Page 30 of Boss's Baby: A Fake Fiance Romance

“Why didn’t you guys get the big one?” I asked, my tone playfully wry.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mom was beaming as she stood next to me and took in the sight. “Might be a little big for the living room, but as soon as I saw it at the lot, I knew we had to have it.”

“And it’s not like you’re the one who had to carry it in from the roof of the car,” said Dad, his slight grin letting us know he was only playing around.

The four of us sat down in the living room, Mom passing out coffee as the two of them asked about the drive and all that.

“Anyway,” said Mom after we’d gone over all the basics. “I was thinking that if you two aren’t wiped out from the drive, we could head over to Carr’s Farm and get some cider and donuts, and…”

I hated to admit it, but I zoned out during the conversation. And what, specifically who, appeared in my mind was a shock.

Josh. Him again. And I had a feeling I wasn’t going to be lucky enough to avoid him.

Chapter 13

JOSH

The limo pulled up to the estate and came to a halt. I shook my head at how unnecessary it had been. Driving back from the city wasn’t a problem—it was only a couple hours trip. For some reason, Dad had insisted that we all take the private plane and come back to the house together.

It was slightly worrying. It was as if Dad had a feeling that this might be one of the last holidays we’d spend together, and he wanted to make it, I don’t know—more elaborate?

I’d found myself glancing at him out of the corner of my eye during the trip every now and then. He was still the tough old bastard I’d known him to be, but there was something else, as if a source of strength had been taken from him. He seemed, I don’t know, like there was something missing.

Then again, the old man had only recently had a heart attack. Maybe it was too much for me to expect he’d be back at 100 percent so soon. As much as he didn’t seem at times, the man was only human.

And then there was the tension between me and Sam. He’d hardly said a word to me during the entire flight and drive from the airport. I knew he was still mad, still pissed about how the meeting had gone down. He’d made it clear he held me responsible for what had happened to Dad, the same as he did with Mom.

Our driver opened the door, the cool winter air rushing into the car. The three of us stepped out, and I took in the sight of our home, the Taylor Estate. Like so many other old mansions in the area, it was a huge building made of stern-looking gray stone, round turrets at each corner. Grand and intimidating, it was exactly the kind of place you’d expect a man like my dad to call home. I glanced up at the sky, the color of the overcast nearly the same slate-gray as the bricks of the house.

“Good to be back,” said Dad. “Come on.”

We grabbed our bags, and Sam went for Dad’s. But a sharp look stopped him in his tracks.

“Dad—let me get them.”

“You kidding me?” asked Dad. “I’m on my feet and moving around. I’m not a damn invalid.”

“But the doctor said not to strain your heart.”

Dad responded by deftly bending down and hoisting the bag to waist level. “I know what I’m capable of. You want to baby me, wait until I’m in diapers.”

I glanced at Sam, who was clearly more than a little put out by the exchange. He caught me looking, and his expression turned hard for a moment before he grabbed his bag and headed up the tall flight of stairs that led to the arched double doors.

Moments later we were in, our footsteps echoing on the parquet floors through the massive entrance hall. The house was as museum-like as it’d always been, vast and cool. The vaulted ceilings stretched up, the place decorated with the same complement of busts and portraits of stern men and women from times gone by.

Dad dropped his bag onto the floor and looked around. “I need a damn drink. Who wants to do the honors?”

I didn’t have a chance to even consider it before Sam was off with an “I got it!” He disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen and was gone. As soon as he was, Dad glanced in my direction.

“Come on. Let’s talk in the study.”

I nodded, and we were on our way. The study was possibly the most impressive room in the house, a huge space with a floor covered in Oriental rugs, a massive fireplace on one side, walls covered in bookshelves, and an imposing desk situated before windows that looked out onto the gardens behind the house. Dad never let Sam or me in there when we were kids, and I still remembered the first time Dad invited me in for a drink when I turned eighteen like it was yesterday.

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