Her Designer Baby: (Loving Over 40 Book 1)

by Washington, Shawna

  Emilio gives me a slow rising smile. A smile that might as well have a few feathers poking out of the corners of his mouth. He takes a step to the side, regards me with slow moving eyes. It’s a predatory gaze and everything inside of me tenses...readies. “Relax, Radiah. No need to be so jumpy. You’re right. I’m not here for a mint. I never wanted a damn mint. But what I do want really isn’t so much either. Because all I want from you is some information. All I want is for you to tell me about him.”

  “What? Who?” I hear the sharp escalation of tension rise in my own voice. Again, I tell myself to stay calm.

  Be calm. Alexei has hammered this into my head. Over and over again, he’s drilled me on what I need to do if I ever feel threatened, if I ever feel cornered. And everything that I’d learned in that self-defense class is moving through my thoughts too. It’s all vying for my attention and everything feels heightened right now, everything. It feels like I can even smell his scent from here and with all of that cologne he wears, I probably can.

  Emilio paces another step nearer. There’s something predatory in his stride, something angry in his eyes.

  I tell myself to focus. Focus. Nothing else matters right now. Right now, it’s him, and it’s me. I don’t know what he wants, or why he is here, but instinct tells me to stay sharp, to stay aware.

  “I think you know who.” He shrugs. “I need to know about your ex-boyfriend. The man that let you down. The man that doesn’t share your dreams. Your Russian boyfriend. Your Russian mafia boyfriend. Alexei.” He says the name like it is a bad taste in his mouth, like it is a physical thing he is drawing straighter against. A thing that is like dirt. His hands curl at his sides, a mimicry of fists. “Tell me about him, Radiah. I want to know where he likes to go. I want to know what he likes to do. You know.” He sneers. “What he likes to do besides doing you.”

  Alexei. He knows his name. I don’t remember if I’d told him his name that first night we’d met in the bar. I don’t think I had though. How much does Emilio know? And why does he know it? Had this whole thing between us been a ruse? Had he been watching me that night when I’d left the apartment?

  Suddenly, the way he was going through my purse takes a whole new sinister meaning.

  “No.” I’m not going to be cowed by him. Is Alexei in danger? Of course, in some ways, I know he’s always in danger but, right now, this danger seems... immediate. Alexei would chide me for thinking of him now. I can almost hear his voice, I can almost feel his displeasure with me for this small way I’m letting my guard down.

  “Is that why you were going through my purse? You were looking for something about him?” Had he been looking for information about Alexei? “Why do you want to know about him?”

  Again, I hear Alexei. His voice is so clear to me it’s like he’s right here in the room too.

  Radiah, keep your eyes on him. Keep your focus. Protect yourself. For me.

  Emilio ignores my questions. He simply goes on, ticking down a list that makes my blood go cold. This is the kind of information someone might ask if they were planning a hit. I’ve watched too many movies on Lifetime not to know it.

  “I just want to know Alexei’s routine. Does he have a certain restaurant he likes to go to? Does he go to the same gym everyday at five p.m.? See? Simple things, really. Then I’ll leave you alone. You won’t have to worry about me coming after you. We’ll be done. And, as an added bonus, you’ll be free from him too.”

  Worry about him coming after me? It sounds like a threat. No...more than that. It doesn’t sound like a threat...it is a threat.

  I’m not going to be cowed by anyone. And definitely not by a man who thinks he’s going to use me to get my…to get to Alexei. “I have nothing to say to you. Not about him. Not about anything. I told you to go at the apartment and I meant it. And if I see you following me? Or see you sitting outside of my house or my job, I’m going to call the police. See, that’s really simple too. Now. Excuse me, Emilio.” There is emphasis on that word for a reason. If he tries to stop me...It’s going to be war. I won’t let him intimidate me. Shouldering my pack a little tighter and higher up on my back, I walk towards the door. I keep my eyes on him; I keep my head held high.

  Don’t let him see the fear, I tell myself. Don’t let him think he can—

  He moves so quickly I don’t see him coming, I only feel the impression of him looming, feel his hands wrap around either side of my waist. Pulling me backwards, and turning me as he’s pulling, he jerks me around hard so I’m facing him.

  “Trust me.” There’s emphasis on that word from him. A joke. He’s laughing at me because that’s exactly what I did do. I’d trusted him. “You’ll talk, Radiah.” His palm slides down lower, then closes on my hip, jerking me tighter. His eyes glare. “I have ways. Persuasive ways. We don’t go want to go there. Just tell me what I need to know. You told me how horrible he was. He was an asshole. Remember? Remember how happy you were to be free from him?”

  The adrenaline throbs so loud in my ears I can’t even hear and I don’t think about what I’m doing now. I act. Remembering back to the self-defense class Carla and I took, and remembering how Alexei has told me over and over again to trust my gut and to never hesitate, I lift my knee and I strike up towards his groin. I hit him there between his thighs. Hard.

  Gasping, Emilio’s hands drop from my waist and in that split second I turn and I run. I don’t look back and I don’t stop. This time I don’t wait for the elevator. Without breaking stride, I push the door open to the stairwell and I run down the whole seven flights until I reach the lobby. Outside of the building, I don’t even stop for my bike. I just keep running. I run the whole way up Riverside Drive, and all of the way across the streets, all of the way back to the apartment building.

  “Miss Radiah!” Eric calls to me as I dash past him. His eyes are wide with concern; wide with surprise. I don’t want to wait for the elevator.

  The door to the stairwell slams behind me. There are paintings hanging on the walls. Even the stairwell in this building feels like a museum. Today, those paintings seem to stare as I rush past them. It feels like there are eyes everywhere. It feels like I’m being watched, like I’m being stared at, and it’s a feeling I can’t shake, not even now.

  I can’t stop trembling.

  I don’t stop running. I take step after step, round the curves at the landings without pausing.

  Radiah

  I run right past the two men at the door, straight into the penthouse. I just keep going; I keep running down the hall.

  “Alexei!” I don’t know if I’m more scared of what just happened or more scared of what I might find. Was Emilio trying to hurt Alexei? Why would he be asking me about him? The way he’d threatened me, the way he’d said ‘I have ways, Radiah,’I can’t make it stop looping, stop repeating. I see his eyes. I hear his voice.

  ‘Tell me about Alexei.’

  Am I too late? The bodyguards are outside the door but still, anything could have happened inside of the apartment. A hundred different scenarios run through my mind, each one worse than the last. Poison? Has Emilio already been here?

  Where is he?

  “Alexei!” I shout his name now.

  “Radiah.”

  At the sound of his voice I spin around. Alexei. He’s standing at the door to the office. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his biceps and his eyes are on my eyes and he looks so whole, so alive and so good that I want to run to him.

  Striding forward, he looks me over, and then looks back up. “What’s wrong?” It is not really a question. It is a demand.

  “Emilio. He…”

  I shake my head. I’m shaking all over.

  Alexei takes another step towards me. He holds his hand out to me. His eyes don’t leave my eyes.

  I don’t intend to take his hand. I don’t intend to press near to him, to press against him. But I do, and when I do, I shudder.

  “Easy,” he says. His arm goes around me. His arm is so stron
g. His hand drifts, soft and warm down my back. “You’re safe.”

  “Emilio. He came into my office. He asked me about you. When I said I wouldn't say anything, he grabbed at me.”

  Very softly, Alexei says, “Did he hurt you?”

  Shaking my head against his chest I press nearer to him. “I think he wanted to. I didn’t let him. I kneed him. In the groin. As hard as I could. And then I ran. I ran all the way here.”

  His hand rises to smooth down my hair.

  “I met him in a bar. The night I left. He…” I feel so silly saying this to the man I love, to the man I ache for. “I just wanted. Alexei. I want us. So much, I want us. But… I was hurting. And he was...there.”

  Gathering me against him, he takes a step back, to the couch. His arms are so gentle around me I don’t expect him to take me with him, to lift me down into his lap. Sometimes I forget how strong Alexei is. He is so strong he can do things this way, gently; he is so strong his strength seems like something to take for granted.

  Looking down into his eyes as he leans back against his couch, he keeps his hands light on my hips. I can see the hurt in his eyes. I want him to understand. But I don’t even understand myself. Emilio had excited me. I can’t deny that. “He said all of the right things, Alexei.” I roll my eyes a little, at myself. “Said all of the right things in that smooth Italian accent. And I… I fell for it.”

  I see something shift in his eyes, and then, I see him push that look away. His hands lift away from my hips. He sets them on the couch. “Italian,” he repeats.

  I nod.

  Drawing a deep breath, Alexei looks away from me. His shoulders are heavy. “This is my fault, Radiah. If this man was asking about me, I suspect I know why.” He looks back at me. His eyes are filled with a quiet pain. A different kind of pain. It makes my heart go tight. And before he speaks, I know. I know something terrible has happened. My heart fills with dread.

  “Boris is dead.”

  The pang of sorrow stings through me, sharp, vibrant. Not this. Not that. Not Boris.

  It takes me a long moment to find words, to find any words.

  “Oh. Alexei.” I touch his chest with my fingertips. Beneath the cotton shirt, his chest rises with another slow, deep breath. I know how close he was to Boris. Alexei isn’t the same as I am—he doesn’t do the kinds of things with his friends that I do with mine. But I know, inside, it’s the same. In a way, Alexei has lost his Carla and even though he’s not showing it, I know the pain must be excruciating. I hadn’t known Boris well at all, but I’d known him enough to know he’d been a good man. I’d known him well enough to know why he held a special place in Alexei’s heart. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shakes his head. He won’t let the pain show in his eyes, but I know him well enough to know it is there. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” His hand half lifts, then lowers again. His eyes are burning. “Radiah. You…” He bites at his bottom lip. He takes another long pause. His voice sounds rough, like it is dragging across some dry, raw space inside of himself. “You said you fell for him.”

  I shake my head. I can’t take my eyes away from his eyes. I don’t want to. I want to lose myself there. I want to be there. I want to be here, I don’t want to be anywhere else. I never did. “Not like that. Not like us. Not like you.” Shifting in his lap, drawing my legs a little higher so my thighs are over his, I set my other hand against his chest. My fingers curl there. “There’s never been anyone like you. Not for me. He told me he wanted the same things I want, Alexei. And in that moment...” I let my words trail off.

  “I wanted you too much, wanted a future with you so much, I knew I had to walk away from you.” It’s so hard to explain how the idea of making him unhappy, and him making me unhappy, seemed even worse than being together and being unhappy. He’s been a light in my life, and I know I’ve been a light in his. It had seemed to me that being unhappy because of being apart hurt much less than being the ones to cause each other pain. Hurting Alexei isn’t something I could I ever forgive myself for. “But it hurt more than I could have ever imagined to be apart.”

  Again, my words become silence. Not because I trail off. But because he is kissing me. My words fall into his mouth and he takes them, and he takes little bits of my body with the smallest parts of his hands. His hands are lifting, slowly, and setting his palms flat against my hips. Because he is leaning forward and I feel the graze of his strong chest brush against my breasts. My words trail off because his lips are on my lips, because his lips are parting my lips, because the heat of his kiss makes me whimper instead of forming coherent words.

  Do I want this? Even kissing him, even as I press nearer to his body, even as my thighs widen over his, I force myself to think. I don’t want to do something I will regret. I don’t want to hurt him, and I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want lust to carry us away. But I know it’s so much more than that. I know as I kiss him back, as I run my hands down his sides, feel his hands running up mine, that I’ve never stopped loving him. I don’t think loving Alexei is a choice anymore. I’m not sure I can’t stop.

  I’ve loved him all along. I want this. I want him. I want us.

  * * *

  He lifts me in his arms, to hold me as he stands. Our bodies come together. Lowering my head, I kiss him. My whole body shivers, delights in the touch of him, in the scent of him, in the nearness of him. It’s like coming back to a place I feel utterly comfortable in—but that comfortable feeling makes it no less exciting. Instead, it seems to make it even more exciting. Everything seems enhanced, seems more vibrant. It’s as though all of the places his fingers brush against stir awake from some slumber. It’s like the warm, soft hush of his breathing against my neck stirs my own breathing into drawing down deeper. A windswept kind of heat fires through me.

  My own hands don’t stop moving. I want to touch him all over. I want…

  Pushing my hands down against Alexei’s shoulders, I coax him down to the carpeted floor. I don’t want to wait.”Alexei,” I murmur through the open and closing of our lips, our kisses. “Please.”

  He does what I want him to do. With his arms still wrapped around me, he goes down to the ground—him on his knees and me on mine. In front of each other, against each other, we kiss, we touch. I can see his eyes in the shadows, and he is looking at me and I am looking at him. Our looking becomes touching too. We look at each other as though we haven’t seen each other in too long—because we haven’t. Because even the short amount of time we’ve been apart has been too much.

  I know now. I want to sacrifice anything, everything, to be with this man.

  I know this because I know now—this is the man I love, and this is the man I will always love. This is the man that makes me feel loved. This is the man I want to spend the rest of my lifetime, my minutes, my seconds, and my hours with.

  I want to say it, but I don’t want to use words. I think Alexei is thinking—and feeling—the same thing I am. Usually, he takes control at these times, mostly because I love it when he does that. But right now, I want to take some control. I want to take some control and show him how much I’ve missed him and how much I want him.

  Still exerting pressure against his shoulders, I push him, coaxing him down onto lying flat on his back.

  On my knees beside him, I take a moment just to look at him. He is so beautiful. I’d never say it to him, I don’t think men like him would understand being called beautiful. But he is. All of the hard angles of his jaw, all of the roughness of the stubble, the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows. With my eyes pinning him, I undo the buttons on his shirt one by one. From the top down, I watch the two halves of the shirt part. In the center, his beautiful, muscular chest gleams like the long, taut structure of a ridgeline coming free of the clouds.

  My mind feels almost hazy with want, with need, with lust. He lifts up a little, uses the muscles in his stomach to bring his shoulders off the ground, just enough for me to slip the shirt off of him
. He is reaching for me now, but I push his hands away. I’m not done with him yet.

  My little smirk makes him know this; makes him lay back flat again while I scoot down, to take his shoes and his socks off. I take them off one by one before I rise higher to my knees and reach up for his belt. Undoing the buckle slowly, I look at him. He’s looking at me. I think he’s about to say something but, as I get the buckle undone, I hold one finger up over my lips.

  We can talk later. Right now, I just want him. My fingers are trembling as I undo the button, then the zipper. When I get the pants and boxers lowered down his hips, and then down the broad, thick width of his thighs and his calves, I take a moment to survey. I take a moment to thrill in my man. With him naked and big and dark in front of me, seeing how he grows just with the soft, brushing touches of my fingertips against his thighs, he is intoxicating. I know his body as well as he knows mine. I know how to make him react; I know how to make his eyes darken, I know how to make those long, deep shudders come down through his shoulders.