The Lawyer's Pregnancy Takeover (Destiny's Child Book 2)

by Zee Monodee

  He had an important deal to conclude in the Middle East, and his client needed the papers signed by Wednesday. Usually, he would’ve left for Doha as soon as possible to do all the legwork necessary before such a merger could be completed.

  No one said he couldn’t work from here, though. He needed nothing more than a computer with Internet access. It would be tricky; he’d never done it before, always able to move as he fancied without any commitments.

  But this was about to change, and make it work, he would.

  ***

  Darkness wrapped around her when she awoke. Finding that she was, again, in Michael’s guest room, Jane frowned, and confusion started to beat a relentless tempo against her skull.

  What was she doing here? Maybe she was dreaming, re-enacting the past day.

  One look at her clothes convinced her otherwise; she was still in the wrap dress and leggings. Memories of the day came back to her. She recalled feeling sick, and then a blank. Had she passed out?

  As she glanced around the room, she caught sight of slivers of sunlight trying to burst at the sides of the heavy blackout drapes shielding the windows. Great. It wasn’t dark yet.

  Her stomach gave an angry growl when she stood. Food. First, she needed to know what she was doing at Michael’s place again.

  With legging-clad feet, she made it down the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. The soft rumbling of a printer resonated in the still of the house, and the sound got louder when she drew close to the study. At the same time, a phone rang, and Michael answered, his rich, deep baritone rippling through the peaceful quiet.

  She stopped in her tracks, listening. He seemed to be talking to a client, arranging details of a financial merger, arguing now and then with the other person. When he cut the call, she peeked into the room.

  He had his back to her, busy rummaging through a pile of papers on his desk. She trained her gaze over the minimalist-style room, and her eyes widened at the chaos of documents littering every possible surface. And the printer was spewing out even more paper.

  She must’ve gasped, because he turned and stared at her.

  Her mouth went dry. In casual taupe linen trousers and a buttoned down grey shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, he was a breath-taking sight. A hint of stubble darkened his cheeks, and this fact alerted her that maybe the time wasn’t what she’d thought it was.

  “Hey.” She forced a smile.

  “Good morning.”

  There was no hint of a smile in his tone or even on his face, making her feel miffed. Morning. This meant she’d stayed another night.

  She’d also overstayed her visit.

  “What time is it?”

  He peeked at the chrome Tag Heuer sports watch on his left wrist. “Nine o’clock.”

  What? How come she always fell into a coma at his place? She’d slept for more than twelve hours.

  His phone rang again, and he excused himself to pick it up.

  “No, I can’t make it to the office right now.” He put the device away and faced her. “You better catch something in the kitchen. You’ve been without food for the past sixteen hours.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he had already returned to the call, and she trudged to the kitchen where she pulled a yoghurt shake from the fridge and sat nursing it at the counter.

  Why couldn’t he go to the office? Unless he didn’t want to leave her alone, and that’s why he was stuck working from his house. What a bummer.

  When it seemed like she had killed an hour sitting with her shake, she became fidgety. Obviously, Michael didn’t want her here. He was hidden in his study and had made no move to come out. What the hell was she still doing here?

  She went back upstairs and grabbed her clothes from the settee where they still laid from the other night. Bundling them together, she went back downstairs, intent on asking Michael to hand back her phone. She would then call a cab and go home.

  He braced his hands on his hips after she’d outlined her plan. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Well, what else do you expect me to do?”

  She was giving the idiot an out; why couldn’t he jump on it?

  Her ranting cut itself short when his mobile rang again.

  “Bloody hell, what now?”

  He rummaged in a drawer where he pulled out her phone and handed it to her. She picked it up without a word and was about to turn around when he called her.

  “Stay right there. I’ll drop you off in a sec.”

  An order, hardly veiled or concealed. She’d better obey.

  Michael hooked a wireless Bluetooth hands-free device in his ear while bundling her towards the car. They got into the Ferrari and drove back to Chelsea.

  All through the drive, he kept talking in the earpiece. She wanted to tell him not to do that; it wasn’t safe to hold a phone conversation when driving. But with his body rigid and forearm muscles in tightly corded sinews, she kept mum. Michael had given her no opening for any kind of talk so far.

  What else had she expected, though? Here was the man who the day before had suddenly come to his senses and decided he didn’t want a burden like her and her unborn child in his organized-like-clockwork, super-compartmentalized life.

  As soon as he stopped in front of her building, she opened the door and got out. When she passed beside the driver’s side to reach the pavement, his voice stopped her.

  “Take care, okay?”

  He was already picking up another call before she could reply. Unable to look at him, she nodded.

  “You, too,” she murmured.

  The car left the curb in a screech of tyres when she was safely inside the entrance lobby.

  Just as well. Having a man like Michael in her life, even on the incongruous terms of their situation, was nothing but unreal for someone like her.

  No. She’d always had to buck up and face the world alone. There had never been anyone for her. Some people had tried to be there, like a few of her stepfathers, but she’d never had anyone on whom she could rely and fall back upon if anything went awry, or simply when she craved another warm presence in her life.

  Why did she think this would change?

  She also always brought bad things to the people she got tangled with. No, he was better off alone without her around to throw a dark cloud on his existence.

  Jane leaned against the closed door after dropping her bundled clothes and her phone on the side console. Letting her eyes drift shut, she inhaled the soothing aroma of home. The calming scent filled her mind and appeased her soul.

  Removing the boots, she brushed away the tiny poke of emotion that said Michael had bought her this particular item.

  A dull ache picked up behind her temples; she still needed to have lunch. Well past noon, already.

  She had reached the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Reflexively, she went to open the door, only to curse herself and wince when she encountered Marenka and the twins on the doorstep.

  “Jaaaaaane!”

  The girls threw themselves at her and smothered her in an embrace before they released her just as swiftly and traipsed into her flat.

  Jane glared at her mother. “What are you doing here?”

  Marenka ran her keen blue gaze over her before she clucked her tongue. “So you also spent the night at his place. Good for you.”

  With that, she, too, stepped into the flat and headed towards the lounge.

  Jane eyed the front door and yearned to jump through it and run away as far as possible. She was in no mood to meet anyone, let alone the three women who most made her want to tear her hair out on any normal, sane day.

  But, again, there was no use fighting. One couldn’t argue with a twisted mind, and the lot in the living room was definitely warped.

  Having her mother in her flat was something she wasn’t used to. In the fourteen years she’d owned the place, Marenka had probably set foot only once in her residence.

  So her visit sent warning bells ringing
in Jane’s head.

  The twins gave her no time to dwell upon her mother’s motives when they jumped into the heavy end of the gossip pool, bombarding her with questions about Michael, their love story, and the baby.

  She tried as much as possible to remain evasive. Thank goodness the girls were all too eager to spin their own fairy tales about her love life.

  No, it was Marenka she was worried about.

  “Anything you want?”

  She’d decided to get straight to the point.

  “Oh, Jaaaane, you’ll never guess.” Ilyanka jumped up and down in her excitement.

  “What?”

  Dread built up as thick as drying concrete in her stomach at the knowing look that passed between the twins and Marenka.

  “I came to see you, but since you were out, Ileana and Ilyanka were kind enough to let me wait for you at their place.”

  “And?” Jane asked.

  “Well, I told them I was here to talk to you about the wedding ...”

  Goodness, no.

  “… and how I wanted you to be my bridesmaid.”

  Drat. If she could avoid attending that wedding, she would do so. Damian was a nice fellow, but even he wasn’t sweet enough to lure her into participating in another of her mother’s weddings. She had taken part the last seven, and that was enough to suit more than one lifetime.

  “Your mum wants us to be bridesmaids, too!”

  Does it get any worse?

  Yes, her headache answered, when the pain doubled instantly.

  “And,” Marenka added with a smile. “We started talking about what Damian and I planned for the ceremony—”

  “And your mum is gonna let us be the wedding planners! Isn’t that flush?” Ileana bounced on her seat.

  “You what?”

  Jane didn’t know who she needed to look at. Her friends couldn’t find their own stash of tampons in their bathroom, and Marenka wanted them to do her wedding planning?

  “Of course, we told her you’d definitely give us a hand.” Ilyanka reached for Jane’s hand. “You will, won’t you?”

  No, she wanted to scream. When she caught the self-satisfied grin on Marenka’s catlike face, she clutched the arm of her seat, her short nails digging into the thick brocade upholstery. Without doubt, right then, she could easily rip the fabric off with one single tear.

  Talk of being manipulated.

  She took a deep breath. “I can’t.”

  “But, Jaaane, you’ll be a bridesmaid anyway. You are gonna be involved.”

  “Pregnant girls can’t be bridesmaids.”

  “Why not?” Marenka narrowed her gaze.

  “Because ...” Jane started to speak, then shut her mouth. She had no excuse, unless she became petty. And she’d used up her bitch potential the day before at lunch.

  Marenka clapped her hands.

  “Well, that’s settled then.” She stood and started towards the front door. “Jane, a word with you.”

  She let the request hang, and just to be rid of her faster, Jane walked over to the entrance hallway.

  Out of earshot, Marenka reverted back to the venomous snake as she closed her hand hard on Jane’s upper arm.

  “Don’t you think of letting me down.” Her voice was a low hiss. “Damian wants a real family from me, and he’ll get one.”

  “How, when you had your tubes tied after I was born and must be way over menopause?”

  Bitch power was back.

  Marenka smiled. “He’s already getting a daughter in you, silly girl. He’s also going to be a very doting grandpa when your baby is born.”

  Revulsion made her grimace. “You sick witch.”

  How could Marenka think of using her unborn child like this?

  Her mother pulled the front door open and stepped on the threshold. Turning back to face Jane, her grin widened, baring her teeth. “Be a good daughter like you’ve always been, Jane. That can’t be hard, can it?”

  Jane stared at her mother for one second.

  “Go to Hell, Marenka.”

  And she slammed the door shut in her mother’s stricken face.

  Chapter Eight

  Connie Burton knew a good thing when she saw one, and today, the gods were smiling down on her. How else would she have landed on such a scoop?

  This Sunday had started as a real pain. Rumour was, Marenka Maurel was about to get married again, and no one knew to whom. Marenka was ‘old news,’ though, seeing how she got married every other year or so. But Connie’s boss had thought it would be nice to find out who the mystery groom was, and had sent her on the job. Ever since this morning, she’d been tailing Marenka Maurel from the time she’d left her house in Wimbledon and following her to Chelsea, where her chauffeur-driven car had stopped in front of a flat building, letting her out.

  Huddled in the ragged seats of her beat-up Fiesta, Connie had waited for hours for the socialite to resurface.

  She finally did emerge, drifting into her car and leaving the premises. Connie turned her key in the ignition, but the damn thing wouldn’t start.

  By the time the engine roared to life, Marenka’s black stretch Mercedes was long gone.

  Bugger. She hit the dashboard with the flat of her hand.

  But then, something happened. The door to the flat building opened, and a woman came out. Squinting to make her out, Connie’s smile grew wider as she recognized who was coming down the steps.

  The classy clothes, the tall, lean, and statuesque model-like build, the silky curtain of black hair.

  No doubt about it—this woman was the same one she’d spotted with Nitro Mike just a few days earlier.

  Now, if Connie could only find out who she was.

  She focused her gaze on the dark-haired chick who seemed in a hurry, her strides long and her pace agitated. Not wanting to lose her now that she had her in her sights, Connie exited the car and started in the woman’s direction. Following a few paces behind, careful not to make herself noticeable, she tailed her down the street and all the way to the Asda supermarket located in Battersea. Her legs cramped from all the walking, but she reminded herself to stay put.

  The mystery woman headed straight to the frozen-foods section once inside the store and picked up two boxes of chocolate mousse cake from the chilled-goods refrigerator. Proceeding to checkout and then out of the store, the statuesque creature headed back to the flat building.

  Bingo! So she lived here. And if Connie’s luck really was good, she was the one Marenka Maurel had come to see. Connie didn’t kid herself. Only the rich could afford to even rent a place in such a posh neighbourhood.

  Waiting a further five minutes so no one would catch her snooping, she then walked to the front door and stopped by the intercom. The names and flat numbers of all the residents were listed. Instead of writing them all down, she pulled out her phone and shot a picture of the list.

  Once in her car, she smiled. She was bound to find out who Nitro Mike’s girlfriend was.

  She made her way back into the city to the offices of Viewstand near Kew Gardens. Sending silent thanks that the office was pretty much deserted and that her boss wasn’t here to ask her why she was at her desk and not on Marenka Maurel’s trace, she sat down in front of her computer and started running checks on all the names she had on the list.

  She didn’t have to wait long to find what she was looking for, and when she did, she was sure her face would split in two from the victory grin that stretched her lips.

  Nitro Mike’s girl was Jane Smithers.

  Who also happened to be Marenka Maurel’s daughter.

  Who also happened to be the daughter of the late David Smithers, eminent English professor who’d also had a knack for driving racing cars and who had died in a tragic accident in the Paris-Dakar race some thirty years earlier.

  Who also happened to be the granddaughter of one of the most powerful families in Venezuela, the Aranas.

  And, who also happened to be at the head of a multimillion-dollar-fortune
because of the stocks she held in the Arana mining and hotel empire.

  Talk of luck shining down on her. This was even better than her best dream coming true.

  She had her scoop! And for even more emphasis, she’d wait. A Sunday headline was too far, so she’d settle for a Wednesday title. This would sure be brilliant for her career.

  A couple of days to kill. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

  Connie pressed her body into the back of her chair. Who said she couldn’t get some more information in the meantime? She had her target. The only thing she needed to do was not let Jane Smithers out of her sight.

  ***

  Jane awoke on Monday with a terrible headache. She really shouldn’t have pigged out on those two chocolate-mousse cakes the day before. Too much sugar always brought on a hangover-like pain. Why hadn’t she remembered that?

  She’d been too incensed, that’s why. First Michael and his aloof manner, then her mother and the twins. Enough to make anyone suicidal or homicidal on a normal day. Add the rumbling turmoil her hormones played with her, and she hadn’t been able to escape. So she’d sought death by chocolate. She knew of no better way to achieve that than by downing the decadent concoction from Asda. Too bad she now felt like death warmed over.

  A quiver started in her stomach when she thought of the day ahead. Her appointment with Gayle. What would it reveal? She had no idea how an ultrasound took place. Was it painful? She’d wanted to document herself on the Net, but given the weekend from Hell she’d had, there had been no time to even think of anything beside survival in the land of the crazy and the more opportunistic.

  Standing in front of the wide mirror in her bathroom, she trained her gaze to her still flat belly. Suddenly, she lifted her hand and let it hover above the spot where life grew in her.

  Jane froze, realization hitting her but wafting off like an elusive breeze in the next few seconds. She let her hand drop to her side and turned away. She couldn’t think of the baby. Not when she had been through so much stress during the past few days, ever since she’d learned of its existence.