The Billionaire's Surprise Babies

by Sophia Lynn

  "Sir!" she exclaimed, standing up straight. God, she looked like a good girl, Cord's mind whispered. Young and fresh and innocent, like she'd never had a proper drink in her life, as if butter wouldn't melt on her tongue.

  "All right, no booze then."

  "I couldn't sleep," she said wretchedly, looking down at the floor. It was as if every line on her started drooping, like she expected him to fire her outright. "I was told that the library wasn't locked, so I thought I would get something to read."

  She pointed, and he saw the book on the ground next to the desk. She had likely dropped it when he grabbed her.

  "I see. So you decided that hiding under my desk was the best place to read your book?"

  She turned red, and he shook her slightly, making her squeak a little.

  "No, sir."

  "Well, out with it," he growled. "Or do I have to call the police after all?"

  Chapter Three

  Jordan's mind raced furiously. She knew that the game could end right here. If she couldn't come up with a decent lie, if she couldn't convince him, it was over and she'd be sent packing before the storm ended. She took a deep breath, hoping it looked like she was gathering her courage, because that was exactly what she was doing.

  "I heard you coming down the hall and fighting with . . . with your lady friend," she said, and she saw his expression going from furious to surprise and then a kind of thoughtfulness.

  "Really. You heard me ending things with Brianna?"

  "Yes, sir," she said, and she was relieved when he finally let her go.

  Cord Everett was a large man. He towered over her, broad and solid like an athlete. There was just a touch of early silver at the temples of his deep brown hair, and his dark blue eyes were stormy with restrained anger. She had seen pictures of him, of course, but she had never been this close to him in person.

  Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, there was a strange tug deep in the core of her toward him. God, he had to be more than ten years older than she was, but she couldn't stop looking at his strong hands that had so easily held her in place.

  He was looking down at her now with those dark blue eyes, and she swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to accept her explanation. Jordan figured that he was going to dismiss her abruptly, or perhaps he would make good on his threat and call the police. Those sounded at least like the most reasonable course of affairs, but instead, he slumped down in the enormous leather rolling chair, leaning back slightly to look at her. There was a speculative glint in his eyes, and Jordan gulped, tangling her hands in front of her. Right then, she felt every inch the erring maid who had been caught out by the master of the house. His searching gaze missed nothing, and she had to keep herself from folding the edges of the robe over her body.

  "So what did you think?"

  Of all the things that he could have said, she had not expected that one. She stammered a little, and he laughed. It infuriated a part of her that he had a very nice laugh, warm and baritone and soft.

  "Sir?"

  "It's a simple question, isn't it, Jordan?" he asked. "What did you think of my conversation with Brianna?"

  Jordan figured she knew what he wanted to hear. He probably wanted to hear that he had done the right thing, that it sounded as if Brianna was a gold-digger who was just after his money, and that he was better off without her. She opened her mouth to tell him just that—at this point, anything that would get her safely back to her room—but then something else came out instead.

  "Well, I think that you didn't really give her much of a chance. I think you were being unfair to her."

  The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wished that she could call them back. She saw Cord Everett's dark brows draw together, a stormy look on his face.

  "Oh really, Jordan? That's what you think?"

  For some reason, it was his superior tone that broke something inside Jordan. In the past few weeks, she had worked in this man's house. She had seen firsthand and for the first time how much money went into the simple maintenance of a place like Waverly manor, a place that could house ten families but that barely housed one man some four or five times a week. She had just heard him offer ten thousand dollars to some poor woman whose heart it sounded like he had broken, ten thousand dollars that could be a down payment on a house or pay off a car or a college loan.

  Simply put, Jordan's temper snapped. She drew herself up to her full five-foot-two height, glaring down at him where he sprawled on the chair.

  "Yes, that is what I think,” she growled. "I think that you are so used to paying people off that you don't remember what it’s like to have a heart anymore, and that you have so much money that you can think the worst of people but they'll still keep coming around. I think that you are spoiled and that you are a bully, and—"

  She would have continued and likely shouted until the entire house had come down to see who was dressing down the employer, but then he grabbed her wrist and dragged her sprawling into his lap. After a moment of blind panic for having fallen, she realized that he was supporting her with one arm while the other hand had found its way into her hair. With a deft touch, he flicked her hair tie away, letting her blonde tresses fall down around her face, and then he tucked them back.

  "I think that you are entirely right," he purred, and then he kissed her.

  Jordan hadn't kissed many people. Her mother had had to move the two of them around often, and Jordan had grown up wary of predatory boys and their roving hands. She’d had her share of pinches and gropes, but she had fended them off with the ferocity of a wildcat.

  Despite all of that experience, though, she had never dealt with something like this. This was all strength and arrogance, fury and need. This was not a man who had to sneak behind her and grab what he wanted before she could scream.

  Cord Everett was a man who saw what he wanted and took it. She could feel the power of his body underneath her as she took in his kiss. He was powerful, and it wasn't just the money. It was all of him, the charisma, the physical strength, and his speed.

  She didn't expect the pleasure. His mouth was hot against hers, and his kiss ravished her. He tasted her lips as if they were something delicious, and then he thrust his tongue deep into Jordan's mouth. She could feel his tongue sliding between her lips as if it was some kind of lovemaking in and of itself, but she knew that there was no love in this.

  The pleasure overwhelmed her for a moment, sending a shoal of bright sparks through her body and making her moan. Then she remembered what was happening, and worse yet, who it was happening with, and a red fury washed over her.

  She brought her teeth together sharply on his tongue. It was not sharp enough to draw blood, but she heard him yelp with pain as he pulled away from her.

  That moment of surprise was enough to loosen his grip and to let her leap free. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard in the room was their breathing, quick and shallow.

  "You can't do that to people," Jordan said, furious to realize that there were tears in her eyes. She knuckled at them angrily, stepping back when he tried to reach for her. If she had been looking, she might have seen something like regret and concern in his face, but she was already turning away.

  "Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to," she hissed. "Don't you dare."

  She couldn't stand it anymore. At this point, he could try to fire her or call the cops or whatever he wanted to do. Jordan refused to sit on his lap and simply take whatever it was that he wanted to give her, and she stormed out of the library, not looking behind her.

  ***

  Cord's first instinct was to be furious. His tongue still ached dully, but the pain was fleeting, and he knew that it would be gone before morning. However, even as he considered calling Mrs. O'Donnely and telling her to get Jordan packed and thrown out of the manor, something stopped him.

  He would have been lying if he said that this was the first time he had been bitten like that, but it was th
e first time a girl had leaped off his lap like a goddamned jack rabbit, looking at him with dark eyes that shimmered like obsidian.

  Michelle had bitten him, and he thought that Kayla might have done it as well. They had bitten him, and then they had kissed him, enticing him, telling him that of course they didn't mean it. They wanted him to chase them, to make the eventual conquest even sweeter after the pursuit.

  There had been nothing of that in Jordan. Instead, she looked like he had burned her. When he thought of it again, Cord couldn't help feeling his body stir at the picture she had made. God, she had stood there openly defying him like some kind of warrior queen, her blonde hair falling down her in glorious disarray, two red patches high on her cheeks, and of course, her lips ruby-red with their kiss. Her chest heaved hard, one strap of her shirt tugged down to show the high curves of her breasts, and she had looked utterly delicious.

  Cord knew himself very well, and he liked to fancy that he knew people as well. A good man would have been ashamed of what he had done. He would be humiliated and enraged with himself that he had made an innocent girl—and at this point, his every instinct told him that Jordan Matthews was just that—run like that. A good man would feel nothing but disgust for what he had done to her.

  How lucky it is for me that I am not a good man, he thought with some amusement.

  Jordan Matthews might have been nothing more than an innocent girl, but there was a passion to her that he had never before encountered in another woman. He had known many women who had faked that passion and faked it well. He had enjoyed it, but these days, he could predict it too easily. Jordan, however, was the real thing.

  If that's what she's like when she's angry, think about what she might be like when it's pleasure she's feeling. When she feels so good that she can't do anything but cry out . . .

  He had felt it when they kissed. There had been shock that he was doing this to her, but then there was a moment of utter surrender, where she had melted into him. And then, of course, she had bitten him and run like a scared animal. Cord chuckled.

  He knew now that whoever had slept with her before had had no idea what they were doing. A passion like Jordan's needed something that could match it.

  There was a very old and dusty voice in his head that told him that there were perhaps better ideas than having affairs with the help, but when he thought of her dark eyes and red lips again, Cord knew that he would never be able to resist them.

  ***

  Jordan had run all the way back to her room, her heart beating like a racehorse's. She had barely stopped herself from slamming the door behind her, but as soon as it was closed, she had locked it, bolted it, and then for good measure, dragged the room's only chair under the knob.

  It was only then that she could bring herself to sit on the bed, hugging herself as she trembled. She tried to summon up the fury that she had felt as she had raced out of the library, but for some reason, it was gone. She could feel it as a faint thing, soft and faded.

  No, what was shocking was the sense of need that filled her instead. It was wrong. It was all wrong. She shouldn't feel as if she needed Cord Everett. She shouldn't feel as if her body was on fire for him or as if she thought that she might die if he didn't touch her again.

  God, what was the matter with her?

  You just heard him pay off a crying woman who was apparently saying she loved him, Jordan thought grimly. Remember that. He's like his father was before him. They're powerful men with cash registers for hearts, and if they can sense anything like a weakness from you, they will damn well use it. And sister, you sure showed him one impressive weakness.

  It would have been better if she had been furious from end to end of that kiss. It would have been far better if she had fought right away or if she had bitten him right away. Instead, she had relaxed into that kiss as if everything was perfect, as if she had been waiting for a kiss like that her entire life.

  Well, maybe she had been waiting for a kiss like that her whole life, but she certainly wasn't waiting for Cord!

  Dismayed, Jordan buried herself under her covers, but then a thought made her sit up in shock.

  Her lock picks!

  Her memory of what had happened as she heard the footsteps in the hall was vague, crowded with shock and panic. She remembered shoving the picks into her pocket, but had she really? Trembling, Jordan reached into the pocket of the robe, breathing a deep sigh of relief that was nearly a sob as she touched the leather packet there. Oh, thank God. She had no idea what she would have done if she had left her tools in the library. How furious Cord would have been.

  With a sigh, she went and put the picks back into their hiding place in her shoes. There was nothing else she could do tonight, and she had to be up in three hours to get started with the morning chores anyway.

  Jordan tumbled into bed. To her slight surprise, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. If she had known that one of her picks had escaped, however, she might have slept less well.

  It had tumbled from the pack as she had shut the cabinet door, falling inside the glass to rest against the edge of the door in the dark. If the door opened, it would come tumbling out. However, Jordan did not know any of that and slept on blissfully.

  Chapter Four

  Despite an occasionally cynical view of the world, Jordan was by nature an optimist. She woke up the next day as dawn was pinking the sky, and she felt a sense of relief and determination. Last night hadn't gone as planned, but it was her first attempt to get the information that she needed. She hadn't been fired, she hadn't been arrested, and that meant that there was still hope.

  For some reason, Jordan found herself shivering as she thought about Cord and their encounter. There was some sort of strange pull between herself and that man, something powerful and charged. Jordan liked to know all the facts, and there was something that she couldn't calculate about him, especially when it came to herself.

  It's just as well that on most days, I am not going to run into him or anything like that, she thought. The housekeeper and the butler were the servants who were most likely to speak with the master of the house, or so she had been told. Her job was to look down, to speak when spoken to, and of course, to clean, clean, and clean some more.

  The strange thing was that the cleaning wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be when she first started the job. Jordan had performed a slew of low-paying jobs to keep body and soul together, but there had been nothing like the odd satisfaction she felt for putting things back in order, for cleaning something and seeing it gleam. She didn't want to do this forever, but when she stepped back from a sparkling bannister, she felt a strange satisfaction.

  That satisfaction lasted until around eleven, when her phone chirped gently and she saw Mrs. O'Donnely summoning her to the kitchen. In days gone by, it would have been a bell summoning her, but she supposed that this was an improvement.

  "There you are," said Mrs. O'Donnely crisply. "Here, Mrs. Comfit just finished."

  Jordan looked with surprise at the tray that had been prepared. It was a large breakfast of bacon, sausage, and beautifully sliced fruit. A tall glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee with a ceramic lid over it to keep in the heat were set to one side.

  "Before you ask, it is, in fact, not for you," said Mrs. O'Donnely drily. "Bring it to the master bedroom. I showed you where it was your first day—can you remember?"

  Jordan nodded, because she could, but she felt as if the world were tipping upside down.

  "The master bedroom? You mean this is for—"

  "For Mr. Everett, yes. He has decided to stay in residence for a while, and he has ordered breakfast to be sent up. This will be part of your duties moving forward. We'll work up a system so you know when to be available for it."

  Jordan was sure she said something that marked her assent, but her mind felt as if it was tilting. She shook the whirling thoughts out of her head, however, because the tray was heavy and she needed to make sure that nothi
ng spilled.

  What the hell is he playing at? she asked herself. Is this some kind of strange revenge for last night?

  She had to admit, the food smelled amazing, and if his revenge was to eat it in front of her, it wasn't a bad one.

  As she went up the stairs, Jordan wasn't sure that she had ever felt quite as humble as she did just then. She was a poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks, orphaned at an early age and constantly struggling, bringing breakfast in bed to a man who had it all. She could feel a burn of anger low in her belly, but as she made her way to the bedroom wing, she wondered if the anger was all that was there.

  She had done her best to keep her mind off the kiss that she had shared with Cord last night. When she did think of it, she tried to summon up the feelings of disgust and dismay and fear that were what she thought were appropriate.

  God, he's what, thirty-seven? He's almost fifteen years older than I am.

  Despite that, however, she would be foolish not to acknowledge the low heat in her body that came up whenever she thought of that vicious kiss, and deep inside her, she knew that she had never been kissed like that before. There had been nothing like it in her life, and deep within her, even if she didn't want to acknowledge what it was, she knew that something had awakened inside her.

  Jordan came to the right door, and she paused for a moment. Her hands were full of the heavy tray, and she set it on the small table next to the door that seemed meant for the purpose. She took a deep breath and knocked.

  This man's father is the one who ruined your family and destroyed your father, she told herself. Don't be fooled. Don't think that he's any better just because you think he kisses well.

  Her knock was answered almost immediately by a crisply-voiced "Come," and with a sigh, she cracked open the door and lifted her tray.

  I just have to drop off the food and get back to work, she thought. That's all I have to do. Give him the food and go.

  She was momentarily blinded by the bright light streaming into the room. Cord's master bedroom faced east, giving him the full power of the morning sun, and the later winter morning was bright and lovely. With the curtains thrown up, the master bedroom, done up in blue and silver, was a gorgeous place with a four-poster bed at the center of it.