Page 29 of Vicious Arrangement (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #7)

Chapter Twenty-Four

NOAH

A baby.

The thought seeps down into me and I try it on, not exactly sure how I feel.

The fact I’ve made something with her, this woman who’s so under my skin I’m a certified crazy person when I’m near her, or thinking of her, is so… incredible and frightening that emotions come at me from all directions.

A baby.

And it’s not until I get up and go to my home gym to work out that I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror that I notice I’m smiling.

Sure, I look slightly daze, but fuck… I’m smiling.

Aria listened to me last night. And it’s with a slow dawning, I realize she’s the only person I’ve told.

Asher doesn’t count. He’s been there from the beginning, seen things, and worked out things, and stood by me. If I talk to him about events, it’s like talking about them to myself.

He was there. He understands.

But Aria wasn’t. I know she also lost her parents young, but our experiences are so different there’s no comparison. She clearly has a great relationship with her grandfather. Like Asher, she was loved.

She said something, though, as I go through sets with the weights. She told me I’d be a great father. She pointed to Joshy.

And I think it’s the first time I want to believe someone from outside my tight circle.

I frown as I move to my Peloton. That’s not exactly right, because somehow, she’s become part of that circle, no matter how hard I’ve tried to barricade the door.

Maybe that’s okay. Maybe she belongs there, even if she both centers me and shakes the ground I’m on.

Fuck. I push it all away and throw myself into my workout.

I shower in the guest room, not wanting to disturb her sleep, and then I pull on the clothes I grabbed.

In my study, I order from the best French bistro that does incredible breakfasts—I’m a New Yorker, I don’t cook—and end up ordering one of everything I think she might like, from a pastry selection to eggs, bacon and sausage.

I order pancakes, too; the banana ones, the buttermilk and their French chocolate.

As I work, my phone buzzes. I frown at it. The number isn’t one I know so I don’t answer.

The food arrives and I put a selection on a tray and I’m about to take it up, along with juice and the toasted rice tea I’ve seen her drink, I note the phone buzzing again. Same number. And there’s a voicemail from earlier.

I hit play, and it’s some guy I don’t know. “Noah, I emailed you recently concerning your father. Call me back immediately.”

“Fucking vultures.” Of course, it could be a scammer. I really don’t care if the dude’s media or a scam artist, I just delete it. Even if it’s neither of those things I really don’t want anything to do with anyone who has ties to my father, so I shove it out of the way.

I take the tray up.

Aria isn’t in the bed, from the retching sounds, she’s throwing up in the bathroom.

Normally, I’d turn and back away, to return when she’s done.

But this isn’t just anyone.

This is Aria.

I set the tray down and go into the bathroom, where she mutters, “Go away,” before throwing up again.

“Not doing that.” I kneel next to her, gathering her hair and holding it back for her, and I rub her back in slow circles, like I vaguely remember my mom once doing when I was small and sick with some bug.

When she’s done, she’s a shaking mess, and I whisper soothing words, getting her water to rinse with, and some mouthwash when she asks.

She sits on the tile, hugging the toilet after I flush, cheeks pale and gaze miserable. I have a bathtub in my room, and I turn on the taps, adding some Epsom salts that I don’t think I’ve ever used and a few drops of lavender oil from a selection of oils that also sit there, unused.

It smells nice, and she starts to calm. “Is your floor heated?”

“Of course. Not going to let your ass get a chill.”

“That’s the most superhero thing you’ve said.”

I help her up. “I ran you a bath.” And I pull off the T-shirt I think she must have stolen from me at some point last night. “What about that?”

“The most superhero thing you’ve done.”

“I ordered you breakfast.”

She gives a tiny laugh. “It doesn’t count if you didn’t make it.”

“This is New York, who has time to cook?” I help her into the bath and I stay with her, sitting on the floor.

“Is the food here?”

“Yup.” I get up and grab the plain pancakes and the syrup, and I break a piece off and hold it to her on the fork. “Can you hold this down?”

“I don’t know…”

“Try.”

She eats it and closes her eyes. After a few minutes I whisper, “Hey,” and give her another mouthful. “This is better than my cooking. You’re keeping it down.”

I’d rather sit here with her than think about whoever this prick is bothering me.

He probably doesn’t know the family money came from my mother’s side, from Oscar’s.

Dad had some, but he married Mom for her money.

A prick through and through, one who didn’t understand hard work but wanted its rewards.

Oscar’s words are so familiar they could be my own.

Jonathon Barry married Caroline Templeton and took on her last name, took over her money as his own.

And then, when Grandfather cut her off at the wedding from his vast fortune, I’d be the heir, I guess my fuck of a father took it out on her. Even though Mom had millions in her trust he used.

So if whoever this is wants my father’s money, he’s out of luck. There isn’t any. If he wants to bring some scandal to the table, he’s too late. The biggest one is already out there.

My father was a wife beater and a murderer who died by his own hand.

Aria glances at me as she uses the soap bar to create a little lather, and I try not to glue my gaze to her tits that look fucking magnificent when, hard nippled and calling my name. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s right from this view.” I trail a finger in the water, brushing over a nipple, before realizing what she means. I feed her another mouthful. “Just something annoying…”

“Sometimes if you talk, things make better sense or lose power,” she says. “And it’ll help me get my mind off my nauseous stomach.”

I eye her. She looks a whole lot better than she did, and she’s eating the pancakes bite by bite.

But I sigh. “Some prick called and emailed me, ordering me to get in touch, something about my father. I don’t want to know a fucking thing and he’s probably just after money. They usually are. Or a retro story, which I never give.”

“Maybe you should talk to him. You can say no to whatever it is, but it’ll stop him from contacting you, and let you put this to bed. Maybe he found a letter, or maybe your father?—”

“My mom’s father, Oscar Templeton, raised me. I’m a Templeton and my father took on the name so this is going to be about the Templeton fortune, not anything to do with my father, unless they want to write some story, which I’m not into.”

“I’m glad you had family.”

I laugh bitterly. “What family? My grandfather blamed me. He hated me, not one drop of love was handed to me. Everyone else thought he was nice, but I knew just how cold and unfeeling he could be. Or…”

“Maybe he felt guilty, Noah. Because there’s no way he could see anything evil in a little boy, and you don’t have evil in you. If I thought you’d raise a hand in anger to me, I’d be gone. You never have, though.” She accepts the final bite of the pancakes, and I set down the plate.

When she swallows, she continues. “The only reason I’m telling you to maybe contact him is for you. To put this to rest so you can move on. You aren’t anyone but you, Noah, and you’re worth everything.”

Fuck. She’ll make me cry. “Finished with the bath?”

“Will you email or call?”

I push out a laugh. “I’ll think about it. I’m going to make an appointment just to make sure you and the baby are okay.”

After I’ve made an appointment, and the goddamn horse dog pushes into my room to see her. I guess the animal isn’t too bad. He gives me anxious looks as he stands in the bathroom doorway, whining.

“Angus,” she says as I edge past the dog to help her out of the bath and dry her off.

She wraps herself in my robe and then hugs the dog, who wags his tail madly.

I open the door to my part of the terrace, and he goes out, only to sit, looking in and enjoying the splash of dappled sun on his fur, judging by the little sound he makes.

“I need to take Angus out for a W-A-L-K and then see Gramps?—”

“Hell no, you’re staying in bed. Is he expecting you?”

She sits on the bed in my robe and says, “Today or tomorrow.”

“Then call him later. You’re staying here.”

She huffs. “I’m not staying in your bed alone.”

“Your beast is here.”

“Nope. I stay, you stay.”

“Well…” I look down. “My clothes are wet.” I strip down, and she watches closely.

Leaving the boxers I tackle her as she starts to rise and hold her down as I pull the covers up over us, then under that little canopy where we’re in our own world, I nudge aside the robe so she’s naked.

My boxer briefs grow tight, and I shuck them too, pulling her leg over me to gain access to her wet cunt.

It’s soft and inviting, and I kiss her long and slow as I finger her in gentle come hithers, and she moans.

The kiss deepens, and I roll to my back, taking her with me. Removing my fingers, I pull her down onto my cock, taking her in agonizing increments until I’m deep inside her. Then I start to move her until she takes over.

I let her fuck me, she does it in undulating movements, and her clit rubs against me, her pussy perfect and tight as she moves.

At first, she only rocks, but soon, as she starts to get caught in the wilder, deeper beat of passion, she starts to bounce.

I take her hips, helping, and I pull her so her mouth’s at mine, and I take her again. Harder, hotter, a kiss that’s just like sex.

Soon we’re at each other, the rhythm gone and morphed into something that shifts and grows with our urgency.

Our world is shrunk down to this one act, and us, one creature.

The passion bursts through me, and I can’t stop coming, but she comes, too, her spasms of orgasm forcing mine into higher intensity, and I swear I almost black out.

When we’re satiated, done, I pull the covers off our heads, and we sip and kiss each other, meandering, drawn-out, delightful caresses that soften and drift apart until she makes a little sound and snuggles in, falling asleep in my arms.

I shower and dress, and as I leave the room, I stop, stare as the dog slinks up and jumps next to Aria, messing up my bed. He gives me a defiant look and curls against her back, and she sighs.

Damn, I think she’s hooked me good.

I go to my study and stare at my phone. Fuck it. She’s right. I can say no. Then I can leave it at that. I can just delete whatever else he sends.

I text the number, asking him to call me back.

Almost immediately, the phone rings, and I press answer.

“Noah? I’m glad you called me back.”

I know he had his name in the email I deleted, but I just say, “I’m busy ,so what is it you want?”

“You know your father cheated on your mother a lot, right?”

It’s true. The man loved to torture her emotionally with that, all the details of what the women did to him, how they did it better, let him do all manners of things Mom wouldn’t, and then I’d hear her cry at night in bed, all those sounds filtering in.

He was fucking her, doing things she didn’t want to do, humiliating her and making her take it the way his women did. Like it was the only way she’d stop him from cheating.

I didn’t work that out then. But later… yeah…

“Go on,” I say.

“You’ll probably want a DNA test, and I’ll do that.”

Something heavy sinks in the bottom of my stomach. “Why would I want that?”

“So you know who I am. That I’m not lying when I say I’m Aaron Templeton Jeffries. Your half-brother.”

Fuck.