Seduced by the Mafia Boss
Page 9
This party just keeps getting better.
Ransom and I have talked about this move a few times. I have nothing but bad memories of Vegas. My flighty aunt declined my wedding invitation, so Ransom’s family is all the family I have. They’re so kind and accepting. The chance to live closer to them simply made sense. Besides, I have my eye on attending vet school at Texas A&M someday.
“Can we, um…add to the happiness?” Rush cuts in. “Vanessa and I are moving here, too. We talked about it last night.”
I squeal with delight. I love all my sisters-in-law, but Sophie and Kristi have a bond that spans decades, and I have so much in common with Vanessa. “Really?”
Vanessa nods excitedly, her pale curls sliding over her slender shoulders with a bounce. “My dad decided to retire from the Agency and move to Key West. Apparently, he met a woman. So—”
“I’m leaving the Agency, too,” Rush puts in, then slants a glance my husband’s way. “It was time for Douglas to retire, and I can’t stand the douchebag I’d be working for if I stayed. Plus, y’all are going to be here now. Got an open position for me?”
Ransom and Ridge exchange a glance, along with an instant, non-verbal conversation. “Absolutely. Welcome to the team!”
“Thanks.” Rand grins.
They shake and seal the deal. I stare, stupefied. Within weeks, we’ll all be living in the same state. And if I know these brothers, they’ll choose living on the same block if they can manage it. My in-laws will be thrilled. And best of all, we’ll really, truly be a family. Our kids will grow up with cousins and good times and belonging, in a way I didn’t.
No, their kids. You’re waiting to have yours, remember?
Nibbling my lip thoughtfully, I follow everyone to the private room Sophie has set up for our family dinner at a nearby hotel. Through the food, laughter, and conversation, thoughts keep niggling through my head. Oh, I enjoy myself. Any time the eight of us get together, we have a blast. I feel truly included. But in the background, my whirling thoughts won’t stop.
When the meal is over, Sophie and Kristi both rub their bellies, pleading exhaustion. But I see the expressions they’re giving their husbands. They might be going to bed…but I don’t think it’s to sleep quite yet. Vanessa says she’s ready to “turn in,” too. Their husbands all look thrilled. After hugs and handshakes, everyone heads to their own rooms.
Ransom lets me into ours with a frown. “What’s the matter? You got quiet on me. You rethinking the move? We don’t have to relocate if you’re not sure. I can work remotely from Ridge and Rush.”
“No,” I assure him. “I’m down for the move. I’m really excited, in fact. It’s just… We’ll be the only ones without kids.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” My husband brings me closer, enfolding me in his arms and cradling my face in his hands. “Don’t. There’s no rush. It will wait a few years. I know you have ambitions, and I would never want to take those from you.”
It’s one reason I love Ransom. Okay, he’s handsome as hell and dazzlingly talented in bed, but he listens. And he cares what I think. Hell, he lives to make me happy.
Tears well in my eyes. “I needed to hear that.”
“Of course. Babygirl, your happiness is everything to me.”
“And yours is everything to me,” I murmur, melting in his protective arms.
For long minutes, we don’t say anything. He strokes my back with a big, comforting hand. “We’ll do it when you’re ready. If you’re ready. I’ve already been a dad, so…”
But not the way he wanted to be. He wants to convince me that he’s not missing out by waiting, but sixteen was too young for Ransom to become a father. And Lydia wasn’t any sort of partner in parenting. In fact, he barely saw Ethan for the first five years. His ex used the boy as a crowbar and a bargaining chip. He turned out all right, thank god. But I know deep in Ransom’s heart that, more than anything, he wants to be an involved dad this time, from conception through graduation and beyond.
I’m the one stopping him from having that.
Well, I have been.
“Take off your clothes,” I tell him as I back out of his embrace and drop every stitch I’m wearing.
It takes him a second to stop gawking and comply. “My pleasure.”
By the time, he’s stripped, I’m digging through his overnight bag for the box of condoms I know he brought. We found out the hard way that my body can’t tolerate the pill, so we’ve been gloving up each and every time since.
“I’ll get those. Definitely going to need a few tonight.” He comes toward me, all stiff cock, broad shoulders, and black eyes burning with desire. “At least.”
Finally, I find them and pull the box free. “No, you won’t.” Then I make my way to the trash can and let them drop with a clang. “How would you feel about getting me pregnant?”
Ransom stops breathing. “Now?”
I do a little mental math. “I’m probably fertile.”
He swallows. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Did I misread him? “I mean, if you want to. I thought—”
“Oh, I do. I asked if you’re sure. Because there’s nothing I’d like more. But what about vet school?”
“I’ll still go. Maybe a little slower than I might have if we didn’t have babies. But you, our family, and love… Nothing is more important. I’ll never feel complete without them.”
A soft smile breaks across his face as he saunters closer and lifts me into his arms, carrying me to our bed. “Well, then. Let’s get you pregnant, babygirl. You’re going to be a great mom.”
I cup his face as he settles on top of me, slides inside me—blessedly bare—and seats himself deep. “You’re going to be the best dad ever.”
“Yeah?” He works slowly into my body, and I start to melt. “How about, right now, I focus on being the best husband ever.”
“You already are,” I gasp out as our breathing syncs up.
“Hmm. The best lover ever?”
Since I’m already halfway to orgasm? “You definitely are.”
He grips my hips and begins to pick up his pace. “I love you, Havana Garrison.”
“I love you, too. Forever.”
We pass the night together, trying to make our dreams of a family come true.
A month later, as we’re spending the first night in our new Texas house, Ransom and I finish unpacking the boxes with daily essentials, then he takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom. There’s a bag on the counter.
“While I grabbed fast food, I picked this up, too.”
Without looking, I know it’s a pregnancy test. “Do you think?”
“You missed your period.” He grins.
“I did. And my breasts…”
“Swollen and tender.” His grin widens.
I bite my lip, almost afraid to get my hopes up, despite the fact that all month we’ve been totally gloveless and incredibly active. Then I tear into the box. Three minutes later, I’m staring at a plus symbol.
Eyes tearing, I drop the stick and throw my arms around my husband. “We did it, Ransom! I’m so excited!”
“Oh, babygirl. I couldn’t be more thrilled. Life is absolutely perfect. Thank you.”
The tears fall. “No, you’ve made my life perfect. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. Let’s celebrate.”
“Call the family?” We should.
“Um, later. First…” Silently, Ransom strips me bare, covers me with kisses, washes me clean in the shower, then worships me in our bed until I’m dirty again.
Life didn’t turn out the way I expected. It’s even better, and we have thousands of bright tomorrows to anticipate together, one perfect shimmering day at a time. I can’t wait.
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Filthy Rich Bosses, Book 1
by Shayla Black
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TEMPTED BY THE BILLIONAIRE
(A Forbidden Age-Gap, Boss-Assistant Romance)
Forbidden Confessions: Filthy Rich Bosses, Book 1
by Shayla Black
Click to purchase!
(will be available in eBook)
(print and audio coming soon)
Coming in 2022, four new forbidden stories of sexy tycoons and office seductions. Preorder book one, Tempted by the Billionaire, now!
EXCERPT
Chad
The girl lingers in the doorway, scanning my bedroom as if she’s never seen anything so opulent in her life. The moment she breezed inside, the fresh air blew in with her.
I sit up and peer closer.
She’s painfully young and even more painfully earnest. But that’s where everything I expected ends.
She’s tamed her dark hair into professional curls that twist past her shoulders, framing a surprisingly girlish face. Her flawless pale skin possesses a hint of brown that has nothing to do with the sun. Her sculpted brows arch elegantly above intelligent, black-lined eyes the color of a tropical sea. But her full red lips shout fuck me without uttering a word. She’s dressed in a severe businesslike dress that clings to her small frame and mouthwatering breasts. The baggy, threadbare sweater she’s wearing over it tries to conceal her small waist and lush hips…and fails miserably. Her purse and shoes should have been in the waste bin long ago. She’s in desperate need of a manicure, and her jewelry is a disgrace.
But when I look at Savannah Blythe, my cock instantly thickens and rises for her.
I ignore it because, from a glance, I know her story. She’s an underprivileged—and I suspect mixed-race—kid who scraped through her poor childhood. She was forced to grow up too fast because her family needed her help to make ends meet. She exceled at school because it was something she could control, recognized it was her ticket out of poverty, and she refused to worry her loved ones about her future. She wears a façade of toughness because she learned to navigate mean streets growing up, and she has good instincts about people, but she lacks real experience. She’ll say or do anything to get ahead—until I hit whatever her ethics hot button is. By the hint of good-girl clinging to her, I know she has one, just like I can tell I make her nervous.
“Ms. Blythe.” I nod.
I’ve already read her résumé, of course. She excels at everything she touches. The letters of reference from professors and an old boss at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant back in Indiana all call her clever, hardworking, and tireless. Blah, blah, blah. They’re the same adjectives I’ve heard to describe someone who’s a cut above average for decades. I selected her CV from the stack of others because I heard two attributes I value far more than the usual platitudes.
Moldable and loyal.
Perfect…if that’s true.
“Are you going to stand there or talk to me about the cat?”
She squares her shoulders, trying to look tall and proud, then tiptoes into the room. If she passes muster today, I’ll correct the mixed messages of her body language. For now, I let it slide. She sets her purse on the sofa at the end of my bed.
“Take off the terrible sweater, too.”
Savannah swallows…what? Her anger? Her pride? Then she sheds the gray woolen blob. That’s a point for her. She might actually know which battles are worth fighting and which aren’t.
Finally, she approaches, hands clasped in front of her.
I want to eat her whole. But I can’t. First, I don’t need the hassle. She’s a woman who would require entanglements. And second, maybe I’m having a rare twinge of conscience, but I could utterly destroy her. Under that hard-knock-life veneer lies Pollyanna. I won’t be the man who shatters her illusions. Let some other asshole take the blame for that.
“Of course, Mr. Force. Let me first say it’s an honor to meet you.” She sticks out her hand.
I take it. Her fingers are slender, her bones delicate, her skin soft, but her palms have calluses. She’s known hard work. Good. That will serve her well if she stays.
I do my best to ignore the zip up my spine. My touch lingers longer than it should. My cock, the greedy bastard, throbs for more.
“The cat?” I prompt impatiently.
She’ll learn quickly I don’t waste time.
“Of course. How can I help you?”
“He’s overdue for his heartworm medicine. Give it to him.”
A little frown settles between her brows. “How overdue?”
How long ago did Miranda leave? “Six months, maybe more. Does it matter?”
“It does. Have you tried and failed to give it to him or simply not tried at all?”
I’m surprised—not unpleasantly—by how direct her question is. “I don’t fail at things, Ms. Blythe.”
A polite curl of her lips tells me she’s annoyed and she thinks I’m an ass. Most people wouldn’t be able to decipher her expression, but I haven’t made a few billion dollars without learning to read a room. “Of course not. What I’m asking is if the cat has rejected it completely or whether you’ve simply been too busy to administer the medication.”
Her recovery is decent. She’s quick on her feet.
I smile back. “Some of both, actually. I did attempt several times. He refused it outright. It slipped my mind after that until a recent vet visit.”
“Did the vet say there’s a problem? I mean, other than the cat needing his monthly pill?”
“You’d have to ask my housekeeper, Wendy.”
“And I take it she’s not here?”
“No.” And even if she was, I’m not in the mood to share an instant of this delicious girl’s time or attention with anyone yet.
“Have you noticed a change in his appearance or demeanor?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
Her too-polite smile says she suspects I’m giving her the runaround. Her instincts are good.
“You must have noticed something. He is your cat.”
“He isn’t.”
She cocks her head at me. Clearly, she thinks I’m arguing for the sake of arguing. This is one time she’d be wrong.
“Obviously, the reputation of cats is that they don’t allow humans to own them, merely care for their whims, but surely you spend time with him—”
“No, because he’s not my cat.”
She frowns, seemingly perplexed. “He doesn’t live here? If not, why are you—”
“He does.”
“Mr. Force, did you or did you not adopt him?”
“I didn’t. Someone left him here.”
“Who?”
I’ve been leading her down this conversational path, mostly for my amusement because she’s tenacious and more than slightly clever, but my next question will tell me whether she’s even remotely prepared to play in my league.
Probably not, and I’m likely doomed to disappointment, but I’m savoring this last moment of anticipation. “I can’t answer that question unless you sign a nondisclosure form.”
She’s surprised, but to her credit, she wipes her expression clean a heartbeat later and quickly chooses a different tactic. “Your demand is unreasonable for such a simple question. You know what I think?”
“I’d love to hear.”
“You don’t really want help with the cat. If you did, you wouldn’t have played such ridiculous games of semantics or demanded I sign an NDA. As such, I’d like to move on and talk about your op
en executive assistant position. I’ve brought an extra copy of my résumé and I’m happily prepared to discuss any questions you may have about my education or—”
“You’re wrong.”
Savannah raises a dark brow. “In what way?”
“I really do want help with the cat. I simply can’t answer your question without legal protection.”
“Won’t, not can’t.”
I shrug. “Sign the form, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“You’ve said nothing that even remotely compels me to sign a legal document meant to muzzle me, especially since I’m sure you’ve had the city’s finest lawyers draft it to your very great advantage.”
“Actually, the country’s best lawyers. Boston’s best were merely passable.”
Her smile turns tight. “Of course. What’s your cat’s name?”
“Hades.”
“As in the ruler of the underworld?”
“You know your Greek mythology?”
Now she looks insulted. “I know a great many things, Mr. Force, including how to feed Hades his medicine. Do I need to sign a nondisclosure form for you to tell me whether I can find his cat food in the kitchen?”
I try not to smile, but she’s proving to be more interesting than at first glance. “What if I said yes?”
“I’d tell you I’ll figure it out myself. Shall I see to it?”
“By all means.” I gesture her to the door. “If you can find the little black bastard of a puffball, you’re welcome to tangle with him. Something of note, Ms. Blythe, if I may?”
“I’m listening.”
“He still has all his claws.”
“So do I. If I manage this in the next fifteen minutes, you’ll give me a fair interview?”
I admire her for negotiating so forthrightly on her behalf. “Absolutely. I’m starting your timer…now.”
WICKED AS LIES
Zyron and Tessa, Part One
Wicked & Devoted, Book 3
by Shayla Black
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(will be available in eBook, print, and audio)