Two weeks later…
Ten o’clock hits and I couldn’t get out of this seedy bar fast enough. I’ve been waiting tables for the past year thanks to my fake I.D. and tons of make-up—the only useful skill I’ve learned from my mother, but I can’t wait until the day that I can finally give my notice. Just two more weeks.
“Need me to walk you out?” One of the bouncers calls out to me as I’m heading out the door.
Whipping around, I give him my brightest smile. “I’m good, Johnny. But keep an eye on Melissa. I think she may have an obsessive fan.”
I snicker, knowing full-well Mel will be pissed. She’s had a crush on the brooding mountain man who’s become a regular, and sending in Johnny to cock block will definitely get me an earful later. Oh well. My roommate should’ve thought harder before eating that last sleeve of Oreos.
Leaving Johnny to it, I turn on a wistful sigh and walk toward my beat up civic, fantasizing about the day that I get to leave this town once-and-for-all. Sure, bar money isn’t a lot, but I’ve got a plan that’ll get me where I need to go. And best of all, it’ll just be a one-time thing, meaning I can shove it in my rear-view mirror as soon as I’m done with it.
I’ve just shut the door to my car when my purse vibrates. Oh, God. What now? There are only two people who have this number and one of them is inside dancing.
Clicking the line through, I pray it’s nothing serious.
“Mila, darling. Are you there?”
“Yes, Catherine. I’m here. Is everything okay?”
“Is that any way to talk to your mom?” she admonishes, and it takes everything in me not to laugh in her face.
She isn’t my mom. Not in the truest sense of the word. She may have carried me in her womb, but there isn’t a maternal bone in that woman’s body.
“Spare me the hurt feelings and get to the point. I’ve had a long day and I just want to get home so I can crawl into bed.”
“Mila Kournikova, you watch your tone or I won’t let you be around your little brother or sister.”
Her words have my breath halting and my heart picking up.
“What did you just say?” The words come out so low I wonder if she heard me.
“Surprise! You’re going to be a big sister! I wanted to tell you in person but figured you wouldn’t fly out without my telling you why.”
I’m gulping in air, wondering how this is even real life. She doesn’t even like kids, and she wasn’t with anyone the last time I’d seen her.
“What? When? How?” So many questions slam into me at once that I’m surprised I’m able to get any out.
“I admit it was a surprise, but a pleasant one. The only problem is that because of my age, I’m having a bit of medical issues this time around.”
I’m nodding, though I know she can’t see me. “Right, you’re forty-six, not the typical age for a pregnancy, but science has come a long way. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine, right?”
Despite the animosity between us, I still want my mother and the baby to be okay. I’m not a monster.
“Yes. I’ve been able to see the best doctors for the little peanut and me. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m having horrible morning sickness. It’s even worse than when I was pregnant with you.” She laughs as if we’re the bestest of friends. “Anyway, that’s why I was calling you. I remember you saying you’d taken a couple of design courses in high school and I’m sort of in need of your help. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to do my job, but it’ll get you by with the menial tasks I’ll need your help with. The mornings are so hard for me, and I need another hand with the business. There are deadlines from the project in Colorado that are coming up and I want you to help with the little things. Put that administration course you took in prep school to good use. And don’t worry, it’ll only be until the baby is here.”
I’m shocked at her words. Never in my life has she asked for my help, always swatting me away and telling me I’d just mess up her precious boards and files.
A part of me preens, but the one more connected with reality wonders what’s really in it for her. Yes, I’d be helping her with her work, but aside from the obvious, why now?
“I thought you’d finished the project in Loveland. At least that’s what you told me the last time we spoke.”
“I did, but the couple wanted to put in an addition at the last moment and I just couldn’t say no. You know how it is.”
Yes. I do. Mom can’t turn down money. It’s her driving source, and never enough. Everything always plays second fiddle to it. Including her daughter.
Sighing into the phone, I finally give her my answer. “Fine. But I can’t promise that I’ll be there for long. I’m planning on attending college in the fall.”
Two more weeks and I’ll have the funds to make that dream a reality. Yes, I could’ve asked mom for the money. After all, she’s been getting child support from my father for the past eighteen years, and thanks to his position in life, it’s been a pretty penny—not that I’ve seen a dime.
Catherine likes money, and whatever she received from my father went to feeding her love of everything designer and luxe.
Right then, the memory of my thirteenth birthday hits me strong and fierce.
Covering my mouth, I tried to hide the crooked imperfection that got me teased more often than not. “Please, momma. I just want to fix my teeth.”
Catherine scoffed. “Who do I look like? The money tree? We don’t have enough for frivolous things, Mila. Just wait until you’re older. You can buy yourself braces then.”
“But dad gives you more than enough. He always says so.” I didn’t have a relationship with my biological father, but we talked once a month, and one thing he’d always mention was how much money he’d been giving my mother.
“Stupid girl. That money goes to important things, not superficial ones like your teeth. You’ll understand when you’re a grownup. Life isn’t cheap, and everything costs money.”
I cried myself to sleep that night, taking her words to heart. But the next morning, when she walked into the kitchen with her hands full of designer goods and I saw that one bag was worth well over what a set of braces would cost, I knew what she really was. Selfish. And I vowed right then and there to never be like the callous bitch my mother was.
“Mila. Are you still there?” She’d been talking this whole time I’d been lost in my head, and I can’t say that I’m sorry. I needed that strong reminder of who I’m really dealing with.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Okay, good. Does that mean you’ll be coming to South Beach? For the baby?” She tacks on that last part, knowing it’s probably the only reason I’d agree.
And she isn’t wrong. I already feel a sort of camaraderie with the little one. Poor thing will need a friend against the Wicked Witch of the West when navigating this world.
“Yes, I’ll come. I’ll need to let my shift manager know, but girls bounce all the time. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
Mom hisses. “Ugh, Mila. Please tell me you’re not still working at that strip club.”
“Save it, mom. It’s the highest paying bar in our town, and it’s not like I’m asking you for money, right?”
She quiets at that, knowing that the only reason I’m at that place is because I refuse to ask her for a dime. I haven’t asked this woman for a single red cent since I turned thirteen and I sure as hell don’t plan on starting any time soon, which is why I’ll be buying my own ticket out there. “Just tell me where I need to go and I’ll give you my flight number.”
“Oh, perfect! I can have Armando pick you up from the airport.”
“Armando? Is that the baby’s daddy?”
“Oh god no. That’s the head of security. But you’ll meet Jason Crown soon enough. He’s going to be your new daddy, after all.”
Her words have my stomach lurching. What the fuck? “Um, I’m all good on that front, but thanks.”
Jesus. What do you say to that? I’ve never had a dad, and definitely not a daddy. “Head of security? Is Jason some sort of celebrity or something?”
Shocker that mom would get pregnant by some other affluent schmuck.
“No, he’s not a celebrity, but he does have a large profile. You’ll see when you get here. There’s always security milling about the house. Anyway, I’m so excited to see you, baby.”
Her words have my brows hitting my hairline. Am I in the twilight zone?
Needing to get off the line before she starts singing Kumbaya and telling me she loves me, I give her some bullshit excuse. “Hey, mom. I see my boss walking out. I’m going to talk to him about leaving.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Don’t forget to text me the flight later.”
“I won’t. Bye mom.”
“Bye, baby. I lo—.”
I end the call before she could get the words out. I don’t want to hear them. Not now. Not ever.
They aren’t true, and if there’s anything I hate worse than avarice, it’s deceit.
Jason
“I have the best news, Jason!” Catherine walks into my office without knocking and it takes everything in me not to yell at her.
“For the millionth time, it’s Jace.” I don’t know why I bother, because no matter how many times I’ve told her my friends and family call me that, she insists on calling me by my birth name, saying it fits me better.
“Anyway, don’t you want to hear the news?” She waves away my words as if they’re of no importance. How I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this woman is a mystery to me. I’ll probably end up in a straitjacket at some point. Maybe that’s her plan.
“Sure. What’s the news?”
“My daughter Mila is coming to town. Since I’ve been having problems in the mornings, I thought maybe she could help me finish out my contracts. I’d hate to flake on my clients and the baby is just taking all the energy out of me.” Catherine sits on the edge of my desk, her skirt riding up her thigh and exposing her tanned skin, but the vision does nothing for my cock. “I hope it isn’t a problem that I told her she could stay with us.”
I’ve been trying to make a go of things since she’s moved in. And if I were being honest with myself, I know that decision was made when my eyes landed on the ultrasound monitor, the little peanut visible to me for the first time.
My childhood was full of so much happiness, and the memory of my parents being very much in love was a big part of that. I’ve always known that, if possible, I’d want to give my kids the same. A happy and stable home. Too bad for me. It seems if I want any chance of having that, it’ll have to be with Catherine.
Resigning myself to my fate, I rub at the back of my neck and sigh. “Yes, that’s fine. When will she be getting in?”
“That’s the second thing I’d been wanting to talk to you about.” She’s fidgeting with a strand of her hair, and I have half a mind to tell her that coy doesn’t look good on her. “I know we briefly discussed it when I moved in, but I hoped that Mila staying with us could mean that we could move our relationship to the next level.”
My stomach knots at her words, realizing just how much I hate the sound of that. Needing to nip this in the bud, I respond as quickly as humanly possible.
“Now, Catherine. We’d agreed. Until the baby arrives, there’s no need for us to be together in that way.” I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends, intentionally inflicting pain—anything to distract myself from this sense of impending doom. “We’re both adults, and we both know that this,” I wave a hand between us, “is all a result of a one-night stand. There’s no need to complicate it any further by playing house and forcing a relationship where there isn’t one. Maybe with time we’ll get there, and things will look different when there’s a child in the mix, but as of now, I still think we should wait.”
Catherine outright pouts. But thankfully, the phone she’d been holding vibrates, cutting off any argument she’d been ready to offer.
Like a magnet, my eyes are drawn to the screen and the caller’s photo flashing across it.
What the—?
All at once, my heart stops, my world tilts, and there isn’t enough air to be had. Fucking hell. This has to be some sick joke. This can’t be real, can it?
As Catherine speaks, I know I must’ve been an evil fuck in a past life. There’s no other explanation. No other reason life would be so cruel.
“Mila, darling. That’s great news. I’ll let Jason know and we’ll have someone pick you up.” There’s a pause and I assume Mila is talking. “Uh-huh. Okay, sounds good. We’ll see you soon, sweetie. Love you.”
She ends the call with a huge smile on her face as I try to figure out how to word my pressing question.
“Catherine, that photo that flashed when Mila called. Whose picture was that?” I’m praying that by some miracle she’s just as obsessed with the same camgirl as I am, but I highly doubt it.
“That’s Mila, silly.” Her brows are furrowed, but the smile still hasn’t left her face. That’s because she’s oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that I fucked her to the thought of her own daughter. That the only reason she’s pregnant with my child is because I hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about her little girl.
Bile inches up my throat and I need to excuse myself before I hurl all over my desk. To say that this is one fucking twist I didn’t see coming is the understatement of the century.
“I’ll need a minute. See you at dinner.” I wave toward Catherine as I head for the attached bath, needing a splash of water to the face or the toilet for hurling. Either will do.
And as I shut the door behind me, I have only one question playing on repeat in my head. How in the fuck am I going to survive this?
