Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance For Adults (6 page)

“
Eventually
the ship Götheborg was forgotten, until 240 years later when a
diver rediscovered her and began a marine-archaeological excavation.
The attention surrounding the find and the excavation whetted
people’s appetites, and led to the slightly crazy idea of
rebuilding the entire vessel – in full scale using traditional
techniques – and sailing to China once again. All ingenious
ideas have a degree of madness. It is therefore good to know that
adventure lives on, and madness still flourishes.

“
2004
was the year when the outfitting of the ship was finalized and she
was named by Her Royal Highness, the Queen of Sweden. In spring 2005,
Götheborg was tested under sail and approved by the authorities.
In the autumn of the same year, she managed once again to take the
Swedish East India Company to China. And the circle was completed.”

Samara put her hands
together and clapped but then stopped when she realized she was the
only one. Bjorn smiled again at her and quirked his eyebrow as if he
was amused at her enthusiasm.

“
Any
questions?” he asked addressing her directly.

Samara’s hand
was up like a shot.

*****

The lecture took just
forty minutes and consisted mostly of Bjorn answering questions. He
tried to be fair but to be honest, Samara had the most questions of
anyone in the room and was the most enthusiastic. It wasn’t
just because it was her research project; Bjorn was articulate,
engaging and had a lot of insights to offer. Samara wanted to take
advantage of every second she had with him. Just as he was wrapping
up, Professor Zhang stepped in the room and walked up to the podium
to stand smiling by him. It was as if she was his child since he was
so much taller but Prof. Zhang’s composure didn’t slip.

“
We
want to thank Mr. Fredriksen for giving us his time and knowledge and
would like to present him with this gift in gratitude.”

Samara felt someone
nudge her and turned to find one of the other TAs holding out a
wrapped package to her.

“
Prof
asked me to give this to you to present,” she whispered to
Samara.

She leapt to her feet
and took the package, heart beating faster at the thought of being so
close to Bjorn. It was stupid and somewhere inside she was laughing
at herself for being such a cliché…even as she felt her
knees go weak as she climbed the stairs. Bjorn watched her come, his
eyes unreadable but with a slight smile on his face.

She held out the gift
to him with a curtsy, “Thank you very much Mr. Fredriksen for
coming to share with us today.”

Prof Zhang stepped
forward, “Samara is one of my best students and she really
pushed for you to join us today.”

Bjorn’s eyes
brightened with interest, “Is that so?”

“
Yes.
Her research project is on the subject of your family’s
shipping so like any good student, she didn’t want to pass up
an opportunity to get the facts from the horse’s mouth, so to
speak.”

“
Ah,”
Bjorn said still with that brightness in his eyes.

Samara smiled, at a
loss as to how to proceed. She was still holding the gift out to him.

“
I
don’t suppose you would like to join me for a cocktail on my
yacht this evening then?” he asked with a slight bow in her
direction. One of his assistants finally came forward and relieved
Samara of the gift.

“
A
cocktail?” she asked not quite sure what she should say.

“
Yes.
It starts at 6pm. Formal dress. Shall I have your name added to the
guest list?”

Samara nodded
vigorously, mouth dry, still quite unable to find words.

“
Excellent.
My attaché will give you directions,” he said turning
away. Samara simply nodded. She’d never been to a cocktail
party before and wasn’t quite sure how she should dress or what
the protocol was. She suddenly felt a great urgency to get out of the
auditorium and find Amy.
She
would definitely know what to do.

*****

Amy lent her one of
her little black dresses. It barely reached mid thigh since Amy was
much shorter than Samara but Amy assured her it was perfect for a
cocktail. The mini dress was tight on top, tied with a satin sash at
the waist and had a princess-like skirt that flared out in a
wave-like design. It was an off the shoulder satin dress with a rose
design embedded in the material. It brought out the silky smoothness
of Samara’s chocolate complexion and emphasized the obscene
length of her legs.

Samara was nervous to
go out looking like ‘sex on legs’ – Amy’s
words not hers – but her friend assured her that she could pull
it off no problem. Samara just gave her a look and teetered off in
the six inch silver heels Amy had produced from the back of her
closet. Apparently they were meant to be her Christmas gift which Amy
had happened to have shopped for five months early. Amy seemed to
have a lot of advance gifts that she kept in the ‘back of her
closet’ for just the right occasion. It was uncanny.

She made it to the
Uber Amy had called without breaking an ankle and sank into the back
of the car with relief. She checked her watch as they pulled into the
LA traffic. She had an hour to get to the party on time; plenty of
time to negotiate the crazy downtown traffic and make it to the pier.
She hoped Prof Zhang was going to be at the shindig..or anyone else
that she knew.

She
couldn’t imagine trying to mingle with Bjorn Fredriksen’s
friends all by herself. Ruefully she wished that her invitation had
included a plus one. Amy would have been all over that in seconds.
These were more
her
people
than Samara’s.

If
Samara had spent any time around the rich and famous growing up, it
was only long enough for her father to hustle some cash out of them,
citing his poor hungry child and how she wanted to be a doctor but
they didn’t have enough cash to pay for the lunch program…
the poor child was
starving
.
That was usually Samara’s cue to look thin, ashy and half out
of her mind with hunger. A poor motherless child with her father just
trying his best to bring her up the way his wife would have wanted.
It never failed to shake some coins loose from the most tight fisted
scrooge.

But now she had to
present herself as…herself; and still manage to talk to these
people like she knew what she was saying. It made her heart flutter
with nerves.

The
Uber driver got her there with ten minutes to spare and she walked,
slowly, along the wharf until she saw the boat.
The
Berserker
was berthed just a few steps
from parking, much to Samara’s relief. Her shoes were really
not made for trudging up and down an unsteady surface looking for a
boat.

There was a man
dressed in uniform standing next to some red carpeted stairs leading
up to the boat and Samara slowed as she saw him, digging out her
phone to show him her invitation. He studied it and then looked up at
her, typing in something on his iPad and waiting for a response.
Samara peeked at what he was staring at to see a picture of her face
on the screen. The doorman/security looked down at it and then at her
before motioning for her to pass. She took the stairs slowly, heart
beat rising with nerves and fear. She didn’t know if she could
do this.

As soon as she
stepped on the boat, sorry yacht, her eyes fell on a waiter with a
tray of champagne flutes. She bee-lined her way to him and picked up
a glass, draining it in one shot. The champagne left bubbles in her
throat but settled her nerves so she took another flute, and drank,
only slightly slower. She figured she was five foot eleven. She could
totally drink without getting too tipsy. She picked up a third glass
and walked away from the waiter, looking around her for the first
time. The boat was definitely in a class of luxury she wasn’t
used to in her daily life; all soft plush leather seats and elaborate
fixtures. The electronics were all high tech, high quality, latest
version and Samara hesitated to touch anything or speak to anyone.
She drained her latest glass of champagne and looked around for a
waiter.

“
Ah,
there you are,” a deep voice drawled in her ear and she turned
to look into Bjorn’s violet eyes. They really were…hypnotizing.
“It's good to see that you made it.”

He was talking to
her, she could see that. Her mind was just unable to process.

“
Uh…”
she said.

Bjorn smiled showing
all forty of his white perfect teeth.

“
Have
you had a bite to eat yet?” he asked guiding her gently to a
table and sitting her down. He signaled to someone she couldn’t
see and then sat down next to her in the booth, legs crossed in his
white suited perfection and arm slung casually along the back of the
booth, only slightly touching her bare shoulder. Samara felt like her
mind had shut down. Bjorn didn’t seem fazed by her
inarticulateness which was a relief for her because she couldn’t
seem to snap out of it.

“
So…your
research project; it is on Nordstorm?” Bjorn asked once a
waiter had come and placed several platters of food on the table.
There were various types of proteins from chicken to beef to pork as
well as corn on the cob, baked potatoes, various sauces, bread buns
and salads. Samara didn’t know if she could keep any of it down
but she picked at some pieces of pork with her fork and put them on
her plate just to be polite. Bjorn didn’t comment, just waited
for her to answer his question.

“
I’m
doing a piece on your father actually; that was my focus. My
condolences by the way.”

“
Thank
you,” Bjorn said with a small smile. “He had asthma. It
was well managed. But then…” Bjorn’s violet eyes
seemed to turn inward. “Such a stupid thing; he went skiing. It
was really cold and he had a fall. It happened so fast…”

Samara was watching
him with sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Bjorn shrugged,
“That’s life, no?”

“
I
guess,” Samara said her fingers inching over to cover his hand
on the table. He glanced down at their hands but didn’t move
his away. They stayed in silence for a while.

“
Would
you…umm, how about we take this talk somewhere quieter?”
he asked.

“
Okay,”
Samara replied and stood with him as he took her arm and led her down
into the bowels of the boat. He led her to a room which was obviously
a sleeping quarters. Only, she’d never seen such a luxurious
version on a moving vehicle. The room was bathed in soft blue light
and the bed was bunker-like in so much as it obviously was attached
to the wall. It was a double bed, done up in a beautiful blue and
gold duvet that reflected the light. There was a table shaped in the
form of an old fashioned trunk, two chairs and a shelf stocked well
with alcohol. Bjorn indicated she should sit as he went to the bar.

He placed a golden
drink in front of her, glass clinking with ice as he sat down beside
her with his own drink.

“
Thanks,”
she murmured, taking a sip. She shuddered with reaction as the
alcohol went down, feeling a little dizzy with just being here, with
Bjorn. As they drank, he told her a bit about his family life growing
up in Stockholm. His life was surprisingly devoid of glamour; sounded
like for the rich and famous, they’d lived quite normal lives.
Going to public schools, doing chores, getting after school jobs to
earn pocket money. It was almost surreal how ‘normal’ his
life had been.

“
My
life was the complete opposite of normal,” she found herself
confiding. It seemed that the alcohol had loosened her tongue. “I
like…just moved around a lot; with my dad and my sister.”

“
Oh?”
he encouraged sounding like he was even interested.

“
Yeah.
We didn’t really have a home. We were just…all over the
place.”

“
Sounds…hard,”
Bjorn said.

Samara squinted at
him; he quite possibly was doubling in front of her. “You’re
so sexy,” she said; the words just leaving her mouth without
her permission. Bjorn laughed.

“
Really?”
he said.

“
Really.
I just want to…eat you alive,” she said. Bjorn laughed
harder.

“
Sounds
like fun,” Bjorn said moving closer to her. Samara watched him
come.

*****

"Samara, please,
baby," Bjorn moaned.

From where she was on
her knees in front of Bjorn, Samara looked up at Bjorn through her
long lashes, her bangs falling into her eyes. She continued to take
her time and traced Bjorn's navel with her tongue, kept teasing Bjorn
with the promise of what was to come.

Samara smirked at
Bjorn when he let out yet another muffled curse. "Samara..."
he whined.

"What do you
want, Bjorn?" Samara murmured.

Bjorn tried to glare,
but it came out as more of a pleading, puppy dog look. "You
know, Samara. What you said earlier...fuck." Bjorn trailed off
with a groan as he remembered the words Samara had whispered earlier.
In the midst of a heated make-out session, Samara had pulled away
from the kiss to nibble on Bjorn's ear, filthy words pouring from her
pretty mouth. Beautiful words like, "Wanna suck you; gonna let
me?" and then a wonderful request. "Want you to fuck me,
Bjorn...God, want it so bad."

Bjorn had almost
creamed his pants at the thought.

And now Samara was on
her knees in front of Bjorn, licking her way up and down Bjorn's abs,
pressing little kisses to his hipbones, teasing and being torturously
slow.