by Gail McHugh
Swiping a shaky hand through her hair, Emily turned around, slowly making her way back into the kitchen. Gavin had insisted they didn’t tell Dillon. He firmly felt Dillon didn’t deserve to know she was pregnant until they had a definite answer as to who the father was. Not wanting to buck against his decision, though she had reservations about hiding it, Emily had reluctantly agreed.
Olivia’s words from the club a few weeks ago went off like loud sirens in Emily’s head. This could look bad for her. There was no doubt in her mind Dillon would use this against her in court if he turned out to be the father. The thought chilled her to the bones, flashes of him trying to take away her child sent icicles needling through her heart.
Quietly placing the paper in front of Gavin, Emily pulled in a deep breath, waiting for his reaction. She watched his expression go from slightly confused to impassivity as he read, bleeding into full-blown anger. His eyes lit up like hot coals, rage burning raw behind them. Another shiver spiraled through Emily as he shot to his feet, tossing the magazine onto the counter.
“How the hell did he get this?” he questioned, the confusion he was wearing on his face seconds before returning.
“I have no idea,” she breathed, still in shock.
Gavin shoved his hand through his hair. “Were you ever on a health insurance policy with him?”
Emily nodded. “When I moved to New York, he paid for a private policy because he couldn’t add me to the one he has through the firm without being married. He knew I wouldn’t qualify right away for insurance when I began teaching. But I changed the information with the receptionist the day we went for the test. I don’t understand what happened.” Nervously fingering the locket Gavin gave her for Christmas, Emily started to feel as though she was about to hyperventilate. “He’s going to drag me to court and try to take the baby away from me for not telling him. I need a lawyer. I can’t, I can’t go through this.” She gulped back a sob, her body hunched over. Resting her arm on the cool granite counter, she felt Gavin’s hand on the back of her neck.
“I wouldn’t let him take the baby away from you,” Gavin said, his tone resolute. Trying to catch a breath, Emily shook her head. “Emily, look at me,” he commanded in a soft whisper. Body shaking, she straightened, her watery eyes searching his. “If I have to hire every lawyer in the fucking city, I will. I’d never allow him to hurt you like that. Do you understand me?”
She wanted to believe Gavin, but she couldn’t. Her carefully trained thoughts wouldn’t allow for it. Dillon was gone, but his influence wasn’t far enough removed from her life. This would be his payback. Dear, God. This would be more than payback. She could feel it. Everything manipulative and hideous he’d turned into would surely have its time on stage in the grandest of battles fought out in front of a judging court system that would punish her for hiding this from him. She knew wherever he was at this very second, he was seething and waiting on her call.
“I have to call him,” she puffed out, heading for the office.
Gavin caught her elbow. “We’re not calling him, Emily.”
Eyes wide, she yanked her arm away. “If you think for one minute I’m going to attempt to play any more games with him, you’re wrong. Our glorious plan of not letting him know has blown up in our faces, and I’m not about to chance losing custody rights to him.”
A sense of foreboding slithered up Gavin’s spine and hell if it didn’t fuck with him. “You’re assuming the baby’s his considering what you just said. You do realize this, right?”
“I’m not assuming anything!” she retorted, her vehemence undeniable. She continued down the hall into the office. Picking up the phone, she started dialing Dillon’s number, but Gavin’s large hand plucked it out of her grasp. “What are you doing?” she questioned with a gasp. “I’m calling him.”
Face a mask of anguish, Gavin gently stroked his thumb along her trembling lips. Voice soft, he shook his head. “Emily Cooper, you’re going to calm down. I love a good fight with you, doll, it turns me on, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fight with you over this asshole ever again.”
“But—”
“Sit down.”
Her hand flew to her hip. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Keep going.” With a wicked smirk, Gavin crossed his arms. “My dick’s growing harder with every word you shout.” Yep. Sure enough it was. Tenting his sweatpants, there was no denying he was getting turned on.
Emily bit her lip and fell into the leather chair in front of his desk. Cocking her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes. “I’m not surprised it’s growing. We haven’t had sex in a few weeks. Not only have you starved me of getting some, it looks like you’ve starved yourself.”
Gavin chuckled, amused by the wit she was starting to so easily display around him. Yeah, he was turning his girl into the tiger he always knew she was. “We’re not here to discuss sex.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Or lack thereof.”
Hunching his body over hers, Gavin placed both hands on the sides of the chair, his nose barely grazing hers. “Now that you’ve calmed down some, are you ready to talk to me?”
The low, sexy timbre of his voice whispered across her flesh. Damn him. She felt like a schoolgirl getting reprimanded by a teacher. A teacher whom she wanted nothing more than to fuck right there. Pulling in a slow breath, she feigned disinterest. “Fine. Let’s talk.”
“Thank you,” Gavin whispered, slowly backing away. He slipped around his desk, easing into his chair. Tenting his fingers under his chin, he stared at Emily and searched for words that would properly relay what was running through his head. “One: Woman I love more than Valentine’s Day chocolates, woman I would lay my life down for in front of a speeding bullet train, you need to understand the chances of him being able to take this baby away from you are slim to none. He hit you. The courts have that on record.” Emily went to speak, but Gavin held up a silencing finger. She sighed and he continued.
“Two: What you said before… bothered me. I heard the assumption in your voice. Neither of us is stupid. We both know the amount of times”—Gavin cringed at the thought—”you had sex with him in that week pales in comparison with the amount of times you and I did. But I’m banking on my sperm having an insane amount of muscle. Dillon’s a weak man, therefore, he has a weak… army if you will. That puts me as far up in the running for being the father as Asshole. There’s a blue-eyed, black-haired kid hanging out in that pretty stomach of yours as far as I’m concerned.” Gavin shot her a wink, mentally getting off on his girlfriend’s mouth falling open.
“Three”—he reached for the phone—”no, I can’t tell you what to do. But I can tell you if you call him right now, he’s going to be the spineless motherfucker he’s always been. He’s going to put demands on us we may not want. Whatever decision you make, I’ll back you because you’re a walking box of chocolates and I love you, but I don’t want to hear you bitch once Asshole confronts us with any delusional ideas he may have.”
Emily stood, walked around the desk, and deposited herself onto Gavin’s lap. He smiled, his eyes warming her body as she snuggled against his shoulder. She drew circles on the black, worn out Linkin Park T-shirt he was wearing. It’d definitely seen better days. “Mr. Blake, do you think I can talk now?” She smiled, feeling the deep rustle of his laugh vibrating in his chest.
The sun catching the deep streams of dark, red highlights in her hair made Gavin’s fingers itch to touch it. Giving into the temptation, he buried his hand under her waves, stroking the back of her neck. “By all means, if you think you can talk, please do so.”
“Thank you.” She nestled closer, enjoying his touch. “Okay. One: A few days after Dillon… hit me…” She paused, looking at Gavin when she felt him tense. She curled into him, bringing her knees up to her chest as he circled his arm around her waist. “A few days after, I visited a local battered women’s shelter. The ADA suggested it, so I went, trying to gain as much insight as I could fr
om other women who’d been through the same thing. I met several of them with children. Not only were these women scared to death for their lives, but they were devastated because the courts had let them down. Those animals weren’t denied the right to see their children. They’re allowed supervised visits. It doesn’t matter how much money they have. Believe me, there were women in there from every walk of life. Rich, poor, young, old, black, white, and every color in between. Some of them had the highest paid lawyers in the city. It didn’t matter. If the child isn’t being physically abused, most, if not all, judges grant supervised visits.”
Pausing again, she looked into his eyes, her voice soft. “That’s what I’m afraid of. In more ways than one, you’re the most powerful man I’ve ever met. But in this situation, your money can’t help.” Gavin went to speak, but it was her turn to hold up a silencing finger. She straddled his lap, pressing her lips to his for a long, passionate kiss. After a moment, she broke the connection, hoping she could mend the little piece of his heart she was sure she broke.
“Two: I’m sorry you heard the assumption in my voice. I let fear take hold. But knowing you’re pretty sure your… army may win this battle, I promise you won’t ever hear it again. As far as I’m concerned, there is a blue-eyed, black-haired kid hanging out in my less than pretty stomach right now. Boy or girl, in my mind, they’re already a diehard Yankees fan.”
Grinning, Gavin lifted a skeptical brow. “Your stomach’s perfect, so add that ‘less than’ statement to the list of things I never want to hear again. And you’re giving me the Yankees?”
“I’d give you the world if I could.”
Little did she know, she already had. Gavin guided her to his lips, kissing her deeply as he slid his hands along the glorious curve of her waist. With his thumbs stroking her beautifully perfect stomach, Gavin envisioned that tiny Yankees fan. His heart dipped, bringing with it a feeling so thirsty for this to be his child, he was sure he would drown in it.
Emily slowly pulled away, her lips flushed from their kiss. With soft eyes, she tilted her head, her voice a whisper. “Three: Yes, I think we need to call him, Gavin. Now that he knows, it’ll only further complicate things if we don’t. I’m not sure if I’m prepared for whatever crazy demands he might conjure up, but I promise I won’t bitch about them.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Gavin nodded. With a knot blistering hot in his gut, he reached for the phone.
Repositioning on Gavin’s lap, Emily swallowed nervously as she watched him hit the speaker button, followed by Dillon’s number. A few rings later, there it was, the voice Emily didn’t think she’d ever have to hear again.
“Ah. I figured I’d get a phone call today,” he said, his arrogance echoing through the office as if he was standing there. “So I heard our little trio’s expecting? What a tangled web we—”
“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” Gavin grit out, wrath wicked in his voice.
Silence blanketed the air, its presence as heavy as an elephant sitting on Emily’s chest.
“Let me explain something to you, Gavin,” Dillon said, his sneer ominously low, cold. “The game’s changed, motherfucker. You’re playing by my rules now. The first rule of the game? You and my beautiful ex are about to get in your fucking car and meet me at Big Daddy’s Diner on Park Avenue South between Nineteenth and Twentieth. Second rule: You pull anything funny, and I’m on the phone with the cops to report an incident from a few months ago. I’ll be at the diner in thirty. If you’re not there in forty, say peace to your freedom.”
The line went dead, the dial tone flat lining, whispering promises of death in Emily’s ear.
Breathe…
“Remember what I told you,” Gavin said, his arm wrapped securely around Emily’s waist. His towering frame shielded her from the blistering February winds howling through the city streets. “You don’t talk to him at all. Don’t even look at him.”
Shivering, Emily nodded, her eyes adjusting to the vibrant red and yellow neon sign in front of the diner. Gavin opened the door, his hold instinctively tightening on Emily as he scanned the retro, 1960s diner. His eyes slipped over an array of pastel vinyl booths and narrowed when he spotted Dillon alone in a back corner booth. Immediately, Gavin’s body went on alert. His pulse jumped, the blood in his veins speeding through his system. Flashes of what the fuck did to Emily dissected his thoughts as fresh as the day she told him about it.
“Two?” a young waitress wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the diner’s logo asked, her perky voice blending with the frenzied atmosphere.
“No. We’re meeting someone, and he’s already seated.” Gavin jerked his head in Dillon’s direction. “Thanks.”
Beaming, she whisked off, taking a seat at the chromed-out counter.
Gavin slipped his hand in Emily’s, leading them toward Dillon. “Remember, don’t say a word. Let me handle this.” He felt the clamminess coating her skin, and he stopped, looking into her nervous eyes. His heart slowed a moment, but with it came a crushing pain. He bent his head and kissed her soft lips. “I love you.”
Emily swallowed, her nerves pummeling her limbs. “I love you, too.”
Inwardly cringing and mentally calling Dillon every name in the book, Gavin approached the booth, his eyes pinned on Dillon. Wearing a cocky smirk, the asshole had his back against the wall, his long legs resting on the cushioned seat. Gavin slid into the booth first, making sure he was directly in front of him.
Without looking at either of them, Dillon stared at the front doors. “Kickass place, right?” His voice was eerily monotone. “You can’t deny kids eat this shit up. I mean, look at these cartoon logos everywhere.” He dropped his feet to the wood floor and swiveled to face Gavin and Emily. “All of these cereal boxes are vintage, you know. The food’s some of the best in the city. Maybe when the baby’s old enough, we’ll bring it here for a nice family outing. What do you think, Em?”
Emily jumped when Gavin’s fist thundered down against the table. The silverware and condiments jiggled from the impact. With his elbow digging into the table, and finger pointed at Dillon, she could see the veins in his neck bulging.
“You listen to me, motherfucker,” Gavin growled, his eyes alight with murderous venom. “I don’t give a fuck about your rules. I’ll gut you open with my fucking teeth if you talk to her again.”
Apparently unaffected by Gavin’s threat, Dillon’s mouth twitched into a smirk. His eyes never left Emily. Crossing his arms, his words came out unrushed, his tone almost a whisper. “Oh no, my friend. We’re all going to play by my rules, and I’ll tell you why.” He brought his gaze from Emily to Gavin, narrowing it like a hungry wolf. “I come from a long line of men who’ve served on the NYPD. Those men are extremely close with our local judges. Maximum sentence for assault in the third degree by means of strangulation is seven years. I can go ahead and push for attempted murder as well. I don’t know how many times you… fucked my ex while we were together, but considering you have a small chance at being the bastard’s father, I’m pretty fucking sure you’d hate spending almost a decade, or possibly longer, of its life upstate. Orange isn’t your color.”
Wild, panicked ringing pierced Emily’s ears. Mouth parting in a silent gasp and body a twisted pile of nerves, her wide, tear-filled eyes honed in on Gavin. His brows angled down, deepening the sharp crevices splintering his face. His lips curled over his teeth as though he was fighting a poisonous taste. His eyes, those hypnotizing, beautiful eyes, turned a shade of blue so deep, dark, and vengeful, she swore he’d become possessed. She gulped as she prepared for his fury.
Gavin sprung to his feet, his hand darting forward. Clutching the collar of Dillon’s red polo shirt, Gavin dragged him up, their bodies inclined over the table. Faces as close as lovers about to share a passionate kiss, Gavin’s knuckles turned white. “Don’t throw your fucking threats at me, pussy,” he snarled. “I’ll kill you right here in this diner.”
Palms resting on the table, Dillon’
s eyes flashed like brushfire. His words came out in a loud, barking laugh. “Did you hear that, everyone? This man said he’s about to kill me in front of all of you. Who wants to watch?”
With her chest heaving fast in quick, shallow breaths, Emily whipped around, taking in the curious onlookers. Every pair of eyes in the diner was focused on the display. A mother with two young children gasped in stupefied horror, shooting a scrutinizing glare at Emily. Seconds before the manger reached the table, Emily grabbed Gavin’s elbow in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Gavin,” she choked out, blinking rapidly in mounting panic. “Gavin, sit down. There’s a manager coming.”
“Yes, Gavin,” Dillon said in a low sneer, his face inches from Gavin’s. “You might want to be careful. He might’ve already called the cops. Maybe your bid upstate will begin tonight?”
“Excuse me,” said the middle-aged manager standing in front of their table. Clearly flabbergasted by the scene, he dug his hands in his hips, his voice firm. “I need to ask you gentleman to calm down, or I’m going to have to throw you both out.”
Eyes aflame with black fury, Gavin slowly released Dillon. Head jarred and body shaking with unleashed hunger for Dillon’s blood, Gavin pulled in a deep breath and cleared his throat. “We’re actors.” Gavin stared at Dillon, his tone so calm, it sent a shiver screaming through Emily’s bones. “We were just acting out a scene.” Taking his seat again, Gavin looked at the manager. “Please accept my apologies. The rest of our stay will be uneventful.”
“Actors?” the manager asked, skepticism heavy in his question.
“Yes. Actors,” Gavin answered coolly, watching Dillon sit again.
The man nodded. “Okay, actors, don’t let it happen again. If you do, you’re both out of here.” On that note, he turned and walked away.
“What do you want?” Gavin asked. His eyes were murdering Dillon from across the table, but his tone held sickening composure.
Dillon lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug, an evil grin bleeding over his mouth. “I want in. I want access to each and every single doctor’s appointment. I also want to be present during the birth.” He paused, slid a hand though his slicked back, dirty blond hair, and aimed his gaze at Emily. “I’ve always wondered what the screams of a woman sounded like when she’s being split in two from the pain that comes with pushing another human being from her body. Especially the women who deserves every minute of that pain.”
