I just need his cold-hearted uncle to fork over enough money to live first.
“You can keep screaming at me all day, and it won’t make a difference. I will not do this. Accept it, and let’s move on. Please.”
He curses and stalks out, leaving me to follow behind at a dead run that makes my stomach heave violently. When I get to the car, he stands aside, his jaw ticking, and waits for me to get in.
“You will, of course, be coming home with me until the child is born and tested.”
“Okay,” I say quickly, peeking up at him only to look away quickly when he gives me a look that dares me to say anything.
“You look awful—though I can’t say if that’s your natural state or if it’s the pregnancy.”
I squirm when he leans forward and sniffs at me, cringing at the fact that I don’t smell my best. The showers at the shelter are crowded, and we’re only allowed to shower at night. I’d missed mine last night, and by the time I got to take one, the water was so cold I couldn’t force myself to do it.
I already have a cold that won’t quit, and I’m terrified that the baby will get sick in there, too.
“You will, of course, avail yourself of the shower on the jet if you don’t mind. Do you have a passport?”
I’m floored at the mention of a jet and only a little aware that I’m shaking my head when we stop and a private jet registers.
“Bloody hell. That’s fine. I’ll sort something out. Come.”
“But…where are we going?” I squeak, digging my heels in when he takes my arm and starts dragging me behind him.
“Home. England. The place where my family resides,” he barks, giving me a tug that’s bound to bruise my arm.
“But, I can’t go…”
“Would you prefer I leave you here and come back in six months, Miss Mallory?”
I feel my shoulders slump in defeat and battle the tears misting my eyes. I can’t let him leave without me. I have nowhere to go, and in two days, I will be on the streets with winter fast approaching.
“No.”
“As I thought,” he says darkly, his mouth twisting in a sneer. “Don’t worry. You’ll be living in the lap of luxury soon enough. That should more than alleviate your fears. At the very least, we can do something about the pathetic state you’re in right now.”
The put down hits its mark, and I feel myself blush, as I pull my ratty coat closer and pat at my frizzy hair.
The dark circles and hollow expression I can’t do anything about, but I don’t think that matters when he smirks at my embarrassment and gestures toward the plane.
This is all I have, and now I understand Grammy’s words all those years ago. When she’d said be careful what you wish for, I’d paid her no mind until now when I’d wished for anything to save me.
I’ve gotten a nasty, sharp-tongued Brit for all my praying, and I don’t know if I’ll survive his scorn and come out whole on the other side.
Chapter Four
Shaw
The drive is a short one, and I look up to see something that is, quite frankly, just breathtaking. It’s a castle, one of those places you see in those movies about the English aristocracy, and it is so huge I don’t think you could walk the place in a day.
“Just remember what I told you.”
I nod, because—as per instruction—I’m not assaulting his ears with my drivel and lies, but it’s not easy to remember everything he said and threatened me with if I don’t obey.
First he’d insulted me and pointed me at the back of the plane to a small room and a shower the size of a broom cupboard, and then he’d spent an hour letting me know how he doesn’t believe his paragon of a brother would ever have given little old me a second glance.
Of course, I’d cried at that, being the emotional idiot that I am. And then he’d given me such a dirty look that I’d been forced to look away and hide the hurt that his words had brought.
I’m not a push over; I know how to set a bitch down, but neither have I been one of those people who seek confrontation, and I can’t afford it right now either.
I’m homeless and desperate, so it looks like I’ll be taking his abuse for as long as I need to, no matter how humiliating it is and no matter how hurtful it is.
And then there’s the fact that I feel guilty.
Robert, while still in the doghouse over his abandonment all those months ago, did not deserve every curse I’d hurled his way while searching for him.
Thank God he’s not here to hear the scathing voicemail I’d left him. No, that’s not true. I can’t be glad he’s gone because some part of me had really felt for him and then my child will also never know his father.
All I can say is, thank God Cameron Stone doesn’t know half the things I’d screamed into the phone, or I have no doubt, baby or not, that what he would do to me would not be pleasant.
“Stop woolgathering and come along. Mum is waiting. Remember what I said.”
I nod again and bite my tongue.
“Is it her? Oh Lord above, just look at you darling. Come, come. Let’s get you inside and out of the cold. But look at what you’re wearing! Cameron, how could you not provide a decent coat for Shaw?”
I’m bombarded when an attractive blonde woman bustles out of the house and enfolds me in a tight embrace that goes on just a little too long for comfort.
She pushes me away gently, her hands grasping my shoulders as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear and just looks at me as if she’s never seen a woman before.
“Oh dear, you look positively ghastly! I remember when I was pregnant with Cameron. I was so sick. Have you tried sweet tea and dry toast?”
I can’t answer because she’s already pulling me inside and throwing orders over her shoulder at her son. The fact is, this woman seems so happy to see me and so ready to accept me without so much as a sniff.
It makes me a little sad to feel all this, and I think of my mom at the same time. Gloria Mallory is the exact opposite of this kind, Chanel-scented angel. In fact, it’s a little bemusing to be the recipient of her attention.
“Well. Cameron will take your things upstairs, of course, while you come along and meet my husband Victor. We’re so excited to finally meet you, Shaw. Such a beauty you are.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes because I’d witnessed the look that had passed between mother and son, and I am fully aware that I am very far from what either of them expected.
“Thanks. Um, are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here? I could go to a hotel.”
Please say yes. I’m in need of some alone time and a chance to analyze everything I’m feeling. It’s not easy to go from “Do not misstep or I will make you suffer” to “You are the answer to my prayers and I’m happy to see you.”
“Victor, come and meet Shaw, darling,” she trills, as we walk through a wide door that leads to a lovely sitting room that is decorated in creams and golds.
It’s as I’m trying to avoid the father’s eyes that I finally pay attention to my surroundings, and my jaw literally drops. The place is…magnificent. I’ve seen photos of real palaces, and once my professor had given a slide show of homes that had belonged to the aristocracy, but I can honestly say this place beats them all.
It’s perfect while still being inviting, and if I could, I would spend hours just exploring it all.
“Hello, dear. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
I look back down and meet the same blue eyes that had captivated me in that club all those months ago, and I feel a twinge in my chest at the sight. Rob had been blonde like his mother and blue-eyed like Victor—while Cameron has brown hair, with eyes so dark they almost look black.
“I…it’s nice to meet you, too. You have a lovely home, Mr. Stone.”
“Thank you, Shaw. Please, call me Vic.”
“Er, Vic. Thank you so much for letting me stay here while I get my life sorted out.”
“We’re not ‘letting’ you stay anywhere; you’re here for a
reason and don’t you forget it.”
“Cameron Alfred Stone!”
“No. Do not let her fool you, Mum. She refused to get the testing done, and she almost bloody salivated when she saw the house. I don’t trust her and neither should you,” he growls, shooting me a dirty glance before greeting both of his parents and walking away to get himself a drink.
I’m so tired by this time that I almost groan with relief when Vic points me to a chair and helps me into it.
“Shaw dear, would you like some tea and biscuits?”
My stomach growls so loudly I hear it echo through the room, and I blush when they all stop and stare at me, their eyes widening.
“Cameron! Please tell me you fed the girl at some point before or during the flight over here!” Mrs. Stone barks, whipping around to look at her son.
The oaf has the grace to blush before turning to look at me with a stony expression.
“That’s okay. Mrs. Stone. I wasn’t really all that hungry. It would have been wasted on me because I would have just hurled anyway.” I hurry to say, avoiding his eyes and smiling at her.
“Margery, dear. Call me Margery.”
She smiles back and relaxes before serving me a cup of tea and offering me a biscuit.
“Could you tell us how you and Rob met?”
I almost choke on my tea and splutter through a cough when all eyes turn to me curiously.
“Er, well, I was at this club, and he kind of just swept me off my feet.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her that her son was a hound dog, trolling for easy sex, and besides, by the end of the night, that had been true. He’d swept me off my feet and wooed my hymen right out of me.
“Aaah, that was my Robbie. Such a free spirit.”
Cameron snorts and goes back to staring into his glass, and I have the rare opportunity to study him without risking his anger. He’s really quite good looking, in a brooding, stodgy way.
He’s not golden or charming like Robert had been, but neither is he unattractive. He’s actually quite sexy in a prim way, and that just pisses me off.
“Yeah. He was free alright.”
Free enough to get the goods and get packing.
“So dear, we wanted to discuss your plans for the future. As you well know, our dear Robbie is no longer with us.”
I wince and try to look sympathetic when she sniffs and wipes at her eyes with a choked sob.
“Er, yeah. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Awkward!
“Ahem, like I was saying, we would like to know what you have planned. Vic and I would ideally like for you to stay on here with us so that we can be a part of the baby’s life and well…having you an ocean away is really…would you maybe consider staying?”
Oh flapjacks!
No! I want to yell and jump up and run back home, even if it means begging Gloria to let me come home, but she looks so sad I can’t stand it.
“Er, well, it’s just that I have to start applying for internships again, and if any of the places I apply to accept me…um, I’ll have to go wherever that is and—”
“Oh for God’s sake. We all know you were booted from your last placement so don’t pretend—”
“I lost the best internship in the state because I puked all over one of the new exhibits! Because I’m pregnant! I didn’t lose my job because I couldn’t do it or because I didn’t want to work!” I yell, losing my temper at the insult.
I’d worked my ass of for that job—only to lose it because the guy who’d popped my lock hadn’t made sure to check his condom.
I can literally hear crickets chirping when I finally stop hyperventilating enough to see their faces. Vic is smirking, Margery is scowling holes into her son, and Cameron is looking at me like he wants to throttle me.
Great intro Shaw. What’s next? Drinking out of the milk carton and scratching your ass in company?
Chapter Five
Shaw
Three months is a long time to be living in a foreign country with people you don’t know. And yet it’s the blink of an eye, too. I’ve spent my time going to doctor’s appointments to stop my nausea, something common to the Stone females Margery says, and spending time with her.
I love Marge, and I’d stay here forever if I could, and I’m not too proud to admit it. Everything is so easy. I’m finally at a place where I’ve gained a good amount of the weight that the doctor said I needed to put back on without counting the weight the baby would put on.
And I’ve gotten so much rest that when I’d looked in the mirror this morning, I’d almost looked behind me to make sure it was me staring back.
If nothing else, one good thing has come from this pregnancy. I’ve turned into a total hottie.
Unfortunately, since Marge insists that I nap in the afternoon, I often find myself wandering around at night. Reading, looking at the gardens, or more likely than not, raiding the refrigerator.
“You’re supposed to eat those with tea, not orange juice.” A voice drawls from the door, and I spit out a mouthful of chocolate cookies and orange juice, as a bare-chested Cameron saunters into the room, his lower half covered in a pair of loose workout shorts.
Sweet mama. Who knew the man was concealing a deadly weapon, and by that, I mean his body is ripped and so smoking hot I feel like dying from a heat wave.
“You’ve got…”
He saunters over and gingerly swipes a thumb over my chin to remove the remnants of my coughing fit.
When he shoves that thumb into his mouth and sucks off my crumbs, I’m this close to swooning. Or checking his eyes for drug use or a body snatcher.
The only times I’d seen him in the last three months, or been near enough to feel his dislike, has been those rare occasions when he’s not away on business or isn’t staying over at his London apartment.
This guy…is so not the same guy who has been insulting me at every turn, and it makes me feel…unsure.
It’s like when you’re watching a scary movie and you psyche yourself up for the next big scare and then the credits roll and you relax, only for that scary face to pop up at the last minute and totally make you brown your trousers.
That’s how I feel, like I want to relax and see where he’s going with this, but I’m tensed for the next whammy of truly horrible comments.
His eyes are lighter, and yet they’re holding an emotion I can’t quite place, but I don’t want to place it or know what’s going on with him. I want to sit here in the dark with only the microwave for lighting and enjoy the peace and my midnight snack.
He joins me though and sits quietly for a minute, his eyes scanning every inch of my body—as if he’s only now seeing me.
“You’re looking much better than you did when I first saw you.”
“Yeah. The pills the doctor gave me took care of the worst of the sickness, and then your mom’s been tube feeding me so I’ve gained back almost everything I lost.”
And maybe your long absences.
He laughs, steals a cookie to go with the milk I didn’t even see him pour, and eats silently, never taking his eyes from me. It’s disconcerting and yet strangely comfortable to have him here and not have to constantly hide my face and try to pretend I don’t exist.
I’m so used to doing it with Mom that it’s no biggie, but now that I don’t feel under attack, and I get to really see him, I’m a little scared. This man, the quiet guy who seems to be seeing right into me, is attractive—and nothing like his lying, charming brother.
And I wish I’d met him in that bar all those months ago because, if nothing else, he would have been upfront and honest, and he would have broken things off neatly instead of just skipping out on me.
“My brother must have seen something in you.”
I snort and close my eyes in disappointment and gear up for the inevitable set down.
“Sure. That would have been my gullibility—and maybe my V card. Never met a guy who would pass that up.”
That gets
his attention, and I blush and silently curse myself for letting that slip.
“You were untouched? And he just—?”
“Hit it and quit it? Yup. But not after making me feel like—”
I stop talking and shake my head. I don’t want him to know how vulnerable I am, or how much it hurt to have believed one thing while Robert had been playing another game.
And I definitely don’t want to talk about things that will, in any way, insult the exalted golden boy. Cameron just does not react well to that, and I’m too tired to put up shields against his cutting tongue.
“Making you feel like…?”
“I don’t want to talk about this if you don’t mind,” I say, crumbling a cookie onto the plate and looking away.
“Why?”
“Because you won’t believe anything I say anyway, and while I’m dumb enough to have gotten myself in this situation, I am still smart enough to know when I’m in over my head. Besides, what do you care? You still think I’m the lying cheat who’s trying to fleece your sweet mother.”
I rise and waddle to the door, very conscious of his dark eyes following my ever movement.
“Shaw.”
“What?”
“For your sake, I really hope you’re telling the truth. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yeah. It’s no biggie. I’ve been hurt my whole life. What’s one more?”
Chapter Six
Cam
It’s hell watching Shaw and Mum chatter together constantly while all I have for company is Dad and his disinterested huffs every once in a while…when he can bare to drag his attention away from the sports pages.
It’s hell because I’ve been dying to talk to her since that night in the kitchen, but the bloody woman scampers off and avoids me at every turn. She wants nothing to do with me, and who can blame her.
I can’t, because while I’m curious about what she’d been about to say, I can’t promise that my intentions are good. I still won’t entertain the thought that the child in her belly is Rob’s, not until I have irrefutable proof.
But that doesn’t stop me from noticing her seductively swollen body, and the way her face has filled out from that gaunt, haunted pallor to a nicely curved, rosy cream.
CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) Page 15
