Page 10 of Playing With Her

“If you’ll excuse me,” Margaret says, taking the phone call.

“Sure.” I pull my own phone out of my pocket and walk further into the building as I scroll through the alerts, making sure Amelie hasn’t texted. In all honesty, I doubt the mother of my unborn child would ever admit defeat by making a call for help. I go to my phone app, scroll until I find Sylvester’ phone number. He’s an extension of our friend group at Four Brothers. Ezra needed him recently; now it’s my turn to call in a few favors. The thing about having a friend who owns his own law firm is that you’re able to bypass the red tape of a secretary who will undoubtedly force you to make an appointment. Sly answering on the second ring is another perk. “Tell me I don’t need to bail you out of jail,” he answers the phone.

“Fuck no. I need you to do more of a menial task than hopping on your company jet, flying down here, signing a few documents, and charging me out the ass for a few hours of your time,” I reply, pacing the floors in what will more than likely become the back office on the first floor until the others are worked on.

“Jesus, the reason my firm is raking in the money is from you, Parker, Ezra, and Theo. What’s going on now?” Sly lies like the devil, charming his opponents in whatever match he meets, working in a way you’ll never see him coming.

“I’m going to fire this real estate agent. I gave her a second chance after yesterday’s fiasco. I’m not feeling it today. Four hours, more places than I’d care to look at when she knew my guidelines before finally finding one, and she’s questioning what I want to offer. I’ll pay her a fee for her time, but I want you to make the magic happen. I don’t care if it’s one of your other lawyers since I’ve got you working on other shit. I only need this to happen to-fucking-day.” I stuff my hand not holding my phone in the pocket of my pants.

“That won’t take but a few minutes. Hold on a minute. I’ll get it sorted now, then you can get back to working on what you need to. While we’re on the phone, I know you don’t want to hear this, but your father is on a fucking tear, so watch your back. I’m handling the front lines, and believe it or not, so is your mother. She came in earlier today, refusing to leave until she got my attention, making a scene and leaving my secretary shocked.” Sly shouldn’t be surprised on both accounts. My mother can put up a fuss behind closed doors, the soft docile lady leaves and a flaming inferno comes out. An hour long tirade turns into days on end when she’s good and pissed. I’d bet she caught my father fucking another election volunteer. Young, blonde, and someone who willingly puts out is his preference. As for Sylvester’s secretary, well, all I can say is I’m not sure how she’s lasted as long as she has. She’s young, naïve, and it’s her first job, so I’m at a loss for words why Sly hired her in the first place.

“I take it he didn’t like me pulling my money out of the trust fund my grandfather set up for me and putting it into a different bank?” I’m forty-two years old. It’s money my mom’s father set up for me before he passed away. Leaving it for as long as I did where he could monitor the interest it was earning was dumb on my part.

“Not at all. Your mother came in and asked if I could take a look at her accounts. I told her I’d talk to you before I’d proceed; otherwise, this would be cut and dry. Sterling & Associates has a department that would investigate everything, find whatever it is she is looking for, and go from there. It’s up to you, Boston,” Sly lays out. Jesus, what is this week coming to? I got the fuck out of New York, trying to take the heat off of Ezra and Millie, and now look what’s happening. I’m getting the heat, and my friend has to help more than expected.

“It’s up to you. Mr. Governor has the potential to make your life a living hell. I know how you feel about publicity, good or bad. Taking the brunt of Mom’s issues only for her to get right back in her old ways. Man, I’m not sure it’s smart.” The realtor starts to head my way. Son of a bitch. I should have left while on the phone with Sly. It’d be better for him to pay the woman off to keep her off my back. So far, the only good thing that has come from leaving New York is taking the heat off Four Brothers and Amelie. Christ, the scent, the feel, the taste of her body, it’s a damn aphrodisiac, shooting straight to your head.

“This is true. I’ll take the night to mull it over. In the meantime, shake the realtor loose, send me over the listing, and we’ll have the deal closed by tomorrow morning.”

“Will do. Thanks, brother,” I reply.

“You won’t be thanking me when the bill arrives. Talk later.” He hangs up the phone. I take another moment to myself, kicking my own ass. I’ve made a mess of this whole situation. I should have had Sylvester negotiate the entire time. Fuck, I’ve been down here studying the atmosphere, the culture, wanting to broaden where Four Brothers is going, making rookie mistake after rookie mistake. The only thing I didn’t screw up is Amelie. I take that back because I did the entire time I was in New York, leaving her down here without so much as a damn text. Yeah, I’ve got a lot of stuff to fix, starting with the realtor and trickling down from there.

SEVENTEEN

Amelie

“Hey, Mom, do you have a second?”I ask once the guests checking-in for the evening die down. The niggle in the back of my mind doesn’t leave, I should have hunted her down after lunch to tell mom about the impending grandchild she’s have this year. Except she was nowhere to be seen. Now, the nausea I’m feeling is not from her cooking breakfast; it’s a direct correlation with me spilling my guts in a different way.

“Sure, honey, let’s go to the kitchen. I can prep a few things while we talk.” Her sleek bob hairstyle has a clip at the back of her head, keeping her hair out of her face, and she’s wearing light makeup. When you’re moving from room to room, hustling like you never have before, you tend to keep things simple. Nobody wants their mascara or lipstick sliding off their face when you’re dripping with sweat.

“Alright.” I follow her. The polished wood floor is gleaming, the white beige-colored walls reflecting off them. Every piece of furniture is shining, there are fresh flowers from the market in vases, gold accents here and there, and plush leather furniture that’s comfortable but also made to last. Mom pushes through the swinging doors. This is where the bulk of the renovations took place. We both wanted to make our guests stay luxurious, and what better way to do that than with breakfast served each morning, buffet style, with drinks and snacks readily available at any time of day, especially fresh chocolate chip cookies? I snag one from the island before taking my seat.

“How are you and Boston doing?” She has her back to me. Both fridge doors are open, the commercial-grade style where you can fit at least four bodies inside. She’s probably trying to figure out what to put on the menu tomorrow besides fresh fruit.

“We’re good.” She turns around at the right time, three cartons of eggs stacked high in her arms. Oh God, the sight alone has me ready to hop off the barstool and run away. “Really good, in fact, but, um, there’s something you should know. And can you put the eggs away, please?” I swear if she so much as cracks one egg by accident, I’m going to hurl, and knowing my luck, making it to the nearest bathroom or trashcan won’t come close to happening.

“That’s great. He came by this morning and told me he’d be in your room for the time being, to check him out so we could use his room for other guests.” My eyes are probably rolling to the back of my head. Leave it to Boston to make a decision like that without bothering to ask or at least relay the memo first. “Honey, you don’t look so good.” Shit, if I pass out, Boston is going to be upset, and I’ll end up in the hospital. His tendency to overreact is like no other, and of course, my medicine is in my room upstairs.

“Yeah, well, don’t come any closer with the butt nuggets, please.” The thought of her cracking an egg alone has me swallowing. Trying to do the whole mind over matter thing is not helping. “I need to tell you something.”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh my gosh. How didn’t I know? I’m an idiot. The signs we’re all there. You’re pregnant!” I watch as she plops the eggs on the counter, none too gently, then her small form bustles around the massive stainless-steel island, and her arms are wrapping around my body, squeezing the life out of me. “My baby is having a baby. I’m going to be a grandma!” Mom’s excitement is contagious. I should have known better than to be nervous. It wouldn’t matter if my child’s father weren’t in the picture; this is Mom high on life.

“Isn’t this a charming moment.” There’s a steady clap with each enunciation of the word. I roll my eyes. Fortunately, dear Daddy doesn’t see it with my back to him. I’m already a loser in his eyes. Following in his footsteps was never for me. Hell, it’s not like he works anyways, living off the rent from the buildings his dad owned before he passed away. Slum Lord, that’s exactly what Daddy is, so bad to his tenants it’s a wonder they still live there. “How endearing. Our only daughter pregnant without a man in sight, no ring on her finger, and she’s still working for her mother when she could be making a name for herself with the Boudreaux name.” Still he claps. Mom’s body goes ramrod straight. Her hug leaves my body, hand going to mine, squeezing it in our way to be smart. Damn it, where’s my pseudo knight in shining armor when I need him?

“I’m not sure why you’re here, Noah, but you should leave.” One day, Mom will get a restraining order, and if I have any say, it’ll be happening today. My hand slides into the pocket of my shorts, pulling my phone out, unsure of his intentions. Him being here this many times, it certainly smells fishy.

“I’m not leaving, Isabelle. We’re still married, which means I can be here if I want. Unless you’re willing to put this whole divorce issue to rest.” And now I’m going to be sick for a different reason entirely.

“Ha, never. Leave now, Noah, or the cops will be here to escort you off my property. And I’ve got no problem asking for a restraining order.” Mom points at the direction of the door. I finally turn around to look at the man who’s my father. There is quite literally no love lost.

“You’d never do that. It would disrupt your guests. Isabelle never rocks the boat, or anything for that matter.” His voice gets louder. That insinuation is insulting to say the least. I shouldn’t be surprised; it’s the Noah Boudreaux way.

“What is wrong with you? Are you so spiteful, full of hate, that you have to ruin every single good thing in our lives?” Anger consumes my body, causing my mouth to fly off the handle. Today has been a good day, starting off with celebrating a win in my book by waking up via an orgasm with Boston’s fingers thrusting in and out of my wet center, thumb sliding along my clit, making me gasp, all the while feeling his hard and naked cock pressed against my hip. It got better from there, too. No getting sick, talking to my best friend, another person who’s happy for me. Of course, the fun sucker Noah Boudreaux would ruin Mom and me celebrating.

“You ungrateful slut. If it weren’t for me, you and your mother would be on the street. Now look at you, working at a glorified hotel, pregnant, and where’s the father?” Dad’s voice rises an octave, no doubt carrying throughout the first floor. With the way LeBlanc Inn is set up, I’m sure it made it through the vents where every single level heard his anger. A slut? Seriously? Me? He’s ridiculous. If anyone is a slut, it would be dear old dad here, the male version and the whole reason why Mom is currently in a legal battle that won’t stop.

“He’s right here,” Boston voice carries through the kitchen. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet.” His heat surrounds me, my back to his front. A protective hand slides from my hip, fingers touching my stomach, where our child is safely growing inside me. The worry my father could escalate any and all situation eases with Boston by my side. “It’s time you leave, and don’t come back. You may know more people in this city than I do, but I’ve got more money, more time, and a fuck of a lot more power.”

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