by Stacy Gail
“Bullshit. The only person I care about protecting is you.”
“I’m not even going to ask how you’re going to get a DNA sample from a rock star,” I decided, smiling up at him. “I’m sure you’ll find a way, my hero.”
“Stop that. I’m no hero.”
“Tell that to Jerilyn and Verity.”
“I’m telling you that I’m no hero.” With a suddenness that made me gasp, he bent and caught me behind the knees, lifting me up princess-style. “But I’m glad you think I am.”
“Always, my Polo. Always.” I pressed my mouth against his neck as he moved to take his chair once more behind his desk, and I curled up in his lap while he made himself comfortable. I had never been much of a lap-sitter, and to this day I never did something like this in public. But I had changed a lot since I’d “lost” Polo. Being in close proximity—and sitting on his lap was about as close as I could get—gave me a peace I couldn’t get anywhere else.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured into my hair while I kept my face tucked against his neck with my eyes closed. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Just tired. I could drift off to sleep right here.”
His mouth turned to press against my hair. “I thought you slept through the night last night.”
“I did.” Unfortunately I still suffered from nightmares, because there was no magic bullet that would make them disappear just like that. Thankfully, though, they were tapering off as time went on and I talked them out with Polo. They centered mostly around my brother and father now, with an occasional zombie Polo thrown in for good measure. I hated them, and hated that they disturbed him as much as they disturbed me, but he wouldn’t hear of us sleeping in separate beds. By simply being close and battling through my nightmares together, Polo was convinced my subconscious mind would eventually grasp that I was safe, because we were together.
Even if it didn’t always work, his determination for us to be together no matter what made my heart sing.
“Yeah?” His hand came up to sift gently through my hair before tugging on it, bringing my face up from where it was tucked so that he could search my expression. “Then why are you tired? Did you have a bad day?”
“Actually, I had a great one. Working it backwards from here, I got to sit in your lap, had a cooking lesson at Mama Coco and Papa Bolo’s house, finished off the toy drive at Castlemont Country Club with Emily, had brunch with the girls at The Secret Garden, found out Sass is going to have a baby, and went to an early morning doctor’s appointment.”
“Damn, no wonder you’re tired.” His hand moved in soothing circles over my back, and with a sigh of appreciation I closed my eyes to savor the feel. “You went to the doctor? How come I didn’t know about that?”
“Was I supposed to tell you?”
“You tell me when there’s something wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong, Polo.”
“Then why go to a doctor?”
“For the same reason Sass went to the doctor.”
His understanding was immediate. His eyes widened, his breathing came to a halt, and the hand that wasn’t supporting my back went to my stomach. “Are you…?”
“Not far along.” I smiled into his eyes and cupped my hand over his. “Sass is well over two months along, so there won’t be a baby derby, sad to say. But yes, all that trying-to-get-pregnant activity did the trick.”
“About damn time.” With a husky laugh, he wrapped me up in a triumphant bear hug before pulling back to grin down at me. “This doesn’t mean we’re not going to still keep in practice now that you’re knocked up, does it? I mean, we don’t want to get rusty when it comes to making babies.”
“Lord, no. I want a house full of mini-Polos running around.” Heaven knew that was true. When he’d been lost to me, that had been my greatest regret—that we hadn’t taken the plunge and started a family while we had the time. There was no guarantee that tomorrow would ever come. I’d learned that the hard way, and since I’d been blessed with a second chance with Polo, there was no way in hell I was going to let it pass me by.
Fortunately, when I’d told Polo I wanted to forego birth control and why, he was all for it. If anything, it made sex even more intense, and I was frankly surprised it took me this long to get a bun in the oven. My man was all about getting our family going, so whenever the mood hit, it didn’t matter where we were—in public, on the road, or getting ready for work—Polo was ready for some enthusiastic baby-making.
Was it any wonder this man could curl my toes with just a look?
He brought my mouth to his for a tender lip touch that grew to a kiss so hot it threatened to set off the smoke alarms. The hardening of his cock against the back of my thigh caught my attention, and I wriggled around just to make sure he knew I could feel what was going on.
“You know what we’re going to do, right?” Polo murmured against my mouth even as his hand came up to unbutton my blouse.
A breathy laugh escaped me as I wriggled against him once more. “Find a new use for your desk?”
“That first. Second, we’re getting married.”
My eyes widened, and I pulled back just far enough to stare at him. “Married?”
“Hell, yes, married. We’re flying to Vegas tonight, and that’s that. My baby has parents who are married,” he added flatly while I just stared at him. As I watched, the light of battle entered his eyes. “When you said you wanted to have my baby, I should’ve brought it up then, but all I could think about was getting the deed done. Now that it is, I want the whole package—a ring on your finger, a baby in your belly, a minivan in the garage and maybe even a dog or a cat or a goldfish to round out the picture. But first things first. We are getting married.”
“Boy, that’s some proposal,” I muttered to cover how thrilled I was at the prospect. “You’re so romantic.”
“If you want roses and candlelight again, I can do that. I’ll give that to you every damn day, if that’s what makes you happy, because my job is all about making you happy. But first we’re getting married.”
“Because of the baby?”
“Because I can’t imagine not being married to you. You hold me together. You’re my reason for breathing, and yeah, because you’re the mother of my child. So we. Are getting. Married. Everything else is negotiable. Got it?”
“Got it,” I whispered while his words rang through me to touch the very center of my soul with joy. “There’s just one other thing that’s not negotiable.”
His scowl was like a thundercloud. “Let’s hear it.”
“This new use for your desk. You said that was happening first, so… are we getting to that, or what?”
The thunderclouds disappeared as the brilliance of his smile chased them away. “Damn, I love a woman who’s got her priorities straight. Let me just lock the door and I’ll get right on that. And by that, I mean you.”
I was still laughing when he left me to take care of the door.
Nine months later
Polo
Polo thought about slipping his sunglasses on as he stepped out into the sun-washed courtyard. He was happy to leave the antiseptic, fluorescent-lit halls of the facility behind him, but the midday sun bouncing off the concrete deck was downright blinding. Squinting against the glare, he swept the dozen or so people taking in the unseasonably warm September day, before his attention lit on a thin woman sitting alone next to a row of rose bushes on the edge of the courtyard. She wore patterned leggings, a stylish wispy blue blouse and matching blue Keds shoes with little ankle socks. It was an outfit that screamed active soccer mom, and it clashed glaringly with the reality of the lifeless gray-haired woman.
With his palms sweating from what he told himself was the heat, Polo made his way to an empty bench near where the fragile-looking woman sat, and eased down onto it. She glanced his way and smiled a polite greeting, though her thin, wrinkled face didn’t light with it. If anything, her smile underscored the unnervingly disconnected bl
ankness in her eyes.
“It’s warm today, isn’t it?” The woman’s voice was rocky, as though some tremor he couldn’t visibly detect was going on inside. “I was just thinking about going in.”
“Would you like me to call someone to help you to your room, ma’am?”
She waved a painfully thin hand. “No, thank you, young man. As hot as it is out here, it’s better than being in there. There are dead people in there, you know. They just don’t know they’re dead.”
Considering he’d had that same thought as he’d walked through the facility, he knew exactly what she meant. “I don’t blame you. I was relieved to get out of there myself. The sun feels like life, doesn’t it?”
“That’s because it is life.” She turned a bit in her seat to face him better. “Are you here visiting family?”
“Maybe.” It was his turn to offer a smile, though he kept it cautious. Dash had let him know there were times when his smile could be on the scary side. “The word family is kind of a dodgy thing for me. It doesn’t necessarily mean the same thing it means to most people.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “See, there’s the family you’re born with, and you’re stuck with them, good or bad—and mine was pretty bad. Then there’s the family of friends you meet along the way, and if you choose well, that’s the family that sticks with you. And then, if you’re really lucky, there’s the family you create with your chosen other half. At least, that’s how I look at it.”
Confusion clouded her blank eyes. “You must lead a complicated life.”
“You could say that.” There was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of, and he had to look away from her just to keep it manageable. “You could also say that when it comes to family, my eyes are seeing things differently now. Probably because I became a father for the first time about four weeks ago.”
“Congratulations.” It was a soft murmur, barely louder than the breeze sifting through the roses. “Becoming a parent changes everything, doesn’t it? Everything you were before is no longer relevant. All your trivial worries and self-absorption—gone. All that’s left is that tiny, trusting human you created. They become your entire reason for existing. It’s almost… sacred.”
“That’s a good word for it.” That tightness in his chest became so sweet he couldn’t stop from smiling up at the cloudless sky. “No one warned me that was going to happen. I never knew I could love anyone as much as I love my daughter.”
“A daughter. Oh, how sweet. What’s her name?”
“Gloriana Jubilee.” He glanced her way and had to chuckle at her expression. “I know, that’s one hell of a handle, but my wife and I wanted something fresh and clean. No family names or any crap from the past. New baby, new chapter, new life. It works for us.”
“That sounds so wonderful. So hopeful.” She sounded wistful, bordering on sad, and it made his smile fade. “When I named my daughter, I chose something heavenly in the hope that it would shield her from the bad things in the world. By the time she came around, you see, I knew she was going to need all the help she could get.” The blankness in her eyes clouded once more, not with confusion this time, but with distress. “Maybe I should have called on the angels to watch over all my babies. Maybe that’s where I went wrong.”
“A name, in the end, is just a name.” Something unexpected stirred in him, something that felt very much like pity. God help him, he had no fucking clue what to do with that. “It won’t define who your children are. Who they’ll become. They define themselves one way or another, no matter what circumstances they find themselves in. If you’ve taught them all that you can in the time you had together, that’s like giving them a map on how to navigate life. Even if it’s to teach them how not to be, you’ve still given them that map.”
“You sound pretty confident for a man who’s been a father for only four weeks.”
That little spark of spirit made him grin. “Yeah, the dad gig is a new one, I’ll grant you that. But you’re looking at the product of some seriously bad parenting. The worst. But that bad parenting taught me how not to be, and that’s a good thing. Now that I’m a father and I know not to put my own interests ahead of my child’s—something I learned from the parent who abandoned me—I owe that parent a debt of gratitude.”
“You…you were abandoned?”
The memory of his father telling Borysko Vitaliev that Borysko could kill him flashed through his mind. It was the only clear memory he had of his father, and even now it made his gut clench. “Yeah.”
“Your mother abandoned you?”
He shook his head. “My father. I don’t remember my mother.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her lap, where her hands were folding and unfolding themselves. “That’s sad. She must not have been a very good mother if you can’t remember her. Terrible even. Terrible…”
“I might not be able to remember her, but I’ve got a ton of good in my life, and that had to come from somewhere. It sure as hell didn’t come from my old man. The love that fills my world now, the friendships I’ve forged, the hope for the future I’m building with my wife by my side…all that great stuff came from the good foundation that someone built for me. I know it wasn’t my father. So it must’ve been my mom.”
She continued to stare at her hands, giving no sign that she heard him.
“I just wanted to thank her for that,” he said gently, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked at her. “I don’t think I would be the man I am today if it hadn’t been for her. It took a long time—more than half my life—to get where I am now, and I had to struggle every damn day to get to this point. But I made it. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and because of that struggle I’ll never take this happiness for granted. So I wanted to thank my mother for that, and to let her know that I’m doing okay. She doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m okay.”
A single tear dripped down her cheek, but gave no sign she heard him.
Damn. He’d tried to be gentle, but he’d upset her anyway.
This was a bad idea.
With a sigh, he pushed to his feet. “I guess I’d better be going. It was nice talking with you, ma’am. Do you want me to tell someone inside to come and help you to your rooms?”
No answer. She’d gone somewhere inside herself, somewhere safe and far away from a brutal world that was too much for her to handle. He understood. There was a time in his life when he’d been the same way.
He turned to leave, but hadn’t taken more than a couple steps before he heard, very softly, “Marco.”
He froze for only a second before turning to look back at her. Her head was still down, her eyes still locked onto her hands. “Yes?”
Her eyes closed, and a shudder rippled through her. More tears fell.
“Will you… will you bring little Gloriana the next time you visit? And your wife? Please?”
“Yes, Mom.” His eyes and nose began to sting, but it felt good. So good, he couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll bring them. I promise.”
At last her eyes opened, and as she looked up at him, she smiled.
Sixteen months later
It took everything I had to keep my poker face from slipping as the pot in the middle of the table pushed toward the quarter-million dollar mark. Across from me, A Nigerian-born businessman known only by one name—Okunola—wrinkled his nose as though the cards he’d been dealt smelled bad, before he folded in disgust.
Meh. No surprise there. The narrowing of his eyes had told me he hadn’t been happy since this last hand of the evening had been dealt.
Beside him, an elderly man with a triple chin and a bad blond dye job on his sparse hair chewed incessantly on his inner lip—something he did whenever he was contemplating a bluff. He took his sweet time looking at his cards before shoving a pile of chips in. “I’ll see that, and raise five-hundred.”
Ha. Amateur.
I pretended to look long and hard at my hand, even though I had my card
s memorized. “Hm. Well, tonight’s been good to me, so I don’t see why I should doubt the roll Lady Luck’s got me on. Let’s push this all the way up to two-hundred and fifty grand, just for giggles.”
“Oh, Lord.” Behind me, Shona’s whisper came through loud and clear as I pushed the appropriate amount of chips in.
“Babe, take a breath and have a sip of my whiskey.” Whittaker’s low voice made me want to grin. “Dash knows what she’s doing.”
I thought I did, but I didn’t know. Not for sure.
That was what made this so much fun.
I glanced at Matteo Scorpeone, slicked up in a tux and sitting to my right. Emily was somewhere behind him, probably gripping hands with Shona and not breathing. “Over to you.”
“I can’t tell, Dash. You rushing me because you’re bluffing, or because you’re excited?”
“That is the mystery. Call if you want that mystery solved.”
“I heard you were good.” Smiling, Matt shoved the appropriate amount of chips in, then met my gaze over the edge of his cards. “Let’s see how good. Call.”
I glanced at the triple-chinned lip-chewer.
He cleared his throat and laid down his hand. “Two pair—jacks and eights.”
I blinked. “Wow, you weren’t bluffing after all. I was so sure you were.”
His beady eyes lit up.
“But I don’t regret staying in, even against such a decent hand.” With a dramatic pause, I laid my hand down as well. “You see, as good as your hand is, it’s still not good enough. Full house. Queens over aces.”
When the lip-chewer’s jaw dropped open, a fourth chin somehow managed to show up.
“Shit.” Matt tossed his cards onto the table, face-up. “That beats the ever-lovin’ hell out of my straight.”
“Yes!”
I laughed at Polo’s triumphant shout and turned my head to blow him a kiss. At the same time, his brother grinned and threw him the bird. Polo, with his hair once again long enough to be caught at his nape in a small ponytail, clapped while smiling proudly at me, and my heart swelled at the sight.
