The First Rule: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by Nicole S. Goodin

  I glance up at the sleek, black building.

  I’d never have guessed that high-end hookers were behind those shiny windows, but that’s the world we live in now. To be fair, I’m still not one hundred percent certain that she is a hooker. But logic would suggest.

  It’s been two days since I made this booking, and I still don’t know what type of fucking game plan I’m going to roll with once I get in there. I’m winging it, and I’m not sure it’s the best plan I’ve ever had.

  There will be no hiding who I am, if this woman has dealt with my good-for-nothing brother, then she’s going to recognise me on the spot. If she doesn’t – then she’s probably not the woman I’m looking for, and that scares me more than the possibility of some potentially awkward interaction.

  I don’t let myself think too hard about this not being the woman he was referring to. It has to be her. I need this before I completely lose my mind.

  I glance at my watch, mumble “fuck it,” and get out of the car.

  I’m greeted by a very attractive woman, who leads me down a narrow hallway and into a small room with a door.

  I paid my two thousand dollars upfront, with a hold on my credit card for ‘extras’. I don’t know what that means, and I was too shit scared to ask, but I make a mental note to ask Rebel later – that woman knows everything about everything.

  “When the light turns green, you can go on in,” she tells me before leaving me to sit – awkwardly as fuck – in the leather armchair outside the closed door. Everything looks and feels so plush and expensive. Whatever they’re doing here, they’re making good money.

  The light turns green, and I jump up out of the seat. I pause at the door for a moment, taking a big, deep breath, before turning the handle and pushing it inwards.

  I don’t know what I was expecting – dim lighting maybe, velvet on the bed and a woman dressed in some kind of lingerie is what immediately springs to mind when I think about hookers, but I don’t find any of that.

  There’s a bed, sure, but it’s white and fresh-looking. And Candy is fully dressed in a pink dress.

  “Hey,” I say, the word coming out without any conscious thought of what might follow it.

  She looks at my face, then moves her gaze down to my chest before flashing back to my face in surprise.

  Her eyes widen as she stares at me.

  “Jacob?” she questions. “What are you doing here?”

  I swallow deeply. I guess that answers that question.

  25

  Darcy

  “Let’s get another shot of you with your son and daughter-in-law, Mr. Steele.” The event photographer ushers us together.

  I find myself stuck in between Jacob and Conrad Steele, both of them have a hand gently resting on me, and it takes every last bit of my control not to gag at the unwanted contact.

  There are some pretty heinous places on this earth, but right now I’d consider visiting most of them if it meant I could leave this elaborately decorated ball room.

  “Smile, Darcy.” Jacob scolds me between gritted teeth of his own fake smile. “Miserable bitch isn’t the look we’re going for.”

  Ever since that night at the awards ceremony – the night that Ryan and Rebel won an award, Jacob has been even more unbearable. He’s completely dropped the act of playing nice for my sake. It’s all about public appearances. For the most part, he entirely ignores my presence, but when he does acknowledge me at home, his tone is harsh and his words nasty. When we’re out, he plays his role of ‘loving fiancé’ with all the skills of an Oscar-winning performer.

  I can’t believe I ever thought I loved this man – that I ever agreed to marry him. I was a total idiot. I was blind to his manipulation. I wanted to see the good in him, and I clung to the crumbs he fed me to keep me hooked. I was played, and I swear on the life of my unborn child, I’ll never fall for his shit again. No matter how long he keeps me locked up and under his control.

  I plaster a fake smile on my face, one that is likely to look more like a grimace, but it’s the best I can do.

  I’m no actress and being able to look happy right now would be exactly that – acting.

  We ‘smile’ for a few more clicks of the shutter and then finally they let go of me.

  It’s a small reprieve, but at least I feel like I can breathe again without their slimy, unwanted touch on my skin.

  Jacob gets called over by some business associates. He makes a show of sweeping some hair off my face and whispering in my ear, “behave yourself”, before leaving me alone to go and speak with them. Having his breath at my ear makes my skin crawl.

  “I know you don’t understand business the way we do, but you’re making a good choice here. A smart choice.”

  A choice? I’m not making a fucking choice at all. I’m being forced to do this.

  Rage surges through me, but I restrain it as I turn slowly to face the tree that the apple didn’t fall far from.

  I don’t reply as Conrad stands before me, appraising me from head to toe.

  “Pregnancy suits you.”

  “Thank you,” I murmur. I would have much rather told him to fuck off, but there are several little old ladies and their even older, considerably more powerful husbands, only a few feet away from us. Speaking my mind wouldn’t serve me well right now.

  “The two of you could really build an empire. Imagine the privileged life your children could lead if you’d just accept this for what it is.”

  Privileged life. What a complete joke. This man has obviously heavily subscribed to the view that money equals happiness.

  He couldn’t be more wrong.

  “Child,” I correct him. “Singular.”

  He chuckles, pausing to sip his drink before he answers me.

  “Maybe just one for now, but more will follow, sweet Darcy, you mark my words.”

  A chill races down my spine. There is no way in hell that I’d ever willingly have another child with Jacob as the father. No way in hell, but that’s the issue here. I’m not doing any of this willingly. I’m being forced – held at hypothetical gunpoint.

  The truth is, I have no idea how far Jacob will go… what he’d do to get what he wants.

  I feel bile rise up my throat and my hand instinctively flies to my mouth. I’m going to vomit – absolutely no doubt about it.

  “I’m leaving,” I choke out.

  I rush towards the exit. I don’t miss the comment about pregnancy sickness from one of the women as I flee the scene, my hand still covering my mouth in a feeble attempt to stop the vomit I know is threatening.

  I make it out the front door and into the nearby, perfectly trimmed hedges before I empty the contents of my stomach.

  I feel Jacob behind me, he’s explaining to some concerned bystander that I’m pregnant, and his hand is resting on the small of my back, but I block him out. This display isn’t for me, or for comfort, it’s for prying eyes.

  I can’t keep doing this. I won’t. I don’t know when or how, but one of these days, I’m going to get myself out of this mess and get as far away from this man as I can.

  I rub my hand across my stomach and make a promise to my baby, that this will not be our life.

  26

  Ryan

  “Are you sure this is okay?” I ask for the hundredth time.

  Candy – Abbey – is driving me back to her place so I can meet her son. My nephew. I still can’t fucking barely believe the series of events that have unfolded within the past hour.

  Once Abbey settled down and had a look at my ID, she started talking and she hasn’t stopped.

  She’s twenty-five years old, and about three and a half years ago, Jacob got her pregnant. I didn’t ask for too many details on that particular occasion, but from what I gather, she was a stripper at the time and had been hired to dance for a group of men at a buck’s night – a buck’s night that Jacob attended.

  Apparently, she gave birth before Jacob found out about the kid, and he was less than i
mpressed when Abbey came to him six months later, out of money, and saying he was the baby’s father.

  He demanded a DNA test, and when that proved he was indeed the father, he paid her off. One hundred thousand dollars upfront and ten thousand every month since.

  He’s been buying her silence with those payments I saw coming out of his account.

  “It’s more than okay, Ryan, Trent will be so excited to meet an uncle. He knows so little about his father’s side of the family... unsurprising given he doesn’t even know his father.”

  That comment makes me feel like shit, even though I know it’s in no way my fault, or my burden to bear.

  “He never visits you guys?”

  She shakes her head but keeps her eyes on the road. “He hasn’t seen Trent since he was a six-month-old baby. He’ll be three this year. He sends the money, which is very generous; it’s a lot of money.”

  I don’t think there’s any amount of money in the world that can make up for an absent father, but I don’t say that to her. It’s obvious she longs for a father-son relationship for her son, but she’s accepted she’ll never get it.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.” Her eyes dart towards me and then back front and centre.

  “I don’t know your situation, of course, but if Jacob is paying you regularly, why are you still working there?” I sling my thumb over my shoulder.

  She sighs heavily. “Same reason I started it in the first place. I took on all my parents’ debt when they died. It was fine for a while, but I had about a year off work when Trent was born, and I’ve never got those clients back. The hundred grand Jacob paid me went straight onto their loan, but that’s not all of it. There are monthly repayments, interest… they weren’t the most honest people – their situation was a lot worse than I thought. Some people actually think the house fire that killed them was an attempt at an insurance payout gone wrong. I thought it was absurd when I first heard that rumour, but now I think maybe they were onto something.”

  “Holy shit,” I mutter.

  This chick is doing it tough.

  She shrugs. “It’s not so bad. My brother helps out, but it’s a struggle to make ends meet sometimes.”

  She turns down a quiet street and then into the driveway of a small, but tidy house.

  “I don’t mean to condone blackmail, but why didn’t you just ask Jacob for more money? I’m sure you know he’s got plenty of it.”

  She turns the key, and the engine goes quiet.

  It’s an old modest car, but much like the house, it appears well cared for.

  “I didn’t want to be that girl… you know? The one who got knocked up and then forced the dad to pay up big. I went to him when I had no other choice. He offered the other money, so I took it.” She lolls her head to the side and meets my gaze. “I’ve been called ‘white trash’ all my life. Just for once, I’d like to not live up to that name. And then there’s the fact that I’m terrified that if I don’t stay quiet and play nice, he’ll find a way to take Trent from me.”

  I don’t think she’s white trash at all. Being a stripper and an escort is certainly not the ideal lifestyle for her, but she’s doing what she has to do to keep a roof over her and her son’s head. I also can’t blame her for the fear she has about Jacob – Darcy is living proof that he would stoop that low.

  “Let’s go in, he’ll need to go to bed soon.” She tips her head towards the house.

  I feel nervous as shit as I climb out of her car. I don’t know why… this isn’t my kid. I haven’t abandoned anyone, but I share blood with someone who has, and that’s enough to have my stomach doing somersaults.

  I follow her up the small path and through the front door.

  The house is basic, but cosy. It feels like a home. There’s a basket of toys in the corner and photos everywhere of Abbey and Trent.

  I don’t care what she thinks of herself, I already know she’s a good mother doing her absolute best.

  “Trent? I’m home!” she calls out.

  There’s a guy sitting on the couch in the other room who is looking at me curiously, he must be around my age – I assume this is Abbey’s brother, but I don’t get an introduction.

  A little boy with dark blonde hair comes barrelling into the room, stopping right in front of me.

  I crouch down before him, taking in every inch of his gorgeous little face before finally meeting his eyes. Bright green eyes, a perfect mirror image of mine look back at me.

  Any doubts I had up until this moment, vanish. Even thoughts of making Jacob pay momentarily disappear. All I see is this little boy – my flesh and blood, and I soak in the feeling of knowing I love him already.

  “He was so incredible, Reb, so smart. He knows how to count to ten.”

  “I know.” She smirks. “You told me already.”

  I rub my brow. “Did I? Sorry.”

  She smiles at me. “Don’t be sorry, it’s good to see you smiling again. Proud uncle looks good on you.”

  She’s right. I feel better than I have in ages, and not only because of Trent, but because I have hope. I have something Jacob wants to keep hidden. I have leverage to get my family back, because that’s what Darcy and the baby are; they’re my family.

  I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I know I’ve still got a way to go, I’m running on a hunch here – assuming that Darcy still loves me, but the more sleep I get, the clearer my head becomes, and I can say now with almost one hundred percent certainty that she does. She belongs with me. The facts are all right here in front of me, I just have to finish this once and for all so they can come home where they belong.

  “So, is this chick cool with you using her and the kid as blackmail for brother dearest?”

  I don’t particularly like it being worded that way, but that’s the gist of it.

  “She told me to do what I had to do.”

  After Trent had finally gone to bed, about an hour past his bedtime, Abbey and I had sat and talked for hours with her brother Adam.

  I told them everything, every little thing from the very beginning, and when I was done, I knew I had allies for life.

  Abbey trusts me not to put them in danger, but she was clear – I needed to get Darcy out of there and if that meant threatening to go to the media about her and Trent, then that’s what I needed to do. She even went as far to say that she’d go to the media herself if she had to. Adam was less thrilled about that plan, but I assured them both that it wouldn’t come to that.

  I know Jacob, and I know he’d let hell freeze over before he let a story like that get out about himself.

  “She sounds like a badass,” Rebel replies, impressed.

  “She is. She’s young, but she’s been through a lot. I admire her strength.”

  It isn’t lost on me that she and Darcy aren’t all that different in a lot of ways, they’ve both lost their parents, they’re both being manipulated by the same man. They’ve both lost control of their own lives at one point or another. I think when this whole thing is over, they could even be friends. I hope so. I fully intend for Abbey and Trent to be part of our lives.

  “So, what’s the plan? We go in there; all guns blazing and tell him what’s up?”

  I’m fucking around on my computer, so when the new email comes in, I see it right away.

  “I was thinking something slightly more tactful,” I murmur as I click on the notification and wait for the email to load.

  It’s the fake email account Rebel had me create to get hold of Jacob’s medical files, which can only mean they’ve arrived.

  I can’t imagine there’s anything in here that’s going to be more leveraging than an illegitimate child with a professional sex worker, but it sure as shit can’t hurt to look. Rebel might find something she finds entertaining.

  “Tactful is boring.”

  I don’t reply.

  “Do you ever think about what might have happened if you’d just told her, if you’d been up
front with her when you first realised what had happened?”

  Five years ago:

  “Sorry I’m late,” I call out as I rummage around in the fridge for a beer.

  My mother hates it when I’m late, but I’m not exactly a big fan of the woman who gave birth to me, so I’m not all that concerned about her giving me a sour look. I’m sick to death of these bullshit family dinners she makes us do.

  “We’ve started without you,” my father replies.

  I pop the top off the beer and make my way into the dining room.

  I’m ready to spin a yarn about the work project I was working on that has made me late. The reality is that I’m still trying to find her.

  The woman from the bar.

  She’s consumed me.

  “The Ryman project took –” I start to say as I step into the room, my eyes scanning the table and landing on a blonde head.

  My heart thumps in my chest, my blood pumping faster through my veins.

  It’s her.

  I blink once, twice, three times, but I’m not imagining it. She’s here.

  “Barbie.” The word leaves my lips on a whisper, but no one hears it as Jacob speaks over me.

  “Ryan, this is Darcy – my girlfriend.”

  The world starts to spin.

  I meet my brother’s gaze and I can tell. He knows. The smug bastard took her from me, and he knows exactly how much it’s killing me.

  Of course I’ve thought about that. The what if. There’s been times in my life where I’ve struggled to think about anything else. But that doesn’t matter now. It’s too late for could haves or should haves. The reality is that I didn’t.

  I wave Rebel over and she slides her chair around, looking over my shoulder. “Ooooooh,” she coos, distracted from her prior question.

  I skim past all the small talk bullshit from the nurse and open the main file attached.

  Broken toe, persistent cough… dislocated thumb…

  Nothing exciting over those years.