Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  “What's on your mind, Darby?”

  She looks at me. “What makes you think anything's on my mind?”

  I give her a small smile. “Because I know you,” I say. “And I can tell something been bothering you all night.”

  Darby lets out a long sigh and I can see that she’s debating with herself.

  “Whatever it is, it's okay,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”

  “I know,” she replies. “I'm just trying to decide whether or not this is something even worth mentioning to you.”

  “Well, let's figure that out together,” I say. “What is it?”

  She leans back in the seat and sighs again.

  “It's – Mason,” she says.

  “Oh,” I reply. “Him again.”

  “Yeah. Him again.”

  “He came to see me, you know,” I say. “Shortly after that picture of us showed up in the tabloids.”

  “I'm not surprised.”

  “Made all the same old threats,” I tell her. “Pops is going to prison unless I stop seeing you, blah, blah, blah.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  I chuckle. “I'm here with you tonight, aren't I?”

  A wry grin touches her lips. “Yeah, I suppose you are.”

  “I told him to fuck off if he thinks he can pull that shit again,” I say. “I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I'm not a stupid kid who can be intimidated anymore.”

  “What about Pops?”

  “I had a long talk with him,” I tell her. “Asked him all about his past and asked him, point blank, if he ever killed anybody. He said no, and I believe him. Pops wouldn’t lie to me. I know he was telling me the truth. His reputation was built on smoke and mirrors – a lot like mine was back at St. Aggie's.”

  Darby lets out a soft, sad chuckle. “That's funny, because Mason not only told me that Pops murdered people when he was a mob boss, but also said there was a rumor going around that you may have killed somebody too. On Pops' behalf, of course.”

  Intense, righteous anger flares up inside of me for a moment, but it vanishes just as quickly. I almost feel bad for Mason. His grip on his sister, the iron collar of control he had on her, is slipping. And he knows it. The only way he can try to regain that control is by telling her all kinds of bullshit stories about me. Asshole.

  My biggest worry is that she almost believed him. That certainly explains why she’s been off all evening. Which sticks a small needle of pain through my heart. She should know me better than that.

  But then, I guess the same thing can be said about me and Pops – I really should have known better.

  “Do you believe him?” I ask. “Do you think I killed people?”

  “No, of course not,” she says. “I mean, I really doubted it.”

  A rueful laugh bubbles up and out of my throat. “There's a universe of difference between, of course not, and really doubting it.”

  “It's just – there are still parts of you I don't know. You have secrets,” I say. “And I know you have a temper. I've seen you commit acts of violence before, Carter, and it scares me.”

  I nod. “Yea,” I say. “I do have secrets. As do we all. And I have a wicked temper. Never denied that. But, I've been nothing but open and honest with you, Darby. I want you to believe that. Although there are some things I prefer not to talk about, I'll never intentionally hide anything from you. And if you ask me a direct question, I'll answer you the way I always have – honestly.”

  She looks at me with her direct, penetrating gaze for a long moment, as if searching my eyes for the truth in my words.

  “I believe that,” she finally says.

  My eyes bore into hers and I hold her gaze. “Then believe me when I tell you that I have never, ever, killed anyone,” I say. “Not for Pops, not for anybody. I won't deny that I've had my fair share of fights, but I've never killed anybody. Never even came close.”

  I can see her searching my eyes again, probing deeply, trying to sort out the truth. Darby is a hell of a lot more perceptive – and a hell of a lot less naïve – than Mason gives her credit for.

  “Pops got by on a rep he didn't earn. People around the neighborhood thought he killed people. Thought he was this big-time gangster. He wasn't, but he let them all believe it. Like the kids would say, it upped his street cred, and kept people off his back,” I explain to her. “I did basically the same thing at St. Aggie's. People respected me because I earned a reputation as a badass. That was all based on one fight, when I was out of my mind with rage. But hey, it kept people from fucking with me, so I went with it.”

  Roger stops in front of my building and lets us out. I give him a word of thanks and tell him I'll see him tomorrow before escorting Darby inside. We ride the elevator up and I can see her weighing my words against her intuition. When the bell chimes, letting us off on my floor, she turns to me and throws her arms around the back of my neck, planting a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

  “I guess this means you believe me?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yeah. I do.”

  “Good,” I say. “Because your brother is on a war path. He's going to stop at nothing to keep us apart.”

  “I know.”

  Taking her hand in mind, I head down the hall toward my door. “Just for curiosity's sake, what else did your brother tell you?”

  She laughs softly. “That you're under investigation for fraud, insider trading – a bunch of things I can't recall offhand,” she says. “But, he said his office basically has you dead to rights.”

  “Interesting,” I say, slipping the key into the front door lock. “Because I've not been contacted by his office – or my own lawyer – that there is an open investigation into anything we're doing at Bishop. I know he finds it impossible to believe, but we are completely legit. No shortcuts. No shady shit. I run a clean shop. Always have, and always will.”

  I let her step into my place first and follow after her, closing the door and locking it behind us.

  “Uh, Carter?”

  The tone of concern in her voice makes me spin around quickly, my body tensed, my fists raised, thinking there’s an intruder. Instead of some masked gunman though, I cock my head and look around. On the table in the sunken living room is a bottle of champagne on ice, with a plate of what looks like oysters beside it. And all around the front room are lit candles. There must be a hundred of them.

  “What the hell?” I say, looking around.

  “Well, there you are, lover,” comes the purr of a woman's voice.

  I spin around again, now facing the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Standing there in heels, with matching black thigh highs, garter belt, and bra, is a woman with tawny skin, long, rich, deep brown hair, perky breasts, and a body to die for.

  And I have absolutely no fucking idea who she is.

  “I've been waiting for you, Carter, baby,” she purrs. “You didn't tell me you were bringing your playmate for us to have some fun with tonight. You naughty, naughty boy.”

  “I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?” I ask. “And how the fuck did you get into my place?”

  The brunette laughs, a rich, sensual sound. Her eyes locked on Darby's, she runs her fingertips down her neck, across her breasts, and down to her belly. All I can see though, is the stricken look on Darby's face. Tears well and shimmer in her eyes, but I can see her fighting to keep them from falling.

  “Oh, he didn't tell you about me?” the brunette asks Darby. “Because he told me all about you. Said you were pretty good in bed, but he wants you to learn some things from me.”

  “Shut your lying mouth,” I snap, turning to Darby. “I don't know who this woman is. I swear to God, Darby. I've never seen her before in my life. This is total bullshit. I'm being set up.”

  “How does she have a key to your place, Carter?”

  It's a damn good question and one I don't have an answer to. I look from Darby to the brunette, feeling a tsunami of fear and rage rising within me.

&
nbsp; “How the fuck did you get in here?” I snap at the brunette.

  “Stop playing coy, lover,” she says. “You gave me a key six months ago. Oh wait, is this like roleplay? Is this that fuck a complete stranger game? Because honestly, that's a hot little scenario. I'm totally into it, baby. I can play along.”

  “Enough,” I roar and point a finger at the brunette. “You. Get the fuck out of my house right now.”

  She laughs again. Sensuality drips off her tongue and emanates from her every pore.

  “It's okay,” Darby says, her voice choked with emotion. “I'll go. You two – you just stay here.”

  “Darby, wait,” I say. “Don't go. This isn't –”

  I put a hand on her arm to stop her, but she shakes it off, and shoots me a withering glare, daring me to touch her again.

  “Don't,” she hisses. “Just fucking don’t, Carter.”

  Darby storms out of my place, slamming the door behind her with enough force to knock the small picture frame off the wall beside it. The picture hits the ground and shatters on impact, sending small shards of glass flying. I round on the brunette, taking a few menacing steps toward her.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I growl.

  She shrugs. “Just a girl playing a role for a little extra cash,” she says. “We all have to earn a living, right? But hey, you're pretty hot. If you're looking to get laid, we can work something out.”

  I shake my head, not understanding. “What the fuck?”

  “Wow,” comes Mason's voice from the darkness of the hallway. “My sister sure was pissed, wasn't she? I don't know the last time I saw her that mad. She's sure got a temper on her.”

  He steps out of the shadows and into the dim light of the living room. I glare at him, giving him a look that says I'm giving serious consideration to killing him right then and there. Mason hands the brunette a thick envelope and shoos her away. She scampers back to the bedroom, probably to get herself dressed, ready to get out of here.

  Mason and I glare at one another and it's all I can do to not kick his ass right then and there. My hands are at my sides, clenched into fists, and I have to physically restrain myself from attacking him. I have too much to lose right now by being that impulsive.

  “You miserable son of a bitch,” I hiss. “How the fuck did you get into my place?”

  He slips a piece of paper into his pocket and waves it at me before dropping it on the table beside him.

  “Search warrant,” he says. “Me and FBI Special Agent Weathers here executed a routine search warrant in relation to an open case in my office. Seems like you're being accused of insider trading. She's right, you know, you are a naughty, naughty boy.”

  “This is pure and utter bullshit and you know it, you fucking prick.”

  He shrugs. “We take allegations of this nature very seriously, as you know,” he says. “It's my duty to make sure we conduct a very thorough and vigorous investigation.”

  I'm letting my anger get the best of me and I need to throttle it back. I need to think. I'm playing right into Mason's hands by blindly lashing out, and letting my rage consume me. I take a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, working the problem over in my mind.

  My head a little clearer, my focus a little sharper, the first question that comes to me is an obvious one.

  “You can't have a warrant,” I seethe. “Because there is no crime. You have zero probable cause. Last I checked, you need probable cause. How in the fuck did you get a bullshit warrant?”

  His smile is predatory. “Judge Peters, like me, is sick and tired of grifters like you operating with impunity. Scamming people out of millions, maybe even billions of dollars,” Mason says. “He agreed with my preliminary findings, felt there was enough cause and signed a warrant.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say. “In exchange for what? A spot in the DOJ when you fulfill your masturbatory fantasy of becoming Attorney General?”

  Mason's smile grows wider and his eyes sparkle as he stares at me, but he remains silent – which is enough to tell me I hit the mark.

  “I'm going to have your ass for this, Mason,” I growl. “And before I'm done, I'm going to see that Peters is thrown off the bench. I told you I'm not somebody to be fucked with, and now you're going to find out why that is.”

  He shrugs. “I couldn't care less what happens to Peters, to be quite honest. He's just another pawn on my gameboard,” Mason says. “He served his purpose, so do with him what you will.”

  The brunette steps up beside him. Gone is the lingerie and the sultry stare. Now, she's wearing a conservative dark pantsuit, her hair up in a bun, a pair of black-rimmed glasses on her face.

  “Ready to go, Special Agent Weathers?” Mason asks.

  She nods but doesn't say anything. She can't even meet my eyes. At least she's got some shred of shame. Not that it matters much at this point. They head for the door.

  “This isn't over, Mason,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “Not by a long fuckin' mile.”

  He laughs and then pauses, and turns to look at me. “I told you that I always win. People like you don't,” he says. “And my victories are as thorough as they are complete.”

  “You are such an unbelievable piece of shit,” I say.

  “I've been called worse by far better men than you,” he says. “And it doesn't change the fact that I've beaten you. Again.”

  Mason opens the door and Agent Weathers scampers out ahead of him, eager to be out of my place. He pauses at the door, and looks back at me again, as if savoring the moment. There's a look of pure satisfaction, almost orgasmic, on his face.

  “Shit,” he says. “I really love winning. That rush I get – it's better than sex.”

  “Yeah, keep thinking that, asshole. You haven't won shit, Mason,” I say. “Like I said, this isn't over. When I'm finished with you –”

  “You really shouldn't make threats you can't deliver on, Carter,” he says. “It makes you look weak and pathetic. Oh wait, that's exactly what you are.”

  I give him a low chuckle. “I'm going to fucking relish ruining your entire career,” I say. “You're going to have nothing left when I'm done. Nothing. You're going to be on a street corner begging for spare change, and it's going to give me the ultimate rush to spit in your face.”

  He looks at me, eyes narrowed, a hard, challenging look on his face. “Well, you be sure to let me know when this big takedown happens,” he says. “Because I wouldn't want to miss it.”

  “Trust me, you won't,” I say. “It's going to be kind of difficult to miss the flaming wreckage of your life falling down around you.”

  His laugh is low but menacing. He really does get off on this shit, on these power plays. What a pathetic man.

  “This doesn't change anything, you know,” I say. “I'm not going to stop seeing Darby.”

  His laughter is long and loud, and he seems genuinely amused by my statement. Which only makes my hatred for him burn brighter, and the desire to ruin his sad, sick little life all the more intense. Ruining Mason White is going to become my mission. My crusade. I'm going to see him miserable, alone, and without a penny to his name – if it's the last thing I fucking do.

  “I don't think she's going to want to see you again,” he says. “Not after tonight. But, good luck with that. Anyway, have yourself a Merry little Christmas, Carter.”

  His laughter echoes through my place as he walks out, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me with nothing but my rage.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Darby

  “You look like shit, Darbs.”

  I smile as Jade sits down across from me at the table. “Thanks. You sure know how to lift a girl's spirits.”

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “How you holding up?”

  “Barely,” I say. “Just barely.”

  I took the rest of the week off work. I'm in no condition to teach right now. Plus, I don't want my kids to see me like this. It's been a few of days since I walked in on – whate
ver that was in Carter's place – and today is the first day I haven't cried. Maybe I've run out of tears.

  Of course, it's still early.

  I needed some company this morning. Somebody to talk to and to help pull me out of the pit of misery and despair I'm wallowing in. Jade, being the true friend she is, was there for me without delay, even if it meant that she also had to call in. Why can't everybody in the world be as good as her? Life would be so much better, if there were more people like her out there.

  “I’m such an idiot,” I moan. “Why in the hell would I think somebody like Carter would be into me? Or at least, into me enough that he'd stop seeing other women?”

  “You aren’t an idiot, Darbs,” she says. “This isn't on you.”

  “What in the hell was I thinking?” I say. “You should have seen her, Jade. She looked like she walked straight out of a Victoria's Secret catalog.”

  I feel the tears beginning to well up again. Apparently, I haven't cried enough yet. Dammit. Not wanting to cry in public, I ruthlessly bite them back, biting down on the inside of my cheek until they stop.

  “You should have seen her, Jade. I can't compete with that. Not in a billion years. If I were Carter, I'd want to have sex with her too,” I say. “That woman was a ten. A ten plus. A body to die for, sensuality pouring off her in buckets –”

  “Yeah, and so are you.”

  I scoff. “No, I'm not. Not hardly. I'm nothing special. I'm average at best,” I say. “Of course, somebody like Carter is going to want to sleep with women as gorgeous as she was.”

  I stare down into my cappuccino, watching the way the foam swirls about, and wishing for the millionth time, that I could be anywhere but there. Be anybody but me. I feel so stupid for letting myself get attached. Again. For letting myself dare to hope. Again. Because I let myself get played like an idiot. Again.

  “I can't believe I fell for him again,” I say. “I should have known better. I really should have. I should know better and just stayed in my lane, doing what makes me happy – teaching my kids and creating art. That's it. I never should have ventured outside of those things. Nothing ever good comes of it.”