thought, his eyes moving from one shocked Ballantyne to another, was how you dropped a bombshell.

  Shock, horror, surprise, anger...all the emotions he expected were in their faces, coating their questions, their shouted demands for more information. Tyce ignored them and kept his gaze focused on Sage, who stared at him with hellfire in her eyes.

  She half stood, slapped her palms on the table and leaned toward him. “How dare you tell them without my permission?”

  Tyce held her gaze and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Because if I left it up to you, then you’d be ready to go into labor and you’d still be hemming and hawing about how to tell them, what to tell and whether you should.”

  “You had no right—”

  Tyce pointed at her stomach. “That’s my child in there too and, might I remind you, if you’d agreed to meet with me instead of ignoring me, then we could’ve resolved this and more.”

  “More? What are you talking about?” Sage demanded, her voice vibrating with fear and concern.

  Linc placed a hand on Sage’s shoulder and urged her back into the chair. “He’s talking about the shares and alluding to Connor having a daughter.”

  “What? Connor never had any children,” Sage emphatically stated. “That’s crazy!”

  “You’re pregnant?” Jaeger yelled.

  “Everyone shut up!” Linc ordered and looked at Sage. “Let’s finish with Latimore first. Then he can get out of our hair and we can talk about your baby,” Linc added in his CEO-everyone-must-listen-to-me voice. Yeah, well, Tyce didn’t have to.

  “Your optimism is amusing, Linc,” Tyce drawled. “It’s my baby too and, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m going to be around for a hell of a long time.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sage stated.

  “Oh, honey, I so am. But we’ll discuss that later,” Tyce said, his voice quiet but holding no trace of doubt.

  “Why would you think that your sister is Connor’s daughter?” Linc asked, his jaw rock tight with annoyance.

  “I don’t think she is Connor’s daughter, I know she is,” Tyce replied. Tyce saw that they were going to argue and lifted his hand. “Look, let me start at the beginning and I’ll talk you through it.”

  Where to start? As he said, at the beginning. Well, at Lachlyn’s beginning, not his. They didn’t need to know about his childhood, about those dark and dismal years before, and after, Lachlyn came along. As quickly and concisely as he could, Tyce recounted the facts. His mom had worked as a night cleaner at Ballantyne International, in this very building—something he had no reason to feel ashamed of; it was honest work and if the Ballantynes were too snobby to understand that, to hell with them—and, because Connor worked long hours, they struck up a friendship. His mom and stepdad separated, she and Connor started an affair and she became pregnant.

  “My mom knew that she had no future with Connor so she went back to my stepfather hoping that he’d raise Lachlyn as his.”

  His stepdad, originally from Jamaica, took one look at Lachlyn, a blond-haired, blue-eyed baby, and lost his temper. Tyce took his disappearance that same day as a firm no on the raising-and-supporting-Lachlyn question. Those months following his stepfather’s disappearance had been, by far, the worst of his life. His mom sunk into what he now knew to be postpartum
depression, made a hundred times worse by her normal, run-of-the-mill depression. Looking after the baby had been a struggle for her. She hadn’t had any energy left over for a confused eight-year-old boy.

  “Did your mother ever tell Connor that he had a daughter?” Beck asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

  “No,” Tyce snapped back, frustrated. “Since Lachlyn’s birth certificate states that my stepdad is her father, she didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. She assumed that Connor would dismiss her claims.”

  “Which is exactly what we are going to do,” Linc told him, his blue eyes hard.

  Linc reacted exactly as he expected him to so Tyce wasn’t particularly surprised. “You can, but it won’t make any difference to my plans.”

  Tyce ran his hand around his neck, hoping to rub away the headache at the base of his skull. He darted a look at Sage and saw that her face was even whiter than before and her big, endlessly blue eyes were dark with pain and confusion. She looked like he’d punched her in the gut. The fight immediately went out of Tyce and he moved his hand across the table to cover hers. He desperately wanted to scoop her up, soothe away her pain, assure her that everything would be okay.

  But Tyce, more than most, knew that life had a nebulous concept of fairness and had a shoddy record at doling out good luck.

  Sage snatched her hand out from under his, as if he were contagious with some flesh-eating disease. She folded her arms against her chest and glared at him. He couldn’t help his smile.

  “You should know that your prissy, ‘I’m a princess and you’re a peasant’ look turns me on.”

  His comment also had the added bonus of pissing her brothers off. Score.

  Sage lifted her hand, her lips thinning. “This is business so let’s keep it to that, okay? You and I have nothing to say to each other.”

  Oh, they so did. “We have a great deal to say to one another and we will,” Tyce promised her, lowering his voice.

  “In your dreams, hotshot,” Sage retorted, fire in her eyes.

  Tyce reached across the table and pushed a curl out of her eyes with the tip of his finger. “You can fight this, kick and claw and scratch, but you and me, and that kid, we’re going to come to an understanding, Sage. I’m not crazy about this arrangement, neither are you, but we’re going to have to deal. I’m not going anywhere. Start getting used to the idea.”

  Because he so badly wanted to frame her face with his hands, to lower his mouth to cover hers—God, it had been so long since he’d held her, tasted her, feasted on her—Tyce stood up and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Feeling wiped, he blew out a breath before locking eyes with Linc again. It was time to get this done.

  “I’ve purchased enough shares to earn a seat on the Ballantyne board. I’m going to take that seat, I will oppose every decision and I will vote against every motion you make unless you actively try to establish whether Lachlyn is Connor’s child or not. Do not underestimate how much trouble I can cause. I’ll undermine your position and I’ll actively campaign to have you removed as CEO.”

  Linc’s face paled at the threat. But because he was a deal maker and a strategist, Linc then asked the question he was expecting. “So if Lachlyn is Connor’s daughter, how much do you want?”

  These rich people, they always thought it came down to money. “I don’t want any of your money,” Tyce replied, enjoying the surprised shock on their faces. “If the DNA results come back saying that Lachlyn is not Connor’s daughter, then I will sell the shares.”

  “What’s the catch?” Beck demanded.

  “If Lachlyn is Connor’s daughter, then I’d like you to give her a chance...to get to know you, to become part of your family. She missed out on that, having a family.”

  So had he but that didn’t matter. Lachlyn was the one who’d spent her childhood and teenage years in a dismal house permeated with the sadness of a perpetually depressed mother and a too tense, uncommunicative brother. She deserved the chance of being part of a close, happy family. And nobody, apparently, did family better than the Ballantynes.

  Tyce held the back of a chair, his hands white against the black leather. He didn’t drop his eyes from Linc’s face, didn’t break the contact. Linc, confusion all over his face, frowned. “I don’t understand any of this. You spent tens of millions buying those shares but all you want is for us to give your sister a chance to get to know us?”

  Tyce nodded. “You’ll be happy to hear that she’s a lot nicer than I am.”

  Linc’s mouth twitched in what Tyce suspected might hint at amusement. He leaned back in his chair and folded his big arms across his chest. “This is batcrap insane, Latimore.”

  “Probably,” Tyce admitted, darting a look at the still-fuming Sage. Oh, that reminded him. Hardening his expression, he looked from Linc’s face to Jaeger’s and then to Beckett’s. “I have one more demand...”

  Beck groaned and Jaeger swore. Linc just waited, his eyes narrowed.

  “My last demand is that you leave us, Sage and me, alone. Having a baby, becoming new parents, is something new to both of us and we don’t need her three angry, protective brothers muddying the waters.”

  God, he was tired of this conversation, so tired of it all. All he wanted to do was to climb into bed with Sage and wrap himself around her. He would even forego sex just to hold her and sleep.

  Sage held up a hand and stopped what he was sure was going to be a hot response from Jaeger. Hot seemed to be Jaeger’s default setting.

  “You three don’t need to fight my personal battles,” Sage said, her voice clear and determined. “Tyce and I will deal with our personal situation, ourselves. Not—” Sage sent him a look that was designed to shrivel his balls “—that we have much to discuss.”

  “Are you sure, shrimp?” Jaeger asked her, doubt in his voice.

  “Very.” Sage nodded. “I can handle him.”

  “If he lays a finger on you, we will rip him from limb to limb and bury him so deep that no one will ever find his body,” Beck added, his voice so flat and so bland that Tyce had no choice but to believe him.

  “Tyce is an ass but he’s not violent,” Sage told them.

  So nice to know how she really felt about him.

  “Still...” Beck’s eyes connected with his and Tyce nodded, acknowledging Beck’s threat. Hurt her and he’d die. Got it.

  “One tear, Latimore, and all bets are off,” Linc said, rising to his feet. “We’ll need a week or two, and your sister’s DNA, to ascertain whether she is Connor’s daughter and, if she is, we’ll meet again, with your sister, to determine a path forward.”

  It was, Tyce realized, as much of a deal as he was going to get today and it was, honestly, better than he hoped. Lachlyn would finally have, if the Ballantynes cooperated, a shot at having the large, crazy, loving family she’d always said she wanted.

  “Two weeks and then we’ll reevaluate?” Tyce held out his hand and wondered if Linc would shake it. “Deal?”

  Linc’s warm hand gripped his and their gazes clashed and held. “Deal.”

  Linc dropped his hand, sidestepped him and opened the door to the conference room. “I’ll contact you to set up the time and place for the DNA swabs.” Linc walked out of the conference room and punched a code into the pad next to the elevator opposite the conference room. The doors slid open. Right, it was official; Linc was kicking him out.

  Tyce ignored Linc’s impatient expression and walked past Jaeger to drop to his haunches in front of Sage, resting his forearm across his knee. He waited until Sage lifted defiant eyes to meet his. “After you’ve spoken to your brothers, go home and sleep. I’m going to drop in this evening and—we’ll talk then.”

  “I won’t be there.”

  Tyce resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “We need to talk, Sage. We can do it this afternoon or tomorrow morning but we are going to t
alk.”

  Sage muttered a curse under her breath and Tyce swallowed his smile at her hissed profanity. “Okay, this evening. Around five.”

  Tyce nodded, stood up and bent down again to drop a kiss on her head. Not wanting to see her reaction, her disgust, he spun around and headed out the door and into the lift. After punching the button for the ground floor, he looked at Sage and electricity, as it always did, hummed between them. He wanted to run back into the room, scoop her up and run away with her, to hell with Lachlyn and Sage’s brothers. To hell with his art and her status as one of the wealthiest women in the world.

  To hell with it all.

  Unfortunately, Tyce thought as the elevator’s doors closed, running away solved nothing.

  * * *

  The meeting had run longer than they thought and Beck and Jaeger left a few minutes after Tyce, both of them assuring her that they were in her corner, that they would help in any way they could.

  “Up to and including beating the crap out of Latimore,” Jaeger told her as a parting shot.

  When she and Linc were alone Sage walked to the small window, laying her hand on the cool glass. Droplets of icy rain ran down the pane and the low, gray clouds outside threatened snow. Late winter in New York City, she thought; she felt cold inside and out.

  “You okay, shrimp?” Linc asked her. Sage turned, put her back to the wall and looked at her brother, his chair pushed back and his long legs stretched out.

  “Mentally or physically?” Sage asked.

  “Either. Both,” Linc answered her.

  Sage lifted one shoulder and shrugged, biting her bottom lip. Linc’s eyes were on her face and she knew that her brother was hoping for an answer. Unlike Jaeger and Beck, Linc didn’t nag and as a result, she found herself talking to him more often than anyone else.

  Still, it was easier to stick to the facts. “I’m about twelve, thirteen weeks pregnant. I’m not seeing Tyce, it just happened.”