SHAW HART
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
About the Author
Series By Shaw Hart
CONTENTS
Copyright © 2020 by Shaw Hart
www.shawhartbooks.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Nora Smith has no idea what she wants.
A heated argument at work leads to the hottest sex of her life.
There's just one problem.
It was with her boss.
Luca Golding knows what he wants.
For three years he’s waited for his head of public affairs, Nora, to realize that they're meant to be.
When he finds out that their one night of passion has led to a pregnancy, he’s over the moon. He’s about to get everything that he ever wanted; the woman of his dreams and a family.
There’s just one catch.
He should know that nothing about Nora Smith comes that easily.
NHOW WOULD I describe Luca Golding? Oh, boy. Arrogant, egotistical, asshole, workaholic, snob, bossy, sexy, controlling. So many words and most of them are bad.
At twenty-eight, he’s the youngest billionaire in tech history. I guess all of those personality traits served him well. He works from sun up to sun down and I pity his assistant. As his head of public relations, I’m at his beck and call, and trust me, he always seems to be calling.
I was hired at Golding Industries right out of college. I had been so excited when I had gotten the job offer but it didn’t take me long to figure out how demanding Luca could be. He has run off his last six PR people which is probably how I made it to head of the whole department in just over two years.
I fume as I stomp down the hallway toward his office. I was supposed to be in Italy right now, sipping wine, seeing the sights, and having a hot fling. Instead of finally losing my v-card, I was forced to cancel my trip at the last minute. Luca had insisted that he
needed me here to work on some upcoming software release. I had tried to argue with him but he had demanded that I stay and so I did. Only I’ve been hanging out here for two days and Luca hasn’t had me working on anything.
I’m headed to confront him now.
Laylin, my best friend, roommate, and sister from another mister, has been texting me over the last few days. She’s in Italy and I’m jealous of all of the pictures she’s been sending me. I’ve been apologizing for having to bail on her at the last minute but Laylin is a sweetheart and she understands. Besides, she knows how Luca is and wasn’t surprised when he canceled my vacation at the last minute.
Laylin claims that Luca has a thing for me but that can’t be right. He has never made a move on me or shown any interest. He’s a jerk who obviously couldn’t care less about me if his treatment and the way he bosses me around is any indication.
Laylin majored in marketing while I majored in public relations and we had dreamed of opening our own firm and working together. When I first started working for Golding, I had promised that it would only be for a short bit, just long enough for us to save up some money and grow our contacts.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about quitting more and more. I barely have a life working for Luca. He calls me at all hours, emailing me and texting if that doesn’t work. I can’t even remember the last time I went out on a date. Actually, I can. It was six months ago and Luca called me back to work before I was even finished getting ready for it.
I know Laylin would be excited to start our own firm. She works for a small company right now and it’s great but I think she gets bored of the projects that they choose for her. I haven’t talked to her about it yet, but after this, I think I will once she gets back home from Italy.
I slam into his office, kicking the door shut behind me as Luca looks up from his desk with a bored look on his face.
“Ms. Smith,” he drones out, setting his pen to the side.
“Why the heck am I here?” I demand, stopping in front of his desk and crossing my arms over my chest.
“To work,” he says and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, but there isn’t any work for me so why did you cancel my vacation?”
He sighs and I glare at him. It’s then that I take a good look at him and notice something out of place.
“Is your razor broken?” I blurt out, taking in the stubble lining his strong jaw. His dark brown hair is wavy and ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it. His light blue eyes stare back at me, his face expressionless.
“No. I’m growing a beard,” he grumbles, leaning back in his chair with a scowl.
My stomach drops and my jaw almost hits the floor. Beards are my weakness. It was just last week, before Luca cancelled it, that I was telling Laylin how I was going to find a guy with a beard and lose my v-card to him on vacation.
“What? Why?” I ask, shifting on my feet.
“Did you need something, Ms. Smith?”
“Um…” I swallow, trying to clear my thoughts. “Yes, some work would be great. Otherwise I cancelled my trip for nothing.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you right now.”
I sputter, shooting daggers at him. “So you made me miss my vacation, my first one since I started working for you, for nothing?”
“I’ll have something for you soon.”
I spin on my heel and slam out of his office.
IknewthatIshouldhavejustgonetoItaly.
LI WATCH Nora storm out of my office and bite back a growl.
I’ve been in love with Nora Smith since the second she walked through my door to interview for my company. I had hired her on the spot and then kept her close for the last two years. I’ve made sure that no other man gets close to her, keeping bodyguards on her twenty-four seven.
I’ve built my company from the ground up but now that I’m successful, I need someone to share it with. That person is going to be Nora. I’ve always been a bit single-minded and now that focus is on Nora. Honestly, she’s had my focus for the last two years.
The first thing I do when I wake up is check with her bodyguards. They alert me when she leaves her apartment to head to work, when she arrives, what she eats for lunch, how much coffee she has, when she heads home. There is not a second of Nora’s day that I don’t know about.
It’s been like that for two years but lately, things have started to change. She’s been showing more interest in men, talking to her
best friend, Laylin, about how she was going to find someone and sleep with them on vacation. Obviously, I had to shut that down. I’ve been waiting for someone like Nora for forever and I’m not about to let her slip through my fingers.
I don’t know how Nora hasn’t figured out that she’s mine yet. Her bodyguards have been following her around for years. Every time she talks to another man, they shut it down. Every time she has a date, I make sure she has to cancel. Hell, I’m even growing this damn beard because I know how much she likes them. I overheard her telling Laylin that she wanted a man with a beard just last week and now here I am with this damn stubble.
I would do anything for Nora but since she clearly isn’t picking up on that, I think it’s time that I made my claim a little more obvious.
My mother keeps asking when she’s getting grandkids and I am all for giving them to her. I just need to get Nora on board. The more I think about Nora, pregnant with my baby, the clearer an idea forms in my head. A way to tie her to me forever and to prove that she’s mine.
I grin as I pick up my phone and dial Nora’s number.
“Ms. Smith. I need to see you in my office.”
I hang up before she can start yelling and lean back in my chair. A second later, Nora comes back through my office door. Her grey eyes sparkle with anger, her face flushed and lips pursed. She slams her hands down on her narrow hips and glares at me. Her red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and she’s wearing a dress with a pair of black pumps.
I stand when she stops in front of my desk again and walk around until I’m in her personal space. She shifts, unsure what’s happening. I’ve rarely been this close to her and I can tell that she is thrown off now. She smells like oranges and vanilla and my mouth waters. I wonder what she tastes like and I clench my hands so that I don’t reach for her.
“What are you doing?” She asks, looking up at me with uncertainty but I can see the interest in her eyes as well.
“What I should have done two years ago,” I murmur as I wrap her ponytail around her hand and tilt her head up.
She gasps as I swoop down and claim her lips with mine. I waste no time, slipping my tongue into her mouth and tangling it with hers. My hand tightens in her hair as she moans and I back her up against my desk. My body presses against hers and I grind my hips into hers, making sure that she can feel how hard I am for her.
“Luca,” she gasps and I take that as a sign.
My hands go to her hips and I pull up her dress, tugging it over her hips and finding the zipper running up the back. She helps me tug her dress off over her head and then I set her on the desk. Her hands fly to my shoulders and she holds onto me as I continue to ravish her mouth.
“Fuck, Nora,” I moan against her lips when it finally dawns on me that she’s kissing me back just as hungrily as I’m kissing her.
With her dress off, I can smell how aroused she is and my thin control snaps. I reach down, twisting her panties in my fingers and ripping them away from her body.
“I can smell your arousal, Nora.”
“Your point?” She asks, trying to act like she’s not desperate for me.
“Why aren’t you taking care of it?”
“What gives you the right to talk to me that way? Who do you think you are?” She gasps, her cheeks flaming as red as her hair. I want to see how far down her body that flush goes.
“You know who I am,” I say in a low growl, my mouth dying to taste every inch of her. “Do you need me to remind you?”
“You’re my boss,” Nora gasps and I wonder if that’s why she hasn’t realized how obsessed I am with her.
“No, say my name. The one you’ll be screaming tonight,” I order.
She glares at me, pretending to hate me bossing her around but I notice how she wiggles her bare pussy on my desk. She likes me being in charge. She likes how bossy I am.
“Say it, Nora,” I order, gripping her knees and spreading them wide so that I can fit between her thighs.
My fingers trail up her legs, inching closer and closer to the apex of her thighs as I wait for her to do as I ordered.
“Nora,” I warn as my fingers find her wet flesh.
I tease a finger between her folds, finding her hard clit and jiggling it with the tip of my finger. Her hips rock, wanting more pleasure on that special button but I evade her.
“Say it, Nora,” I demand, dipping my finger lower and circling her tight hole.
“Luca,” she grits out between her teeth and I grin down at her. My hands grip her hips and pull her to the edge of the desk as I sink to my knees before her. She leans back on her elbows, her eyes hazy and hooded with desire as she watches me on my knees.
I lick a path up the inside of her thigh before I bury my face in her drenched core. Nora cries out, her legs trembling on either side of my head as she lays back on my desk. Papers and some pens fall off the desk but we both ignore them.
I moan as Nora’s sweet taste hits my tongue and I’m instantly addicted. I bury my face further into her core and lick along her folds. My tongue dips inside of her but she’s so tight that I can only get the tip into her snug hole.
I lick back up to her clit and suck that sensitive nub into my mouth, rolling it against my tongue until she’s gasping for breath. She chants my name up to the ceiling as I press one thick finger inside of her, sucking harder on her clit until she shatters apart.
I kiss the inside of her thigh before I rise to my feet and unbuckle my pants. Nora holds her breath as she sits on the desk, her eyes on me as she watches me remove my clothes and pull my aching cock out. The head is red and leaking precum already. I stroke it a few times and we both moan as another pearl of liquid appears from the tip.
I guide my thick cock to her opening and keep my eyes on Nora’s as I start to work my length inside of her. She’s tighter than a fist and I swear under my breath as I feel tingles start at the base of my spine. I’m not even halfway inside her and I already want to come.
I push forward another inch and reach her barrier. My cock swells, knowing that I’m going to be the first, and only, man to ever be inside her. I reach up, palming her tits as I thrust forward, popping her cherry and making her mine. I roll her nipples between
my fingers as I pause, letting her get used to the feel of my inside of her.
“Luca,” Nora breathes, her back arching off the desk as I continue to tease the stiff peaks of her nipples.
Hearing her breath my name has me surging deeper inside of her and then I can’t hold it back any longer. I grip her hips as I start to pound into her, holding her in place. Nora cries out as I dip one hand between us and find her clit. I rub the bundle of nerves as I fuck her harder. My cock swells inside of her and I hold myself as deep inside of her as I can as I start to come.
Nora cries out as she comes with me, her back arching and her hair a fire around her head. I keep coming inside of her, holding myself deep as I find my release. Her eyes open and she looks up at me. I wish that I could read the expression on her face.
I’m about to open my mouth and tell her how I feel about her, how she’s mine now, but before I can, my intercom beeps and my assistant's voice comes over the speaker.
“Mr. Golding, I know that you have Ms. Smith with you and I’m not supposed to bother you when she’s in your office, but your 3 pm appointment is waiting.”
Nora’s eyes widen and she scurries off the desk, tugging her dress back on and smoothing out her hair as she practically bolts out of my office without a second glance.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I bend to pick up Nora’s ruined panties.
I fix my pants before I hit my intercom.
“Send them in. Oh, and Carol?”
“Yes, Mr. Golding?”
“Neverinterrupt me when Ms. Smith is in my office again.”
NIT’S BEEN three days since I had a lapse in judgement and had crazy hot desk sex with my boss. I ended up leaving work early Friday afternoon. I had driven home with my boss’s come running down my thighs and then had laid awake all night, wondering what the hell I had just done.
He called me Saturday and Sunday, but I ignored him. Now it’s Monday and I just called in and told HR that I was taking my vacation days now and to let Richard know that he was in charge while I was out for the rest of the week.
Luca has been calling me all morning but I keep hitting ignore. I would turn my phone off but I need to be able to hear from Laylin. She lands today and that’s where I’m headed now. I pull up to the arrivals area and wait for a spot. I finally find a parking spot and hurry inside to meet my best friend.
I don’t have to wait long and I know that something is wrong as soon as I see her. Her face is pale with red splotches like she’s been crying and I open my arms, pulling her into a hug. She sniffles on
my shoulder and I wrap my arm around her as I grab her luggage and lead her out to my car.
I tuck her inside and slip behind the wheel so that I can drive her home. Along the way, she tells me about Rowan and how he had stranded them on an island. She cries on and off the whole way home and I do my best to comfort her. I was going to tell her about Luca but I don’t want to dump anything on her right now. We grab some food on the way home and then crash on the couch in front of the TV.
I spend the next week hanging out with Laylin and trying to cheer her up. By the next Monday, she doesn’t seem better but she heads to work. I head to work too and spend the next four days doing my best to ignore and avoid Luca. I manage to pull it off but only because I show up late, escape for lunch, ignore all of his calls and make up excuses for his emails and texts, and leave early.
I call in sick on Friday and relax on the couch. All of that sneaking around really tired me out and I spend the day catching up on sleeping and laying on the couch. Laylin and I both head to bed early that night and then we have another lazy weekend.
We both call in sick on Monday but this time it’s for real. I woke up early and started throwing up. I feel nauseous and when I finally stumbled out into the living room, Laylin was laying on the couch looking as bad as I felt.
We both felt better after lunch but I was so tired that I went back to bed. When we were both sick the next day too, I assumed it was food poisoning or the flu. Each day we were only sick in the morning though and with a sinking feeling, I realized what else it could be.
My period is set to start in a few days but as I scan a few pregnancy sites, I realize that I have half of the symptoms already. Sore breasts? Check. Nauseous and throwing up? Yep. Tired? Uh huh.
Crap.
Crap, crap, crap!
I mention pregnancy tests to Laylin and watch as she goes pale. Before I can say anything else, she’s begging me to run to the
pharmacy and pick up some pregnancy tests.
That’s where I’m headed now. I pulled on some new yoga pants and a clean shirt before I shoved my feet into flip flops and hurried down to the corner store. I don’t bother with a basket and head right for the pregnancy test aisle. I scan the different tests, debating which one to get when I feel someone watching me. I turn and look over my shoulder to see the same man that I see every time I stop for coffee or head to the grocery store. I just assumed that he lived around here but what the hell is he doing staring at me?
Before I can ask, he ducks into a different aisle and I shrug it off. I grab two different brands and then head up to the counter to pay. I forget all about my stalker as I grip the plastic bag in my clammy hands as I hurry back to our apartment.
L“A PREGNANCY TEST?” I ask, a grin starting to form on my face.
“Yes, sir. She grabbed two boxes, the Clearblue one and the First Response brand. She paid cash and then went home. She’s inside now,” her bodyguard informs me and I thank him as I stand and head out of my office.
“Carol, cancel all of my meetings for the rest of the day,” I tell her as I call my driver to meet me out front.
I tell him to take me to Nora’s and he nods, closing my door and slipping behind the wheel. I stare out the window as he drives across town to her apartment building. I had offered her an apartment in my building when she was first hired but she had wanted to bring someone with her and there was no way I was letting her live with a man. When I had told her no, she had just found a different place. I regretted it instantly, wishing that she was closer so that I could keep a closer eye on her.
The drive to her place takes longer than I’d like and I’m impatient by the time we finally pull up out front. I open my own
door before my driver can get out, and hurry up to her apartment door. I try the handle and curse when it opens without making me be buzzed in. I make a mental note to move her in with me as soon as possible. She needs to be somewhere safe and the safest place for her to be is with me.
I take the elevator up to her floor and then bang on her door, resisting the urge to pace as I wait for her to answer the door. I know she’s home or her bodyguard would have alerted me.
“Uh…It’s your boss,” her roommate Laylin says and I grit my teeth.
“Don’t let him in!”
“I can hear you! And I will break down this door,” I shout back.
The door opens slowly and I storm into the apartment, my eyes locking on Nora.
“A pregnancy test? Were you going to tell me?” I demand as soon as I’m inside.
“Tell you what? That Laylin is pregnant?” Nora asks, looking at me like I’m crazy. “And how did you know I even bought a pregnancy test?” She asks, her eyes narrowing.
“Your bodyguards informed me of the purchase,” I tell her, my body sagging with disappointment. She’snotpregnant?
“BODYGUARDS!” She shouts, glaring at me but I’m too focused on taking her in and trying to wrap my mind around her not being pregnant.
My eyes rake over her and I hear a gasp behind me from Laylin. Nora widens her eyes at her and I can tell that she’s hiding something from me. Before I can question her, there’s a pounding at the door.
I watch as some man comes into the apartment, kissing Laylin and closing the door behind him. I clear my throat before they can get carried away and turn accusing eyes on Nora.
“Do you always have strange men coming over like this?” I growl and Nora just rolls her eyes.
“None of your business.”
I glare back at her.
“I need to talk to you,” Laylin tells the guy who was kissing her and she leads him into a bedroom, leaving Nora and I alone in the living room.
As soon as the door closes behind them, I’m on her.
“Are you pregnant?” I demand, my lips an inch from hers.
“What?” She asks, trying to keep her poker face in place but I can read her.
“If you don’t want to tell me, I can have a doctor here to check in half an hour.”
She balks at that, her eyes widening as she tries to skirt around me.
“It would be faster if you lived in our apartment building,” I inform her and she narrows her eyes at me.
“You wouldn’t let me bring Laylin with me.”
“You could have brought Laylin. I just didn’t want you living with some other man.
“So, no boys allowed?” She asks with a snort and I narrow my eyes at her, stepping closer and pinning her against the wall.
“Nora. Answer me. Are. You. Pregnant?” I growl.
NI’M SAVED from having to admit to Luca that I’m pregnant when Laylin and Rowan come back into the living room.
“Luca, this is Laylin and I’m guessing the guy wrapped around her is Rowan,” I tell my boss, pointing to the couple standing across from us.
They both murmur hi and then Laylin turns excited eyes back to me. I raise my brows at her, wondering what’s going on and that’s when she holds her hand up, showing off the huge diamond ring on her finger.
“What!” I shout, leaping at her and wrapping her up in a hug.
We both squeal, rocking back and forth as I tell her congratulations and she cries happy tears.
“Congrats!” I say again when we pull back and I grin at her. “We should go out and celebrate,” I say, smiling at Rowan.
“Go where?” Laylin asks with a snort. “It’s late and the only thing open are some bars and neither one of us can drink,” she says with
a laugh as Rowan wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her into his side.
She yawns and lays her head against his shoulder and I can’t help but yawn too. We haven’t been up this late in over a week and I can tell that we’re both ready for bed.
“Another day then. I’m tired anyway,” I say and Laylin nods, grinning at me.
“Sounds like a plan. See you in the morning,” she says as Rowan leads her back to her room.
I turn and see Luca watching me carefully.
“Well, I think it’s time for you to leave,” I say, heading over to the front door and turning the handle.
“Why can’t you drink?” He asks quietly and my stomach drops.
“Hmm?” I ask, opening the front door and giving him a pointed look.
“Why can’t you drink?” He asks slowly, taking a few steps toward me.
This is it. I knew that I would have to eventually tell him but I was hoping to come up with a different plan.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper, staring at a spot over his shoulder.
Luca steps into my space, his hands gripping my hips and I gasp as I look up to meet his eyes. He grins down at me, his straight white teeth gleaming as he watches me. He looks so smug and I don’t know what comes over me but I can’t stop the words from coming out.
“I’m pregnant and it isn’t yours. So, if you don’t mind, I need to get to bed.”
I try to push him out of the door but he doesn’t budge.
“I know that it’s my baby because there hasn’t been another man around you. Your security would have noticed a guy sniffing around you and they would have told me if there had been anyone within a foot of you.”
“My security?”
“Yeah, you’ve had security on you since the second that I hired you.”
“And they’re making sure that guys stay away from me? Whose order was that?” I almost shout as I take a step back from him.
“Mine, it was my order,” he says in that no nonsense tone of his. “You’remine, Nora.”
L“NO, I’M NOT, ” she says, her pretty eyes flashing at me as she widens her stance, getting ready for a fight.
“Yes, you are. You’re my employee, my baby mama, and soon, you’ll be my wife.”
“No,” she says stubbornly, her narrow chin rising.
“No to what? You aremy employee, you arecarrying my child.”
“Then I quit!” She says, her voice tight with anger.
“That’s fine. As Mrs. Golding and the mother of our children, you won’t be expected to work. I’ll take care of all of us. Oh, and don’t worry. I know Father’s Day is tomorrow but I’m not expecting anything from you this year.”
I think her eyes almost bug out of her head at that statement and I square my shoulders, getting ready for her outburst.
“Marry you? Marry you!” She shouts and my dick hardens in my pants as I picture her walking down the aisle toward me.
“I would never marry a jerk like you. You call me in at all hours of the night. You text me constantly and if that doesn’t work then
you call and email me. I barely have a social life because of you and now I know it’s because you ordered your guards to make sure that no one ever got close to me! You cancelled my vacation for no reason. You drive me crazy. I will never marry you!”
She’s panting by the time she’s finished, her face flushed with ire and I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. I want to open my mouth to tell her that I love her and she’s mine so of course I kept other men away. I want to tell her that I’ll take her on any vacation that she wants but before I can open my mouth, the bedroom door creaks open and Rowan silently walks out.
“Everything alright out here?” He asks, looking at Nora with concern in his eyes.
I want to snap at him and tell her she’s mine to care for but Nora is spinning to face him.
“No, he won’t leave,” she tells him, stepping away from the front door and closer toward him.
I growl and her head snaps toward me, her eyes narrowing even as her nipples turn to pebbles inside her thin shirt.
“Hey, man, I think it’s time you called it a night,” Rowan says, stepping closer to me.
He’s in good shape but I still have an inch on him and the determination to fight for Nora.
“All this stress probably isn’t good for the baby,” He says quietly as he gets within a foot of me and my stomach cramps.
I would never do anything to harm Nora or our baby. My eyes drop to her stomach and I chew on the inside of my cheek, debating my next move.
My eyes meet Nora’s and she looks away quickly.
“This isn’t over,” I tell her and she bites her bottom lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Nora,” I tell her as I step out into the hall and close the door after me.
My body sags against the wall next to their door and I wait there until I hear the lock click before I pull out my phone and text her bodyguards, letting them know to keep an eye on her and to make sure she’s even more protected now that she’s carrying our baby.
NI HAD FORGOTTEN to turn off my alarm the night before so I still woke up at 6:30 am to head to work. I was halfway out of my bed when I remembered that I had quit last night.
I had laid back down and tried to fall asleep but my body was too used to waking up early. I hadn’t bothered with breakfast, knowing that the morning sickness would be kicking in soon. Instead, I got up and started to clean the apartment. I needed to figure out a new place to live, one that I could afford since I figured Laylin would be moving in with Rowan.
My eyes start to well with tears as I think about losing my best friend and all of the changes that we’re going through. It’s going to be weird not seeing Laylin every day or living with her.
I’m throwing some clothes into the washer when the first wave of nausea hits me. I scurry down the hall and into the bathroom, falling to my knees as my stomach rolls and I gag. My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it, closing my eyes and trying to take deep breaths and calm my stomach.
It’s a few minutes later as I rest my back against the wall next to the toilet that my phone buzzes again. I sigh, shifting so I can pull it out and curse when I see all of the missed texts, emails, and phone calls from Luca. He had messaged me last night too, after Rowan kicked him out but I hadn’t read any of them yet.
With a groan, I slide my finger across the screen, accepting his call.
“What?” I ask, my voice coming out more like a croak.
“Where are you? You’re late for work,” he says but his voice sounds different today than usual. Almost…soft.
“One, I quit last night so I’m not late for anything and two, I’m in my bathroom. Morning sickness is a bitch,” I complain, closing my eyes when another wave of nausea starts.
“The movers will be at your place in an hour. I’ll send the doctor too and she can-”
“What movers?” I ask, cutting him off.
“Obviously you’ll be moving in with me.”
“Obviously?”
“Well you are carrying my child and you will be my wife soon.”
“Uh, no. Lots of people raise kids without being married or living together,” I try to argue.
“We won’t be one of those couples,” he says, his voice deadly calm and I know that arguing won’t get me anywhere and I’m too tired right now to do it anyway.
“Shouldn’t we have talked about this before you hired movers?”
“What’s there to talk about?” He asks in a confused tone.
“I… never mind,” I say with a sigh, scooting closer to the toilet.
I moan softly as I feel my stomach start to cramp again.
“Hey, Luca?”
“Yes, Nora?”
“I’m going to throw up again now. I’ll talk to you later,” I say before I hang up on him and toss my phone to the side.
I don’t know how long I have my head in the toilet before the bathroom door bangs open. I look up and there’s Luca, filling the doorframe and clutching a paper bag in his hands. I groan and rest
my head against the wall, ignoring him as he sets down the bag and steps closer.
He digs under the cabinet for a second and comes up with a washcloth and a hair tie. I don’t say anything as he gathers all of my hair and tries to tie it on top of my head. I can feel it starting to fall down already but neither of us say anything. I watch him with suspicious eyes as he steps back to the sink.
“We have a doctor appointment in an hour and a half,” he informs me as he wets a washcloth and comes over to crouch at my side, smoothing the cool fabric over my forehead.
I sigh at the feeling, letting my eyes fall closed. I don’t even care that he’s here bossing me around. After a few minutes, when it looks like the worst of the morning sickness has passed, he drags over the paper bag and passes me a cool bottle of ginger ale.
“Thanks,” I say, wondering why he’s being so nice to me all of a sudden.
He nods, reaching in and pulling out some crackers. He gives me a questioning look, shaking the bag at me and I shake my head no.
“Why aren’t you at work?” I ask after I’ve had a few sips of ginger ale.
“You were sick,” he says, like it should be obvious that he’s here to take care of me.
“Right…” I say, taking another sip of my soda.
“We should leave soon for the doctors.”
I nod, watching as he stands and backs out of the bathroom. Whattheheckisgoingonhere?
LIT WAS EASIER GETTING Nora to the doctor’s office then I thought it would be. I’m chalking it up to her getting over the morning sickness. I had helped her into my town car and passed her some prenatal vitamins and another bottle of ginger ale. She had nibbled on the crackers on the ride over. By the time we arrived, color had returned to her cheeks and she looked a lot better.
We get her checked in and then I sit in the chair next to her as she fills out some paperwork. I send off an email to my assistant to let her know that I’ll be coming into work late for the next few weeks so that I can be home to take care of Nora. We’ll reevaluate after the morning sickness phase has passed.
“Nora Golding,” a nurse calls and Nora glares at me as I offer her my hand and pull her to her feet.
I keep her hand locked in mine as we head down the hall and into an exam room. The nurse checks her height and weight and I notice the embarrassed look Nora shoots my way when she steps on the scale. Please, like I care about her weight. She could gain a
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“Sup with me, M. le marquis?”
“Nay, with me, for I sent a note this morning, M. de Nançay.”
“Mon Dieu!” Péron ejaculated, with impatience. “Gentlemen, you overwhelm me. But yesterday I was a poor musketeer, dining where I could best afford it. Give me a fortnight, messieurs, to get the stomach of a grandee!”
He pressed through the crowd to the door, putting aside a dozen flatterers upon the way, and in the street he was stopped again by a little man who was dressed in the excess of fashion and who bowed with profound respect.
“M. le marquis,” he said humbly but with a confidential manner, “I am Louis le Gros, the famous tailor of the Marais. I serve the king and Monsieur and M. le Grand. I pray you let me set you out as becomes your station, sir; and, pardon me—but the fit of your coat is very bad —very bad indeed!”
For the first time Péron laughed.
“Good, M. le Gros,” he said, “you shall make me a suit; and make it large, for verily I shall gain in flesh now that I have gained in rank. I thank you for being the first man to tell me the truth in twenty-four hours!”
CHAPTER XXIX
MADEMOISELLE’S DISAPPEARANCE
PÈRE ANTOINE did not keep his appointment; in fact he was in sore perplexity between mademoiselle and Péron. Knowing the thoughts and impulses of both and pledged not to betray either, the good father found his situation full of pitfalls. He was bound to keep Renée’s secrets, although he thought that he could serve her best by revealing them, partially at least. He reproached himself too, with deception, when he went to his rooms on the Rue de Bethisi and left Péron to wait for him in vain. But what could he do? Not betray mademoiselle certainly, and he had promised to give her time. The priest, whose heart was as simple as a child’s with all his wisdom, crept up the stairs to his study with the air of a guilty man. He lighted only one taper and drew a heavy curtain before the window, the more completely to deceive any observer. He sat down there among his books and looked about him with dreamy eyes. His thoughts were back in the old days when he was a young man, and when between him and more serious things shone the brown eyes of the Marquise de Nançay, then Françoise de la Douane. He remembered the tenderness of it all, the sweetness and the pain—which had lingered with him through long years, until the wound no longer ached and there was only the scar. If it had been more of earth and less spiritual there would have been an end of it long before; but Père Antoine was one of those who can suffer so keenly that no pain ever comes to them blunted, and when their cup of sorrow fills, it runs over. It is not the flesh but the spirit that grieves.
He sat with his beautiful hands crossed on his knee and the light of the taper shining softly on his white hair and into his large blue eyes. He thought not only of Françoise de la Douane but of her son, the orphan boy whom he had watched over and trained in all those years on the Rue de la Ferronnerie; he remembered the days of
anxiety when he and the three faithful servants had all dreaded Pilâtre de Marsou; he remembered the cardinal’s sharp crossexamination when the boy was taken into his household, and his own doubts and fears; and now it was all over and the heir happily restored to title and estates. It was certainly a cause for happiness and triumph, and yet Père Antoine’s heart was freshly touched by sympathy. He had seen the reverse side of the picture; he had been the bearer of the evil tidings to Renée de Nançay; he had stood beside the bier of the forsaken and disgraced marquis. A strange fate had called the same man who had walked to the scaffold with the true Marquis de Nançay, to render the last services also to the usurper of the same title and place. He had buried both the victim and his false accuser, and now he stood in the office of counsellor and friend to the son of one and the daughter of the other. It spoke clearly for the man’s honesty, his piety, his tenderness, that he could do these things without betraying any one.
He was not to escape Péron that night however. The episode at Archambault’s pastry shop sent the new marquis out in quest of Père Antoine, and failing to find him at other places, he went, at last, to the Rue de Bethisi. And just as the priest thought he had evaded him, he heard his step on the stairs. He knew that step well, for he had listened for it often and found a comfort in looking at the likeness that he saw in the boy’s face, which did not depart even with manhood. He did not stir from his chair, but waited quietly for the door to open, and Péron uttered an exclamation of surprise when he saw him sitting there.
“I thought you were coming to Archambault’s?” he said. “Have you seen mademoiselle?”
Père Antoine hesitated a moment before he replied.
“I have not seen her since last night,” he said quietly; “she has left the house on the Rue St. Thomas du Louvre.”
“Has she gone to Nançay?” Péron asked quickly.
The priest shook his head, avoiding the eager eyes of his interrogator.
Péron sat down opposite, looking at him searchingly, the truth dawning upon him.
“Surely, mon père,” he said, “you have not allowed her to leave her old home like this?”
“My son, I could not prevent it,” the priest replied simply, “nor do I see how it could have been prevented; mademoiselle could not be a pensioner upon your bounty.”
“Nay, but to turn her out for me!” cried Péron, rising and walking to and fro. “St. Denis! I feel like a ruffian and a thief.”
“And yet, Jehan, you must remember that mademoiselle might have encountered worse treatment,” Père Antoine replied. “Monsignor had Pilâtre de Marcon in his toils; he let him go, only as he has let others go, that there might be stronger evidence against him. Independently of his action in regard to your father, Marsou would have been ruined and possibly beheaded. Renée realizes this herself; she bears you no ill-will, and appreciated your intended kindness.”
“Ah, mon père, you do not know how it is,” Péron said; “for you reason is sufficient, for me there must be something more!”
Père Antoine smiled sadly. “Young people fall readily into the error of thinking their case exceptional,” he said gently, “yet there is nothing new under the sun.”
Péron, who had been pacing the room, suddenly halted in front of him.
“Tell me,” he said, “where is she?”
Père Antoine averted his eyes. “My son,” he replied, “I am not at liberty to tell you.”
The younger man frowned. “Come, come!” he said with impatience, “surely there is no need for concealment; it is not possible that she fears me.”
“She has retired into a privacy not unjustified by her mourning and her position,” the priest answered. “I cannot tell you more without violating my word.”
“Am I so hateful to her that she does not wish to see me?” exclaimed the other, in a pained tone.
Père Antoine smiled involuntarily as he shook his head.
“Nay,” he said, “but the wound is new, and the lightest touch hurts. You do not know, nor I, what she has had to bear.”
“One thing I do know,” Péron said, “she is free of a rogue;” and he told the priest of M. de Bièvre’s talk at Archambault’s.
“And you threw him over the table?” Père Antoine said slowly. “Well, my son, violence is not good; and yet you could do no less. He lied too, for mademoiselle herself set him free at the first tidings of her changed fortunes. It was a match of her father’s making, not hers, and I think that her deliverance from it is one bright spot in the dark clouds of trouble.”
“Yet you will not tell me where she is?” Péron said.
“I cannot,” the priest replied, with a smile.
“But I will find her, for all that,” the young musketeer declared firmly. “I will find her, if I have to scour Paris, from one end to the other; ay, if I have to scour all France!”
“From that I cannot deter you,” Père Antoine replied quietly; “I am bound by my promise not to tell you where she has gone, but I can assure you that she is safe.”
“Never mind, mon père,” Péron replied; “I will find her in spite of you.”
But he found this no easy task, although he set about it with much zeal. Mademoiselle had disappeared completely; she had left no trace behind her at either house, and the servants of the late marquis had deserted their places at the first tidings of his fall, as rats leave a sinking ship. No one knew and no one seemed to care where the orphan daughter had gone; some corner of Paris had engulfed her and showed no sign. Believing that the woman Ninon would be faithful to her mistress, Péron searched for her, but in vain; she also had disappeared completely, leaving no trace behind. Not only did he search for her, but he enlisted the interest of Jacques des
Horloges, whose apprentices went into nearly every house of any importance in the city. He set inquiries afoot at Archambault’s; he went from one quarter to another, but no one knew where she had gone.
Days passed into weeks, weeks into months; St. Thomas’s day had come and he had not found her. He was now overwhelmed with courtesies; he was wanted at one fête and another. The new marquis who had been a musketeer was the lion of the hour; the story of his courage and address and his romantic life was whispered in the Louvre and at the Palais Cardinal; great lords and princes greeted him as an equal, great ladies stopped their carriages to speak to him in the street. The king was gracious to him, the cardinal made a favorite of him. Gossip told with unction of the occurrence at Archambault’s cook-shop and how M. de Bièvre was thrown over a table like a sack of salt.
Péron had laid aside the uniform of a musketeer and assumed a dress befitting his rank, and Madame Michel would not permit any one else to do up his lace collar and ruffles or to keep his fine clothes in order Her broad, brown face beamed with pride at the sight of the handsome marquis, and nothing could exceed her happiness when he came to sup with them in the room behind the shop on the Rue de la Ferronnerie. She made great preparations as for a prince, and on the table was a plate of rissoles, such as he had loved in the old days, when it was one of his privileges to go to the pastry shop.
But all these things did not bring mademoiselle any nearer, nor could he wring her secret from Père Antoine, though he was a constant visitor at the Rue de Bethisi and often accompanied the priest on his walks through Paris. But with all his persuasion and persistence he gained nothing; Père Antoine made no sign to guide him, and Péron was, at last, almost in despair. M. de Nançay had been killed at Chantilly in the spring; summer had passed and autumn; it lacked but two days of Christmas and he had not yet found Renée, nor did he seem likely to find her.
CHAPTER XXX
THE HOUSE ON THE RUE DE PARADIS
THERE was one thing that Péron noticed in his walks with Père Antoine—whom he had followed like a shadow—and that was that they passed so frequently through the Rue du Chaume, although it was not always the shortest way to their destination. It was indeed more often out of their way, yet the priest would walk slowly through that street from the Rue des Vieilles-Haudriettes to the Rue de Paradis, though he had to turn back to the church of St. François d’Assisi. This peculiarity in Père Antoine’s conduct finally aroused Péron’s suspicions; he said nothing to the priest, but he too walked through this quarter, scanning the houses. On the corner of the Rue du Chaume and the Rue de Paradis was the Hôtel de Guise, built originally for the Connétable de Clisson, a great house with gardens which reached the Rue Charlot in the rear. Across from this, on the other corner of the Rue de Paradis, was a smaller and plainer building with a turret which commanded the Rue du Chaume. On either side of the street were houses, some grim and some gracious, but all inscrutable to Péron; nor could he discover any reason for Père Antoine’s predilection. After a careful examination of the exteriors, he made some inquiries about the inmates, but none were satisfactory. He had not relaxed his efforts to find mademoiselle, but he was disheartened; he had heard a rumor at Archambault’s that she had gone to an aunt in Languedoc, and he began to believe that there was truth in this report. He tried to devour his chagrin in silence, and told himself constantly that he must be odious in her eyes, as the man who had first been almost a jailer, and had carried her against her will to Poissy, and now took possession of her name and estate.
It was the day before Christmas, and Péron had been with Père Antoine to the church of St. François d’Assisi. They were coming
away when he saw a familiar figure among the crowd leaving the church; he could not be mistaken in the walk and dress of the woman; it was Ninon. Without a word, he left Père Antoine and hurried after her. His first impulse was to accost her, but remembering her uncertain temper, he determined to follow her, convinced that she would show him the way to mademoiselle. The woman had no suspicion of being followed; she was alone and walking rapidly, evidently in haste to reach her destination. Péron suited his pace to hers, keeping on the opposite side of the street and some distance in the rear She made straight for the Rue de Quatre Fils, and Péron’s spirits rose as he saw her turn into the Rue du Chaume. She kept close to the wall of the gardens of the Hôtel de Guise and walked rapidly along to the other corner of the Rue de Paradis. Here she paused and looked sharply up and down the street but apparently without observing him, and then she entered the house with the turret.
Péron did not hesitate, but quickening his steps was at the door a few moments after she had disappeared. As luck would have it, she had left it ajar, and pushing it open he walked boldly into a narrow hall with stairs ascending directly in front of him. Here he paused to listen for a possible indication of her whereabouts, and hearing a door overhead open and close, he no longer hesitated, but ascended the stairs. At the top were two doors, one to the right and one to the left, and he stood again in doubt, but only for a moment. A slight noise as of some one moving in the room to the left decided him; he tapped smartly on the door, and a woman’s voice bade him “Come in.” He opened the door gently and saw a small, plain room lighted by one window, near which stood Renée de Nançay alone. Mademoiselle, in a plain black robe, her golden hair coiled loosely at the nape of her neck and her face as white as a lily, looked at him in intense surprise.
“At last I have found you!” he cried, forgetting all but his joy at the sight of her.
“You must pardon me, M. le Marquis,” she said, sweeping him a curtsey, “I did not look for visitors.”
The formality of her tone and her proud manner, reminding him of their first encounter on the Rue St. Thomas du Louvre, chilled him. He reflected that it was possible that she was not only not glad to see him but actually displeased. The thought that he had thrust himself upon her covered him with confusion.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “I sent a message to you through Père Antoine and I was deeply pained that you thought it best to quit your house on my account.”
“Not my house, monsieur, but yours,” she answered with proud calm.
“Yours,” he said softly, “for I have never set foot in either since you left them, Mademoiselle de Nançay.”
“You give me a false name,” she said, and there was a break in her voice; “I am Renée de Marsou. It is you who are a de Nançay.”
“I am Péron the musketeer,” he answered gently, “for I will never bear the title save under one condition.”
There was a pause; she stood proudly, her golden head erect and her eyes upon the ground, while he looked at her with a flushed face, embarrassed and uncertain; the old gulf seemed to have yawned between them. He did not realize his own exaltation and her mortification; she seemed to him still the great demoiselle and he the soldier of fortune.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “it pains me to think how you must interpret my conduct. It seems as if I came to your house on the Rue St. Thomas du Louvre—”
“To your house, M. le Marquis,” she corrected him quickly.
“Nay, to yours,” he went on, “with the intention of driving you out of your own, that I must have seemed a ruffian when I escorted you to Poissy, that you must look upon me as one who planned your misfortune.”
She gave him a quick glance from under her long dark lashes and then looked down again demurely
“You are mistaken, monsieur,” she said, “the cardinal himself told me that you did not wish to claim your own. It is I who should feel reproach though I am innocent; but Mère de Dieu! my father—”
She broke off, covering her face with her hands. Péron looked at her with shining eyes.
“Mademoiselle,” he said softly, “there is only one thing that makes me rejoice in my rank.”
She looked up through her tears. “There is usually much cause for joy in such a case,” she said.
“But not in mine,” he answered softly. “When we first met at Nançay I was the clockmaker’s boy, and there seemed a great gulf fixed between the mistress of Nançay and a poor orphan; and ever since that day it has remained until now, mademoiselle, when I also can claim noble birth.”
He paused, and she did not reply, but the color of a rose glowed faintly in her pale face.
“Mademoiselle,” he said very low, “can you forgive me? Can you let me speak the truth? The clockmaker’s boy, the musketeer, and the marquis—all three are one in their love for you.”
“M. le Marquis,” she said proudly, “you say this to me because you pity my condition. I am a friendless orphan, the child of a disgraced father, with only a stained name to bear; I am no longer Renée de Nançay.”
“I told you but now,” he said, “that I would never bear my title except on one condition, and that, mademoiselle, is that you bear it too. Unless you will be the Marquise de Nançay, I will be still Péron the musketeer.”
She stood looking at him, her face turning from red to white and her lips trembling.
“M. le Marquis,” she cried, with a sudden outburst of passionate emotion, “you pity me!”
He caught her hands and covered them with kisses.
“Renée,” he said, “I love you! Have you no love for me?”
She hung her head. “Monsieur,” she said, “you forget my father and yours!”
“Renée,” he answered tenderly, “I love you, and that suffices.” He drew her toward him, trying to look into her face. “My darling,” he whispered, “do you scorn the marquis too?”
She looked up into his face, her own aglow despite the tears in her eyes.
“It was not a marquis I loved,” she answered very low, “but—the cardinal’s musketeer!”
He caught her in his arms and kissed her, and in their happiness they did not hear a step without nor see the door open gently as Père Antoine looked in. They were standing in the middle of the room, and the sunshine touched her golden hair and illuminated Péron’s glowing face.
Père Antoine hastily closed the door and went down the stairs. He was smiling, and there was a tender light in his blue eyes. It was not until he reached the street door that he wiped a tear from his cheek and crossed himself. He had had a gentle vision of Françoise de Nançay, as he saw her last, with little Jehan in her arms, and the old wound ached; but then he looked up and saw the sun shining and remembered that to-morrow was Christmas.
THE END.
