Page 25 of Surprise Baby for the Don

Iwake up feeling incredible, that kind of rare, full-body energy that makes me want to seize the day. I haven’t felt this lighthearted in… well, come to think of it, I’ve never felt this lighthearted. Even back in my small apartment in my bed that doesn’t remotely compare to either of the beds I’ve slept in at Mateo’s house, I can’t help but feel like everything is right in the world.

I stretch carefully, feeling slight stings that remind me of our nighttime activities. My entire body flushes as images of our escapades flash before my mind. I never imagined sex would be like that, and I’m eager to do it again. Despite myself, I feel a flutter in my chest accompanied by an unexplainable feeling in my lower abdomen, and I know I’m further gone for Mateo than I could admit to him after such a short period of time.

The urge to share this feeling bubbles up inside me, and I immediately think of Cassidy. I want to tell her everything about Mateo, about last night, about how well the project is going. For once, it feels like I have something genuinely good in my life, something that could lead somewhere.

I throw the covers off and get up heading straight for my bag, but when I look inside, I freeze. My money isn’t there. I’m so tired, for a minute I think maybe I left it at Mateo’s office. But, no, that doesn’t make sense. We went straight from his office to dinner and then… shit. Did I leave it at the apartment? How embarrassing would it be to tell him I need to go back there to get the money he gave me?

But, no, I remember it was still in my purse when we got back last night because it made my bag so heavy. I’m sure I had it when I got here last night. I was going to take Cassidy to a nice breakfast, and maybe take her on a quick shopping spree if she would take the time off.

Panic flares in my chest as I search the bag again, emptying it onto my bed. I dig through every pocket, every hidden nook, but the cash is nowhere to be found. It’s not like it was a small wad of cash, it wouldn’t just be hiding. Heart pounding, I scan the room, hoping maybe I put it down somewhere else, but every frantic search comes up empty. And then I realize that I haven’t heard Pops get up in all this time. He would have come to check on me after hearing me stomp around for the last ten minutes.

I go out into the living room and he’s not there either. The kitchen light is off and the coffee pot hasn’t been used. Dad always makes a pot the moment he wakes up. I go to his bedroom to see if maybe he slept in, but the door is open and he’s nowhere to be seen. For good measure, I call out to him.

Then it hits me like a punch to the gut. Could he have taken it? Could he have just walked off with it without a single thought?

Shoving down the rising dread, I start tearing through the apartment. The living room, the bathroom, every single closet and drawer. By the time I check his room and realize that hisown wallet and keys are also gone, I confirm the terrible truth.

The bastard stole from me.

My throat tightens, and I slump against the wall, staring at the mess I’ve made of the apartment. I feel an anger that’s both cold and blistering, a betrayal that cuts so deep it almost leaves me numb. That money was mine, earned from days of hard work, after he forced me to go to Mateo’s in the first place. And he just took it without a single thought.

I think back to coming home at nearly three in the morning, Dad awake and excited to see me. It was the first time I’d seen him in days, and he seemed really encouraged that Mateo let me come over without any fuss. He must have seen the money in my purse, or even dug through it while I was getting his CPAP machine fixed. That slimy piece of shit that I have to call my father!

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I push myself up, shaking slightly as I cross the room. The last person I expect to see is Mateo, but there he is, standing in the doorway, looking as calm and composed as ever. And yet, as his eyes sweep over me, taking in my barely-there pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, I see something flash in his gaze, an undeniable hunger that sends a chill through me. My nipples tighten underneath the shirt, and despite this horrible turn of events, I can’t help but want him.

“Get dressed,” he says, his voice low but firm.

There’s no question, no invitation. Just a command, and I’m surprised at how quickly I comply. My anger and confusion are still roiling, but I turn on my heel and head to my bedroom, Mateo following close behind. I don’t question it; I don’t askwhat’s going on. I just let him follow me, somehow finding comfort in the quiet strength of his presence.

As I reach into my closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a top, I’m acutely aware of him standing in the doorway, his gaze heavy as I change clothes. I let the shirt slip off my shoulder, then the shorts, and I don’t bother covering up or hurrying to put something else on. Instead, I relish the feeling of his eyes on me, the subtle heat it brings to my skin. I slip into the jeans, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way his gaze lingers, at the way he seems captivated by the sight.

When I finally turn to face him, fully dressed, his expression is unreadable, though I can still see a hint of that hunger still simmering beneath the surface. He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, his voice softer this time.

“Let’s go.”

The ride is tense, and I can’t stop myself from asking, “Where exactly are we going?”

He glances at me, his face inscrutable. “Home,” he replies, unsmiling.

The city blurs past the car windows as we drive, and my anxiety twists tighter with every mile. Finally, we pull up in front of Mateo’s house. I follow him inside, my mind racing with possibilities, none of them good.

As we step into the living room, I see my father tied to a chair, looking disheveled and nervous, his eyes darting around the room. He looks up at me, and for a brief second, I see a flash of relief. But it quickly transforms to guilt before he averts his gaze. My stomach churns.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask, my voice shaky with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Mateo steps forward, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather.

“Why don’t you tell her, Rex?” he taunts, his voice sharp and furious. “Explain to your daughter exactly why you’re here.”

My father shifts uncomfortably, glancing between me and Mateo, his mouth opening and closing as he searches for words.

Finally, he mutters, “Gin, I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. I just thought I could make more of it. That’s all.”

It clicks, and I feel like the floor has dropped out from under me.

“You were gambling,” I whisper, almost in a state of shock. “You took all that money and went gambling?”

My voice takes on a sharp edge and I feel the anger rising up inside of me, threatening to spill over. As helpless and pathetic as he looks tied up in that chair, I want to slap him as hard as I possibly can. I doubt anyone would stop me, but I stay rooted to the spot.

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