Entitled: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys For Life Book 1) (15 page)

Chapter 22-Ayron
Three Months Later
 

The Gladys Masters Center for Employee Support, housed in the Masters in Style headquarters, had been operational for one month. Over dinner one night, Devlin and I had developed an idea to provide a daycare for employee children, classrooms for continuing education courses, and a therapist for emotional support, free of charge. I’m not sure if he asked me to help oversee the development of the project because he liked to take me as his lunch break or if he really valued my opinion—either way, it made me happy. Devlin had given me carte blanche to redesign a wing of six offices into an area to improve employee relations after he took over as president of the company.

“Monique is here,” my new assistant Leslie rings in over the intercom. I’d caught her making moon eyes at the additional psychiatrist, Dr. Brian Jamal Stephens, I’d hired.

I’m glad that Devlin let me add Dr. Stephens. Once I explained how much time the project would take and all of the nights I would have to work away from home to get things done, he was more than happy to sign on the money line. Devlin just makes impromptu visits and always uses an extra-manly voice when Brian is around. His jealousy is cute, but unnecessary. Brian has a thing for Monique, and Monique still hasn’t forgiven him for what he did to her in college.

“You don’t have to announce me,” Monique huffs. She hasn’t made it into my office physically yet, but I can hear her. “Twig is my girl from way back.”

I grimace at her use of that nickname.

Monique enters my office and places the large, brown paper sack on my desk.

“You need to check that new assistant of yours. Ms. Agnes knew what was up.”

“Leslie does well,” I protest.

“She made me wait in the lobby while she checked to see if you were available,” Mo fusses, plopping a hand on her hip.

“The nerve of her.” I giggle.

“So stop stalling, Twig. Take the damn test already.”

My heart nearly freezes with fear when Monique pulls three pregnancy tests from the bag. I don’t think I need to take one. Periods can disappear, breasts can be tender, bodies can be bloated and not be pregnant.

“Nope.” I place them all back in the bag in the same order that she had pulled them out. “My body is just playing tricks on me, that’s all.”

Monique pulls out her cellphone.

“Devlin. Hey. This is Monique. There is a situation with Ayron, and I kind of need your help.”

I snatch the phone away from Monique in horror.

“Dev. I’m sorry she called you,” I stutter into the phone. I wish I could really shoot darts with my eyes. I give Monique my best evil glare.

“You all right?” he asks. “I just walked out of a meeting. You need me to come downstairs?”

“No,” I respond, a little too eagerly. “I’m good. Monique is just being Monique. I love you.” I add those words to try and smooth the situation over, but I feel like they set off more alarms in Devlin instead.

“I’ll see you for lunch today. Whatever it is that you’re keeping from me, I want to know then.” His voice is serious before turning sweet. “I love you, too.”

“Real fucking great, Mo,” I chide, allowing her phone to freefall from my hand. I hope it breaks. “Now he’s coming to check on me at lunch.”

“I don’t care about you being mad, or trying to break my phone. Your baby daddy got big bucks anyway and I’m on his good side.”

I cringe at the word “baby daddy” because then I would be his “baby momma.” Not cool. What would be even worse is me forcing him into a marriage to avoid stupid titles.

“I don’t even know yet if there’s a baby.”

Monique pushes her lips to the side.

“You know your body. You already know the answer. Quit being fucking chicken and take the test. Do I need to go get Agnes and wheel her ass in here? She’ll pop you with her cane.”

I laugh at the thought of Agnes trying to whoop me with her cane. She is still on hospice care, but she’s still as feisty as her body allows.

“For someone who wouldn’t let me live with her when I needed to, you sure are bossy.”

Monique throws her hands up in the air.

“Here we go with that again,” she sighs. “Mr. Money Bags bribed me to tell you “no.” He wanted you to stay with him. It worked, didn’t it? I bought you a killer birthday present out of guilt, and you got a fine-ass man with a lot of money. I think I deserve a thank you.”

Monique had told me about Devlin’s plan over drinks when she returned from England.

“Quit trying to change the subject.” She shoves a test box in my hand, just as a knock comes from the door.

“It’s Brian. Can I come in?” he calls out from behind the closed door.

“Hell no,” Monique whispers to me harshly.

I smile.

“If you talk to Brian, I’ll take the test.”

She glares at me.

“He’s a fine-ass man with a lot of money.” I wink.

“And we don’t mention the whole “turning-you-away-in-a-time-of-need” thing anymore?” Monique counters.

“Deal,” I agree, gathering the tests into the bag.

“You can come in, Brian,” I tell him.

Monique releases a heavy sigh.

When Brian enters, polar opposite looks stamp the faces of my two comrades.

He doesn’t say a word, just watches her like she is a unicorn, like she is something he thought he’d never see.

Brian’s smile takes over his entire face, while Monique has flared her nostrils and lowered her eyes like a charging bull.

“Brian, would you mind keeping Monique company for a few? I need to run out for five to ten minutes.” I smirk and excuse myself, shutting the door behind me.

***

Every single last one of the tests say the same stupid shit:
pregnant
. This can’t be right. Dev and I had slipped up a couple of times, but I took my pills faithfully. Except for after the fire. I had to refill the prescription. I cancel lunch with Devlin through our assistants and head to the medical office of a friend of Brian’s for an emergency visit.

Dr. Isaiah Graham is a handsome man with chiseled features and an athletic build, but my guy is sexier. Damn. Sex is what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. Dr. Graham decides to walk with me outside once I become a blubbering mess in his office. He had confirmed the same thing that the store bought tests had. Pregnant.

“Do you have anyone that you can call?” he asks.

I nod my head yes. The thought of telling Devlin about a baby frightens me. We don’t really discuss children, hadn’t discussed marriage. We are just enjoying each other, but I had promised to let him into my life, so I will have to let him know about the new life we created.

“It’s perfectly normal to be emotional,” the doctor continues. “I would feel much better if someone drove you home.”

The doctor hands me a tissue and pats my shoulder.

Epilogue-Devlin
 

I made it clear to everyone that if Dr. Ayron Winters calls, put everything else on hold. Her last name should be Masters, she should be my wife, but she is strong and stubborn. Getting her to marry me will be a battle, so I’m giving her time to adjust to the idea of us living us together. I still can’t get her to take money from me, and she insists on paying the water bill since she found out how much my mortgage and electricity bills run. Sharing my business with her is all a part of my master plan to ease her into being Mrs. Ayron Masters.

I was worried when Monique called. I avoid contact with the abrasive woman as much as possible, but we have an understanding: if there’s something about Ayron, don’t hesitate to call me. I was concerned when Ayron said she loved me, out loud, outside of our home. That was new. I became worried when she canceled our lunch through Gloria. We always talk about it over the phone if our schedules conflict. I became desperate when I found she had left for the day and didn’t let me know.

“Are you all right?” I ask, sliding my hand across my face and leaning back into my office chair.

“No. I’m not,” she says wearily. She sounds like she has been crying. “I need you to come home.” I hear a sniffle.

“I’ll be right there. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“No, just come home.”

***

I make it home in record time, unsure why I need to be there. I want to call Monique and get some insight. I have a feeling that she already knows what is going on, but obviously Ayron needs to tell me. Did Agnes die? That can’t be it. Ayron would have been hysterical. Is she having an affair? Doubt that. We have been together every minute, for the most part. I even went with her to the Rhonda Raven Show, especially once I found out Brian would be there. Damn.

When I walk into the home, I find Ayron in the kitchen, crying over a bag of hotdog buns and a jar of Prego spaghetti sauce. Is she hungry?

“What’s going on honey?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her.

She sniffles and turns to face me.

“Do you love me?” she asks.

“With all my heart,” I answer, feeling a thump there, as I’m not sure where this train of questioning is leading.

She sighs.

“I wanted it to be all cute and memorable for you, and I can’t. It’s not turning out right,” she babbles, picking up the bag of hotdog buns and then placing them in the oven.

One hundred…ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…I count in my head. Why can’t she just tell me what’s wrong?

“See, I’m making you angry,” she sobs. “What am I going to do with a baby?”

I freeze at her words. The one word that I wasn’t expecting. Baby. Then it all starts to come together, buns in the oven, Prego sauce.

“You’re pregnant?” I gasp.

“Yes. The doctor told me today.”

I hug her as close to me as humanly possible and kiss her face.

“That’s awesome,” I exclaim. “No need to cry. We got this.”

I kiss her cheeks and mouth.

“Why are you so upset?” I ask. “Is something wrong already? I’ll get you the best medical team.”

This makes her smile a little.

“No, everything looks fine so far. I just don’t want to be a baby momma. What’s the baby’s last name going to be? Where do I fit into all of this?”

I scratch the side of my face.

“You know that you’re my everything. You’ve given me purpose, direction, strength. You are my wife, whether we’ve signed papers yet or not. The baby will be a Masters, no doubt…just like you.”

“I was so worried. That’s why Monique called you. She was trying to get me to take a test. I skipped our lunch to go to the doctor.”

“Well, no more appointments without me.”

She nods.

“I want to be there for you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” she sighs, falling into my arms again.

“And promise me, for baby number two, I’ll be the first to know besides you,” I tell her.

“I promise,” she replies with a smile.

I can’t wait for our future together.

Thank You
 

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About The Authors
 

Danielle Slater
Danielle Slater writes romance stories involving the men we hate to love, and love to hate: the bad boys. She has always been drawn to them, whether she wanted to or not, and loves to tell stories on different relationships that have a multitude of consequences for both the hero and the heroine. She hopes to become a full time writer, and currently resides in San Francisco as a secretary for a small law firm. Her goal is to entertain and move readers through her writing, and hopes you enjoy each and every story along the way.
 

About Roxy Sinclaire

Roxy Sinclaire writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories as the main genre, and this includes a variety of different topics. Some of these include dark romances, action packed romances, mafia romances, and many more. She currently works in customer relations in New York City, but is trying to fulfill her passion in writing and eventually have her dream job become a reality.

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Made: A Stepbrother Romance
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Trapped In His World: A Dark Romance

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Excerpt from
Made: A Stepbrother Romance

The club reeks of luxurious perfumes, sex, and a light overlay of sweat. The odors swirl below my nose. I take a sip of my martini and let the icy liquid trickle slowly over my tongue. I think about taking a man home, putting him in my mouth, feeling his girth and his heat. I let my gaze wander across the crowded space, skipping from one expensive suit to another. A few of the men fill out the sleek cuts of their silk and wool suits with massive shoulders and impressive pecs. My eyes linger on them. I have a weakness for big men who make me feel petite. What would it be like if
I
wore the red shoes? What kind of man would play a game like this?
That’s when I suddenly understand: this
deal
must appeal to men who have everything, men who can buy anyone. They don’t merely want a night with a young and beautiful woman. They can have that easily; probably have more opportunities than they have time for. The staid business address in New Jersey offers an experience, something unique; one they can’t have anywhere else or with anyone else.
What would that mean for the young woman who slides her feet into a pair of special shoes?
Butterflies in my stomach. . .
If I were wearing the red shoes right now, he’d be here in the club, somewhere, watching. Would he show himself to me right away? Or make me wait? Will he stalk me like a hunter only to take me without warning. . .
My nipples go tight imagining my fantasy mystery man and if he’s wondering how my tits will feel in his hands, how my pussy will get wet for him. Will he get hard just looking at me? Heat rushes from my pussy up my belly and across my chest.
“I don’t know what they put in that drink, but oh girl, it must be good.” Caylee’s words jolt me from my reverie.
I toss her a sheepish grin and realize I’m blushing. She grins right back at me. “Admit it, you were thinking about sex, the really, really hot kind; the kind you dream about; the kind you need. Am I right?” When I don’t answer, she waves a hand at me. “Oh, don’t bother. I know I’m right.”
It’s my turn to shrug as I try to act casual. Fat chance of pulling that one off when I’m feeling anything but casual.
Reality check, Brooke.
You’re too cautious to take a risk.
Nobody delivered expensive red shoes to your door and no one in this place has looked twice at you, not to mention the fact you’re way too practical and conservative to show up at a random office in Jersey and sign a freaking contract.
Try telling that to my body. The ache between my legs is still pumping sexual energy into my veins like a drug. I could probably get off if a man dragged his gaze over me too long.
Which is pretty sad when you think about it.
Caylee laughs at my obvious discomfort and kicks back the last of her drink. Her eyes are bright; her cheeks flushed. I’m about to suggest we head down to the main floor when a guy in a dark suit comes up behind her. He’s there only long enough to slip something into her hand before disappearing again into the crowd.
She stills, her eyes going wide. “This is it!” She opens her palm, revealing a burner phone. A red light blinks and then a line of text marches across the screen. After studying it, she holds the phone, so I can see the screen. It looks like a regular incoming call message, except there’s a red button for
accept
and a blue button for
decline.
She flips the phone around and her finger hovers over the red button.
Fear clutches at my throat. I have this feeling something bad is going to happen. “Wait! This is too strange. You don’t know enough. You haven’t even seen the guy or talked to him. That’s not a real choice.”
She shakes her head slowly, seeming a little dazed, maybe from finishing her drink too fast. “I already signed the contract. I can’t say no. I have to do this.”
“But wait—”
Before I can grab the phone away from her, she stabs the red button. We both freeze, staring at the screen. For a few long seconds, nothing happens. Then a green text message pops up:
Report to the east door.
Mr. Daniels will escort you from that point.
She turns in a circle. “Which way is east?”
While I’m trying to get my bearings, a tall guy who looks like an MMA fighter stuffed into an expensive dark suit appears at Caylee’s elbow.
“Miss Bennett?” he inquires. He’s not wearing a nametag, but I assume he’s the
Mr. Daniels
from the text message.
She half turns, staring up at him while at the same time reaching back toward me and shoving the burner phone into my hand. I take it and manage not to fumble. Fortunately, Mr. Daniels is preoccupied with Caylee and doesn’t appear to notice what she’s done. His voice is deep, and he’s speaking too softly for me to hear, but Caylee hangs on every word.
The guy finishes his spiel and turns to go. Before following him, Caylee pivots quickly, pulls me into a fierce hug, and whispers into my ear, “Hold onto the phone for me, okay?”
Then she’s off. I watch her follow the big man across the club until they pass through a door marked with gold letters,
VIP
.
I shove the phone into my bag while muttering to myself how ridiculous the whole situation is, including my irrational fears, which have no basis in reality. The truth is that my friend is going on an adventure and will probably have fabulous sex and come home a whole lot richer. Even Samantha is probably having a better time than I am—assuming she was telling the truth about spending the night at her friend’s house. I should call and check up on her, but I want to trust her; I need to trust her. So I’ve told myself I’m going to do just that until she gives me a solid reason to do otherwise. Meanwhile, I’m standing here like I’m 24-going-on-80 and worried bad things will happen if I stay out past my bedtime.
Fuck that.
I decide Caylee is right. I need a night out, and I’m here. Why waste an amazing dress or a hot club filled with even hotter guys?
Oh my, check out that one. . .

Click
HERE
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Made: A Stepbrother Romance

___

Excerpt from
Trapped In His World: A Dark Romance

It is almost six in the evening and I am still sitting at my desk.  I’m sure just about everyone else has gone home. I wonder if Mr. Black remembers that he asked me to remain in the office until he gets back. I sit patiently and wait. Luckily, he strolls into the office not too long after. He seems to be in a dark mood. Maybe his meeting didn’t go very well. His gaze finds me and roams over my face. I am tempted to pull out my mirror and look to see if I have something on my face.  “Navia, thank you for waiting, follow me to my office please,” he says softly.

I nod and quickly get up, not wanting to upset him any further. As I make my way to the office I wonder what this is all about. Consternation creeps in as negative thoughts fill my mind. Maybe I did something wrong or maybe he doesn’t like the way I work. What if he is calling me into his office to fire me on my first day? My shoulders droop slightly. If I can’t do a job for one week or even a day, who is going to hire me now? We reach his office and he shuts the door, turning the lock. I frown. That’s strange. Why does he feel the need to lock the door? I nibble nervously at my lower lip and twirl my hands together. “Uh, how was your meeting?” I ask feebly, forcing a smile. It’s very hard to do, considering that I am a nervous wreck.

“It didn’t go as planned,” he says shortly.

I release a low breath. OK, maybe this has nothing to do with me after all. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I look at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me why he wanted me to stay after hours and why I am standing in his office. All he does is rake his gaze over me. He reaches up to loosen his tie and run his fingers through his hair. I wish I could do that for him, run my fingers through his head of luxurious-looking black hair. He seems troubled, as if he is battling internally with himself. I detect a play of emotion across his features and they disappear quickly. How does he do that? How does he give a slight sliver of emotion and return to cool and emotionless so quickly? It makes it difficult to read him. What is he thinking right now?

I begin to bite my lower lip again and his gaze lands on my lips. I stop biting immediately and my tongue darts out to moisten my lips. His eyes follow my tongue’s movement. I swallow hard, feeling too hot all of a sudden. He steps toward me and I take a step back, the back of my legs hitting against his desk. I can go no further. My nervous lip-biting resumes. “Don’t do that, Navia,” he whispers, reaching out to cup my chin with long fingers. He smoothens a finger over my lower lip and I forget to continue breathing. “It’s very tempting to kiss you when you do that.”

My eyes widen. I don’t have much experience, but I am pretty sure this is not typical employer-employee behavior. I am speechless, my mind in turmoil. Should I speak out and tell him this is not appropriate, or say and do nothing, to see how far he goes? The devil on the left side of my shoulder tells me to do the latter. “Do you have any idea why I called you in here, Navia?”

I swallow hard. “N-Not the slightest idea,” I breathe out.

His lips curl, “Your innocence is refreshing. Are you really as innocent as you seem?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what you mean. Innocent in what way?” I watch as he peels off his jacket and throws it onto a chair. I follow his every movement, noticing how graceful and powerful each movement is. He is still standing very close, and I find it difficult to think straight.

“I have wanted to do something since I locked eyes with you on Saturday.” His gaze lowers to my mouth. “Your full lips are very tantalizing, just like the rest of you.”

I gawk up at him. I am in shock over his statement. He finds me tantalizing? I find it hard to believe that a man like Jason Black finds me attractive. “Err… I-I—,” my words refuse to come out properly. His lips twitch as if he is enjoying my discomfort. He lowers his head to mine, and his lips hover mere centimeters above mine. My breathing quickens. I want to pinch myself. This is playing out just like one of the dreams I had about him. Maybe this isn’t real. He doesn’t kiss me but continues to watch me intently.

“Would you like me to kiss you, Navia?” he enquires.
Hell yes!
I shout in my mind. But the words can’t pass my lips. I nod. “Answer me properly,” he demands. “I want to hear you say it.”