Sinclair Glenna - HIS 2 Billionaire Roman

HIS A Billionaire Romance, Part 2 of 3

Glenna Sinclair

Copyright © 2015

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 1

I was dreaming—a beautiful, wonderful dream—and then my world turned into a nightmare. Five months ago, I was just a kindergarten teacher, finishing up the spring semester at a small private school in a suburb of Los Angeles. And then everything imploded. My mother got cancer and that led to a desperate need to get money and that led

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to me volunteering to be a surrogate for the actress, Aurora Parker, and her ultra-famous, billionaire husband, Nicolas Costa. But, of course, it couldn’t all go smoothly. Right before the first insemination attempt, Nicolas came on to me in the same house he shared with his wife, then my mother died of a heart attack the night before she was supposed to start chemo, and then Aurora died a week later of an apparent drug overdose in New York City. It was all too much and I took off, well aware that the insemination had worked and I was pregnant. I didn’t

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think Nicolas would want the baby after all of that. But, of course, I was wrong. Nicolas followed me to Texas and insisted I return to L.A. until the baby’s birth. If I didn’t, he wasn’t going to hold up his end of the bargain I’d made with Aurora—that I would be allowed pictures and the occasional visit. And once we were settled in his house—the same house he once shared with Aurora and the house my mother’s best friend, Constance, worked as the housekeeper in—he dragged me off to a new doctor who

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quickly discovered that I wasn’t just having a baby, I was having twins. Plus, I have gestational diabetes that requires up to five shots a day to keep my blood sugar in tight alignment. My mom used to say Murphy’s law ruled my life. She wasn’t kidding. But last night, things seemed to be getting better. Nicolas and I sat down to dinner together. It was awkward, at first. But then…when he was touching me, it was like all common sense just disappeared. And he was so gentle, so kind and considerate. It felt

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like we’d actually made a connection for the first time since we met. He took me to bed and we lay in each other’s arms until the wee hours, touching and whispering to each other. Then I fell asleep and dreamed that the babies were here, sleeping happily in perfect white cribs and Nicolas had his arms around me, telling me what a wonderful life we were all going to have together. The dream made me smile, even in my sleep. But then it turned into a nightmare with a knock on the door. Nicolas’s bodyguard, Adam, was there, telling him the police were there. And then:

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I was headed down the stairs with Adam when I heard a deep voice reciting the Miranda Rights in the entry way. I pulled away from Adam and rushed to the bottom of the stairs, just in time to see a cop in a cheap wool suit put Nicolas in handcuffs. “Nicolas Costa, you’re being arrested for the charge of murder in the first degree,” the detective said. “Nico!” I cried. He looked at me, a lost little boy with shame coloring his face.

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“Take her out of here,” Nicolas said roughly to Adam. I felt Adam take my arm, but all I saw was Nicolas being escorted out to a police cruiser. Now I was at Constance’s, curled up on the couch in her cramped living room, trying not to hear—but watching every second of the news reports on Nicolas’ arrest. “Police aren’t commenting at this time,”

the

pretty

blond

reporter

was

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currently saying, “but sources close to the case say that police have found evidence that Nicolas Costa was in New York City on the night his wife died despite the fact that he told investigators he was home alone that night. The source states that a witness has come forward, claiming that he saw Nicolas Costa at the restaurant Aurora Parker had just left when she died in the back of her chauffeured limo. And another witness claims that Nicolas Costa threatened his wife on several occasions, most notably the night before her trip to New York City.”

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I shook my head, tears threatening, as I sat back and ran my hand slowly over my swelling belly. “Did he really do it?” I glanced at Mercedes, Constance’s thirteen year old niece. She, along with several cousins and Constance’s two teenaged sons, lived in this tiny apartment with Constance. It was like trying to study in a frat house. There were so many people I could hardly think.

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“Go outside, mija,” Constance said, shooing Mercedes away. Then she picked up the remote and turned off the television. “You’ve done nothing but watch this stuff for two days,” she said to me. “What else is there to do?” “Eat.” Constance set a plate of tamales in front of me. I looked at them and my stomach clutched. I shook my head. If I ate, I’d have to take a shot, and I really didn’t want to do that.

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“You need to feed those babies,” Constance said. I ran my hand slowly over my belly. “They seem to be growing fine whether I eat of not. I’ve gained five pounds since I got out of the hospital.” “Because they’re taking what they need whether you eat or not. But that won’t last long.” I just shook my head and reached for the remote. The television popped back on and the outer gate of Nicolas’ house flooded

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the screen. I sat forward, staring as a dark car pulled slowly to the gates and the gate slowly began to slide open as reporters surrounded the car. “He’s home?” Constance just shrugged, as she watched the screen too. “I have to go.” I jumped to my feet and grabbed my bag, shoving the few things I’d removed—my blood sugar meter, a book, a couple of clean shirts—back inside and slid my feet into sandals.

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“I’m sure he’ll send for you when he’s ready,” Constance said. I shook my head. “No. He’ll want me to stay as far away as possible.” “Then maybe you shouldn’t go.” “But he needs me.” I headed for the front door, but Constance grabbed my arm. “Ana, think about this. This man has been accused of killing his wife. Do you really think he’s the kind of man you want to be with right now?” She touched my belly.

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“These babies are the most important thing in your world right now. Maybe it would be best if you stayed here and let people who love you take care of you.” “These babies are Nicolas’. I should be there.” “Ana, you’re just a surrogate.” “I know that.” I dragged my fingers through my dark hair, my thoughts whirling in a million different directions. However, they all kept coming back to Nicolas alone, dealing with

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the darkest moments of his life in that big house without anyone who cared about him. I needed to be there. I needed to show him that I cared. Constance stood in front of me, her experienced eyes watching me. And I could see in them that she knew it was already too late. Even I wasn’t quite sure what my feelings for Nicolas were, but I knew I had them. And I knew they were deeper than those of a girl who had a crush on the man whose child she’s carrying. All of this began as a means to an end, a way to get the money my mom

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would need to survive her cancer. But then I met Aurora and I really wanted to give her the gift of a child. Nicolas made it weird when he kissed me, but I still wanted to help Aurora; I still wanted to make her dreams come true. And then she was dead and I was alone with this baby that Nicolas didn’t even know about. And then he found me and made me feel things I’d never felt before…never have I ever hated someone the way I hated Nicolas for taking control of my life and bullying me into coming back to L.A. Never have I ever hated someone so much

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for making me dependent on them—I’ve never been so dependent on someone, so dependent on a place to live, transportation, medical care, clothes, food, and everything else. But…never have I wanted to be near someone the way I wanted to be near Nicolas. Never have I wanted a man like I want Nicolas. I was falling for him, and I hated myself for it almost as much as Constance clearly disapproved of it.

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“You know he’s a good man,” I said softly. “You were the reason I volunteered to be their surrogate in the first place.” “He was a good man. Once.” Clouds danced over Constance’s face. “But you don’t know what happened in that house over these past few years, what I heard between him and his wife. I never told you or your mother some of the worst things.” “It was a bad marriage.” “It was more than that.”

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I shook my head. “I don’t care. I’m going back there, and I’m going to help him through this because it’s the right thing to do.” “But what about all of this?” Constance asked, gesturing to the television. “What about this investigation?” “He didn’t do it.” I looked at her, expecting her to agree with me, but she avoided my gaze, as though she didn’t want me to see what she was thinking. And that made a cold shiver run down my spine. “Constance, you know he didn’t do this.”

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“I know they had a fight that day.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a defiant set to her chin. “I know he told her not to come back if she left. And I know he told her he would kill her if he ever saw her again.” I wanted to deny what she’d said. I wanted to tell her that she had no idea what she was talking about. I wanted to defend Nicolas with every inch of my being. However, there was this little voice at the back of my mind reminding me that Constance has never told a lie in her life. She was one of those who was convinced that God

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could hear every word falling from our lips and that he would strike her dead where she stood if she uttered a lie. I also knew how bad Nicolas’ marriage was those final years. He’d told me. So it was possible. But… “That doesn’t mean he did what they’re saying.” Constance inclined her head slightly. “She was alone in the back of that limo when the driver discovered she’d overdosed. And it was an overdose. Who can say

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that she didn’t take the drugs of her own freewill?” “But what if she didn’t? I never saw any evidence that she was using illegal drugs.” “Maybe she hid it well.” “Maybe.” Constance studied my face for a long second. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t do this, Ana. And by going back to him, you could be placing yourself in danger.”

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I nodded. “I could be. Or I could be abandoning an innocent man.” I

brushed

past

her,

and—this

time—she didn’t stop me. I wrenched the front door of the apartment open, and Adam immediately stepped into my path. I hadn’t even been aware that he was still around. “Shouldn’t you be at the house with Nicolas?” “He wants me with you,” he said in a low, clipped voice that matched his bulky, Neanderthal-like appearance perfectly.

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“Well, I’m going to the house.” “No, ma’am,” he said. “He wants you to remain here until this thing blows over.” “That could take months, and there isn’t enough space here for me and these twins,” I said, drawing his attention to my belly as I brushed my hand over it. “So, take me to the house or I’m going back to my empty apartment in Texas and you can explain to him why I left the state.”

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Adam studied my face for a long minute. Then he nodded, stepping aside and gesturing for me to lead the way. At least one man in my life knew how to listen to a lady.

Chapter 2

He was standing in the living room when we arrived, ironically in the same place he’d been that night four months ago—it seemed like so much longer!—when I came by to see Aurora and he claimed she was out, then kissed me like we were lovers instead of virtual strangers. “They let you out.”

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He looked over at me, his eyes redrimmed, his jaw sporting the beginnings of a heavy beard, the result of two days without a razor. “What are you doing here?” He looked over at Adam, gesturing with the hand that held a tumbler that was full to the rim of something dark—bourbon, maybe?—sloshing some of it over his hand. “I told you to keep her away from here.” “We came in through the back,” Adam said. “No one saw us.”

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“I don’t fucking care,” Nicolas said, his voice cracking a little as it rose in pitch. “I don’t want her here. What part of that did you not understand?” “I insisted,” I said, approaching him cautiously. “I wanted to see you, to make sure you’re okay.” He laughed, even as he raised the glass to his lips. He swallowed the whole glass in one swallow, nearly falling over as he stepped backward to grab the bottle and pour some more. It was pretty obvious he’d been drinking for a while. That scared me

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more than I was willing to admit to myself. A man doesn’t drink like that unless things looked really bleak. Or he was feeling guilty about something. “Let’s go upstairs,” I said. He looked at me, his eyes moving over the length of me in a very pointed way. “Not in the mood, sweetheart,” he said. “Thanks for the offer though.” “I wasn’t suggesting…” There was no reason to continue my argument. He wasn’t listening. He’d turned

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back to the bar and was pouring himself another drink. As I watched, he swallowed two more tumbler-sized gulps as he stood there, or swayed there might have been a better description of what was happening. I moved up behind him and lay my hand on the small of his back. He stiffened immediately as though my touch was the last thing he wanted, but I stayed close to him and whispered softly near his ear, “You’re making a fool of yourself, Nicolas. Do you really want to do that in front of Adam and

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God knows who else is within earshot of you?” He glanced at me, pure hatred filling those perfect brown eyes of his. That hurt, stabbing through me like a hot knife through butter. However, it got his attention. “Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.” He poured himself another glass of booze and swallowed it again, tossing his head back to make sure he got every last

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drop. And then he stepped back and held his arm out to me. “As you wish.” I took his arm, and he walked surprisingly steady until we were halfway up the stairs. And then he leaned heavily against me, his steps growing more and more unstable with each step. I wasn’t sure I was going to get him to the bedroom without him falling over, but I did. I helped him to the bed and sat him on the edge of it before I went back to close the door.

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“Fucking paparazzi,” he muttered when I came back to him. “Can’t even threaten my own fucking wife without them going to the cops and claiming I killed her for

her

life

insurance

or

some

such

nonsense.” “The paparazzi?” He nodded, the movement causing him to fall back against the bed. I leaned over him and tugged at the buttons on the front of his dress shirt. It was the same shirt he put on in a hurry the morning the police

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came to search the house. The morning he was arrested. “That’s their witness, you know. A fucking photographer who supposedly overheard me tell Aurora I was going to kill her as she got into the car to leave for the airport that last night.” “The news says that someone came forward and said they saw you at the restaurant she was eating at right before she died.” He looked at me, clearly struggling to focus. “Waiter,” he mumbled. “Thought I

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gave him a big enough tip to come down with a little amnesia, but I guess not.” I looked sharply at him, as I finished unbuttoning his shirt, spreading it open to reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. Even now, even with everything that was happening, I wanted to run my hands over it, to feel his muscles, his heart, under my hands. Instead, I turned my attention to getting his expensive Prada shoes off his feet. “You were in New York that night?” I asked.

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“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Wanted to convince Aurora to give me a divorce, once and for all. I surprised her at the restaurant. I knew she would dine alone in a private room, knew it was the best chance I had of ever getting her alone. But she laughed when I told her what I wanted, and then she threatened to steal the baby she was so sure you were carrying away from me. But I was the one who wanted the baby in the first place.”

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I had his shoes off, and I started to work on his pants. He looked up at me, a pleading look in his eyes. “Believe me?” “Come on,” I said, taking his hand and pulling him to a sitting position. I slid my arm around his waist and helped him to his feet. We managed to get into the bathroom where I helped him out of his underwear. He leaned back against the counter while I started the water in his walk-though shower, taking only a second to admire the lovely marble that lined the walls and the floor.

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Then, I undressed and returned to him. His eyes were closed, his breathing slowed, as though he’d managed to fall asleep naked, reclining against the counter. I paused for a second, admiring his body. Him. He was a beautiful man. His bronze skin, the fine sprinkling of dark hair across his chest, the strip of hair that led the eyes to his beautiful cock…I never imagined I would ever be with someone even remotely like him. My last date before all this happened? He was a math teacher at the junior high my elementary school fed into, complete with the heavy-

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framed glasses and pocket protector in his shirt pocket. I moved close to him, my ever expanding belly reaching him before the rest of me. I touched his face and whispered his name, “Nico?” He peeked at me from under impossibly long eyelashes. “Shower time.” He nodded, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet. I slid my arm around his waist and walked him to the shower, grateful that

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it wasn’t part of a bathtub like it always had been in the house where I grew up. Getting him over the lip of a tub would be almost impossible. But the walk-through didn’t even have a lip at the entrance to the shower; it was so perfectly designed that a subtle slope in the floor made a lip unnecessary. He groaned when the water hit him, first along his side from a low set showerhead, and then near his face from the showerhead that was set more traditionally at the center of the back wall. The water was warm and actually felt quite good on my

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body. He didn’t seem to moan after that initial splash. He raised his face to the water, his eyes closed and his mouth open. I watched for a minute, spellbound by the sight of him. Even drunk and vulnerable he seemed more virile and powerful than any man I’d ever known. I grabbed a sponge and doused it in liquid soap. After I had a good lather, I began running it slowly over his back. His muscles were tense at first, but slowly began to loosen up. He leaned forward and braced himself on the wall, a sigh escaping his lips. I

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couldn’t resist running my soapy hand over his ass, my fingers exploring places they’d never really had access to before. He turned and looked down at me, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You brought me here. Remember?” “No, I mean now. I was in jail for two days. I’m under investigation for murder. I can’t leave the state. Probably not even the

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county. You could have gone back to Texas and there’s nothing I could do about it.” It had never, honestly, crossed my mind to leave. I pressed the sponge to the center of his chest and watched the lather bleed over his skin. “Nothing has really changed. If I left, you would eventually be cleared and come after the babies, and I wouldn’t see them again.” The tension came back into his shoulders, but he didn’t move away or react

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in any other way. He watched me as I continued to wash his chest, my hand slowly wandering down toward his hips. His cock was responding to my touch despite the excessive amount of alcohol he’d drunk. It made my lower belly tighten in response, my thighs quiver with need. Something about being near him made me more focused on sex than I’d ever been before. I always thought there was something unusual about me in that I wasn’t as fascinated with the subject when I was a teen as my friends. Even when I was around Kelly—who focused on sex so much

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she was going crazy with her self-imposed celibacy—it just didn’t seem as important to me as it did her. But when I was around Nicolas…hello, inner slut! He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “They think I killed my wife.” I looked up at him. “I know.” “Aren’t you afraid? Aren’t you worried that if I killed her, that I might not think twice of doing the same to you?” I thought about that for a second. It seemed logical, really. Anyone who killed the

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woman he once loved, the woman he swore to love for the rest of his life, wouldn’t think twice of killing his surrogate. But the problem with that was that Aurora died of an overdose. “I don’t think you did it.” He made a sound that was kind of a cross between a chuckle and a groan. “You’re the only one.” “How can you force someone to take an overdose of cocaine, anyway?”

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Nicolas shrugged. “They’re saying that it wasn’t cocaine that killed her. They’re saying she was given an overdose of Xanax.” “How do they know she didn’t take it herself?” “They have a waiter who claims he saw me slip into her drink. Plus…” He hesitated, almost as if he didn’t want to say what came next. He sighed, his hand brushing against my face before he pulled away and turned back to the showerhead, letting the water wash the lather from his skin.

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“What?” I asked, moving against his back, my belly brushing just above the curve of his ass. He just shook his head. He was clearly done talking about it. He reached for a razor from the shelf built into one wall of the shower, but missed. It clattered to the floor as he lost his balance and barely caught himself against the wet tile. I retrieved it and filled my hand with a little shave cream. “Let me do it.”

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“I’m not a child,” he said, but he didn’t seem terribly adverse to the idea. He leaned back against the wall, as I reached up to apply the cream. I’d never shaved a man before. I’ve never even seen a man shave. None of my lovers—all one of him—ever stuck around long enough to shave in front of me. And I didn’t know my father. So it was a little tricky, running the razor over his angled jaw as opposed to my thin, but short, legs. But there was something decidedly sexy about leaning my naked body up against his to reach his handsome face.

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I touched my fingers to his naked flesh in the spaces the razor cleared, not sure what was better, his naked flesh or the bristles of his heavy five o’clock shadow. The naked skin was what I knew, what I loved about the way his features seemed to radiate virility. But the five o’clock shadow added a little mystery, and the feel of those bristles against my skin offered a new sensation that made my blood boil. Hmmmm…..

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“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked softly, as I made one last pass along his chin. “Why shouldn’t I be?” He kissed me in response, pushing me back against the far wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me as my body curved to welcome him. He leaned into me—maybe to keep from losing his balance—and buried himself against me. It felt so good, so familiar, to have him touch me, to feel his need in every inch of me. Was it really possible to want someone this much? I

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knew he was drunk; I knew that I should take him to bed and let him sleep it off, but logic disappeared the moment I saw his naked body reclining against the counter. He held himself steady with one hand against the wall. The other hand began to explore my body, moving slowly over one breast before sliding down my side to my hip. He tugged me closer to him, his hand sliding over my ass as he pulled me as close to him as my swollen belly would allow. The angle was off. He lowered himself, moved his

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hips this way and that, but my belly just refused to get out of his way. With a groan of frustration, he turned me around. I faced the wall with some hesitation, missing immediately the feel of his lips on mine. But then his hand reached around and his fingers found my clit. And that was absolutely mind blowing…every nerve in my body seemed to explode, sending sparks of pleasure from my belly to my toes and fingertips, tingles rushing over every inch of my scalp.

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And then he slid his cock inside of me and my heart practically stopped for all the beats it missed. I pressed my hips back against him, anxiously awaiting the rhythm my body knew was coming. But he stood still for a long moment, his finger pressed hard against my clit, but also not moving. I could feel his breath, hard and quick, against my shoulder. And then he bit down, a slow groan escaping his lips. It was like he was struggling to get control over himself, as though he was so turned on that just sliding inside of me was enough to set him off. And that

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thought made my juices run like they’d never done before, my muscles clutch his cock as though they never intended to let him go. When he finally did move, it was a whole new wave of pleasure that rushed through me. I cried out as my lower belly shivered with need. He didn’t have to move for long before an orgasm threatened to push me to the ground. I cried out so long my throat began to ache. And the thing was, that little orgasm was just the beginning. As he continued to pound inside of me, my nerves became raw, every movement setting off a

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new series of heart pounding, mind numbing waves that washed over my entire body. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move. All I could do was go along for the ride. If he hadn’t reached his height when he did, I might have gone completely insane. But then he cried out, biting down on my shoulder again, the pain bringing me back enough that I managed to come back to myself just before my knees finally gave up and I began to slide down the slick wall. I caught myself, pressing my body so tight against the

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wall that I felt a funny little wiggle in the lower half of my belly. I didn’t think anything of it—it was kind of hard to think of anything but the weight of Nicolas’ body against me—at the time. I just listened to Nicolas’ low moans and the way his breath came in quick gasps. He calmed after a few minutes and slowly pulled away, the absence of him inside of me leaving me a little lost. And then he was gone. He just walked away as though I wasn’t even there.

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By the time I pulled myself together and got dressed, he was nowhere to be found.

Chapter 3

I went to the room Nicolas had declared mine upon our arrival from Texas. It was my intention to throw myself on the bed and cry for Nicolas and all the darkness that seemed to have entered my life since he came into it. I didn’t understand why he would just up and leave me like that. Why did he run away, just leave me standing there alone? Was he that disgusted by his attraction to me? Or was there something more to

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it than that? I mean, the guy’s wife had just died a few months ago. Maybe I was making a mistake thinking he might see me as more than just the surrogate carrying his children, as just the woman who happened to share his bed from time to time. Then I walked into the bedroom and discovered that all the clothes Nicolas had insisted on buying me right before he was arrested had arrived and was freshly laundered and laid out on my bed. Just seeing it there reminded me of that afternoon, of staring at the gorgeous—clearly not pregnant—models

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who displayed them for us. I was so intimidated the whole time we were there, thinking that I would never look like they did in those amazing clothes. Nicolas ended up choosing most of what he bought. And, I had to admit, he had amazing taste. I ran my fingers over silk and linen and all this amazing fabric that I never could have afforded in my previous life as a kindergarten teacher even if the private school I worked for paid better than most. There was even lingerie, the most amazing panties and bras and stockings…he’d bought these things

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like he expected me to live a glamorous life. The most I planned on doing in the next five months was get fat and watch daytime television. But some of these dresses? I could go to movie premieres and five-star restaurants in them if I wanted. I picked up one dress in particular that I don’t remember seeing before. It was just a simple summer dress, the pattern not unlike the dress I was wearing the first time I met Nicolas. It was cut different, more of an A-line than one would expect in a maternity dress, and the neckline was a lot lower than

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anything I might have worn before. My mother was a strict Catholic. She never would have let me out of the house wearing anything as daring as this. However, when I put it on, it made me feel sexy in a way I’d thought my quickly disappearing waistline had forced into the past. I stood in front of the mirror and admired myself, admired the way the dress seemed to highlight my femininity and the baby bump all at the same time and in a flattering way. I loved the way I looked in it. And I couldn’t wait for Nicolas to see me in it.

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I wandered downstairs in a different frame of mind. I never thought of myself as the kind of girl who was cheered by new clothes, but maybe I was. Or maybe it was just the reminder that, while Nicolas seems cold and distant on the outside—such as flying hundreds of miles to drag me back here, seducing me, and then accusing me of being the aggressor—he is a very generous man who bought me thousands of dollars of clothing simply because he wanted to. Nicolas was nowhere to be found, but it was a big house. I had yet to explore much

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of it. I went out into the garden to walk, thinking like a little fresh air would be nice after being cooped up in Constance’s house for so long. It was a little risky, going anywhere outside the house, but the back of property was pretty much cut off from the paparazzi thanks to a ten-foot security fence and the security guards. I could see Adam now, walking toward me from the back of the property. “Ms. Martinez,” he said, his eyes moving over me as though he was looking for a gun or a camera.

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“Everything okay?” He nodded, even as he looked over his shoulder, tension clear in every inch of his bulky body. “Busy. The paparazzi are determined to get a shot of Nicolas today.” “I can imagine.” “Do you know where he is?” I shook my head. “In the house somewhere, I assume.” Adam paused, throwing a worried glance at the house. “It’s probably good you came back even though he didn’t want you

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to. It’s easier to have everyone under one roof.” “How long have you worked for Nicolas?” “Ten years.” “That’s a long time.” “Yeah, well, we’ve known each other since long before that. We grew up together.” For some reason, that really surprised me. I looked at Adam through new eyes.

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“What was he like, before all this?” I asked, gesturing vaguely around me to indicate the estate and the money it implied. A change came over Adam. His harsh, unattractive

features

softened

into

something almost handsome. He looked at me, and I noticed for the first time that his eyes were blue, a very dark blue, but blue just the same—and that knowledge, somehow, took some of the rough edges from the bodyguard. “Nicolas used to run the neighborhood,” he said with something like awe in his

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voice. “All the kids around there, we all knew who Nicolas was. He always had a plan going, something we could all do, something that often led to trouble, but always got us something we wanted. Once, he convinced us all to steal a single piece of gum from the local drug store. But we couldn’t keep it. No. We gave it to him and he wrapped it up and gave it to this kid, Louis, whose Pop had just left his mom. To cheer him up. Nicolas said, ‘We gotta stick together cuz you never know when that might be one of us.’ And he

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shoulda known cuz his mom was working on her fourth marriage at the time.” I stared at Adam, trying to reconcile what he was saying with what I knew about Nicolas. Everyone knew about Nicolas Costa. Ever since his first blockbuster came out fifteen years ago, his name and face have been on the face of every tabloid and mainstream magazine or television show in the country. And each of those stories provided readers with a simple background story on Nicolas. But none of it said anything about a long

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string of stepfathers. I was pretty sure they never even mentioned a father of any kind. “Really? I thought Nicolas’ mom died when he was a kid.” Adam glanced at the house again. “That’s what he started telling people when he came to Hollywood. You know, to make him more sympathetic to the studios or whatever. Truth is, Nicolas’ mom died five years ago in jail.” “Jail? For what?” “Drugs.”

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I spun around. Nicolas was watching us from behind a row of rose bushes, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting sweater. His hands were buried in the front pockets of his jeans, his head downcast, as though he was feeling less than confident. However, the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head suggested he was more annoyed than anything else. “Sorry, Nic,” Adam said. “She asked and I thought, well, since the two of you—”

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“It’s alright.” Nicolas made a gesture with his shoulder. “You should probably get back to your perimeter check.” Adam walked away without another word. “I thought your mom died of cancer when you were seven or eight. Isn’t that what all the biographies of you say?” Nicolas turned his head slightly, looking up from the ground to study my face. “My mom was a drug addict who went from man to man, depending on who had the

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most drugs or the most money to buy drugs. And she dragged me along because she could use me to steal for her when there wasn’t someone else around to get the drugs for her, or to distract the cops when they came to bust her.” “I’m sorry,” I said, picturing that little boy, caught in a mess that a child should never see—no child, no matter what age or circumstances. I touched my belly, pressing my hands to the place where the babies grew, sending up a silent prayer that they would never have to know a life like that.

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Nicolas pulled his hands out of his pockets and turned. “Don’t be sorry for me. I survived.” “You shouldn’t have had to survive.” He chuckled, the sound filled with everything but humor. “Surviving was the only thing. Most of my friends…they’re either dead or in jail. Adam is one of a few who made it out with me.” “What about your dad?” He looked at me like he thought I was joking. He just shook his head, making it

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clear there was no dad. He had his drug addicted mother and his friends, nothing more. I thought I had a rough childhood, but mine was nothing like his. I had a mother who cared, who worked twelve-hour days and still had the energy to come home, make me a good dinner, and help me go over my homework. If not for my mom, I never would have gone to college and would never have had a career. I would be nothing now. It put Nicolas into perspective, explained things about him that I never would have seen

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otherwise. It made his reasons for wanting these babies that much clearer. “I never knew my father, either.” “I know.” There must have been surprise in my eyes because he said, “I had you investigated before you signed the surrogacy contracts. I didn’t want any surprises.” “How did that work out for you?” A small smile sneaked across his lips. “Really well,” he said, meeting my eyes for the first time since the conversation began.

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We just stared at each other for a few minutes. It was one of those awkward moments, like the ones I had all too often with boys I liked in high school. Nothing ever came of those. But I was hoping something would come of this. And, as if my thoughts just begged for it, something profound happened. The babies moved. I cried out in surprise as a little tickle moved across the center of my belly. I touched that place, not sure if I was having a

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contraction, or what. It didn’t hurt, but I’d never been pregnant before. I didn’t know what it would feel like when the babies started to kick. “Ana?”

Nicolas

said,

immediately

closing the distance between us, his hand covering mine where it was still pressed to my belly. “What is it?” “I don’t know.” I looked up at him just as it happened again. That time it was stronger and I felt it

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against my hand. Only then did I understand. I began to laugh. “What?” There was real fear in Nicolas’ voice, but I couldn’t find the words to express what I was feeling. I simply took his hand and pressed it to the spot where I’d felt the kick and waited, standing as still as I could. A minute passed. Nicolas stared at me, the expression in his eye floating between fear, annoyance, and curiosity. And then, just as I was about to give up and explain, the baby, or babies, moved again.

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“Oh, my God!” I laughed again. “You felt that?” “Was it the baby?” I nodded. “One of them, at least.” He stared at me for a minute, and then he cracked a huge smile. “They’re moving.” Just on cue, there was another little jab against the same spot. But, at the same time, there was a little flutter lower on my abdomen. I reached down there and giggled.

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“This is going to be quite an experience. I can tell already.” “They’re my babies. They’re going to be quite active.” I nodded. Pretty much knew that already.

Chapter 4

Nicolas was locked up in his office with a team of lawyers the next day. I wanted to know what was going on, but I didn’t want to insinuate myself somewhere I didn’t belong. So I spent most of the day in the kitchen helping Constance clean and restock the pantry. It was nice to do something other than sit around worrying all day. However, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind closed doors.

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“Did you know about his mom?” I asked Constance at one point. “His mom?” “Nicolas. Did you know she was a drug addict who died in jail?” Constance glanced at me with a knowing look I knew well from my childhood. As my mother’s best friend, Constance was as much family as any of my biological aunts, uncles, and cousins I’d never met. A look from her was as good as the ones I used to get from my mom.

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“So, you knew.” “I’ve worked for Nicolas Costa for fifteen

years,

mija.

I

know

just

about

everything there is to know about him.” “He told you?” Constance shot me a look that said don’t-be-stupid. “You overhear things, see things, in this line of work. You know that.” I nodded. “Did you know he and Adam are childhood friends?”

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“I also know that he hired Adam straight out of prison because he couldn’t get a job anywhere else.” “You mean Adam was in jail?” Again, that look. “He was in prison for armed robbery.” “Wow.” It really wasn’t hard to imagine Adam in jail. If there was a type, he was probably it. But he seemed like such a nice guy. And he was fiercely loyal to Nicolas. Who else would have stood outside the door of Constance’s

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small apartment for two days, watching over me, even though I was a nobody as far as he was concerned? I was pretty sure he never took any days off. He always seemed to be here, always walking the perimeter or going with Nicolas wherever he went—which was nowhere at the moment. And he was in Nicolas’ office as we spoke, taking part in the meeting with Nicolas’ team of lawyers. That definitely had to mean something, right? “Nicolas Costa is a good man who had a rotten childhood,” Constance said. “And he’s made up for that childhood by making a

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success of himself and surrounding himself with people who help him forget that this is not where he came from. When he married Aurora Parker, she was supposed to be the cherry on the sundae. But she wasn’t.” “Did you know she was a drug addict?” Constance turned away from me to dust a shelf. “I never saw her use drugs.” “But you spend as much time in this house as anyone. Surely you saw something.”

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Constance didn’t answer right away, but I could see by the tension in her shoulders that there was something she knew. She just didn’t want to tell, which either meant that she had seen Aurora using drugs, or that she knew there was more to Nicolas’ accusations than I knew. “He swears that she used cocaine. That she was doing it almost from the moment they returned from their honeymoon.” “He also says that she cheated on him.”

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I nodded even though Constance still had her back to me and couldn’t see. “Did she?” Constance sighed. “Aurora was not the person she presented to the press and to visitors here at the house, you included.” “What does that mean?” She looked over at me. “It means you should have those babies and then take yourself back to Texas because this is much more complicated than you will ever understand. I regret telling you about their need for a

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surrogate. I thought…I guess I thought having a baby would make Aurora different. But I was wrong.” “Do you think Nicolas will be good to these babies?” “I think anyone who wants a family as much as he does will do all he can to make sure he gets it.” I didn’t understand what she was saying. She glanced at me and again that look, the one that said don’t-ask-questions-youdon’t-want-the-answer-to. But I had to. I had

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to know what she knew about Nicolas, what she knew about the things that went on in this house before Aurora’s death, and anything she thought she knew about the future of these babies. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, Adam stuck his head in the pantry door. “Nicolas needs to see you,” he said to me. As I handed the rag I’d been holding to Constance, she patted my arm. It felt like a pat of condolence.

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My head was ringing with all Constance had said, as I followed Adam down the hall. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize we weren’t headed to Nicolas’ home office but to the living room. Like a weird sort of déjà vu that was happening each time we saw each other rather than just the requisite twice, Nicolas was standing by the bar. He wasn’t drinking, though. He was just staring at the expensive bottles of liquor like an alcoholic who was waxing nostalgic. “Everything okay?”

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He turned, the strain of the day showing in the fine wrinkles along the corners of his eyes and mouth. He gestured for Adam to leave, watching until he did, and then he crossed to me. I wanted to touch him, to tell him everything was going to work out, but I wasn’t sure I had earned that right just yet. After our conversation in the garden last night, he disappeared and I didn’t see him again until I came downstairs for breakfast. And then he was quiet and tense, staring at his iPad and refusing to even acknowledge

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my presence. So, was it any wonder I was afraid to touch him now? He pressed his hands to my belly, molding them to the firm roundness of it. His hands were warm through the thin material of my linen blouse. I almost expected the babies to respond to his touch, to offer a few strong kicks, but I hadn’t felt them move since I climbed out of bed this morning. “How did your meeting go?” I asked. He shook his head. “Don’t really want to talk about it.”

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“Okay.” His eyes moved up to mine. “You’re okay with that?” I shrugged, and was about to say something along the lines of, “Why shouldn’t I be?” when he suddenly kissed me. I moved into him and deepened the kiss, loving the feel of his lips on mine. I could really get used to this, the feel of this man tugging me into his arms, kissing me like it was the last time he would ever kiss a woman. Everything that was going on, everything that was on my

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mind, it was nice to forget about it all for a few, hot moments. Nicolas buried his fingers in my hair and tugged me close against him. It was a kiss like none other. There was something different about him, about the way he touched me. There was none of that sense of indifference that had set the tone of our interactions before. He might pretend it didn’t matter to him, but I could feel the change in his kiss, in the way he looked at me, in the way he cradled my body against his.

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Nicolas was a man who’d never had the kind of love I got from my mom and Constance and all of their friends and extended family. He was never a part of something, of family. And just as he was on the verge of getting just a small piece of that particular pie, everything imploded. Was it any wonder he held me the way he did? But if I gave him what he wanted, what would that mean for me?

Chapter 5

“I told you, I’m not going to just sit around and wait for my lawyers to fix things. I need to be busy.” “But are you sure going back to work is a good idea?” I watched Nicolas move around the room, gathering his computer and a script he’d stayed up late last night to annotate in

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preparation for today. We’d been arguing about it for a week. A month had passed since Nicolas’ arrest and things were…I’m not sure how to explain how things had been. Some days, Nicolas was very attentive, wanting to know everything that was happening with the babies, watching over my diet, giving me my insulin injections, doing just about everything an expectant father might do for his pregnant wife. And on those nights, he’d invite me up to his bedroom, and he would be as

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gentle and as caring as I could ever want a man to be. And then there were the days when he wasn’t so gentle, when he didn’t want me around, or he was borderline abusive. He drank on those days, clearly lost in his memories of Aurora and his childhood and all the dark things that surrounded his life. On one of those days, he told me I should leave, I should take the babies and run as far from him as possible. He said he would be a terrible father and I was stupid to believe otherwise.

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Those dark moods frightened me. And it didn’t help that the lawyers had made almost no progress in getting the murder charges against him dropped. Never mind the fact that the coroner called Aurora’s death an accident. Never mind the fact that Nicolas’ people had discovered that the star witness against Nicolas, the waiter from the restaurant where Aurora had her final meal, had a rap sheet a mile long. And never mind the fact that even the press was beginning recognize that the charges against Nicolas were nothing more than an act of vengeance

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propelled by Aurora’s mother, who just happened to be the widowed wife of a former governor of the great state of California. It think that last bit was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for Nicolas. He’d thought Aurora’s mother, Virginia, liked him. He thought that she was one of a few people who understood Aurora’s drug issues. I think he honestly envisioned her testifying on his behalf if this thing ever went to trial. But then she attended a press conference with the district attorney a couple of

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days after Nicolas’ arrest. It was difficult to watch, even for me. “My daughter was not an angel,” Virginia had said. “She made mistakes in her life. And one of those mistakes was to marry a man she’d only known for a few months, running away to some island resort to elope like a couple of teenagers.” She began to cry at that point, huge teardrops cascading down her face and ruining her carefully applied makeup. “His accusations of drug use are ridiculous. My daughter never would have touched the stuff if not for the people he

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introduced her to, if not for the world he made her a part of. If anyone was using drugs, it was Nicolas Costa. And I believe with every fiber of my being that he is responsible for my daughter’s death.” I could see Nicolas’ spirit darken as he watched. And then he walked away, stepping into the first dark mood I witnessed. But it wasn’t the first and, I was pretty sure that until this whole ordeal was over, it wouldn’t be the last.

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He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, his laptop bag strapped over his neck and shoulder. “I need to work. Just sitting around here, worrying about the babies and this…” He sighed as he stroked my cheek. “Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” I sat up and slid closer to him, adjusting my hips to make room for my massive belly. Twenty-three weeks and I already felt like it was time. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was going to be when I was thirty-five weeks, let alone forty.

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Nicolas ran his hand over my bare belly, smiling softly when one of the babies kicked his fingers. Then, his hand moved up to my breast, cupping it softly, his palm tickling my nipple. “I’ll be back late,” he said, leaning close to kiss me. “Be careful,” I said. He glanced at me as he stood, a little defiance in his eyes. But he just nodded as he headed for the door.

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I lay back and ran my hands over my belly. The babies kicked, one shoving something—a foot or an elbow—against my ribs, the other dancing on my bladder. I was so excited when they began to move, but now I sometimes wished they would stop. And then I felt guilty for that because it was like wishing they didn’t exist and I would never wish that. I liked lying in Nicolas’ bed. Not that it was any different from the bed in my room. The sheets were the same Egyptian cotton, the pillows an amazing down.

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However, Nicolas’ bed smelled like him. When I snuggled down under the sheets, it was like being enveloped in Nicolas’ arms. Not that Nicolas would be content to just lay here with me. The only time he seemed to want to cuddle was when the babies were moving and he wanted to feel a part of it, or when he wanted sex. It was kind of sad, really. I lay there for a long time, feeling the babies wiggle and play together. I think they were already fighting over space, but I wasn’t quite sure. But I knew I couldn’t stay there

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all day. Constance would eventually come find me and insist I eat something. She seemed to understand the whole gestational diabetes thing better than I did. All I knew was that I needed shots at particular times a day. And Constance—when Nicolas wasn’t interested—was always there with a filled syringe when one was due. I didn’t even have to think about the foods I ate because Constance had my every meal thought out days in advance. It was like having my mother back.

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I climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I should have gone to the hall bath that I normally used—and where all my toiletries were—but I really liked Nicolas’ walk-through shower. There were five showerheads and each one was positioned perfectly to hit my body in just the right place. And I liked the liquid soap he used—it smelled just like him—and the shampoo made my hair look like someone else’s, someone who has long, luxurious hair. As I stood under the spray, I wondered what life was going to be like now

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that Nicolas was working on his new movie. I’d probably be relegated to the guest room again. There were only seventeen weeks until the babies were due, and Dr. Bishop said they would likely come between thirty-five and thirty-seven weeks, so that was only twelve weeks away. Three months. And then… I didn’t like thinking about what would happen then. I still didn’t know how Nicolas felt about me. I wasn’t even sure he considered me when he thought about the babies and

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their future. I was just the surrogate. But then…the way he touched me sometimes, the way he made love to me, it made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to us than I thought there was. Was there a chance? But not if he went to jail. The lawyers called every few days, assuring Nicolas that nothing would come of it. The district attorney didn’t have enough to go to trial. Yet, this thing was still taking a toll on Nicolas. I could see it. He wasn’t sleeping. He didn’t eat. He threw himself into this new movie

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over the last week, talking on the phone for hours with his crew, discussing locations and scenes and how he was going to be able to direct scenes set to take place in Canada and Kentucky. He needed the distraction, I could see that. But I worried just the same. I climbed out of the shower and slowly went about my morning routine. I was looking through the drawers under the counter to see if Nicolas had an extra toothbrush hidden somewhere. I didn’t want to have to go to the hall bath to get my own. Instead of a toothbrush, however, I pulled a

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drawer open too hard and it came free of the counter. Combs and a hairbrush, tissue packs and shampoo samples, bottles of sleep aids and heartburn meds flew across the floor. I groaned, not really in a position to get down on my hands and knees to gather it all up. My belly was just making me too ungainly for that sort of thing. I thought about calling Constance or one of the maids, and then I was ashamed because that was something one of the snooty women my mother worked for would have done.

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With a sigh, I slowly lowered myself to my knees. I gathered the stuff closest to me, then turned over the drawer to pile it back inside. But there was something wrong with the drawer. I leaned back against the counter and stared at it. There was a corner of the drawer’s bottom that was sticking up at a weird angle. And underneath it, the edge of a plastic bag was sticking out. I tugged at the bag and pulled it free. My heart sank when I saw what was inside. It was a bag of pills, long, narrow pills that said Xanax on one side and had a large

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two on the other. I just stared at it for a long time, telling myself that it was Aurora’s, that she hid it here to keep any of the maids from knowing that she was taking them. And that idea seemed likely when I tugged at the corner of the drawer’s false bottom and found more drugs. There were half a dozen baggies like the one with the Xanax, but they held pills of all colors and sizes. And there was a tiny envelope filled with a white powder and another with an amber-colored ball inside. I had a good idea that the powder was cocaine. I wasn’t quite sure about the

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amber ball, but suspected it could be something like meth or crack cocaine. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My first instinct was to call Nicolas. To confront him and demand to know who these drugs belonged to. They couldn’t be his, right? They had to be Aurora’s. But the stuff on top of it was all Nicolas’. I’d seen him use these combs and the hairbrush. And he joked about the shampoo samples he took from hotel rooms he’d stayed in, a habit he developed early in his career that he couldn’t seem to shake. Would he really put his stuff

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in a drawer with a false bottom? Did he know about the false bottom? I hadn’t noticed it, but I didn’t open these drawers every day like he did. Shouldn’t he have noticed? I

wasn’t

sure.

But

there

was

something wrong about this. The Xanax bothered me the most. This was the drug the police said Nicolas killed Aurora with. That he slipped it into her drink. Finding a bag here, in his house, didn’t seem good. Was it proof that Nicolas had done what they said? No. But it didn’t seem to scream innocence, either.

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I didn’t know what to do. “Oh, Dios mio!” I quickly slipped the bag of Xanax under my hip as Constance came into the room, one of my insulin syringes in her hand. “What is this?” she demanded. “The drawer fell and this stuff was hidden under the bottom.” “Oh, cojeme!” “Constance!”

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I couldn’t believe that word had come out of her mouth. I had never once, in all the years I’d known Constance—and I’d known her since I was a toddler—heard her swear. And that word…did she have to choose the worst swear word out there? “This is not good,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest as though she was having pain there. “If the police find this—” “The only way they could do that would be if one of us said something.”

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“What are we supposed to do? We can’t just put it back.” “Why not?” Constance shot me a dark look. “Because we’d know it’s there.” “By accident.” “But we still know. You can’t put it back.” “Then what do you suggest we do?” Constance shook her head, her eyes moving almost wildly over the pile of drugs resting now in my lap. She stooped down

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and picked up the drawer and the false bottom I’d popped out. She studied them both like an answer might be written on them. There obviously wasn’t. She set them on the counter and began gathering the other items—the combs and tissues and over-thecounter pills—and tossed them back into the drawer, popping it into its space in the counter without the false bottom. The she grabbed a hand towel and gathered the baggies still resting on my lap. I pulled myself carefully to my feet, sliding the baggy of

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Xanax into the pocket of Nicolas’ bathrobe that I’d put on when I got out of the shower. “What are you going to do with all of that?” Constance carefully tied a knot into the towel to keep the baggies from slipping out. “I’m going to give it to Adam. He’ll know what to do with it.” She set the towel on the countertop and began opening drawers and searching through them. I stepped back as she moved around me to get to the drawers behind me.

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“What are you doing?” “Making sure there isn’t any more.” “Why would there be?” Constance shot me that don’t-be-stupid look that was growing more and more familiar to me these days. “You don’t think these are Nicolas’, do you?” She didn’t answer and that was answer enough. I crossed my arms over my chest as I watched her. She must have felt my gaze because she said, “Give yourself that

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shot while you’re just standing there, doing nothing.” Like a child who doesn’t know how to stand up to her mother, I grabbed the syringe she’d set on the corner of the sink and bared my hip, injecting the small amount of medication into the fatty area just behind my hip bone. It burned—I don’t know if it was something about the insulin or just my fear of needles, but it burned every time. I pressed the needle against the counter to bend it so no one would accidentally poke themselves and left it there.

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I wasn’t going to help Constance search through Nicolas’ things. It seemed like a terrible violation of his privacy. I mean, it was only sticks of deodorant and extra toothpaste that Constance probably bought and deposited there herself, but it still felt like an intrusion. Instead, I grabbed the slacks and blouse I’d been wearing last night when Nicolas invited me into his room and slid them back on. I managed to get the bag of Xanax into my pocket just before Constance came into the room, that overburdened towel in her hands.

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“Did you find anything else?” “No,” she said, the word short and clipped.

She

clearly

didn’t

like

being

questioned. “Have you ever found anything like that here before?” I asked, unable to resist. “A few times.” That got my attention. “When?” I demanded. Constance just shook her head. “I have to go call Adam. You should probably

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go wash your hands and put on some clean clothes.” I jumped off the bed—as gracefully as my swollen belly would allow—and grabbed her shoulder before she could leave the room. “When did you find drugs in here? When Aurora was here?” “No, Ana.” She turned toward me, sadness in her eyes. “I know you like him.” Her eyes jumped to the bed behind me, to the sheets that were so disarranged that they

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told a story that I might have been ashamed of if it hadn’t been so good. “But there are things about him you don’t know. The sooner you have those babies and get out of this house, the better.” “You used to talk about what a great man he was. You said he was the kindest person you’d ever worked for.” “I did. And it was true, back then, before he married that woman. But it doesn’t mean he was a saint.” “What don’t I know?”

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Constance touched my cheek lightly. “I love you like you were my own, mija. But this is something that you should hear from him.” “Constance…?” “Go wash your hands. You don’t want to get any of this poison in your bloodstream. There’s no telling what it might do to the babies.” She walked away, leaving me alone with words that left a heavy stone tied around my heart.

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Chapter 6

I lay in bed almost a week later, the bag of Xanax in my hands. Constance hadn’t said another word about the drugs and Nicolas hadn’t mentioned it. Not that I’d seen much of Nicolas. He was working a full day, from dawn until late into the night, sometimes only coming back to the house for a shower and a shave before he went right back to work. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but then I was afraid I did.

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What if everything Nicolas had told me was a lie? Was it possible he was a drug addict? Was it possible he lied about Aurora’s addiction, covering for his own actions? It didn’t make sense, to be honest. It never really had. The Aurora I met was so different from the woman Nicolas talked about. There was one meeting, not long after our first, when Aurora seemed a little off. We met at her country club where she was waiting for a tennis partner to show up. I remember she called me in a hurry that morning,

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asked me if it would be okay if we met during my lunch hour. “I have a meeting tonight and then I’m flying to Paris in the morning for a photoshoot for this movie we start filming in a few months. You don’t mind, do you?” “No,” I said, thinking how glamorous her life seemed. I always wanted to travel, and she mentioned Paris like it was just a nuisance she couldn’t get out from under. “I can’t imagine what you think of me,” she’d said, almost as though she could

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read my thoughts. “Here I am planning to have a child and I can’t even clear a moment in my schedule to talk to you about the doctor who’s going to do all the medical stuff for this.” “It’s fine,” I remembered saying. “Fine,” Aurora sighed. “That’s a word I don’t hear often. It’s blasphemy in this house. Can you believe that?” I didn’t know what to say to that. Blasphemy to say ‘fine’? It just didn’t make sense. But Aurora was often saying things

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that didn’t make sense. There was another time, just a week or so before the implantation appointment when I asked if Nicolas would be at our next meeting—I think it was the day I was to sign the last of the paperwork—and she told me he was with his friend Bill. And then she laughed almost hysterically. “Isn’t that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?” I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just agreed with her that it was ridiculous and she changed the subject.

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Aurora was a beautiful woman who was used to getting everything she wanted when she wanted it. She knew how to flirt, how to be charming, how to be everything a man needed her to be. But she never really learned how to act around women. It was that, the latter, that I assumed was the reason for some of her odd behavior. Was I wrong? I leaned over and shoved the bag of Xanax into the nightstand drawer, still not sure what I was doing with it. I needed to get rid of it, but I wasn’t sure how. They were

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always running those little things on television telling people not to put unused medication down the toilet because it was getting into the water supply. But I didn’t know how else to get rid of it. I could give it to Adam, but I was afraid he would recognize the significance of it as much as I did. Some part of me that still whole heartedly believed that Nicolas was innocent didn’t want to run the risk that Adam, one of Nicolas’ oldest allies, might turn on him given the opportunity. I wasn’t really sure Adam would, but even the smallest doubts sometimes grew into huge,

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unignorable truths. Nicolas needed all the support he could get right now. But I couldn’t just keep it. What if the police came to search the house again? The last time, it was such a mess afterward that Constance was still complaining about it. Drawers dug through, plants turned out of their pots, books taken from their shelves and left piled on the floor. Nicolas’ laptop was still in the police evidence locker, waiting to see what might happen with the district attorney. If they came again, Constance might force the whole group of them

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to commit hari-kari. But they might also find the Xanax and that would definitely not be good. I closed my eyes, my hands restlessly moving over my belly. One of the babies immediately kicked, forcing my hand to bounce a little. “It’s okay, baby,” I said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to your daddy.” Almost as though he’d heard me, Nicolas tapped on the door and stuck his head inside. “You asleep?”

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“No. Come in.” He

looked

absolutely

exhausted.

There were dark circles under his eyes and a slope to his shoulders like he was carrying an incredibly heavy weight. I slid out of the center of the bed and pulled the sheet back, making room for him. “You just get in?” “We had to shut down production because of some issue with the cameras. I spent about an hour with the actors and then decided I’d earned an early night.”

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“Of course you have. You’re the boss, you know. You get to decide when everyone goes home.” “Yeah, well, from your lips to the producer’s ears. He wants this movie wrapped in two months.” “Isn’t that pretty quick?” “Yeah. A movie of this scope usually takes three months, sometimes more, to complete. But this producer wants it ready to release next spring, and there’s still the editing process, the music score, and half a

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million other things that go into a finished movie.” “What’s the hurry?” Nicolas curled up next to me and lay his head on my belly. “I think he expects I’ll be on trial about then, so he wants the movie to come out while that’s happening so he can capitalize on my name being in the tabloids.” “That’s morbid.” “No. That’s Hollywood.” He lifted my sleep tee, running his hand over the lower section of my belly. The

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babies responded, one of them doing some sort of roll just below where his head was. Nicolas laughed. “You think he’s trying to run away from me already?” “I think he’s turning over to say hi.” Nicolas sighed. “I like that idea.” I ran my hand over his shoulder, too aware of the tension that was living there. I wanted to do something to make it go away, to make him feel better. But I didn’t know what.

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He ran his hand over my lower belly again and whispered against my belly button like it was a direct link to the babies, “I can’t wait to meet you, my sweet children.” “You’re going to be such a good dad.” He pulled away as though I’d said he was a rotten father and should never be allowed to see his children. He climbed off the bed and headed for the door. “I should let you sleep,” he said over his shoulder.

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“I have a doctor’s appointment the day after tomorrow. Will you be able to make it?” He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “What time?” “Nine, I think.” He turned and looked at me, his eyes moving to my belly where it was still exposed. There was a line of bruises along my hip, places where I’d given myself my insulin shots. His eyes fell on those, and he studied them for a long minute, clouds rushing

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through his eyes like a storm coming in. Then, he turned and left the room without answering my question. *** “The baby’s look good,” Dr. Bishop said. “All the measurements are right where they’re supposed to be at this age. The internal organs look good. And the movement…well, I guess you know how well they’re moving.” “I do,” I said, smiling more from relief that

everything

was

okay

than

with

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amusement at what he’d said. I knew that things were going well, but there was always that little voice at the back of my mind that kept listing all the complications that could come with a multiples pregnancy, especially when gestational diabetes was thrown in. “I’m sorry your husband couldn’t make it,” the nurse said. “He’s working on a new movie. He couldn’t get away from set.” Which wasn’t completely true. He’d left a note on my door that said he thought it

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might be better if I went to the doctor on my own because of the paparazzi. He didn’t want them getting wind of what was going on. Which was also why I couldn’t leave the house through the front door anymore and why Adam made me lie down on the backseat of the SUV whenever we drove out the back gate. That was all Nicolas needed right now, the press getting hold of the information that he had a pregnant woman living in his house. A pregnant woman who was carrying his and Aurora’s twins.

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“Did you want to know the sex?” Dr. Bishop asked. “A lot of my expectant mothers want the sex put into an envelope so they can have one of these gender reveal parties.” “Oh, I hadn’t thought about it.” Actually, it was all I’d thought about these last months. I was convinced, once upon a time, that it was a girl. But now that I knew I was carrying twins, I wasn’t as positive. Maybe two girls? Or a boy and a girl? It could have been any combination since the fertility doctor implanted four embryos, so

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the chances that they were identical twins was less than zero. I wanted to know. I just wasn’t sure Nicolas wanted to know. Or wanted me to know. And I’d been afraid to ask. “Let’s put it in an envelope,” Dr. Bishop said, patting my arm lightly. “That way, if you decide you want to know once you get home with your husband, you can look together.” “Thank you.”

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The doctor and nurse left a moment later, leaving me alone to re-dress. It was something of a struggle trying to put back on the dress I’d worn because it had to be zipped up the back. I hadn’t thought of that when I chose it because Constance was there to help me. But she wasn’t here now. I was alone except for Adam waiting outside in the car. I managed to get it on and slipped out of the exam room. The nurse seemed to be waiting for me. She handed me a plain white

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envelope and smiled. “Congratulations,” she said sweetly, too sweetly. “Thanks.” I started to move around her, but she stepped into my path. “I’ve been following all this stuff in the news about Nicolas. People can’t seem to decide if they think he killed his wife or not.” I glared at her as I again tried to move past her and she blocked me.

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“I’m sure the press would love to hear about the surrogate he’s got parading around town as his wife.” “I never said I was his wife.” “But you’ve never tried to persuade us otherwise.” “Does it really matter?” Another nurse walked past us, throwing a curious glance at me. However, she didn’t say anything or ask what was happening.

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“I think it would matter a lot to the press.” I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you trying to blackmail me?” “I wouldn’t call it blackmail.” She stepped closer to me again, leaning in so that only she and I could hear what she was saying. “I would call it college tuition for my two boys.” “Then you’re barking up the wrong tree because I don’t have any money. And

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Nicolas? He’d never give in to someone like you.” “Yeah, well, Nicolas Costa is about to go on trial for the murder of his wife. I think that will probably motivate him to do what I asked.” “Then ask him yourself.” I pushed past her and stormed out of the office, not even stopping to get my next appointment set up. Tears were running down my cheeks as I stepped out into the bright, November sunshine. I reached up to

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wipe them away just as Adam appeared, seemingly from nowhere, at my side. “What

happened?

Is

everything

okay?” I shook my head, an anger building in my chest that I didn’t know what to do with. I wanted to scream and yell, to rip my hands into something, anything, just to make the pressure and the pain of that anger go away. Not only that, but I wanted to see Nicolas, to have him hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. However, I knew he would never do that and that realization just made

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the anger and the hurt and the frustration and everything else that had been building since I met Aurora Parker build to a frenzy that I couldn’t control. So I did something I’d never done before in all my life. I slammed my fist hard enough into the side of the SUV to actually feel bones break. Adam was immediately behind me, his arms sliding around me in something of a bear hug, dragging me back away from the

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car. Then, he turned me around and pulled me against his chest. I fell apart. Sobs ripped from my throat, tears streaming down my face to soak the front of Adam’s always perfectly ironed dress shirt. His hold was tight, at first, but it loosened as I cried. The tension in his body relaxed, too, as his hand began a gentle, soothing rub between my shoulders. I was barely aware of him for a long bit, but as the sobs began to lessen, I was grateful for his presence. If he hadn’t been there, I might have made a pretty impressive fool of myself.

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“We should go,” Adam said after a while. I nodded, but I didn’t immediately move. But then I heard voices and the sound of camera shutters going off. There were flashes, and I knew. The paparazzi had found us.

Chapter 7

“What the fuck were you thinking?” There was practically fire coming from Nicolas’ eyes as he confronted Adam. Even though Adam was a good two inches on Nicolas and at least fifty pounds heavier, he looked like a chastised child as Nicolas blew his fury all over him. “It was my fault,” I said from my position on the couch.

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Nicolas didn’t even look at me. “I asked you to take her to the doctor. I didn’t tell you to stand out in public and make a fucking spectacle of yourselves. Now her face is on every tabloid and gossip website from here to Timbuktu. Do you realize how fucking screwed up that is? How long do you think it’ll take them to figure out who she really is?” “I’m

sorry.

I

didn’t

paparazzi was in the area.”

know

the

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“You should have known. That’s your fucking job.” Nicolas waved Adam from the room and marched to the bar, pouring himself a stiff drink. However, he didn’t lifted it to his mouth. He just stood there and stared at it, like a dying man staring at the mirage that might or might not be his salvation. “It’s not his fault. I was upset and he was just trying to help.” Nicolas didn’t turn. I started to get up, feeling the need to go to him, to make him

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understand, but when I went to push myself up, I forgot about the heavy brace on my hand and pain shot up my arm, making me hiss. Nicolas turned then and rushed to me, kneeling in front of me as his eyes searched every inch of my being for the cause of my discomfort. I sat back and cradled my injured hand against my chest, tears again slipping from my eyes. I felt like such an idiot. “What was going through your mind, Ana? Why did you break your hand?”

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I shook my head. “I was upset.” “About what?” I wanted to tell him. I wanted to see him put that greedy nurse in her place. But those dark circles were back under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders told me that this was a man who shouldn’t have to take anymore. I didn’t want to be the cause of any more pain in his life. “It’s not Adam’s fault. He was just trying to calm me down.”

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Nicolas ran his hands over my thighs, pushing the material of my dress up until my legs were exposed just above the knee. Then, his hands moved over my belly and one the babies obediently kicked—and that, for some reason, made him stand and walk away. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to cause all of this.” “How did it go with the doctor? Are the babies okay?” “They

did

a

everything looks good.”

sonogram.

Said

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“Yeah?” He leaned against the bar and looked at me. “They’re healthy?” “As far as they can tell.” “And you?” A hint of a smile danced in his eyes as he gestured to my hand. “Besides the three broken bones?” “I’m fine. Blood pressure was good. My blood sugars are good. They said everything is progressing just fine.” He nodded again, turning back to the drink sitting in the middle of the bar. He wrapped his hands around it and studied it,

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as though he was having some sort of internal battle with himself. I didn’t understand it, but there was a lot about Nicolas I didn’t understand. “They could tell what sex they are. They wrote it down in an envelope in case we wanted to find out together.” That got his attention. He came back to the couch and sat beside me, taking my good hand in his. “Did you peek?” “No.” “Do you want to know?”

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“I do. But we never talked about it, so I wasn’t sure you would want me to.” “It would make it easier to set up the nursery. I haven’t even gotten started, to be honest. Constance said something about it the other day, but I never answered her.” “Where is the nursery?” “Come on. I’ll show you.” He stood and held out his hand to me, pulling me upstairs. We walked past my bedroom and his to a door on the opposite of the hall. He pushed it open, and I was

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immediately struck by how dark it seemed. He flipped on a light, and there was literally nothing baby related in the room. It looked like they’d used it for storage for all the years they were in the house. There were boxes stacked on one side of the room and old furniture all piled together on the other side. Piles of clothes were on the floor and draped over some of the furniture. More boxes and an old wardrobe were against the back wall. It had to have been the most depressing room I’d ever seen. “You can’t put them in here.”

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“Why not?” I gestured around me as I stepped into the room. “There’s no natural light. It’s so dark—” “We were going to paint. I wanted a mural on that wall of elephants and tigers, and the crib was going to go over there.” He pointed to a spot not far from a set of incredibly heavy curtains. He walked over there and threw them open, exposing the room to the most amazing western light. It flooded the room and pointed out every single flaw.

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“I’m going to have all this stuff moved up to the attic.” “What colors were you thinking?” He shrugged. “Aurora had her heart set on pink and yellow. But I told her we should make sure it wasn’t going to be a boy before we chose those colors.” I bit my lip, an ache building in my chest. I tried to forget that Aurora was still the mother of these babies, even though she’d been in her grave for five months now. I tried to forget that she once shared this

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house with Nicolas, that she shared the master bedroom with him. I tried to forget that Aurora was ever a part of this picture, but with a casual comment, Nicolas brought it all back. I was walking in a dead woman’s shadow. And her shadow was wide and long, one that would forever leave me in darkness, no matter what I thought was going on with Nicolas, whatever I hoped might happen in the future. I turned away and pretended to study the walls. It was too easy to imagine Aurora

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in this room. I wasn’t sure if that was because of what Nicolas had said or because of the clothes and furniture that just seemed so much like her. It should have been her here planning for these babies. “We’re not working tomorrow,” Nicolas said, moving up behind me. “We have a series of night shoots coming up, so I’ve decided to give the cast and crew tomorrow to sleep in preparation. So maybe we should spend the day shopping for baby furniture.” I wanted to ask, “Are you sure? Are you sure you want me there?” But I was

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afraid to ask, afraid of what the answer might be. Nicolas

lay

his

hands

on

my

shoulders. “We should make a day of it, go to lunch and hit a dozen stores. It’ll be fun.” I could picture it. The two of us staring at cribs, debating over the color, the size. Trying to decide which cartoon characters to display with their bedding and mobiles. It was every pregnant woman’s dream, the nesting instinct finally taking control. But it wasn’t my fantasy. Not really.

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“Do you want to know?” I asked, pulling the envelope from a deep pocket in my skirt. “Is this it?” I nodded. He

sighed

heavily

against

my

shoulder, his breath moving my hair around my face. “Is it silly that I’m a little afraid to look?” “No.” He reached for it, but hesitated before his fingers touched it. Then reached again

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and snatched it from my fingers. I heard him rip the envelope, heard him slide the paper from inside. And then he laughed, and I knew at least one of the babies was a boy. Good for him. He turned me around, the biggest smile on his face. He pulled me close and kissed me almost roughly. “One of each,” he said with a little laugh. “A son and a daughter. How perfect is that?”

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He kissed me again, pushed me back against the wall, and kissed me with a passion I’d only known with him. My body responded immediately, my hands moving around his waist, searching instantly for that much desired space, that place to slip my fingers under his shirt. I wanted to touch his flesh, wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. He was just as determined. My dress hit the floor in a manner of seconds, his mouth moving from mine to my swollen breasts, my nipples sending shivers of pain and pleasure through my body as he nibbled

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and kissed them. Then, he was moving lower, dropping to his knees in front of me as he tugged my panties from my wet cunt. Nicolas Costa on his knees. It was likely something few women had ever seen. I tried to enjoy the sight, but the things he was doing with his tongue made that next to impossible. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, the day sliding from my shoulders as my body grew light, pleasure taking away all the pain and frustration and hurt, replacing it with a singular focus on his breath, the moisture of his tongue, the

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incredible waves of pleasure that rushed through my clit and inspired the fluids running from my inner most places. This was so dangerous for me. I knew I would never know anything this perfect ever again. No man would ever have the power to make me feel the way Nicolas Costa did. When this was over, when the babies were here and Nicolas no longer needed me, my life would never be the same. This was the pinnacle of my existence. And that was both exciting beyond words and horribly, tragically sad.

Chapter 8

We didn’t go shopping. When the excitement passed, Nicolas remembered that he was trying to pretend he didn’t know me in front of the press. Never mind that my face and name were all over the tabloids just as he’d predicted. But, amazingly enough, they didn’t put two and two together to come up with the surrogacy deal as he’d been afraid they might. They decided I was Adam’s girlfriend, a fact that didn’t do much

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to keep peace at home because, apparently, Adam was married. In fact, he’d been married for fifteen years—he got married as he was going off to jail—and had two kids, toddlers that were more than a handful for their mother. Apparently. There was so much about all of these people I didn’t know. Several more weeks passed and the nursery remained a storeroom. I thought about it sometimes and drew a few pictures of what I imagined it should look like. I used to like to design rooms when I was a kid. My

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mom would take me to her jobs, make me sit quietly in the kitchen doing my homework while she went about her work. Sometimes I would explore the massive houses, mansions that were just as, if not more, impressive as Nicolas’ house. Then I would draw what I saw, moving furniture around, changing the colors or the patterns on the wallpaper. It was a hobby I never fully developed, but it was soothing as I continued to look toward a future that seemed to have no anchor, no direction.

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Kelly found it amusing I was on the front of the tabloids. “I always knew one of us would be labeled a slut in the national gossip rags. I just never thought it would be you.” “You’re welcome to it.” But then she grew concerned, her tone much too serious for the Kelly I knew. “Are you okay, kid? He’s not treating you badly, is he?” “Constance is here. She’s taking care of me.”

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“That’s good. But she can’t be around all the time, can she?” Kelly knew me too well. It took all I had not to cry over the phone, to beg her to come and protect me from my own stupid decisions. I was losing hope with every day that passed. Nicolas was gone so often on this movie that I hardly ever saw him. The lawyers still called once a week, but Nicolas was rarely here to answer. It was like he’d decided that he wasn’t going to deal with his legal troubles anymore. Or he’d resigned

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himself to his fate. And that wasn’t good enough for me. I had to do something. One afternoon, I went into Nicolas’ office and began to search through his drawers. I wasn’t sure what it was I was looking for, but I had to know more. There was still a bag of Xanax in my nightstand upstairs. The memory of the other drugs still hovered heavy over me. I knew in my heart that Nicolas wasn’t guilty of what they were accusing him of, but I also knew there had to be a simple explanation for it all, for the drugs,

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the stories, the witness. There had to be something. So I searched his drawers. And found nothing. Well, not nothing. There were pictures of him and Aurora. Pictures from their wedding, of them on a tropical island, which was probably their honeymoon. There were pictures of them smiling at each other, of them kissing. Pictures in which they appeared deliriously happy. Every one of them was like a knife through my heart. They were together, in a box, inside his desk drawer.

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That meant something. That meant that he still got them out and looked at them from time to time. There was nothing else in the house that even suggested that Aurora had ever lived there. I’d noticed a little at a time, all the things that were missing. None of her clothes in his closet, none of her toiletries in his bathroom. The collection of figurines she’d so proudly displayed in the living room, the gold trimmed china in the dining room. It was all gone. All, except these pictures.

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When I came across a picture of Nicolas and Aurora with an older woman who was clearly Aurora’s mother—they had the same patrician noses and platinum blond hair—it reminded me of how Nicolas told me he turned to Aurora’s mother for help when her drug addiction began to spiral out of control. But at the press conference just after Nicolas’ arrest, she suggested that Nicolas had gotten her daughter addicted to the drugs himself. She insisted that Nicolas was responsible for Aurora’s death.

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It was the words of a grieving mother. As were her attempts to get the district attorney to press charges—something he still hadn’t committed to. According to the district attorney’s office, the case was still under investigation. Aurora’s mother, Virginia, was the driving force in all of this. I wondered if she knew about the babies. I wondered if it would change things, if she knew that Nicolas was trying to do the right thing for Aurora’s children. Would she stop pushing the matter if she knew that she was about to be a

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grandmother? If I told her, would it change things? There was only one way to find out. *** I found Virginia Davis’ address on an old Christmas card shoved in the back of a drawer in Nicolas’ office. That was the easy part. The hard part was sneaking out of the house in Constance’s old Ford Focus without Adam or any of the other bodyguards any the wiser.

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I told Adam I was going upstairs to take a nap. Then, I snuck down the backstairs and slipped Constance’s keys out of her purse while she was in the garden yelling at the gardener for tracking mud on the carpet in the back hallway. I was out the back gate before anyone even noticed I was gone. It was a lucky escape. I was hoping my luck would hold a while longer. Virginia’s house was on the other side of the hills from Nicolas’. I nearly got lost a couple of times trying to find it. Thank goodness for Google Maps! My heart was

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pounding in my chest as I pulled up to the front of the house. Unlike Nicolas, she didn’t see the need for fences and gates. But, again, there were no paparazzi sitting outside her house, either. I didn’t know what to say as I sat in the car in front of her house. I honestly hadn’t been sure I’d make it this far, but I was here now. I took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, running my hands slowly over my hips to smooth my dress down. The babies kicked almost as if they knew what I was up to and they wanted to

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put in their two cents worth. I wondered what they might have said if they really knew. Would they want their grandmother in their lives? Of course they would. What kid didn’t want a grandma to spoil them with gifts? I walked to the door and rang the bell, my heart in my throat now. I wasn’t sure how I was going to speak, let alone what I was going to say. All these stupid lines played through my head—I’m your daughter’s

surrogate.

grandkids?

Drop

Want the

to

meet

charges

your

against

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Nicolas and I’ll make sure you see your grandkids whenever you want. It was stupid, really. “Can I help you?” a tall, slender man asked as he moved up behind me. “I’m here to see Virginia Davis.” “That’s my stepmother,” he said, pushing open the door and gesturing for me to proceed him inside. “Does she know you?” “No. But I knew her daughter. Aurora.”

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The man gestured for me to lead the way down a narrow hall that cut off the entryway to the right. “Do I know you?” he asked as we walked. “You look familiar.” The pictures from the tabloids flashed through my mind, but I didn’t say anything. He touched my shoulder to direct me to the left. We walked for a full minute before we came to a door that opened onto a long, brick patio. Virginia Davis was sitting out there, reading a book at a large, comfortable outdoor dining table. There was a glass of wine

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on the table in front of her and a plate of fruit that looked incredible to my always hungry baby bump. The babies moved again. I touched my belly, silently urging them to settle down. “Daniel,” Virginia said, as she put her book down and watched us walk toward her. “I didn’t realize you were bringing company.” “She came on her own. She was at the front door when I arrived.” “Oh.” Virginia looked me over for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. “You’re

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that girl from the tabloids. The one who was in

a

romantic

clutch

with

Nicolas’

bodyguard.” “We’re not involved,” I said quickly. “The paparazzi got it wrong.” “Didn’t look wrong to me,” Daniel said, shooting me a look that I didn’t appreciate. I touched my belly again, trying to remind myself I was there to do a good thing. “Well, whatever it was, you are that girl?”

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Virginia was watching me with more than curiosity in her eyes. There was judgment there as well. A part of me wanted to run as fast and as far as I could, but I again reminded myself I was there for a reason. And that reason was a good one. “I am.” “Then you’re a friend of Nicolas?” “That’s why I came to see you. I wanted to talk to you about Nicolas.”

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Her eyes dropped to my belly. “Well, if it has anything to do with your condition, I don’t want to hear it.” “Oh, come on, Virgi,” the man, Daniel, said. “Give her a chance. She came all this way.” “It’s important,” I said. Virginia studied me for a long second. “Alright. I’ll listen to what you have to say.” Daniel came over and pulled a chair out for me. I smiled at him gratefully. My back was aching from being on my feet a

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little more than I should have been. The bigger my belly got, the more punishment my back took. Some days, I just wasn’t sure my body would be able to take much more of this. I settled in the chair and smiled gratefully at Daniel. He inclined his head slightly and moved around the table, taking a seat to Virginia’s left. She never bothered to get up, let alone greet me properly. She just stared at me, waiting for me to say whatever it was I had to say.

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I suddenly had no idea what I was going to say. “How do you know Nicolas?” Daniel asked. “Aurora introduced us.” I touched the top of my belly again. “Actually, their lawyer introduced us.” “He has his lawyer pimping for him now?” Virginia asked. “It’s not like that,” I said, my face reddening at the implication.

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Daniel made a gesture, and Virginia sat back, her face puckered like she had just swallowed something bitter. I looked down at my belly, telling myself that this was the best thing for everyone. She would stop this crusade against Nicolas if she knew that he was about to become a father to her daughter’s children, wouldn’t she? She’d have to. “Did he hurt you? Do you need money?” Daniel asked. “No, of course not.”

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They certainly had a dark idea of who Nicolas was, didn’t they? I took a deep breath and just blurted it out. “I’m a surrogate. Aurora contracted with me to carry her and Nicolas’ baby.” “Surrogate? That’s a new term for it,” Virginia said. Daniel again made a face that caused her to stop talking. “Aurora and Nicolas wanted to have a family, but Aurora had decided she couldn’t carry a child to term. So she started looking

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for a surrogate. My mom is friends with the maid who works in their house and told me, so I went to the lawyer and filled out some paperwork. A couple of weeks later, Aurora and I met and she decided that I was the one.” “You?” Virginia looked me over with something new in her eye. “Even if Aurora did want a surrogate—which I don’t believe because there was no reason why she couldn’t carry her own children—why would she want you? She could have asked a friend

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to do it, someone she could trust. Why a stranger?” “She said she didn’t want someone she knew because she was afraid there would be issues after the baby came.” “That’s plausible,” Daniel said. “Aurora wouldn’t have been able to see far enough past her own nose to think something like that,” Virginia said. “She was too self-centered.” I must have gasped because Virginia stared down her nose at me for an instant.

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“Don’t be so naive, girl,” she said. “I know who my daughter was.” I stared down at my hands, beginning to wonder if this was really the great idea I’d thought it was. Maybe I should go. Maybe this was not something I should be doing. I mean, if Nicolas had wanted her to know, he would have told her himself, right? Since he hadn’t…maybe that meant something. “Go on, child,” Virginia said. “My daughter hired you to be a surrogate, and…”

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“The doctor implanted embryos from Aurora’s eggs and Nicolas’ sperm ten days before she died.” The color washed out of Virginia’s face. She stared at me as though she expected my head to explode or something. After a minute, I couldn’t meet her gaze any longer. I dropped my eyes to my belly, tears beginning to well in my throat. “The baby you’re carrying belongs to my Aurora?” “Twins.”

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“Excuse me?” “I’m carrying twins,” I said, after clearing my throat twice. “Shit,” Daniel said. Virginia shook her head. “I’m supposed to believe you’re pregnant with twins, and

they’re

biologically

my

daughter’s

babies?” “Yes.” She shook her head again, the movement almost like the comforting rock some small children engage in when they are

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deeply upset. Then, she stood and charged toward me. I thought she was going to give me a hug or touch my belly. Instead, she grabbed my arm hard enough that I would find bruises later that night and dragged me out of the chair I was sitting in. “Get out of my house!” She started to pull me toward the door from which I’d come, her grip so much stronger than I would have imagined. I tried to pull away, but I was at an odd angle and would have fallen if I did. Daniel came

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around the table and moved up behind Virginia, blocking her path. “Get out of the way, Daniel!” “You need to calm down, Virginia. Can’t you see you’re frightening the girl?” “She’s a lying bitch! I’d be surprised if she’s even pregnant.” I didn’t know what to do. I was shaking, and I just wanted to get out of there. This was obviously not what I’d expected to happen when I came over here today. I just wanted her to drop her crusade against

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Nicolas. I hadn’t imagined she wouldn’t believe me. Daniel set his hands on her shoulders and whispered something I couldn’t hear against her ear. After a minute, Virginia let go of me, glaring at me as she waved her hands and walked away. “You okay?” Daniel asked, lifting the arm that was still in the brace even three weeks later. “She didn’t hurt you?” “I’m fine.” I pulled away from him and walked in the direction Virginia was trying to

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drag me, anxious to get out of that house before she came back. “You have to understand, Aurora was her only child. She’s devastated by her loss.” “Yeah, well, I knew that. That’s why I came here.” “To do what?” “To convince her to let Nicolas alone. He’s struggling enough, trying to prepare for these babies and salvage his career.” “He should have thought of that before he flew to New York that night.”

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I spun on my heel and confronted him. “Just because he was there doesn’t mean he had anything to do with her death. She could have taken those pills herself.” “I know she did.” I stared at him. “You what?” “I know that Aurora died of an overdose. I know she was addicted, and she took too much that night, but she wouldn’t have taken it if Nicolas hadn’t shown up and argued with her.” “If you know he’s innocent—”

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“I didn’t say he was innocent. I said he didn’t drug her. There’s a difference.” “A huge difference.” Daniel looked at me, his green eyes piercing in the dim light of the hallway. “Aurora had her problems, but none of them were insurmountable until she met Nicolas.” “What did he do to her that drove her to drugs?” Daniel shrugged. “What does any starcrossed lover do to hurt his love? He loved her too much.”

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“And for that, he deserves to be prosecuted?” “Virginia needs to work out her grief in her own way. This thing…it will blow over.” “Not soon enough.” His eyes fell to my belly. “Those are really Aurora’s?” “Yes.” He stared at my belly for a long minute. It made me self-conscious, as I slid my hands over it and tried to protect the

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babies as well as I could. Then he nodded as though he’d made a decision. “I’ll talk to her, but I can’t make any promises.” “I wasn’t looking for any.” I drove back home and slipped the keys in Constance’s purse while she was in the laundry room checking on the weeks towel load. No one seemed to have realized I’d gone. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

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I was hoping, though, that things would be smooth sailing from here on out though.

Chapter 9

Thanksgiving snuck up on us. One minute it was the end of May. School was ending and I was looking forward to summer. The next, my mom was dead, I was pregnant, and everything I thought I knew was turned upside down. And now it was Thanksgiving and I was twenty-eight weeks pregnant with another woman’s babies.

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I insisted on helping Constance in the kitchen. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I could chop vegetables and wash pots and pans like a pro. She seemed to enjoy my company, laughing as I sang along to the Tejano radio station she always played. “It smells like heaven in here,” Nicolas said as he moved up behind Constance and tried to steal a piece of turkey. She slapped his hand. “Stay out of my kitchen. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”

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He groaned even as he shot me a wink. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” “He seems happy today,” I said, as I watched

Nicolas

disappear

around

the

corner. “It’s Thanksgiving. Everyone’s happy on Thanksgiving.” I shrugged. It seemed as good an explanation as any. I carried the china into the dining room and set the table, struggling to make sure everything was exactly as it should be.

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My mother taught me how to do this when I was barely tall enough to see over the table so that I could help when she served at formal affairs. I knew how it should look, but I wanted this to be perfect. The babies were due in February. That meant this was my only chance to spend Thanksgiving with Nicolas. I wanted it to be special. I wanted him to remember it next year when he was struggling to have a meal with two nine-month-old babies. I wanted him to think of me fondly as he watched his

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kids grow up and they shared many, many holidays together. Was that too much to ask? “You shouldn’t be doing that,” Adam said. He was dressed a little less formal today, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He was actually very handsome when he smiled and he wasn’t trying to look so fierce. I was beginning to see this side of him from time to time. He even cracked a joke last week when I was complaining about not being able to go for a walk around the block. He really was a pretty nice guy.

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“I’m just helping out Constance.” “Why don’t you let me help Constance and you go relax with Nicolas? I’m sure he’d like the company.” “When’s your family going to be here?” He glanced at the screen on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. “Fifteen minutes.” He suddenly seemed nervous, which I found incredibly adorable. I touched his arm as I walked past him.

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“It’s going to be great.” He just nodded and headed for the kitchen. Nicolas was in the living room, standing at the back doors. “Do you think a swing set would ruin the layout of the garden?” I moved up beside him and surveyed the scene that laid out before us. “You might have to tear out a few rose bushes.” “I like the rose buses.”

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“Yeah, well, thorns are not so great with small children. That’s why you never see rose bushes surrounding elementary schools.” “True.” He slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “I guess a few of them can come out.” “More than a few. Those swing sets get pretty big these days.” “Don’t steal all my joy.”

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I leaned closer to him and said, “Welcome to parenthood. Your life as you know it will never be the same again.” He pulled me in front of him and pressed me to the glass door. His fingers slid over my face before burying themselves in my hair. His kiss was gentle, kind, the kiss I was beginning to expect from him. It was like heaven, moving into his arms and accepting his touch. I remembered the first time and couldn’t, for the life of me, remember why I’d pulled away. Or bit him, to be exact.

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I slid my hand under the bottom hem of his shirt—a polo shirt whose rough material was a lovely contrast to his silky skin—my fingers playing a symphony on his ribs. There was a scar on his third rib, a thick, gnarly scar that I was dying to ask him about, but never got up the courage. Or found the right moment. I pulled back to ask now, but then he buried his lips against my throat and all thought just disappeared from my mind. His hand wandered over my ass, his fingers looking for things he wasn’t going to

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find until he lifted my skirt. He was always searching, and that was what made him a perfect lover. Not such a perfect companion, but a perfect lover. He began to tug at my skirt, but then the doorbell sounded and brought us both back to reality. “That’s probably Adam’s family. Or Constance’s.” He groaned. “Whose bright idea was it to invite so many people over?” “Yours.”

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A slow smile formed over his lips, inspiring me to touch my fingertips to his bottom lip. He lifted my hand and kissed my palm, his lips lingering for a minute. “Remember where I was.” “I’ll definitely do that.” Nicolas turned and strode toward the front entryway, confidence oozing out of every pore of his beautiful body. I loved to watch him walk, loved the way his muscles moved. And his ass wasn’t bad, either. If I had my way, I’d have him walk miles around

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this room just so that I could watch him both coming and going. I poured myself some water at the bar and thought about all the things I had to be grateful for. It was something my mom and I always did, even when there wasn’t enough money for a turkey, or she had to work someone else’s celebration and didn’t have the energy left to share a meal with me. We always told each other what we were most thankful for. “The experience of carrying these babies, and the chance to know Nicolas.” I

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glanced up toward the ceiling, thinking of my mother in heaven—where else would such a good Catholic be?—“I miss you, mom,” I said softly. “Teamo, mama.” “What the fuck did you do?” There was so much anger and bitterness in Nicolas’ voice that it frightened me. I turned and the look on his face was even worse. He was staring at me as though he wanted to murder me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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He held up a set of papers that I couldn’t read from this distance. I was still clueless even as he shook them at me. “You told her. I know it was you.” “Told who what?” “You told her about the babies so the two of you could find a way to steal them from me, right? You thought a rich, lonely widow would be thrilled to death to find out she’s about to be a grandma. So you told her, hoping she’d help you get out of the contract you have with me, right?”

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Virginia. “What has she done?” He waved the papers at me. “She’s suing me for custody. The babies aren’t even here yet and she’s fucking suing me for custody.” It was like I’d been struck by lightning. My entire body went numb. I couldn’t have responded to him even if I wanted to. But I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to an accusation like? “I didn’t—”

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He charged me, dropping the papers to the floor and grabbing my neck. “You have been scheming to take these babies from me from the moment you found out you were pregnant. And when I threatened to cut you out of their lives, you just hatched another scheme, didn’t you?” “Nico,” I said, my voice garbled by his grip, “I wouldn’t do that to you.” “Wouldn’t you? You ran away. You insisted you wouldn’t let me have the baby. And now this. It adds up pretty quickly, my love.”

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“Think about it, Nico,” I said, tugging at his grip on my throat. “I could have left when you were arrested. You said yourself there was nothing you could do.” “But you didn’t know that until it was too late.” “That’s not true. You can’t leave the county. I could run away today and you wouldn’t be able to come after me. But I didn’t. I stayed.” “So you could conspire with that rich bitch whose trying to ruin my life.” He stared

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at me, anger still snapping in his eyes. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.” “I didn’t do this. I only wanted to get her to back off of you. I didn’t think she would sue for custody!” “Then you did talk to her.” And that’s when I knew I’d dug myself a hole. What else was there to say? I shook my head, but nothing I said now would get through to him. As if to confirm it, he pushed me back against the bar

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and let me go, anger like I’d never seen in his eyes. “I thought you…” He stopped, unable to finish whatever it was he was about to say. He just turned away. “Nico,” I said as pain slashed through my lower back, “please…!” The pain was not like anything I’d ever felt before. I tried to straighten up, but it was so intense that I screamed. And then I was clutching my belly, the pain slicing around until my belly was as hard as a

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boulder. I cried out again, more from fright than pain. Nicolas was instantly at my side, his hand on my belly. “What? Did I—” Adam rushed over—he’d apparently come to inform us his family had arrived—and swung me into his arms, carrying me to the couch. Constance was there, too, a worried frown on her familiar face, as pain again traveled from my back to my belly. “She’s in labor,” I heard someone say. “Call an ambulance.”

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~ End of Part Two ~ SUBSCRIBE TO MY NEWSLETTER and get an email from me when a new book is released. Thank you for reading!

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