Rachel Bailey - Return of the Secret Heir

“Pia, let us tell your side of the story!”

“Ms. Baxter, don’t you want to set the record straight?”

Her pulse spiked each time there was a noise from outside. A voice in her head was telling her stress was bad for the baby, which made her worry more. She picked up Winston and curled up on the sofa with only one dim lamp. Seemed she’d underestimated the media interest.

Her phone rang until she pulled the cord out from the wall, and she turned music up to drown out the noise and the knowledge that they were there.

When her cell buzzed, she wanted to ignore it, but years of responding to the little piece of technology kicked in and she checked the number on the screen. JT’s name flashed up and she trembled with relief. She thumbed the talk button and before he could try to convince her or say a word, she blurted, “Send the car back.”

JT opened his door to find Pia with Winston in her arms, and two of the security team behind her, one carrying Pia’s bags.

Her eyes were huge in her face, her skin too pale and he couldn’t help but reach for her and enfold her in his arms. He’d been tormented by visions of her answering her door to the media and being confronted by a sea of camera flashes. Of a paparazzo carelessly jostling her and triggering a miscarriage. Of her being scared, and him not there to protect her. His chest had been too tight to take a full breath since the story had broken this afternoon.

He cleared his throat and spoke to the security men over her head. “Did you have any problems?”

The larger one shrugged as he put the bags down in the entranceway. “We’ve handled worse. Took her out a back entrance and around to a side street.”

“I appreciate it.” More than they could know. He held Pia tighter. There was a squirming against his chest as Winston struggled free and jumped down.

The men nodded and left to join the rest of the guards he’d hired this morning. JT would be making no public comment and wasn’t taking a chance that the press would get close to him or Pia. Thankfully, now that she’d come to him, the guards would be able to keep a clearance zone around her and the vultures would have to try elsewhere to feed the public’s morbid curiosity. They’d had their fill of Ryder’s and Seth’s lives, so the media’s insatiable appetite for details of Warner Bramson’s legacy was trained squarely on him and Pia.

After the door closed, Pia pulled back and he scanned her face. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.” She looked down and a faint blush stole across her cheeks. “I don’t know why a few reporters at my door would shake me up so much.”

He could think of a number of reasons. Starting with how stressed she must be about her job. And being pregnant, responsible for the baby’s well-being, had to make her feel more vulnerable. But he didn’t want to remind her, so he smiled-albeit grimly-and picked up her bags. “It’s your home-it’s criminal that they can stalk you there. Anyone would have been stressed.”

She flashed him a grateful smile and for a long minute he simply looked his fill-her copper waves hung loose around her shoulders, and were messily tumbled as if she’d just come from bed. Her fingers had probably twined through her hair from worry, but whatever had caused it, the effect was dramatic and beautiful and his hands wanted to touch. The last thing she needed after being rattled by the paparazzi was his coming on strong, so he clenched his fists around the handles of her bags and restrained the impulse.

“Come on through,” he said and pointed to the wide archway that led into the living room. She walked in and slowly looked around, taking in the large flatscreen on the wall, and the distant views of the city lights through the open curtains.

What was she thinking? She’d known he’d done well financially, but the size and location of this apartment was irrefutable evidence of just how well. Was she surprised, being confronted with the transformation in fortunes of the outcast boy she’d befriended? Did she hate the dark color of the walls, the stark white trim?

She turned back to him and smiled. “This is nice.” Her voice was genuine and, stupidly, he felt like he’d been given some kind of award.

Shaking off the feeling, he put her bags on a low table and guided her to the L-shaped sofa. “What did your boss say about the media story?”

“I’m using up vacation time and starting maternity leave early.” She sank down into the corner and tucked her feet underneath her. “I handed some things over today and just need to go in for a few hours in the morning.”

She looked so despondent that he couldn’t say what he was thinking-that it was probably for the best. He could keep her safe here, and she could take it easy for the rest of the pregnancy. It might not be great for her career, but a large part of him was glad.

He leaned back and rested his feet on the coffee table. “Did he mention the promotion?”

“It’s off the table.” She grimaced. “In fact, I'll be demoted when I go back.”

“I’m sorry.” He took her hand, intending to offer comfort, but as soon as her palm slid against his, his pulse fractured.

Pia looked down at their tangled fingers. “When I go back to work after the leave, I’ll keep my head down and work like crazy. It won’t be in the time frame I’d hoped, but I’ll still make partner.”

Seeing the determination in her eyes, his chest swelled with pride. “Good for you.”

Winston came running into the room and skidded to a halt on the tiled floor. He looked around, then vanished down a hallway, investigating his new environment. Pia smiled, glad at least one of them could treat this as an adventure.

She turned back to JT, the man who’d rescued her tonight, and gave him a smile, too. “So how was your day?”

“Better than yours,” he said with a trace of humor in his eyes. “Thankfully I’m my own boss.”

“I’m beginning to see the advantages of that arrangement.” JT had more responsibility riding on his shoulders, sure, but because the company’s fate came down to him, the thrill of success must be more satisfying. A definite advantage that being in business had over her line of work and for one liberated minute, she envied him.

“Did you hear from Bramson’s sons?” JT asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Pia hesitated. The speculation was that she would be feeding JT information about the case. So should she be wary of doing exactly that now? Though, the only contact she’d had with Warner Bramson’s other sons was yesterday when she’d given them an advantage she’d gained from knowing JT. And she’d warned JT that morning she’d be calling them, so it was only fair to tell him she’d done that.

She nodded. “I rang them yesterday morning and gave them a heads-up so they could get any extra measures in place to screen the media interest if they needed.”

There were more questions in his eyes, but he refrained from asking them, and she appreciated it.

“You know, I think we both need a night off,” he said, standing and resting his hands low on his hips.

She thought of the paparazzi that had been hovering outside her apartment and she shivered. “We can’t go out.”

“Then we’ll make do with what we have here.” He seemed unconcerned by the prospect of being cooped up in his own place, but then, this room was almost bigger than her entire apartment.

She looked around speculatively. “What do we have here?”

“A penthouse suite designed to my specifications,” he said with a crooked grin.

The man who dealt in property every day had created his own apartment? Suddenly she was very interested to see what he’d designed. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.”