Sarah Anderson - His Forever Family

Besides, what was she going to do? Adopt a child? Please. She worked from 7:00 a.m. until 6:00 p.m., five days a week, and she came in on Saturday to prepare for the next week’s meetings. She had to. There was so much about his world that she didn’t know and she couldn’t afford to be exposed as an outsider, so she did her homework day in and day out.

She was at the threshold when Marcus spoke. “Liberty.”

She paused. He wasn’t going to ask her to the wedding again, was he? “Yes?”

She turned to face him. The way he was looking at her—it wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal anyway. What she would give for that look to be right because there was something to it, something that was possessive and intense. It scared her, how much she wanted him to look at her like that.

So she went on the defensive. “You can’t want me to go to this wedding with you.”

His lips curved into a seductive smile. “First off, aren’t you the one telling me to do what I want?”

He couldn’t mean that he really wanted to take her—could he? “Yes, but—”

He held up his hand like a king. “Do you want to see him again? The little boy.”

She gave him a long, hard look. Was this a game? If so, she wasn’t playing. “Mr. Warren, you’re not going to make this awkward, are you? You’ll get me the foster mother’s address if I agree to attend this ridiculous wedding as your—what, your personal human shield?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched and he looked quite dangerous. Very few people said no to Marcus Warren. But she was one of them. “Just answer the question—do you want to see the baby again?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes,” she said, bracing for his counteroffer.

“That will be all,” Marcus said, turning his attention back to his computer.

The dismissal was so sudden and unexpected that she just stood there for a moment. Marcus didn’t look back up at her. He didn’t acknowledge her continued presence at all. He merely ignored her.

It was not a good feeling.

Four

This time, the DCFS supervisor didn’t hesitate to give Marcus the name and address of the foster home. All he had to do was say who he was and the woman practically fell over herself to give him what he wanted.

Well. It was nice that someone was acting appropriately. Because his executive assistant sure as hell wasn’t.

Marcus stared at the information he’d written down on a piece of company letterhead. Hazel Jones. He googled the address and saw that it was way up in West Rogers Park.

This was ridiculous. He should be game-planning how to survive this wedding, not diverting his time, energy and accumulated favors for an abandoned baby and his assistant. And yet, here he was, doing just that.

There was nothing to be gained here. He did not need Liberty as a personal human shield and the implication—that he couldn’t attend this stupid wedding without one—was an insult to his pride. He was a Warren, dammit all. He didn’t hide from anyone or anything and woe unto the person who tried to stand between him and his goal.

Who, at this exact moment, was Liberty Reese.

He strode out of his office to find Liberty on the phone. She glanced up at him, and the fact that he saw a hint of worry in her eyes only made him madder. What had he ever done to make her afraid of him? Not a damned thing. His father would have had her pinned to her desk by the end of her first month here and if she’d so much as sneezed wrong afterward, he would have done everything in his power to bury her.

And what had Marcus done? He’d treated her with respect. He’d never once laid a hand on her, never implied that her job was in some way connected to her sexuality.

All he had done was ask her to go to a wedding with him. And now she was treating him as if he was some lecherous old man to be feared.

“Yes,” she said into the phone. “That’s correct. No—no,” she said in a more severe voice. “That is not the timetable. That information needs to be on my desk by the twelfth.” She notched an eyebrow at him and mouthed “Yes?”

He crossed his arms and mouthed back, “I’ll wait.”

There it was again, that hint of worry. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have asked her to the damned wedding. Hell, if he had his way, he wouldn’t even be going to the thing.

“No, the twelfth. What part of that isn’t clear? The. Twelfth,” Liberty snapped at the caller. Marcus grinned. He’d hired her because she was outside his parents’ sphere of influence and she ran. But she’d turned into an exceedingly good assistant who was not afraid to push when she needed to.

She rolled her eyes at the phone and then dug through a small stack of papers on her desk, pulled one out and handed it to him.

“Available for the Hanson-Spears wedding” was the label of a column. Below was a list of names and phone numbers.

Marcus gave her a dull look, which she ignored. “Yes. Excellent. We look forward to seeing what you put together.” She hung up the phone and took a deep breath. “I have to say that, at this point, the baby-wearables people are not winning any points in terms of organization or professionalism. They may not be ready to move to the next level.”

Ah, yes. The company that wanted funding for a line of baby clothes and blankets with smart technology built into the fabric so anxious parents could monitor sleeping and eating habits from the comfort of their phones. The idea was intriguing, but he didn’t like to see his money squandered by poor planning. “So noted.”

She turned a bright smile to him. It was not real. “Was there something I could help you with?”

He held out the name and address he’d copied down. “Here. It’s in West Rogers Park, up on the north side.”

Liberty made a small noise, like a gasp she was trying her best to hold in. “I...” She looked up at him and at least for right now, any hint of worry or fake smiles was gone and he found himself looking down at the same woman whom he’d held in his arms beside the jogging path.

She would do anything for that baby, he realized. Anything. Even attend a wedding.

He knew it. And given the way her cheeks colored a pretty pink and she dropped her gaze, she knew it, too.

It’d make his life a hell of a lot easier. A plus-one for this wedding in exchange for a little information, and he wouldn’t have to worry about finding a media-ready, parent-approved date who wouldn’t view the event as a stepping-stone to bigger and better things. He could go with Liberty and might even enjoy himself. At the very least, they could run on the beach along the Pacific Ocean in the mornings instead of Lake Michigan.

She wouldn’t be able to say no.

And he wouldn’t be any better than his father was.

“As promised,” he said and turned to walk back to his office.

He heard her chair squeak as she got up to follow him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he said, sitting down. He felt strange and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a bad feeling. He stared at the list she’d given him. He’d gone out with a half dozen of these women and he knew the other half. Any one of these women would make a great date to this wedding and appease his mother.

He crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash.

“You’re not going to...” She let the sentence trail off but he could hear the words anyway. You’re not going to force the issue?

“Insist you do something you obviously don’t want to that falls outside of your job parameters? No,” he replied, trying to sound casual. He was seriously just going to let this go? If he didn’t get a date and he didn’t take Liberty, he’d just go alone. Sure, his parents might disown him for it. “Why would I?”

He glanced at her then and wasn’t surprised to see her looking as if she’d stepped into a room full of snapping alligators. “That’s...thank you.”