Tempt the Boss_A Forbidden Bad Boy Romance

by Katie Ford

  Nana looked at me with sorrowful eyes, unsure of what to say, unable to provide any comfort.

  “Baby, he a man, dem men, dey unpredictable and do what dey want,” she said, one night as I chopped vegetables with her before dinner. These days, I took all my meals in my room, and barely spoke to anyone, instead confining myself to the office and bedroom.

  “You bettah off without him,” she said, shaking her head as Trina’s high tinkering laughter wafted through the air again. It was followed by a low growl from Dominic and then a high-pitched squeal, as if he’d just swept her off her feet into his arms.

  I felt tears welling in my eyes, and Nana covered my hand with her own. “Move on,” she said comfortingly. “He not worth it, especially with you da pregnant,” she said nodding at my belly. “You go make your own life.”

  I gasped. “How did you know I was pregnant?”

  “Oh honey,” she said. “I been a mother to eight, you think I don’t know when a woman be carryin’? I know the moment you arrive,” she said.

  “Does Dominic know?” I asked, my hands flying to my cheeks. Oh my god.

  “No, dat man have no clue,” said Nana. “But you be showin’ soon, so he will know,” she said. “You best leave before your heart get more broken,” she advised.

  “I know, Nana, I know, but how do I leave?” I cried. “I already tried once, and totally failed,” I said, referring to my efforts with the Sea-Doo.

  Nana was quiet for a while, saying nothing as she continued to chop. But then she spoke in a low voice.

  “Child, da man from da Big Island come tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “Bringing supplies. You leave with him,” she said, with a resolute shake of her head.

  “Thank you Nana!” I cried, throwing my arms around her, hot tears of relief streaming down my face. I knew she was risking her job, her livelihood, and her very way of life on Koh-i-Noor by helping me escape.

  “I’ll come back for you, I promise,” I sobbed, trying to gulp back my tears.

  But I felt a warm hand on my head, Nana’s own eyes suspiciously watery. “Go child, don’t worry about us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Becca

  And that’s how I found myself in a small motorboat, puttering my way to the Big Island with an old fisherman at the helm. Koh-i-Noor grew distant, slowly receding in the horizon as the ocean grew large in front of us. As luck would have it, Dominic and Trina had left for a day-long island tour, complete with packed lunch and plenty of sunscreen. By the time they got back, I’d be long gone, safely away.

  But my heart felt heavy. I rubbed my belly absentmindedly, not even sure that I was doing the right thing. I’d hoped that maybe, somehow, Dominic would want to be a part of his child’s life, but with Trina in the picture, it was impossible. My sister was too selfish to open her heart to another person’s child, and definitely not if that child was competing for Dominic’s love. And so it would be only my baby and me … for now, at least.

  Read A Baby for the Billionaire 4 next

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Becca

  I’ve taken Nate and settled into a little town in New Hampshire, the bleak New England landscape a vast change from the tropical lushness of Koh-i-Noor. We enjoy a quiet life here, taking pleasure in simple things such as Nate’s discovery of snowflakes, or his first bite of food. What a mess that was!

  My life with my son is so different from my old existence. I remember giving birth to him, alone at the hospital, a young girl terrified, tired and anxious. After the baby was put in my arms, I’d looked at him with trepidation, halfway wishing that he’d never been born. But then Nate opened his eyes, smiling at me, and I’d fallen in love.

  Because my son is light of my life. He’s adorable, with chubby cheeks and deep blue eyes that remind me of his father. He’s curious about the world, his little hands waggling, reaching for the stars already. And I want to give him everything. I left the TV station to work freelance as a journalist and editor. The money’s not great, but it means that Nate only has to be at daycare for a few hours each day.

  I usually wrote demonically when Nate was out of the house, conscious that I needed to use every second wisely. But uncharacteristically, I’d taken a break that day, switching off my computer for a brisk stroll to the local book store. Dominic’s most recent bestseller had hit the shelves, and there’s been a line at the local bookstore for fresh copies. Unobtrusively, I’d stood in the queue, quiet as Dominic’s handsome mien stared at me from his author photo.

  I don’t know what to say. I do miss Dominic. Even after everything that happened, the kidnapping, the escape attempt, the wretched fiasco of Trina’s visit, I sometimes lay awake at night, in that half-awake and half-dreaming state, fantasizing about what could have been. I saw a side of Dominic that I absolutely adored, the big man gentle, caring, and tender, sensitive and true. But he’d broken my heart. By taking up with my twin sister, I’d realized that there were many facets to the man, and that he could be domineering and callous – hurting me without even trying.

  I shook myself. I’d done the right thing, removing my baby and myself from his magnetic, charismatic presence.

  Even so, I looked over the book again, my fingers wistfully trailing over the beautiful cover. Money was tight so I’d splurged by buying a hardback, but I wanted to read it just once, as a bittersweet memory, before shelving it and turning back to reality.

  Slowly, I opened the volume. “Mariner’s Revenge,” the title page read. Good title. Dominic was quite the mariner himself, and had drawn from his experiences at sea to form the backdrop for the tale. The physical pages inside were made of heavy, durable paper, and I admiringly rubbed them between my fingertips, luxuriating in the tactile pleasure. Suddenly, the blood drained from my face and I literally stopped breathing. Because the dedication read,

  Little One, for you.

  I hope this finds you

  Wherever you are.

  No, it couldn’t be. Dominic had often called me Little One during that sweet, brief interlude at Koh-i-Noor. I’d allowed myself to believe that I was someone special by his use of the endearment, convinced that I was more than a quick fuck, a convenient lay for the big man.

  Could Dominic be sending me a message, however unlikely, through his new book? My fingers trembled, and I rushed home, the volume clutched in my hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Dominic

  Dammit! I was staring at the phone again, willing for her to call. I was a mental and physical mess. Everything I’d done in the past year had been completely fucked up, and I only had myself to blame.

  There was simply no excuse for my lunatic behavior. After my younger brother told me he was going to propose to Trina, I’d swung into action, sure that the gold-digger would reveal her true colors when a richer man came along.

  I’d accosted the redhead at the catering event, convinced that the luscious, curvy girl had to be the temptress Trina. And she’d been sweet and innocent, her body giving and plush as she spent one memorable, earth-shattering night in my arms, sweetly writhing with pleasure, utterly responsive and giving.

  The redhead had been shocked the next morning when I’d accused her of seducing Caleb, explaining that she was actually Becca, Trina’s twin.

  But I’d refused to believe it. Because … I wanted to keep her for myself. This has been the hardest admission for me. I was jealous that my twenty-one year old brother had found someone so sweet, so giving and delicious, whereas I was nearing my forties after a string of failed relationships. I wanted this girl … and so I kept her.

  I don’t know what bizarre rationalizations ran through my head, but it must have been bad. I kidnapped Becca to my own private island, basically turning her into a sex slave. But it had become something more. I respected the woman, her sweet demeanor, her pleasure in nature and beauty, and her keen, discerning intelligence. She’d helped edit my latest book, and it was only right that I dedicated it to my “Little
One.”

  But I’d gone and fucked everything up again. Caleb had called from New York, ecstatically declaring that Trina had accepted his proposal. It was then that I knew for sure that Becca was in fact a twin. I’d already known in my heart of hearts that the girl I loved couldn’t be a ruthless gold-digger, but now the real Trina was making her move.

  I’d contacted Trina and basically bribed her. If she didn’t marry Caleb, I’d buy her a garish diamond necklace, which was already waiting for her at Tiffany’s. Sure enough, the girl made a trip to the store that very same day, and broke off the engagement.

  But I wanted to get the bitch away from Caleb, period, so I flew Trina to Koh-i-Noor, my island paradise. It was a fucking disaster. The blood had immediately drained from Becca’s face when she realized who was deplaning, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears at her sister’s callous comments. I’d overheard everything, though I pretended not to.

  And I’d added fuel to the fire, spending my free time with Trina, basically ignoring Becca to cavort about the island with her sister. Nana’s eyes had followed me sadly whenever I returned, saying nothing but also everything at once.

  “Becca, she in her room alone again,” she said.

  “Oh Becca will be fine,” I’d said carelessly. “Trina’s just here for a while.”

  But Nana just shook her head sadly, and sure enough, one day Becca was gone.

  I’d gone into a furious rage, racing the ATV like a madman all over the island, scanning the seas for some sign of life.

  But Nana had shook her head again and merely said, “She at da Big Island now.”

  I knew immediately that Becca had hitched a ride with the delivery boat, and was likely long gone by now. My heart had dropped, my face hot with shame, when I realized the humiliation she must have endured. A man she’d freely given herself to, sweetly and with no reserve, was likely fucking her twin sister now right under her nose. Of course she’d left! I berated myself, sinking into a deep depression.

  And Trina was a piece of work. She couldn’t understand why I was devastated over Becca’s departure when she was the more beautiful, glamorous twin.

  “Becca’s just an editor, you can find one of those anywhere,” she’d scoffed after my second day of gloom. “Why, I could do her work myself,” she’d said.

  “Hands off my manuscript,” I’d snarled. “You’ve barely got enough brains for half a person, much less the wit and intelligence of your sister.”

  She’d been shocked, genuinely surprised that any man would pick Becca over herself. But she’d flounced off, not caring what happened so long as her material needs were met.

  “You’re not even a man!” she’d screamed shrilly. “You were always too scared to fuck me, fucking asshole!” she cursed.

  Because I’d never touched Trina, always rebuffing her physical advances. I don’t know, it just made me sick to share something so special, so sacred with another woman after I’d spent those magical nights with Little One. Everyone else seemed polluted or rotted, especially the garbage that was Trina.

  I’d turned away resolutely, my face set in stone. There was nothing Trina could say that would rattle me, I just didn’t care about her. But Becca … oh god, what have I done?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Becca

  I stared at the phone, so ordinary and yet threatening. I could easily call Dominic, just as a pretense to congratulate him about the book’s publication. But I knew I was playing with fire because emotions run deep … at least on my part. He was probably still sleeping with my sister, and a pang raced through my heart at the thought.

  No, I decided. Not today. I won’t tell him about his son today.

  Another year passed, Nate and I enjoying our simple lives, the baby growing fast, healthy and chubby with inquisitive, sparkling eyes. He was really a darling, and looked more like his father each day. His hair was dark brown, starting to wave just like his dad’s, and he had the same crystal clear blue eyes which would widen with mirth at his favorite cartoon characters.

  I got dressed in a nice blouse and fitted jeans. Folks at the town had embraced me when they realized I was a single mother with a baby. They invited me to neighborhood picnics, fun, communal activities where everyone brought something to share, and soon I found myself enjoying life a bit more, making friends and even going out occasionally.

  Today I was attending a reading at the local book store by an author of some renown. A local children’s chef had hit the big time with his cooking show, and was going to do a reading from his new autobiography, complete with complimentary cupcakes.

  “Come on Nate, let’s go sweetie,” I said, strapping my boy into his stroller. Just like his dad, he was going to be at least six four or six five.

  “Mama!” he gurgled, waving his favorite stuffed elephant.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” I said, as he tried to give it to me. “Mama loves you.”

  I wheeled him outside and strolled to the bookstore, enjoying the autumn day. The store wasn’t too crowded, but that was okay, as Nate’s stroller could be cumbersome to manage in a crowd. We’d just stand in the back, maybe nibble at a cupcake, and leave quietly once the reading was done.

  I wheeled the carriage into the store, feeling a strange tingle, but shook it off as weird vibes. I was greeted by Greg, a local man who’d shown some interest in me. He was the book store’s manager, a kindly, balding middle-aged guy, with soft, gentle hands.

  “Hey Becca,” he said. “Hi little guy,” he said to Nate, my son gurgling with recognition and shaking his rattle. “We’ve got a great crowd here today.”

  But something was off. I’d expected a bunch of moms with their kids, but most of the audience was professionals, dressed nicely in tailored clothes, nice work outfits.

  “Am I at the right event?” I asked. “It’s Karl Creeson today, right? The children’s chef?”

  “No, not today,” chuckled Greg. “It’s Dominic Patterson, multi-billionaire best-selling author. Green Light Books is lucky to get someone of his stature,” he confided, leaning close. “Seems that he’s been relentlessly touring, hell-bent on promoting this new book.”

  The world seemed to close around me. Suddenly, I knew why I’d had that tingling feeling when I walked in. Dominic was here! And sure enough, I turned around to bump into his massive frame.

  “Becca,” he rumbled, his hand grasping me tightly on my elbow. He was even more gorgeous than I remembered, his blue eyes just as penetrating, just as divine, although he was deathly pale at the moment, his eyes boring into mine.

  “And who’s this?” he ground out.

  “Oh Greg, meet Dominic,” I said, trying to hide my consternation. I was flustered, my face hot and my heart going at a million miles an hour, but I didn’t want Dom to know.

  But before Greg could get a greeting in, Dominic’s hand tightened painfully on my elbow and he swung me around towards the stroller.

  “No, Little One,” he growled threateningly. “I meant, who’s this?” he indicated, jerking his head at Nate, his brows ominously drawn.

  My baby had fallen asleep, thankfully, so as not to be disturbed by the dangerous undercurrents passing through the air. His face was as angelic as a cherub in rest, his cheeks sweetly slack, his mouth a baby pout.

  “Um …” I stammered. “This is Nate, my son,” I said slowly.

  “Little One,” he ground out, by this time his hand a painful vise on my arm. “I’m only going to ask once. Is the baby mine?”

  The question hung between us, lingering in the air, all else fading into black.

  “Yes Dominic,” I said quietly, looking into his eyes. “Nate is your son too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Dominic

  The world blurred around me and I literally thought that I’d faint, right there in the middle of the bookstore. The appearance of Becca had blown me out of the water. I could hardly believe my eyes, but there was no one else with that luscious figure, the masses of
strawberry blonde hair. My Little One was right here, in this tiny New Hampshire town!

  But I’d almost blacked out with anger when I saw that douchebag approach her. The guy was as dull as dishwater, but I could see possession in him, the way he looked her over, almost smacking his lips at her curves. My vision reddened with rage and I’d charged over, ready to … I don’t know, tear him apart limb by limb?

  But that’s when I stopped short. Because I got the biggest surprise of my life. Becca had a stroller with her, with a little boy inside who looked … suspiciously like me. The infant’s features were soft with sleep, but I could see that he had dark hair, and the beginnings of the unmistakable Phillips chin. My breathing hitched and I literally thought I’d collapse.

  But I managed to hold it together. Grabbing Becca’s arm, I’d harshly whispered in her ear, “Is the boy mine?”

  I saw a faint shadow of fear flit through her eyes and mentally cursed myself for what I’d done to this girl. I promised myself to make it up to her no matter what it took, if she’d just give me a second chance.