 
# A Tangled Web

### Dangerous Secrets

## Rose Francis

### Contents

Synopsis

Preface

Part 1

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 2

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

The Billionaire's Assistant

Alec: The Wilde Brothers

About the Author

Also by Rose Francis

MAILING LIST

# Synopsis

**_K imberly Jordan never meant to hurt anyone._**

But once a DNA test reveals her longtime boyfriend, Damien, is her half-brother, plus she finds out she's pregnant, she will go to any length to hide her horrible secret.

Unfortunately for Kent Davenport, he's the perfect fall guy for her plan, having recently revealed his love for her. But unfortunately for Kimberly, dirty little secrets always come out.

* * *

_A Tangled Web_ is the first book in the _Dangerous Secrets_ series—a series of unrelated new adult interracial love stories with one other thing in common: one or more of the main characters has a secret so big, it threatens to derail, or even destroy, their most important relationships, their personal character, or their entire lives.

The secrets are 'dirty.' Scandalous. Taboo.

Secrets anyone would be wise to remain tightlipped on.

But in these tales, one way or another, that horrible secret gets out.

Let the fallout begin.
Copyright © 2013 by Rose Francis

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by PAPDesign.

Poison Arrow Publishing

First Electronic Edition: March 2013

Anniversary Edition: April 2014

_Last updated: April 2017_

# Preface

_A Tangled Web_ has gone through several revisions, and the current edition has been significantly modified from the original. Sections have been added, cut, and moved from one chapter to another, among other changes (such as the addition of chapter titles, a prologue, and an epilogue).

_A Tangled Web_ is my first published book and the first story in the _Dangerous Secrets_ series.

The second (unrelated) book in this series is also currently available.

# Part 1

### Tangled

# Prologue

_O h my god, she knows—she knows it's not his baby!_

Kimberly had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself; she was close to hyperventilating.

_No, you're tripping. It's your own guilt, girl—Catherine doesn't know anything; she doesn't know you're using her son to cover your tracks. She_ always _has that look on her face—that skepticism. Always suspicious of everyone and their intentions. She probably didn't even register you as she spoke to you; she has no idea the child you're carrying belongs to Damien instead of Kent. Your secret's still safe._

"Are you okay, babe?"

Kent rubbed her shoulder, bringing her back to the moment.

She smiled up at him and couldn't help noting, as she usually did, how handsome he was.

Practically everyone who saw him wanted him.

Even if his family wasn't filthy rich, his California good looks alone—tall, athletic frame, always perfect dirty-blond hair, and chiseled features—had women falling all over him.

That a man like him had picked her to be with, out of everyone else, still astounded her.

The best part was that he truly loved her—she never doubted it.

She had made the right choice.

_The baby will be just fine_ , she reminded herself. _He or she will be a Davenport._

She followed Kent Davenport into his room.

# Chapter 1

### Suspicion & Doubt

**T** he moment Vivian's receptionist told her Catherine Davenport was there to see her, a knot formed in her stomach. Something was very wrong, and she figured it had to involve her pregnant daughter since it was the only reason she and Catherine had anything to do with each other these days.

Vivian kept Catherine waiting as long as she could, but eventually, as expected, Catherine stormed past her law firm's front desk and into her office like she owned it.

Vivian closed the file in front of her and stared at the angry, green-eyed blonde—a stranger now, but her best friend in another life.

"Vivian, how on earth do you manage to keep track of all your lies?" Catherine asked with no trace of curiosity on her face.

The knot in Vivian's stomach tightened.

"Catherine, what are you talking about?" Vivian tried to look lost and surprised.

"You know exactly what I mean, Vivian Jordan," Catherine said, crossing her arms.

Vivian kept looking at Catherine with slightly widened eyes, hoping she was pulling off the innocence she was going for.

Catherine let out a breath. "We both know Kimberly is lying about who the father of her baby really is. I mean, come on—you're her mother; I don't expect you to claim it's someone she doesn't want it to be. But that's the problem." Catherine paused for dramatic emphasis, as Vivian had so often seen her do. "Who she wants it to be is my _son_. Now tell me, is that who it really is?"

Vivian could no longer meet Catherine's eyes. Instead, she busied herself with refilling her stapler with a block of staples.

How had Catherine figured it out? Vivian was sure only she and her daughter knew the baby's true paternity, and that no one had reason to suspect otherwise—except, of course, the baby's real father: her own son and Kimberly's ex-boyfriend, Damien. According to Kimberly, Damien made his suspicions clear, having figured the time between their breakup and her getting together with his best friend was too short.

Had Damien been talking to Catherine?

When Vivian glanced up, she saw a look of both triumph and disgust on Catherine's pale face.

"I guess that's my answer," Catherine said, her mouth tight and her eyes hardening to jade.

"Catherine, listen..."

"Of course you know there's no way I can let my son go through this; you know I can't hide this from him."

"And why not, Catherine?" Vivian said, finally glimpsing a way out—at least temporarily. Although no longer close like in their college days, Vivian had retained much of her old, privileged knowledge. "You're so good at hiding so many other things. Let's see...well, I suppose you sleeping with some of your professors won't matter now, or you paying people to write your papers. But don't forget I know about that hit-and-run accident. Not sure there's a statute of limitations on hitting someone while driving drunk and then leaving them to die. My goodness, Catherine, since when did you become so honest and upstanding? You have clearly forgotten how many of your secrets I've kept. Who knows how many more there are now or how easy they'd be to figure out?"

"Vivian," Catherine said, her voice suddenly gentle, "believe me, I can see where you're coming from; after all, your entire family has been destroyed. My god, my ex-husband is the only person you've got left, and I'm sure there's nothing you'd love more than to have Kimberly accept you again and forgive you for breaking up your family to be with him. Look, I know this was an opportunity to get in Kimberly's good graces, and also—I mean, I'm a mother too—you wanted to protect her. That's what good mothers do." She nodded her head approvingly. "So surely you can see why I want to protect Kent from the tragedy we all know will come of this when the truth comes out, however it comes out." She paused a moment. "Don't you think it'll be better sooner than later? I'm sure Kent will be more understanding if he's told about it as soon as possible and preferably from Kimberly herself. And I _know_ you'd want to protect her from the consequences of him finding out later down the line and possibly from some other source."

Vivian watched Catherine with what she hoped was a stony expression, observing her scrutinize her face to see if she was getting through.

She hated to let her see that she had succeeded.

"Oh, Catherine," she said, her voice breaking a little, "what has my little girl done?"

"I don't know, Vivian, but it's up to us to help our children—to fix this before it gets any more broken. I really do believe our children love each other, and I would hate to see my son's heart shattered. Lord knows I've crushed him enough for this lifetime and the next." She sighed. "I really don't want to see him hurt again, Vivian. And I do so badly want to be a good mother to him; he deserves it."

Vivian witnessed Catherine's moment of weakness and felt better about her own.

It almost felt like old times again—when they could lay their souls bare to each other and talk about anything. Almost, but not quite—not since Catherine decided, way back then, to date and then marry the man she had known Vivian was in love with—James Davenport: father of both Catherine's son, Kent, as well as a baby boy Vivian secretly gave up for adoption—a man Vivian had only recently been reunited with.

They both held their composure.

"So what do we do?" Catherine asked.

Vivian sighed. "I'll talk to Kimberly and I'll try to convince her, once again, to do the right thing and tell Kent the truth about the baby. But we both know what she thinks of me now; I doubt she'll listen."

Her thoughts drifted to her last conversation with her daughter.

She didn't blame Kimberly for feeling like her life fell apart because of her; after all, she was the only one responsible for giving up her baby with James Davenport all those years ago. James never even knew she was pregnant since he had moved to another state once he broke off their relationship, unable to take the pressure from his family's disapproval of her.

Unfortunately for all of them, that baby grew up not knowing his origins, and by some cruel joke of the universe met his half-sister, Kimberly—Vivian's daughter with the man she married three years after James left her—and the two fell in love.

Now they had an incestuous baby on their hands.

Vivian didn't want Kimberly to make the same mistake—to give up a child she couldn't bring herself to abort and risk the whole thing happening all over again.

She was so happy when Kimberly agreed not to go for adoption, but her happiness was short-lived—Kimberly decided to find a man who would accept the child as his own without him knowing that it wasn't.

Vivian had tried talking her out of that too but had no answer to her daughter's question, "Well, what else do you expect me to do?"

Kimberly hadn't told Damien about the baby and never planned to—she was immediately embarrassed about carrying her brother's child and had only revealed the truth to Vivian while throwing in her face that the whole mess was her fault.

Vivian let out a heavy breath, not looking forward to the exchange.

"I'll do it though—I'll talk to my daughter. For all of us."

Catherine looked satisfied.

She turned to go but then whipped back around, blond hair swinging.

"Vivian, when's the baby due?"

Vivian shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, and a look of horror came to Catherine's face.

"You can't be serious—has she not been examined by a doctor yet? Who knows what could be wrong with that baby!"

Vivian looked away.

"I'll bring that up again too," she said, but she knew the chances were slim; she had a hard time getting her daughter to listen to any of her advice these days. But beyond that, she wasn't about to tell Catherine her suspicions—that Kimberly seemed to be withholding prenatal care in perhaps a subconscious attempt to kill the child she considered a monster in her belly.

# Chapter 2

### Responsibility

" **W** hy should I listen to you? I don't want the advice of a selfish whore!" Kimberly screamed at her mother.

She couldn't believe her mom had called her over to her apartment for such a reason, and she certainly couldn't believe that she actually came.

"Now, Kimberly, you listen to me and listen good: Kent is a good man—he doesn't deserve this. And from what I've observed, he really does love you."

"Mom, it's you who made me do this to him!"

"When did I make you have premarital sex, Kimberly? When did I force you to have unprotected, premarital..."

"Damien and I were always careful."

"Then how do you know...?"

"Because I took a test, Mom. I was feeling sick for a few days, so I took a test and it came out positive. This was before I slept with Kent. There must have been an accident with Damien somehow, so I had to do this—I didn't have a choice!"

"Of course you had a choice, Kimberly. You could have told..."

"No! No one needs to know, and especially not Damien—he's obsessed with me as it is."

"But Kimberly, honey, you've seen my own life—what more do you want? Your secret will come out. Don't you think it's better sooner than later? Look at what happened to the two of us—did my secrets protect you?"

Kimberly saw the opportunity to blame her mother again. "Damned right, they didn't." She watched her mother look away and she decided to keep digging. "I'm glad you see it, Mom. I'm glad you realize how you've ruined my life."

"That may be partially true, but you're doing a superb job of _actually_ ruining it all on your own."

"No, Mom! This is all your fault!"

Suddenly, Kimberly saw a look come to her mother's eyes that had sent the fear of God into her as a little girl. It still made her apprehensive now, and she found her emotional state veering.

"Now you listen to me, Kimberly Daphne Jordan: I might not be able to still put you over my lap, but dammit, I am your mother—show some respect! I mean, here you are, pregnant by your half-brother according to your calculations, and you want to blame me. Well, I did not force you to have sex, Kimberly, and I certainly did not force you to lie to Kent. Now I've had enough of your tantrums. You're supposed to be a grown young woman, yet you're constantly acting like a child!" She let a breath. "Kent is a fine young man," she continued. "You should be the adult you pretend to be and talk to him. Kimberly, he really does love you—I've seen it in his eyes. Why didn't you give him the opportunity to show you that? I'm sure he would've understood and stood by you if you'd only talked to him."

"But I don't know that for sure! I mean, why would he stay with me?"

"Kimberly, you let him find out at the wrong time or by the wrong person and he might not. He should know about this," she said, indicating Kimberly's still-small tummy, "and you should know that."

"Mom..." Kimberly's voice broke and her hand came over her mouth. Tears stung her eyes. But when she saw that her mother was about to hug her, she straightened back up, looked her dead in the eye and said calmly, "I'll think about it," before turning and leaving the apartment her mother shared with the man she had left them all for.

As she headed for her car, Kimberly couldn't shake her mother's words.

_But Kent can never know!_ she thought. That was the point of it all. If he found out and he left her, her plan would have failed. Everyone would know the baby had to be Damien's.

But was there really a chance Kent would stay with her anyway?

_No,_ she thought, _no_.

She started her car.

It was too big a risk; she couldn't afford to take it.

But could she afford not to?

Kent's face came to mind then—specifically the warm look he gave her with eyes of honey, so full of love and happiness—as if he couldn't take his eyes off of her. As if she were an oasis in a desert.

Kimberly knew that Kent had been in love with her for a while but pretended she had no inkling of his attraction—she was too blissfully in love with Damien at the time. She and Damien had their problems, but Damien was her first love and she could forgive him almost anything—even his excessive flirting and the nagging feeling she would get that, sometimes, he had done more than flirt with some of his female acquaintances.

Kent respectfully kept his distance at first since Damien was his roommate and close friend, but eventually Kent got sloppy—the way he looked at her, the way he jumped to fill any gaps Damien had left: helping her run errands when Damien couldn't or taking her to see movies Damien didn't want to or was too busy to see. Kent became a good friend, a willing ear, and convenient alternate company.

Eventually, he started worming his way in further, past the cozy familiarity she felt with him. She felt herself growing closer to him—particularly in moments of weakness, moments of insecurity regarding what Damien was really up to when he had to stay out late or had gone too long without calling. Moments when she was imagining his coworkers or fellow students cozying up to him, wrapping their arms and who-knew-what-else around him.

Having Kent around made her start questioning everything and made her wonder: was it possible to be in love with two men at once?

Then she started resenting Kent's presence in her life.

Why did he have to shake up her world and complicate things? Why couldn't he have just stayed away?

_I tried_ , he had said to her once. _I tried not to feel the way I do about you_ — _I tried to stay away from you, but that only made me miss you more. I'm in love with you, Kimberly, and I can't do anything about it. All I know is that I want to be around you. I_ need _to be around you. I want to make you happy._ He paused, grabbing her hand. _My happiness depends on you being happy._

He finally admitted everything to her—when he first fell in love with her and how long he had been pining for her—after she and Damien broke it off once a DNA test revealed their blood connection. Damien had been determined to find out more about his roots, and her mother's DNA was already in the system from having taken an ancestry test herself. Then the system connected them.

Kimberly sighed, thinking about her first night with Kent. He had been too easy a target for her plan; getting him to sleep with her right away had been no problem at all since he had wanted her for a while.

Then she remembered a nightmare that came to her every now and then about Kent finding out the truth—the look of anger on his face, but most of all, hurt. Pain she couldn't bear to be the cause of.

What her mother had said made sense—her secret had a far greater chance of coming out than remaining hidden—she had seen it happen far too often. And what would she do then? How would _he_ react then? Certainly less positively than now, right?

"Gah!" she exhaled sharply, resting her head on her steering wheel. In her heart, she knew what she had to do but couldn't quite convince her head it was the right thing.

She didn't know where she was going at first but began driving and ended up the only place she could go.

She pulled up to Catherine's house and sat in her car.

She knew Kent would be there, but she wasn't ready for him. How exactly do you tell the man you love that you're carrying another man's baby? And that the other man is the man who is half-brother to you both? How do you let this man you love know that you fully intended to have everyone, including him, believe that the baby was his? A man who constantly claims to love you more than anything—more than life itself?

Perhaps that was enough reason.

_He loves me_ , she thought. _He really does_.

She felt it in his touch and consistently saw it in his warm, brown eyes reflecting it in his soul.

He had been in love with her pretty much since the moment he saw her, he had said—especially after hearing Damien speak highly of her all the time—and he certainly loved her now.

She exited the car and headed toward the house.

# Chapter 3

### Changes

**C** atherine needed to calm herself with reassurances and take her mind off of her hapless son downstairs, while fighting every urge to go and tell him the news herself, so she dialed Vivian, impatient with the progress of their plan.

Vivian picked up immediately.

Catherine tried to ignore the pleasure spreading through her at the sound of the voice on the other end of her phone as she sat on her bed, door slightly ajar behind her. She couldn't bear to close the bedroom door all the way; it made her feel claustrophobic.

"I waited a bit to see if Kimberly was coming, but she hasn't so far—how did your talk go?" Catherine said quietly into the landline.

She thought about how lucky she had gotten in discovering Kimberly's scheme. The day before, she had made a comment to Kimberly as she and Kent headed up the stairs. She had wondered out loud what the baby would look like, and she happened to catch a look on Kimberly's face—a look that set off her sixth sense. Kimberly's expression told her that she hadn't thought of it, but more than that, Kimberly briefly appeared worried. Catherine kept thinking about that look—about what it could mean. Why look so concerned? Kent was indisputably handsome, and Kimberly was a cute girl herself.

"I told her how important it was to tell Kent, and she told me that she'd think about it," Vivian replied. "Catherine, I really don't know what else to do about my daughter—I don't know what more she needs to see that being truthful to Kent now is the best way to go. I mean, even with my own example right in front of her!"

Vivian sounded so distressed that Catherine believed she had really tried.

"God, Vivian, I was so hoping you'd get through to her. I mean, how long does she expect to get away with passing her child with Damien off as Kent's?"

A sound, like a sharp intake of breath, came from behind her.

Catherine turned and saw Kent's stricken face at her bedroom door. He looked so much like his father at that moment, despite having dirty-blond hair like hers.

His honey-brown eyes darkened with emotion.

"Kent," she began, pulling the phone away from her ear. "What are you doing here?" She tried to smile, hoping he hadn't heard her.

"That's hardly important now, is it, Mom? Could you repeat what you just said? I thought I heard my name."

"Oh, I was just telling Vivian how happy you were about being a father. And Vivian was expressing concern for Kimberly as a young mother."

"Mom, that's not what you said and you know it."

Catherine was struck by what she saw in her son's eyes then, and at that moment, wished she hadn't insisted on talking to Vivian.

"Kent," she began sadly, but Kent turned around and left, ignoring her calling after him.

Just as he swung open the door to leave the house, Kent saw Kimberly heading up the path toward it.

He didn't like her expression: heavy and sad before she noticed him, and then suddenly frightened.

He waited at the door until she reached him, and then silently led her inside and to his bedroom. He shut the door behind them and they sat on the bed.

He studied her beautiful, round face and felt a tug at his heart at the terrified look in her dark eyes. He had to know what was the matter with her, and he wanted to comfort her for whatever was wrong, but dread also seized him—a knowledge that whatever she was about to reveal could crush him.

"Kimberly, please tell me the truth," he said gently, reaching out and tilting her face toward him with his finger, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Kent." A tear rolled down her face. He wiped it away and then continued staring into her eyes as he shifted slightly on the bed. The fearful way she watched him made his heart sink.

"Please tell me my mother is delusional, Kimberly—about you getting together with me because you were already pregnant with Damien's baby. That's not true, right?"

Her eyes gave him his answer, confirming what his heart didn't want to, but his brain pieced together anyway.

"So, that's why you were so eager to sleep with me? To make me and everyone else believe the baby was mine? Telling me you loved me—it was all a part of..."

"No! Kent, I do love you, I really do."

"Then surely you wouldn't have done this—my mother is wrong." He searched her eyes again, hoping and waiting for her to make a liar of his mother, her revealing eyes, and his own brain. He wanted her to deny it simply because he didn't want the alternative to what they had been living—in what he thought was pure love born out of an undeniable attraction. He wanted to remain in the world where Kimberly was his and had come to him of her own heart, unable to fight her feelings for him any longer, and that she loved him, as he loved her, with every honest bone in her body.

"Kimberly, please tell me it isn't true."

Her tears fell freely and generously now.

"Kent, listen: I love you—you have to believe that, no matter what. But what your mom said..." She paused, looking at him tentatively, and he felt a shattering within him begin.

She looked away. "Oh god, Kent, what have I done?"

"Kimberly, what are you saying? It's not true, right? I mean, finding out Damien was your brother just made it easier for you to come to me because you really wanted to all along."

She looked up at him again with what looked like hope.

"Yes! Oh, Kent, I wanted to be with you so badly, but I was adamant about loyalty and fidelity; I couldn't let you sneak in. But you did. You snuck in here." She grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest over her heart. "But soon it was too late for anything," she said, looking down again. "Kent, I never wanted to hurt you, but I needed to protect my baby." She looked up slowly while still holding his hand. "My baby with Damien."

No more could Kent delude himself.

A sharp pain seared through him, and the whirlwind of emotion that had been toying with him since it finally hit him that there was a possibility Kimberly could have lied to him about their relationship, her feelings for him, and his child, reached the point where the only thing he could do was something he had not done since his first day at boarding school: Michael Kent Davenport slid off his bed and to the floor, his head falling into his hands, and he let himself cry. He cried as if he were the lonely, eight-year-old version of himself who finally realized it was possible for a mother to not only _not_ love her children, but despise them through no fault of their own—for having the wrong dad. He cried like he secretly did every holiday for the next few years when Catherine did not send for him, leaving him to spend the time with the families of fellow students. She did not even bother to call him, and neither did his father, James.

Now here he was, alone again.

His actions seemed to make a dam in Kimberly burst, and they both became shaking masses dripping wet salt.

She reached for him, and he did not have the fortitude to push her away. Her embrace was not a comfort to him—he merely did not have enough space in his brain or heart to truly take notice of her actions.

Soon, Kent realized that Kimberly was holding on to him as if for dear life. She planted soft kisses on his cheek, his arm, his fingers.

Once Kent gathered himself, he looked into the widened brown eyes looking back at him openly and expectantly and with a hint of fear.

"Kimberly," he began quietly, almost whispering.

"I'm here, Kent," she said, squeezing him.

He shook his head. "Kimberly," he said again, looking down at the floor, unable to find more words.

"Kent," she whispered.

Then she got up and forced herself between his legs, kneeling in front of him and making their faces level. Her hands came up to his face, forcing him to look at her. Without blinking, she said, "Kent, I love you, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this, but I was doing what I thought best." She let out a deep breath. "I was wrong, and I'm really sorry."

Then she hugged him, and soon, he felt spasms—as if she were crying again, but trying to suppress it or hide it. But her sniffs gave her away.

Kent didn't understand it, couldn't believe it—all he wanted to do was put his arms around her and comfort her! She had finally released the burden she had been carrying around for months all by her tiny self, and now that the truth was out, she was terrified.

He almost smiled at that—what was she afraid of? That he would leave her?

In any case, he needed to process what he had just discovered; he had to figure out what the reveal really meant for them, and he certainly couldn't do it with her right there in the room with him—especially since, he realized in horror, his body started responding in a way he didn't expect: he wanted to take her, right there and then, to kiss her tears away as he made love to her as long as possible so that she knew she was his and his alone, no matter what.

As he felt more of his negative emotional energy—his pain and anger—being converted to sexual energy, he called her name again.

She became alert, looking as if she dreaded what he would say next yet impatient to hear it.

"Kimberly, I have to think, okay? I don't know what to do or say right now, and before I do or say something I might regret, you should leave. I just need some time alone."

Kimberly sighed. Was it a sigh of relief? Sadness?

"Okay," she said, "I totally understand."

She got up, and he followed her.

After gathering her things, Kimberly started for the door, but she turned quickly and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.

"Kent," she said, as if on the verge of tears again. "Kent, please—I do love you, you have to believe me."

Again, she held him like she never wanted to let go, but he had caught her by the waist, his body arched in the embrace so she wouldn't feel him hard against her and so that he wouldn't get tempted more to sink himself inside her.

He saw her disappointment in his lack of reciprocation, and he almost tried to make up for it by wrapping her in a bear hug, but he found the strength to stand his ground and keep what felt like a necessary distance.

Finally, she let go and gave him one last longing look before heading for the door.

As her hand touched the knob, he heard himself call out, "Kimberly!" and she turned around so quickly her ponytail slapped her in the face.

"Yes, Kent?" she said, sounding hopeful.

He looked down.

"Nothing. Just...I'll call you. Sometime. Soon."

She nodded her head and left.

Catherine heard her son coming down the stairs as she stuck her homemade cake in the oven, hoping it didn't turn out misshapen this time.

She had wrapped up her conversation with Vivian quickly once Kent had taken off, but as soon as she began to go after him, she saw him heading back with Kimberly and made herself scarce instead.

She wanted to eavesdrop so badly, but she knew if Kent caught her, he'd be angry, and she didn't want to give him yet another reason to be mad at her, no matter how curious she was.

She figured baking a cake for her beaux would help her take her mind off of the devastating event surely taking place in Kent's room.

Later, when she heard the front door close, she ran to see who had left the house and saw Kimberly taking off alone.

Catherine debated going upstairs to Kent right away and then decided against it; he probably needed some space.

She thought and thought about what she'd say to him once he finally decided to come downstairs.

Now here he was, and her mind had blanked.

She noticed the red-rimmed, swollen eyes of her son as he headed for the refrigerator, and for the first time in her life felt a love so strong for her child, that she wanted to destroy the cause of it in the most physical way possible.

"Kent," she said gently, "I'm so sorry."

"About what, Mom?"

She watched him attempt a smile—all the more pathetic because it made him look more broken.

Her heart ached.

"What are you sorry about?" he continued. "So Kimberly used me." He shrugged. "Maybe she never really loved me to begin with. Big deal. Who believes in love, anyway?"

Catherine couldn't believe how much it pained her to see her son hurting, and she desperately wanted to ease the pain but didn't know how. "I'm sorry about my role in this too, I guess—I only figured it out yesterday, and I agreed to give Kimberly time to tell you herself." He looked at her with blank eyes. "Well, anyway. Kent, honey, what have you two decided to do?"

"Us two?" He laughed a mirthless laugh. "Surely you jest, Mom. Kimberly makes all the decisions." Then he sighed, his face drooping a bit as he dropped his bravado. "Frankly, I don't know what there is to do."

"Will she continue staying here with you?"

He looked thoughtful—as if he hadn't considered it.

"I..."

"Because that would just be a bad idea."

"Well..."

"Yes, Carl must miss his daughter at home, so it's best she fully move back in with him—only for a little while, honey—until you can sort out your head. But she should probably move her stuff out of here—I mean, you two have a lot to think about, and it's best to do it outside of each other's hair, right? No need for you to get caught up in reminders of her laying around."

"Well, yeah. I guess you're right, Mom," he said, but he looked unconvinced.

"Of course I'm right," she said, smiling brightly at him, happy to help.

As Kent looked at his phone, wondering how to tell Kimberly to move her stuff out, or even if he wanted to, his cell rang. The caller ID made him answer right away.

"Kimberly?"

"Yes, Kent. I'm sorry—I know you said you'd call later, but I had an idea: I think I should completely move back in with my father for a bit—I mean, I know you need time, and it would be totally weird for me to come there for stuff I need, and..."

"Is that what you want, Kimberly?"

"Of course not. But this is what we need, right?"

"Don't ask me! You trust only your judgment, right? I'll see you in a few minutes."

He hung up, relieved he didn't have to ask her to remove all signs of herself but also mad she had made yet another decision for them.

# Chapter 4

### Reflections

_S he has always loved him more._

Kent hit the punching bag harder, trying to fight the inner voice taunting him, reminding him of the days before Kimberly became his. All of the frustration he felt watching Kimberly's eyes light up while talking about Damien or being in his arms resurfaced and gnawed at him relentlessly.

_She never loved you like she loved him. She's been using you. All this time, she's been lying to you. She doesn't give a shit about you_ — _no one does._

Kent let out a frustrated grunt as he whacked the bag again.

_Stop fooling yourself, man; she's just like all the others._

Kent finished up his boxing session and then decided to follow it up with laps in the pool but still couldn't ease the tension twisting him.

It was about eight o'clock p.m. when Kent finally decided to visit a bar.

Negative energy had occupied his body for too long, and as he knew well, nothing could relax him like alcohol. He needed to give his body a break from the grip of self-doubt, the feelings of inadequacy, and the devastation he thought he'd never again revisit since learning how to build shells.

He yelled for a Scotch on the rocks and then turned and noticed a pretty brunette looking the way he felt, a few seats over.

He smiled at her. "You look like how I feel."

She laughed. "Well, I guess we're both having a pretty crappy night then," she said.

He paused for a moment and then asked, "What's a girl like you doing looking so depressed?"

"What's a guy like you doing _feeling_ so depressed?" she replied, eyebrow cocked and giving him an unmistakeable once-over of appreciation.

She took a sip of what looked like a long island ice tea then said, "I'm just kind of mourning the love of my life."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, not like that." She laughed again. "He's not dead or anything. Just...just married the love of _his_ life." Her smile remained but with a hint of bitterness.

"His loss though, right?" Kent replied.

Her smile lost its bitterness. "Thank you. So, what about you?"

"Me? I haven't even wrapped my head around what happened to me yet. I certainly can't talk about it."

She pretended to frown. "Not fair." Then she winked at him, smiling. "But I'm sure it has something to do with the love of your life, right?"

"Yeah," he said, downing his Scotch.

She finished her drink. "Well..."

"Kent," he provided.

"Kent, it was nice to meet you. Best of luck with the love of your life. Don't let her marry someone else!" She laughed an empty but pretty laugh.

He smiled at her. "I appreciate that..."

"Julia."

"Julia. I wish you the best as well. It was certainly nice to meet you too. Misery loves company, right?"

She nodded her head and then swung off the bar stool and left the bar. Clearly there was only one man for her.

Would he ever have a woman who felt that way about him?

Kent shook his head sadly, abruptly reminded of having been left alone in every way.

The next night he returned to the bar hoping to see Julia again and perhaps vent a bit more about his troubles in unbiased company, but she wasn't there.

Instead, he noticed a blonde at the bar who had been watching him since he entered. She looked delighted when he sat in the only available seat next to her.

"Hello there," she purred, not hiding her interest one bit. Kent remembered the days he found such boldness a turn-on.

"Hello," he replied politely.

"You look like you need someone to show you a good time," she said, smiling wider and looking like the _Alice in Wonderland_ cat.

What was she, a hooker?

He figured the thought must have shown on his face because she said quickly, "I'm not _that_ kind of woman—I just think you're incredibly sexy. And I'd really like to kiss you. Right now."

Her increased boldness shocked him—although such actions, and the reactions of women, in general, were not surprising. He knew the power he had over females as a result of his looks; in fact, he had reveled in those responses and used them to his advantage in his years since boarding school and before Kimberly.

The blonde came toward him and he let her try to kiss him as he stared at her shut eyes. After several attempts at gaining full access to his mouth, she drew back and huskily whispered, "You know this kissing thing—it's kind of two-way."

He looked into her blue eyes and said lightly, "I just wanted to remind myself what it was like to be kissed by a whore."

He caught her hand before it hit his cheek and held it firmly as he brought his face within an inch of hers.

"If this was two years ago, I would have had you beneath me in minutes."

He let her hand go, and she turned away looking offended and flattered all at once, with probably no clue he found nothing at all special about her. Two years ago he would have used her for a good time and then not remembered what she even looked like the next day.

He smiled bitterly to himself. In all his encounters with the opposite sex, he never had a woman hit him the way Kimberly did the day he met her. He had been 'in like' before, and he'd had many attractions, but the feeling he got when he saw Kimberly for the first time, behind the register of some coffee shop, was unlike any of them. He almost didn't hear when Damien introduced her as his girlfriend.

He hadn't imagined much when Damien mentioned Kimberly working as a barista while being a full-time student at the same college as them, and although Damien spoke favorably—even highly—of her, Damien also had a wandering eye. Kent figured that maybe this girlfriend of his wasn't much of a looker or was boring or had some other sort of flaw that embarrassed Damien, making him put off introducing the two of them.

When the moment finally came, Kent almost wished Damien had continued keeping her away from him.

"Maybe this has happened to you," Kent later told his brother, Elliott, "and I don't know if I can call it love at first sight or anything, but man, whatever this is, it's strong. Like I got this instantaneous, intense crush—way more intense than anything I've felt before. I didn't ask for it, and I certainly didn't see it coming; it was like it stuck its foot out in front of me, and before I knew what was happening, I tripped and fell." He stopped pacing and turned to look at Elliott. "What do I do? Damien's my friend, for Christ's sake. And roommate."

Elliott shrugged. "Not much you can do. Just keep away from her. Stay respectful."

"Well, of course, but I want to see her again. I feel like I have to. I can't stop thinking about her."

Elliott shook his head. "I can see you're already in trouble. Back off, bro, before it's too late."

"But how do I turn this off? I don't know how to just pretend I never met her. Plus, you don't understand—Damien's my friend, but he's not exactly the most faithful, and she doesn't deserve that; he doesn't deserve her."

His brother whistled, brown eyes widening in disapproval. "Okay, first of all, none of your business. That's their problem as a couple. You had the misfortune of meeting her second, so it's best you let their relationship run its course; you need not be involved if things get messy, so cool it. Now, I know you're not used to _not_ getting some chick you want, but like you said yourself, she's not just some chick. So back. Off."

Kent had taken his brother's advice to heart, but he found it much harder to follow through. Thoughts of Kimberly consumed him, and he felt like he was becoming increasingly obsessed with her with every day he didn't see her—fantasizing, planning ways to 'accidentally' run into her. Dreaming of the day she finally left Damien and ran into his arms.

What confused him further was that his attraction was not sexual. He certainly imagined her that way sometimes, but what he wanted most was to hear her talk and see her smile again. To find out what her laugh was like. To learn more about her—what she liked to do and the things that brought her joy—and he wanted to be one of those things.

He tried to be respectful, but Damien kept leaving openings and even encouraged their friendship.

"I promised to take her to the opening of this movie tonight, but something came up. Can you take her?" Damien had asked of him once. "She really wants to go _tonight_."

How on earth could he say no?

Another time, Damien said, "Crap—I told her I'd pick her sister up from the airport. Could you by any chance...?"

_Give her a reason to feel grateful to me? Yes._

Eventually, Kimberly began asking him for small favors herself. Since they were all on the same campus—Kimberly, an undergrad, while he and Damien were grad students—Kent started to feel bolder and more comfortable popping in to see her at her coffee shop since it was nearby. She usually walked to work, and mostly had daytime shifts, but occasional night shifts. Sometimes, she walked home alone to her on-campus apartment, and, sometimes, Damien accompanied her. Then one day, after a campus-wide alert was sent out regarding a girl being attacked the day before, and Damien was unavailable to walk her, she texted him, "I get off at ten tonight. If you're around, can you walk me to my place?"

_Anything for you, Kimberly,_ he thought, happily agreeing to do so.

As weeks turned into months and they got closer, Kent became aware of her few moments of weakness. He did everything in his power not to pounce, his brother's words haunting him, but he knew he was getting dangerously close to the point where he was willing to risk everything to have that chance, that moment for anything more to happen between them.

What drove him crazier was knowing that she was aware of his interest, and he had a feeling she was at least mildly interested in him the same way. He felt like if she had been totally oblivious, it might have been easier for him to pine away at a distance, but to sense that chance—a small opening—it made him even crazier about her.

Damien once told him that Kimberly never came over to the apartment they shared because she didn't want to give anyone a reason to think she was 'loose,' popping by the home of two boys. They had both laughed, finding the notion ridiculous. Still, their bachelor pad remained relatively girl-free. Then one day, Kimberly finally decided to come over and see them. Kent figured getting to know him made it easier for her to feel comfortable doing so. Besides, she was a senior now—he speculated that she was getting over her puritanical perceptions and was getting ready to put on her woman panties in general.

Damien got stuck shooting a film project, so when Kimberly showed up, it was just the two of them for a while.

Damien kept promising to be there soon.

"Just one more scene to shoot," he had said.

Kent and Kimberly watched a whole movie and still Damien hadn't arrived.

When Kent felt her getting ready to go, he made a move he spent the next few days regretting.

"Don't go yet," he said rather desperately, as he grabbed her hand and held it.

She looked at him strangely and then pulled her hand away, got up from the couch and headed for the door.

He followed her, apologizing.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean anything by that," he said, reaching for her arm to get her to look at him, but it seemed she sensed it, for she avoided his grab, opened the door, and then ran off like a bat out of hell.

Damien never asked him about the incident, so Kent knew she had not mentioned it to him, but things weren't the same between them for a while. She became more distant and somewhat cold in their interactions. She only came around him when Damien was around.

Months later, after they had all graduated and just as Damien had started preparing to propose to her, they found out they were related.

At some point, Kimberly came to him and cried it out, and he was happy to just be her friend again. It killed him to see her so hurt and broken. Their moment of reconnection was truly about her, and nowhere in his body did he feel a sexual spark, even though they were alone and the flood of his love had come crashing back with her presence. He finally knew how it felt to love another human being purely.

Days later, she contacted him again.

"Can we talk?" she said.

At the time, when she invited him over to her childhood home where she was living again since her graduation, he didn't know that her mom had moved out, her dad was at work, and her sister was spending the summer taking classes abroad.

Kimberly led him up to her room, and they sat on her bed. Still, he didn't think anything of it—he was ready to be the friend that she needed again.

She looked sad, as expected, and they began to talk. This time, however, it wasn't about her and Damien.

She started asking him about him—about the night he seemed to want to kiss her, as she had interpreted it.

"Do you have a crush on me?" she asked.

Her phrasing tickled him.

He knew he loved her, and he figured that's what she really wanted to ask but couldn't bring herself to be so presumptuous.

"I love you," he blurted out, and at the same time, he reached out to caress her head. That point of contact, plus finally getting to tell her how he felt, started something in him that he realized later he should have recognized. His love and desire for her had merged again, but as he had for the past year and a half, he kept it in check—despite them being alone on her bed with her sitting so close to him and looking at him with those beautiful, brown eyes. Despite, after silently pining after her and having a real chance to be with her now that Damien was firmly out of the picture.

She looked surprised and emotional—almost overwhelmed—although not shockingly so, considering the recent events. He figured she was coming to terms with how she felt about him too and confronting the possibility of them being together. Perhaps she was feeling guilty for talking about it so soon, with such a short mourning period between that moment and the demise of her relationship with Damien.

Then she grabbed his hand and said, "Kent, I love you too," and he almost lost it then. Her holding him—any part of him—made his desire suddenly grow to new proportions. Plus the words she had just spoken...He knew he was dangerously close to an edge.

Then she brought her face to his for a kiss and his inner fireworks went off. He kissed her like the world was ending, and between the two of them, they undressed completely in no time; he might have even ripped her clothes off.

He didn't spend as much time exploring her body then as he did later to make up for it; the feeling of wanting to be a part of her physically was too strong.

He flipped her beneath him, and, still kissing her, he ran his hand over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs. Finally, his fingers found her entrance.

She was ready for him, and it was then that he completely lost it, feeling how wet she was. He quickly readjusted, positioning himself over her, and before she could say or do anything else, he was inside of her.

They found their rhythm, all while kissing and touching each other hungrily.

He briefly thought about taking it easy, but his desire made it impossible. Her warmth, the firm hold her body had on his, every emotional and startled gaze, every moment she grabbed onto his arms for dear life, filled him with rapture.

He didn't how long he lasted, but the familiar feel of an intense buildup in his body began and he moved faster and faster until everything that had slowly built—from the moment Kimberly made him tell her how he felt—exploded inside of her, and he felt like his spirit almost left his body. His climax was so strong that he half-expected to see his fluids shoot from her mouth.

He was sure she came with him—the way she had been breathing and moaning, the way her body squeezed his, driving him crazier. And now, when he looked at her, she seemed spent.

He grabbed her, and, lying next to her, held her close to him. He kissed her forehead, not wanting to let her go.

He stroke her hair happily, still coming down from the intense moment, when, eventually, he realized that she was crying—although as if trying to suppress it.

He continued holding and stroking her.

"Hey," he said softly. "Don't feel bad—I love you."

It warmed him to say it again, and he felt like his love for her grew every time he said it.

He wished the moment could have lasted longer, but her phone rang, making them both jump and snap out of the buzz for a bit.

"I'm not getting that," she said to his relief. "But we should..."

"Sh," he said. "We don't have to do anything else right now. Just let me have one more minute. Please."

He felt her relax against him, and the next thing he knew, they had both fallen asleep.

She awoke in panic later, waking him and saying her dad would be home soon.

"But you're a grown woman," he said, still a bit foggy.

"Yeah, but I don't do _this_ in his house—especially when he's in it. He doesn't have to know about this yet."

"What _is_ this exactly?" he asked, watching her quickly grab pieces of clothes and then disappear into the bathroom.

"This," she said, returning, as she pulled on a pair of jeans over her underwear, "is a new beginning."

She looked at him with what looked like hope, and joy spread through him. She seemed quite content in that moment herself—happier than he'd seen her since her breakup.

He got up and wrapped her in a hug, his still-nude body enveloping her clothed one.

"You don't know how long I've been hoping and waiting for this. I never thought it would actually happen, but here we are. You're mine now." He kissed her. She kissed him back briefly, and then reminded him to get ready to leave.

It was the happiest day of his life—second even to finding out she was pregnant later, because although that revelation blew his mind in a different way, he wasn't fully prepared for it like the day he took her for the first time; that day, it was about damned time.

He knew he shouldn't have slept with her when he did—that it was too soon—but who expects a guy dying of thirst not to touch the glass of water you put right in front of him?

And he definitely didn't expect Kimberly to use it against him like this.

Kent finally left the bar to go for a drive, then decided to visit his brother, Elliott—he needed to talk to somebody.

"Bro, I don't even know where to begin—I mean, I never expected this from Kimberly. Everything about her said she was trustworthy, honest, had high morals. She had this innocence and sweetness about her, but everything I loved about her was all a lie. I don't understand how she could do this to me; she knew I loved her—why not trust me to support her and help her through this? Stupid me—I actually thought I'd won her over; I believed she loved me. I just wanted her so bad—I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone or anything before. Even now, I don't understand how it happened—how she managed to capture my...everything. And the more I got to know her, the more I fell for her." He sighed, realizing he was rambling. "I couldn't be happier when I found out she was pregnant." Kent stopped again, aware of his brother waiting patiently, pretending to follow along while he left out the biggest part of the story.

"Elliott, don't tell anyone yet, but Kimberly only got together with me because she was already pregnant with Damien's baby. You can guess the rest."

Elliott's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What? Kimberly? That's crazy! She's probably _literally_ the last person I'd expect to do anything like that. To tell you the truth, man, she was so holier-than-thou..." His voice trailed off as if he thought twice about whatever he was going to say next. "Do you still love her?" he said instead.

Kent sighed.

Despite everything, he still loved her. Truly. Madly. Deeply.

"Yes," he said, his emotions kicking up into a whirlwind again.

"For what it's worth, I think she really loves you too, so all that stuff you're worried about—about it all being a lie—just stop. God knows you don't need to go making up things to go all 'woe is me' about."

Still, it didn't take long for negative thoughts to assault Kent again once he said goodbye to his brother to head back home.

What about him was so unlovable? Was it merely being a Davenport? His mother had hated him for being James Davenport's son when their marriage went sour, and everyone hated his grandfather, Luke Davenport—although him being evil probably had something to do with it. Luke didn't care about being loved though—he hated the world right back. Even Kent's grandmother—Luke's estranged and long-missing wife—couldn't care less about any of them; she had run off years ago with some guy, never to be seen again.

Kent wondered, _Did merely being a Davenport make one evil? Did it carry some bad energy with it that spread wickedness, destruction, and negativity to anyone associated with it? Was it a cursed family name?_

He chuckled to himself as he thought about his brother. Elliott had gotten lucky, it seemed; he had gotten away from the apparent curse, but not before getting involved in a crazy love triangle—probably the only 'bad' thing that had happened to him. But what was so bad about two women loving you with all they had and fighting for you? Kent would rather be on that end of a love triangle than the one he ended up on. Now, not only was Elliott their mother's favorite child, but he ended up with the woman he loved the most and who loved him the most.

Kent felt better about the fact that James favored neither of them, treating him and his brother with equal coldness.

But why was it that even James didn't love him—the firstborn, as far as he knew at the time? Did he not have enough room in his heart for more than one child? Sure, James now had five children that they knew about, his womanizing ways one of the reasons Catherine couldn't take being with him anymore—especially after learning one of his affairs ended up in a pregnancy.

Still, Kent didn't understand how not a single person on earth found him worthy enough to be loved for himself, and unconditionally.

Catherine claimed to love him now, despite her past actions and general failure as a mother, but didn't all the neglect in his first two decades of life speak louder than words? Even his sisters—despite them all coming together to playfully wallow in parental rejection every now and then—were closer to each other, regarding him as the embarrassingly irresponsible older brother. They loved him, they would say, yet they did their best to dissociate themselves from him.

Kimberly had said she loved him too, but look what she did. Like the women who came before, Kimberly was just using him—although not for his body, his last name, or his trust fund, yet perhaps the worst reason of all. She had no real desire to be with him and make a family; she just needed him as a cover to hide under.

Kent had wanted to break the family cycle and looked forward to being the best father in the world to his child with Kimberly Jordan—the woman of his dreams—but everything had been corrupted.

_Kimberly_.

Warm pleasure still ran through him at her name despite the betrayal he felt.

_Kimberly_.

Kimberly grew up with two involved, loving parents—how could she turn out to be so cold, so ruthless? But even as he said the words in his mind, he knew them to be lies—Kimberly was neither cold nor ruthless.

_She just_...He sighed. She probably just wanted to be a good mother and protect her child.

He let out another breath.

_Why am I making excuses for her? What she did, it was_...He couldn't find the word.

_I need to talk to her_ , he thought. _I need to understand_.

He also, very simply, needed to see her.

# Chapter 5

### Confrontations

**T** he level of agony caught Kimberly off guard. She had never felt such anguish—a sharp, physical pain searing her heart, a pain that had her crying her eyes out for the past few hours and made her feel like balling up and dying. Never had she endured such heartache—not when she had heard a rumor about Damien being with another girl while they were a couple, and not when her mother left the family to be with her true love. Not even when she found out she had been building a future with her half-brother.

Kimberly had been pained and angry many times, no doubt, but this type of debilitating agony felt foreign. Her facial muscles felt sore from crying, her voice now hoarse.

She felt dried out, with no more tears to fall as she sat in the corner of her bedroom, empty.

She didn't know exactly when she first started falling for Kent Davenport; she refused to acknowledge the sparkle to their friendship hinting at something else.

She felt a crushing guilt when she realized she had started looking forward to hanging out with him more than Damien.

Was it the way Kent looked at her? Damien never really looked at her that way—appearing mesmerized by her presence.

Was it Kent's beauty? His lean, strong build, and tanned, chiseled face? Those piercing brown eyes? Was she falling in love with a vision? A dream? Or was it the way his spirit felt so open around her, laid bare and vulnerable to whatever she hoisted upon him?

Maybe it was the way he was always there for her; she never waited more than a minute for a response from him in their rare text exchanges, and when she needed someone—anyone, for whatever reason—there he was.

He had an almost magical feel to him, like a fantasy come to life. The only thing he lacked was shining armor.

A guy like him—beautiful, charming, and from a wealthy, prominent family—in love with her? How could she not fall in love with that?

She admitted to being in love with the idea of him to herself once mentally free to do so after she and Damien broke up, and she knew that she loved Kent as a friend—a combination she had no doubt was sufficient to build a life with him—especially considering how taken he seemed by her.

She didn't realize how deep her love for him went until the moment she saw his face as he swung the door open to her and he looked like he had already found out the truth she had planned to tell him. That expression haunted her, and her heart clenched in a way that made it clear to her that she never wanted to be responsible for the pain she was about to cause him again.

When he angrily ended their conversation about her moving out, her heart sank. She wasn't sure she could handle angry Kent, but she got out of the car, having never driven off, and went back to the house to retrieve her stuff.

She had dreaded running into Catherine, not quite able to face anyone else about the situation just yet, but luckily, she didn't have a whole lot of belongings there since she hadn't completely moved in; she had lived sort of halfway between Kent's place and her dad's.

She knocked, Kent opened the door, and then turned and went to the couch, staring ahead into space. She tried to ignore the hurt she felt at his actions.

With Catherine nowhere in sight, she went upstairs and started packing. As she neared the stairs, Kent suddenly ran up to help her.

"I'm sorry, I should've come earlier. Don't bother with these—I'll take them downstairs and to the car for you. And please ask your dad to help you get them out when you arrive. Just...just don't try to lift anything—I mean, you're pregnant after all."

Kimberly watched the man who she knew now, more than ever, she wanted to be her husband, take her belongings to her car.

Kimberly shook off the memory just as she heard a car pull up. She looked through the window and saw that it was Kent's car.

Ecstasy filled her—it had been forty-eight hours since she had last seen or heard from him, giving them the space they needed.

She was also terrified to face him again.

None of her family members were home, so once she let him inside, she directed him to the couch to talk.

She could handle anger, barely—him screaming at her and telling her that he hated her for what she did. She could even handle the way he had called her name two days ago in his bedroom—his tone like that of a child calling out for his mother after waking up from a bad dream, and, simultaneously, like a man whispering goodbye to his beloved at her grave.

She couldn't quite handle him in tears—his broken heart laid bare—but she would have expected it.

What she neither expected nor could handle was the quiet, nonjudgmental manner he approached her with—calm yet highly emotional, his feelings simmering just beneath the surface. She didn't know which emotion would break nor when, leaving her completely unarmed.

He took a deep breath then asked, "Can you tell me why, Kimberly? Please tell me why."

His words sounded gentle and pleading.

She wanted to take the chance to tell him again how sorry she was and how much she really loved him. How much it hurt her to have hurt him, and how much she wanted to take that pain away. But she fought those impulses. She resigned to the fact that her best action would be to simply answer his questions.

"I suspected I was pregnant one night after feeling nauseous for a few days, so I took a pregnancy test, and it came out positive. Then, I found out—right after—that Damien is my half-brother." She shivered in disgust at the memory. "Kent, I couldn't let my baby grow up with any stigma—my child would be just a thing to people—a product of incest. A weirdo, a freak; I couldn't let that happen! And I couldn't bring myself to get an abortion—I tried. Then my sister said something that got me thinking: we were talking one day, and she mentioned how you'd probably make a great husband and father someday, the way you were such a good friend to me. Since you seemed to be in love with me, I thought...I thought I could just get with you, and we could be a family." She looked down, trying to block out the pain on his face at her confession. "My baby would have a healthy, loving, _normal_ family."

She looked up again, trying to search his eyes, but they were now cast downward.

He let out a breath. "Do you really love me, Kimberly?" He looked up at her again.

She noticed his eyes glistening, but what pained her was not the threat of tears in them—it was the expression on his face and the open, vulnerable tone of his voice—as if begging her to say yes, even though there was no other answer.

"Yes, Kent, I love you—more than I thought possible. I didn't realize it when I first came up with this plan, but, slowly, it became clear to me that I loved you before Damien and I even fell apart, and since then, I love you more and more, every single day..."

"Kimberly, stop, please." He sighed. "Did you believe I loved you when I told you I did? Over and over?"

"Yes, Kent."

"Then why didn't you trust me to make my own decision about this? Why didn't you trust in my love for you?"

"Kent, I..."

"See, Kimberly, I think you _did_ believe me when I said I loved you, and it seems you didn't love me at the time, or you were in deep denial, so I'm wondering, how did you manage to give it up so easily? I mean, I know it was for the baby and all, but you seemed to have no qualms about it. Could it have been anyone else on top of you and I just happened to be at the right place and time?"

"Kent!" The accusation stabbed her. "You know that's not true!" He was doing this deliberately—he had to know better. "Kent, I'm not like that, and you know it. Damien was my first, and you were my second. What I did with you two..."

"It's called sex, Kimberly."

"...it wasn't out of curiosity or lust or anything."

"So what was it out of? For me, that is."

"I told you—I loved you, Kent. Even if I didn't know it at the time."

"See, that's what I mean—at the time you didn't think you loved me, but you were able to let me screw you." She flinched. "How easy was that for you?"

She stared at him disbelievingly. "Kent, don't do this. Look, I knew I felt something for you, and I definitely cared about you in a lot of ways. I thought you were a wonderful man, and you had become one of my best friends...Kent, wait!" she called as she saw him get up and head for the door. "I was gonna tell you! I tried to tell you once, and then when I couldn't, I decided to completely leave you out of it!"

She exhaled deeply when she saw him pause in his beeline toward the door, although his back remained to her.

"My other plan was to tell everyone I was going to teach English in China or Japan or something, leave the country and then put the child up for adoption, but that was the day you found one of my pregnancy tests and you were so excited, I just couldn't go through with it."

He spun around. "Oh, you love making decisions for us, don't you, Kimberly? Honestly, you didn't think I'd try to come and visit you no matter where you were? As often as possible? Did you _really_ figure you could pull off just going away or pretending to? It didn't occur to you I'd track you down? I mean, even if you had broken it off with me—you think I would have just stayed away? I never planned to let you go, Kimberly!"

He shook his head with what looked horrifyingly like disgust, and then turned quickly and left the house.

"Kent!" Kimberly cried as the door shut behind him. She got up and swung the door open to follow him. "Kent!" she cried again. "Please don't leave me—I need you, and it has nothing to do with the baby. Please, Kent, listen to me! Kent...oh god, Kent, something's wrong..."

She collapsed, her stomach cramping fiercely.

"Nice try, Kimberly," Kent said, but he was quickly at her side, bending to help her.

"Oh my god, I think—I think I'm losing the baby!"

"No," she thought she heard him say as he scooped her up.

He took her to his car, laid her on the backseat, and then hopped into the driver's seat. He pulled out his cell phone and started the vehicle. He asked her before dialing, "Do you want to see your mother?" She groaned and hoped he understood the no. Still, she heard him say into the phone, "Ms. Jordan, it's Kent. I just thought I'd tell you I'm taking Kimberly to a hospital as we speak—she thinks she's losing the baby."

"What? Oh, dear god," Kimberly heard come through the device.

"Is there anything I can do? Anything you know of?"

Most of what her mom said next wasn't clear to Kimberly, but she heard the word 'relax.'

When Kent disconnected the call, he put on some soft music.

# Chapter 6

### Decisions, Decisions

**D** r. Lake looked at Kimberly with concerned dark eyes.

"Kimberly, honey, you're gonna have to take it easy, or we're going to have to put you on bed rest. Have you had spotting often?"

"Well, yeah, but that's normal, right?"

"Kimberly, you've probably been in danger of having a miscarriage before, and you're in danger now. I need you to listen to me: essentially, your baby tried to abort itself. You need to stay far, far away from stress at all costs. Hi, Vivian," she said suddenly.

Kimberly noticed her mother at the room entrance.

"Oh, Laura, I'm sorry to come in like this; I was just getting so impatient."

"It's okay, Vivian. Look, your daughter, she's all right—she just really needs to relax, okay?" She smiled wide, rubbing Kimberly's shoulder. "Her stress levels are way too high. Anyway, I know you'll take care of her. Kimberly..." She pointed a finger at Kimberly in mock admonishment.

Kimberly smiled at her mom's old friend. "I'll try to take it easy, doc."

"You know we can get you additional help."

"I know, but I don't think I'll need those services." Kimberly smiled again at Dr. Lake, who grinned back at her.

"Well, all right. Check back with me at least once a week for the next few weeks. If you have any problems, any questions..."

"Sure, doctor."

"Okay, hon. Now if everything goes as it should, you're due in about eighteen weeks."

Kimberly suddenly perked up. "What? Shouldn't it be like, sooner than that? I looked it up, and it's supposed to be about forty weeks total."

"Yeah, and you're about twenty-two along—you expecting a premature baby?"

"No, but listen—I took a pregnancy test about six months ago, and it said I was pregnant then, and that's more than twenty-four weeks, right? Like, I should be about to hit my third trimester. Plus, my last period..."

"Honey, your test must've been wrong because it doesn't look like you're that far along—you've got a few more weeks in your second trimester yet. Look, stress does funny things to the body—it can cause chemical changes that could render a false positive. Doesn't happen that often, but it happens. As for your period—again, stress. Even low body weight or a vigorous exercise regimen can make you skip a period without you actually being pregnant."

"But then that would mean..." _The baby could be Kent's?_ "Doctor, are you sure?"

Laura put one arm akimbo and cocked her head, her expression another mock admonishment.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this—this is great!" Kimberly felt a huge burden lifted from her shoulders.

"You'll be just fine if you stay like this," Dr. Lake said and then checked her pager. She waved goodbye and left, smiling.

Kimberly watched her mom approach with a radiant smile. "Oh, baby, I'm so happy for you—for all of us." It was a look she hadn't seen on her mom's face in a long time.

Kimberly felt ecstatic herself—not only did she realize she wanted the baby when she thought she was about to lose it, but it was probably Kent's! She sobered up in regret over the neglect and maltreatment her baby received when she thought it was Damien's.

Then reality hit her—what should she tell Kent? Should she even tell him? Considering their current situation, it didn't seem like a good time to take back what she had said and tell him he was indeed the father, especially when there was no definitive proof.

When her cell phone rang, Kimberly silently asked her mom for a moment alone. Vivian nodded her head—still grinning—and left.

Kimberly picked up the call, delighted to see her sister's name on the caller ID.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're all right! Kent called me and told me you were at the hospital."

"Thanks, Monique."

Where was Kent anyway?

"Hey, Kim—can I ask you something?"

Kimberly felt a bit uneasy—something in Monique's tone put her on guard. "What is it, Monique?"

"Did you and Kent break up?"

Kimberly sighed. "Yes."

"How come? That seems kind of weird, and not very timely."

Kimberly let out another breath.

"To tell you the truth, Monique, I actually thought I was pregnant with Damien's baby and just kind of lied to everyone about it—including Kent. I was going to try to pass the baby off as his, but he found out about my plan. Believe it or not though, I just found out the baby could be __ Kent's after all!"

She heard her sister take a deep breath.

"Kim, can you please tell me what the hell you were doing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Lying to Kent like that about the baby! Kim, you've been around me way too long. What was that all about? I mean, didn't you guys do a test at some point?"

"No. It's a long story, but only mom knew about my plan from the beginning, so she kept up the lie with me. You know how good she is at that."

"And the apples don't fall far from the tree, I guess. Kimberly, what's wrong with you? You've got this fine-ass man who's head over heels in love with you and would do anything for you. He's handsome, sweet, and did I mention handsome?"

Kimberly laughed. "You sound like _you_ want him."

"Are you kidding me? He's a _bona fide_ catch." She paused. "Why did you want to throw him away? I don't understand—I thought you loved him."

"Oh, Monique, I did. I do!"

"Then, why...?"

"Why what, Monique? Why not tell him the truth so he could leave me? There's no such thing as unconditional love—he wouldn't have stayed."

"Kimberly, it doesn't go anywhere—not that kind of love. You think you don't love mom anymore? Think again. You think our dad hates mom now and forever? Think again. You think you're doing yourself any favors by following your stupid theories? Girl, think again. As for you—the love you and Damien had is just going to evolve into a different kind; I know that's not totally gone either—don't worry, you don't have to lie to me about that, but I think with time, it will sort itself out. Look, Kent loves you, Kim, and I know you love him. So stop thinking you should decide what's best for the two of you! You've become like Damien or something."

Kimberly couldn't help but laugh. "What?" she said, amused but confused.

"Come on, you know how Damien was always like..." Monique deepened her voice and slowed her speech, "' _I_ think we should do this. It's best if we do that. Hey, follow me everywhere and in everything, Kim! The best thing for _you_ is that...'" They giggled at her impression. "You know what I mean—always treating you like, I don't know, a kid or something. Making decisions for you. Leading you instead of walking beside you, you know?"

Kimberly smiled to herself, impressed by her sister's summation.

"So what do you plan to do to convince him you guys can still work? When will you tell him?"

"See, now that's the thing—I don't know if I should."

She heard Monique let out a deep breath.

"Kimberly, don't you dare..."

"Monique, hear me out: I was thinking I should wait and see what Kent wants to do about us. I mean, if I tell him about the baby now, he'll feel obligated to stay with me, and I don't want his obligation—I want him to take me back all on his own."

"Well, that actually makes some kind of sense. But take you back? What makes you think he let you go?" Monique sighed again. "Kimberly, don't do anything stupid. Tell the man. He deserves to know. Hell, if you don't, I will."

"Monique, don't you dare. Okay, fine—I'll tell him. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Sure, Kim, but don't take too long."

Kimberly appreciated Monique's practical way of thinking; everything seemed simple to her.

"Well, at least mom's happy now," Monique had said when it was clear their mother had abandoned them for James Davenport. "We're grown, and why should she stay in a marriage she doesn't want to be in? Why would Daddy want to be with someone in love with another man? How could anyone fault someone for going after the love of their life?"

Kimberly couldn't understand how Monique never got mad at their mother's selfish actions.

And now, here Monique was, telling her the solution to her complicated problem was as simple as being honest.

As the call disconnected, Kimberly thought, _Monique's wrong. I shouldn't tell Kent—not now anyway._

Then, she saw Michael Kent Davenport coming toward her.

# Chapter 7

### Separation Anxiety

**K** ent hoped it wasn't too obvious what he'd been up to.

He had held himself together for a while, but when he found himself falling apart, he called Monique, wanting someone __ else __ to be there for Kimberly, knowing he wouldn't have been much help looking distraught.

The truth was, he had been terrified something had gone horribly wrong and he would lose Kimberly completely.

He'd had his hands on his forehead, negotiating with whatever God was out there to make sure Kimberly was all right when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up and saw Vivian attempt a smile—most likely meant in support. He appreciated Vivian's effort, and for a moment, remembered that she was the mother—her child and grandchild had both possibly been in danger.

She sat next to him, and her smile eventually contorted from half pain to full-on pain. They both turned to hug each other. The hug knocked away the remainder of his resolve, and a few tears escaped him. He got the sense Vivian was crying too. He collected himself and pulled away, wiping his face.

"Ms. Jordan, you have to excuse me for not being my usual manly self," he attempted to joke. "I never cry. I just...the thought of losing her..."

Vivian shook her head, dismissing his explanation as her mouth tilted up again. "I know. Kent, you really are the best thing that's happened to her in a long, long time. I'm so glad you're in her life."

He exhaled, looking down. "Me too, Ms. Jordan."

She squeezed his shoulder and left.

He watched her leave, thinking about how much he wished she and his mom were on better terms, but as he understood it from Kimberly, their friendship was ruined by his mom pursuing his dad way back in the day when he had just gotten out of a relationship with Vivian. But despite their families being brought together again by the next generation, and despite his parents divorcing, and his dad and Vivian finally getting back together, the women remained cold to each other.

Someday, perhaps; after all, the two were at least talking to each other now.

Kent sat there by himself for a few more moments.

He had to get his head together before seeing Kimberly—he didn't want her to see him in such a state.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner—I was in the men's room," Kent said, coming up to her and wrapping her in a hug, holding her tight.

Kimberly realized just how much she had missed those strong arms and the warmth of his chest pressed against her.

To her delight, he continued holding her, and she savored the moment until Kent finally pulled back, holding her by the shoulders. "Are you all right?"

His concerned eyes looked searchingly into her face.

She noticed his eyes looked red and answered her own question about why he had supposedly been in the men's room for such a long time.

She nodded her head.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Both me and the baby—we're fine."

"Good." He pulled back completely, putting his hands in his pocket, looking unsure what to say or do next. "So what did the doctor say?"

_Here's your chance!_ she thought. Instead, she replied, "Just that I need to take it easy or I could lose the baby."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She looked down.

"So when are you due?" Kent asked.

Kimberly tried to stall, acting like she couldn't remember. "Oh, when did she say? Around, um..."

"'What are you going to do,' I meant. Sorry." He looked like he was lying.

"About what, Kent?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. Damn it, Kimberly! Oh god, I'm sorry." He let out a frustrated grunt. "I really don't know what to say or do right now—I don't want to be the one to make you almost lose the baby again—I don't want to cause you any stress."

It was then that Kimberly realized she had still managed to pull off what she wanted to avoid—guilting him into treating her precariously and unnaturally.

Kent deserved more—more than she had given him. All she had done lately was add pain to his life; he deserved better than a woman who had tried to use him the way she had. A guy like him was supposed to pair up with some leggy debutante anyway, some fellow blue-blood with similar model good looks. Someone who never would have gotten herself into such a predicament in the first place—someone with the means and money to make scandals and troubles disappear. Kent deserved to live a carefree life with unsullied love and a girl with less baggage.

"Kent, hey—don't worry about it, okay? I mean, it's not like we're living together or anything anymore. We're taking a break from each other, right?"

"But how's that gonna affect you?"

"You know what? I'm fine, don't worry! I think it would cause me more stress being with you right now than not, to be honest."

Kent looked a bit confused.

"Okay, Kimberly, whatever you want. But if you need me—for anything—please don't hesitate to call."

Kimberly smiled. "Thank you, Kent. You know, you were always such a good friend to me. I mean, besides Monique, you're my best friend. I hope we can find a way to remain friends at least." She smiled up at him.

He looked suspicious of it and didn't return it.

Then a bitter chuckle left him. "Friends, huh? Well, okay. Let me take you home."

As they pulled up to the Jordan home, Kent decided to speak, breaking the silence of their drive.

"Kimberly, I..." He paused, wanting to say the words, but finding them ill-timed, decided against it. "I'll see you around," he said instead of reminding her of his love.

Then she started doing one of the worst things he could imagine.

"I guess I should give you this back," she said, rubbing, and then tugging at the engagement ring he had given her months ago. She slid it off and then handed it to him.

Kent numbly took it. He held it in his palm, staring at it for a few moments, his eyes stinging.

He turned away from her, not wanting her to see him break again.

He could hardly get the words past his tightened throat, but he managed to whisper, "Bye, Kimberly."

He heard her exit the car, and when the door slammed, he drove off quickly.

Why was she staying away from him?

Over the next couple of days, Kent found himself growing angrier and angrier at Kimberly.

Who was she, anyway? Who was this woman pretending to be the sweet, perfect Kimberly Jordan he had fallen in love with? How dare she take advantage of his love like that? Could he trust her tears? Her declarations of love? Those looks of regret?

He was also angry at himself—how could he have let himself get so blinded? How could he let himself get outfoxed?

Kent realized he was especially angered by Kimberly's stubbornness. Why didn't she call him or make a move toward reconciliation? Why did she always think she knew what was best? Why not demand he listen to her every word and tell him he had no choice but to stick by her? Why not go ahead and tell him what to do, but this time, in favor of the two of them instead of against them? Didn't she know there was nothing more he would have liked than to be by her side? Even now, he couldn't shake it. Maybe it was that baby in her belly making him feel like he couldn't abandon her, no matter how much she pushed him away.

Kent let out a heavy breath, finally deciding to forget it all for the time being.

She wanted to walk away, let her; he was tired of running after her.

He decided to drown himself in his work; after all, someone needed to take care of the Davenport fortune once his grandfather and father were no longer around.

Kimberly sat on her old bed, enjoying the familiar feel of everything around her. She was somewhat glad to be back home, fully, again—the house and her room still held some comfort despite her mom being gone.

Thank goodness she was gone—she probably would have been pressing her about her decisions at this very moment.

Kimberly knew that she was doing the right thing despite causing so much pain. It tore her apart to have hurt Kent so, and more than that—to have hurt his faith in people. She was the only one he trusted the way he did, and she had shattered that trust. She didn't blame him one bit if he chose to stay away from her. Besides, she could do it—she could raise the baby on her own; she didn't need him to help her.

But how would others take it? She didn't want people to think he had left his pregnant fiancée—most people already believed the worst about him as a Davenport before believing the best.

She would find a way to clear his name.

She didn't know how, especially since the child was probably not Damien's after all, which brought her to another thought: could she really keep Kent away from his own child simply because she didn't want him to feel stuck with her?

She knew that Kent wouldn't appreciate it, to say the least—if there was anything that could upset him more than finding out about her plan, it would be finding out that she kept him from his child because she felt they shouldn't be together out of obligation.

There was no question about it—she absolutely had to tell him, but when? Certainly by the time the baby was due, right?

The house phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She knew someone else could have picked up the call, but she felt as if this time it was for her, and, hoping it was Kent, she didn't want to waste a minute—she hadn't seen him in days and didn't realize how badly she wanted to hear his voice until now.

Her heart soared as she answered, impatient to hear that familiar, sexy timbre.

"Hello?"

"Kimberly?"

Her heart quickly sank. "What is it, Damien?"

"I'd like to see you—I have something very important to talk to you about."

"What could you possibly have to say that's important?"

"Kim, please. See me just this once, okay? Can you meet me at my place?"

Somewhere within her a red flag went up.

"I don't think so, Damien."

"Why not? Okay, I'll come and pick you up—you choose the place."

"Okay, but Damien, what is this about?"

"You'll see, sis."

# Chapter 8

### Best Laid Plans

**K** imberly knew that going anywhere with Damien was a bad idea, but she was curious.

Damien no longer frightened her—not since the last time she had been alone with him, and he temporarily lost his mind.

Despite his alarming inability to adjust to their new status at first, Kimberly still felt for Damien; she understood his reluctance to let go of what they'd had.

Although she had been able to act on what she knew was reasonable right away, poor Damien was stuck in some delusion about them staying together, but leaving sex out of their relationship.

After weeks of hounding her with texts and voicemails, insisting his proposition was sound, she put her foot down, demanding that he not contact her until he was ready for them to proceed as siblings.

She thought she had gotten through to him and was surprised she hadn't heard from him, even after officially getting together with Kent and word had gotten out about their coupling; she was sure Damien would have some choice words for her then.

But one day, he contacted her for a lunch meeting, and she convinced herself it was the beginning of healing for them.

"I heard the good news—you and Kent are engaged and expecting, correct? I suppose congratulations is in order," he said flatly as they sat in the diner.

"Who told you about the baby?"

"I have my sources. Kimberly, tell me something—how long were you guys screwing behind my back?"

"Damien, it wasn't like that, I swear. We never even kissed while you and I were together; Kent was always a perfect gentleman."

Kimberly figured there was no need to mention the one time it seemed Kent had been about to come on to her.

"I have trouble believing that when you guys are now engaged, just two months after I had planned to propose to you myself." His half-smile looked bitter, his brown eyes hard. " _Two months_ , Kimberly. You and I were a couple just over two months ago. And now you're pregnant. Or is it really just now, Kimberly? Maybe it's been a little while?"

"What are you talking about?"

"How far along are you?"

"How dare you? Look, I'm sorry Kent and I fell in love so fast, but you left the door open. All those times you stood me up, he was there and he was a great friend. It's not like Kent and I just met two months ago; him being there for me all those times over the past year and a half or so, and still being there for me as a friend when you and I got the horrible news—our friendship grew to something more. Yeah, it was a highly emotional circumstance, so maybe that's why our bonding accelerated. I'm truly sorry you feel betrayed by us, but everything that happened between Kent and me happened after you and I were done. Including this baby. Now, can we be friends or not?"

Damien smiled. "Of course," he said. "But, sister dear, I no longer have space for some of your stuff. I've boxed them up—let me know when you can grab them. Don't worry—they're all pretty light packages." He looked down at her still-flat tummy and she appreciated his consideration.

When she showed up at his apartment, optimistic about the start of taking their relationship in a healthy new direction, he tried to kiss her once she was inside, but she pushed him away. Then, he held her arms and tried to force himself on her. She struggled fiercely, eventually screaming bloody murder, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. He apologized profusely, looking embarrassed.

She had forgiven his actions at the moment, too racked with guilt over lying to him about so many things, and even worse, about choosing someone so close to him to get together with.

When she told Kent about the incident, she saw an expression on his face she had never seen before. The next thing she knew, Kent was telling her not to worry about Damien anymore—that he'd had a talk with him, and Damien had agreed to give her a respectful distance while they all sorted through their feelings.

Surely, by now Damien had gotten over everything and moved on.

As Kimberly left the house, she told her father she was going for a drive with Damien.

"It doesn't sit right with me," he said. "I don't know why, but it just doesn't feel right. But who am I to stop you? You guys are siblings; you have to start somewhere."

Kimberly smiled. "I agree."

As Damien sat in the car, waiting for Kimberly, he noticed her talking to someone as she left the house, although he couldn't see who exactly.

He cursed under his breath.

That bit of communication ruined everything—for today anyway. He needed Kimberly to have been alone when she left, preferably not telling anyone where she was going or who she was going with. He thought for sure her dad wouldn't have been home—he usually wasn't at this time.

He would have to change his plans for now.

Today, he would woo her in a way—lull her into thinking he genuinely wanted to be respectful of her relationship with Kent, and that he really just wanted to be a brother to her. He would get her to the point where she wouldn't have to mention anything to anyone anymore, and just go with him the next time the opportunity came up.

When Kimberly hopped in his car, he asked, "So, where should we go, sis?"

Best to let her think she was in charge and had some sort of control.

"How about we just drive around?" she said, fastening her seatbelt. "I'm sure there's not a whole lot you have to tell me."

He smiled and drove off.

"Kim, you're still on the defensive, I see. I just wanted to discuss our last encounter." He sighed heavily. "Really, I need to apologize for my behavior then—I know it was weird. It was just so hard for me to let go of my feelings for you, especially since you ended up with that snake...I mean, my ex-best friend and half-brother, Kent. It hurt pretty badly, Kim. I mean, I could hardly get over you as it was, and he jumped right in with no regard..."

"Moving on, Damien."

"Yeah, sorry. Old pain dies hard, you know? So anyway, since we're related and all, I figure we shouldn't have to be cut completely out of each other's lives."

"Well, I agree, but I just don't know how..."

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you." _That and the fact that you're carrying my child_. "How can we remain in each other's lives without it being all, you know, weird?"

"Well..."

"So I was thinking, we can still talk to each other. Like, I know you've been having trouble dealing with this pregnancy..." His eyes shot quickly to her face to see her reaction, but he didn't see one, "...and it might be personal, but if you ever wanted to talk about anything—anything at all—I'm all ears. And you don't have to worry about me telling anyone; I'll keep your secrets, Kimberly."

"Well, Damien, that's very nice of you, but I don't know if I'll be talking to you about my pregnancy."

"I know, sis—I was just saying, you know, for example. Hey, if you don't feel too weird about it, is it okay if I talk to you sometimes about any girlfriends I might get?" he said, making his grin wide.

She smiled back, and he saw an encouraging change come over her face.

"Wow, Damien—you sound like you've got someone on your mind already."

He kept his smile up. He most certainly did.

"Well, there's this girl at work, Kenya—she's pretty hot."

Kimberly laughed. "Does she like you?"

"Pretty sure she does. I'm a little uncomfortable with work relationships though. But I know what you're thinking and you're right. To heck with it—I should give it a shot."

Kimberly smiled again. "Yeah, maybe you should. I don't know."

"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't move too quickly. After all, Alicia's pretty hot too. And then there's Sarah..."

"What?" Kimberly burst out laughing, looking highly amused.

Their small chat, the drive, and the café lunch went even better than he imagined.

It felt like Kimberly was opening up to him again, and he knew his future plans were on solid ground.

A wide smile took up space on Kimberly's face as she said goodbye to Damien outside of her home.

She couldn't believe she had considered getting a restraining order on him months ago—the poor guy just needed some time.

She'd had so much fun talking to him and hearing him go on about his dating possibilities.

She found her guard going down, lower and faster, as their time together progressed. She began to see him differently—it seemed like he had finally started moving on and was getting past his obsession with her—like he really wanted just a brotherly relationship with her and had put their romantic history behind him. Maybe there was hope for a healthy sibling relationship after all.

For a split second, she wondered why he hadn't bothered building a relationship with Monique since she was his sister too, and then she shrugged it off.

_In time, I guess_.

How much more could she expect from a guy who had gotten his heart and ego broken?

Besides, his relationship with her needed the most work—with Monique, there was no obstacle, and Monique would probably feel less like a stranger the more he came around, and the two of them would be able to build something too.

Kimberly fought the urge to call Kent and tell him about her day. She was so used to sharing parts of her life with him—the good and the bad—that she almost forgot that they were no longer on speaking terms.

Then she realized, as she put her phone back down, that while grievances always felt good to share, little morsels of pleasure—like her surprisingly fun time with Damien—were nice to keep to oneself sometimes.

_A few months later_

According to Damien's calculations, Kimberly was due any day now—overdue even. He had to hurry.

She would never go where he was planning to take her willingly, but he had to make her see. And he absolutely needed to be there for the birth of his child.

His new grandfather, Luke Davenport, had been instrumental in helping him plan, and had even hinted that he and Kimberly weren't really siblings—a sentiment he shared in his own heart.

When Luke first called him over to talk to him some months ago, he had been suspicious yet had no clue what to expect.

"Damien, my boy," Luke began, "it seems you still have an interest in your sister."

Damien didn't know how to react but decided to play it safe.

"Hello, Luke. What's it to you?"

"You're my grandson! Well, so most believe at this point."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Luke shrugged. "I have my suspicions."

Damien could hardly contain his joy. "You mean, Kimberly and I aren't really brother and sister?"

Luke shrugged again. "Who knows for sure?"

Damien found his guard coming down. "You know, that's exactly what I was thinking, Luke. I feel it in here," he said, putting his hand over his heart.

Luke let out the heartiest laugh Damien had ever heard. Tears even came to Luke's eyes.

Damien looked at him quizzically.

Luke simply replied, "Oh, I'm just so happy for you, Damien—I believe she's about to have your baby!" He continued to laugh.

Damien was confused. He had suspected the possibility but wasn't really sure. "How do you know?"

"I overheard Kent and Elliott talking about it. It doesn't seem like Kimberly had planned to tell anyone. And you know what, Damien? I've always liked you. I can help you with Kimberly; I think you two belong together."

Damien felt hope surging through him. "Oh, so do I, Grandpa, so do I."

Since Damien's first plan had failed, he decided to enlist Luke's help after all, and Luke kept his word, helping him plan an elaborate setup, guaranteed to succeed.

# Part 2

### Tied Up

# Chapter 9

### Reawakening

**I** n the months after losing Kimberly, Kent found himself losing touch with the softer side she had brought out in him.

While his assistants and coworkers seemed to find him less pleasant to work with, the female sector, in general, appeared to be paying him rapt attention all of a sudden. He wasn't sure if it was because of his relationship with Kimberly that he had missed most of the attention before—blinding himself to temptation out of respect for her—or if word about their split had somehow gotten out, and the women had gotten bolder; after all, he had a bit of power, lots of potential, and plenty of magnetism.

Besides, it had been a while for him—months. He couldn't help but notice the sly smiles, the blushing, the flirtatious manners of some of the women. He hadn't been paying attention to the needs of his body, and deprivation no doubt made his senses more aware.

Despite his growing awareness, he still felt like he was with Kimberly.

She managed to avoid him expertly—his calls, his attempts to visit—either by ignoring him or sending a relative to lie for her and say that she wasn't home. She screened all her calls, it seemed, so he had been unable to trick her by calling from various numbers. And he certainly didn't want to risk his life trying to muscle his way into her protective father's home.

Kent had only wanted to let her know he was still there for her, wary of reminding her of his love explicitly for fear that she would push him further away. Being pushy had gotten him into trouble in the first place; if only he had waited and taken his time with her, then maybe she would have trusted his love more. Then again, she was so goddamned hard to read. Push her too hard, she ran. Don't push, she still ran.

She was clearly in a delicate state, and he didn't want to come on too strong. Still, even his mild messages to her met with rejection.

Had she really changed her mind about him and everything they had just like that? Had she really just been playing him the whole time? He still couldn't decide. Either way, she had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him now.

The dismissal drove him crazy at first, but eventually, he calmed down and began to mourn her and their relationship.

He knew he needed to accept that she no longer wanted to be with him, but he was also wary of the opportunistic members of the opposite sex surrounding him—he needed to be careful and protect his assets—all of them; he needed to proceed carefully.

One female, in particular, was relentless in her pursuit. She worked in an entirely different section, yet managed to run into him every now and then, and every so often, offered to assist him.

"Hi, I'm Amy. I can help you in any way you need," she had told him on one occasion in an unmistakably flirty tone, to which he had responded, "That's not in your job description," and went on his way. He knew what she really wanted, but his rejection of her didn't seem to discourage her at all. She found ways to cross paths with him, and even dropped a pen once, clearly just to bend down in a suggestive manner to retrieve it.

Now, here she was again—the only one who had fought her way onto his radar: a beauty with wavy, strawberry-blond hair, clear, blue eyes, an hourglass figure enhanced by clothes that hugged her, and exuding the most heavenly perfume—entering his office with the file he had requested.

He knew he hadn't spoken to her about it—that she must have intercepted his assistant who was probably only too happy to avoid him.

"Here's that file you wanted, Mr. Davenport," she said, her smile at full wattage.

"Thanks, but I didn't ask you to get it."

"I was just helping out."

"Great! Now help yourself out."

He saw that his rejection almost did it for her this time as her radiant expression darkened quickly. But as she reached the door, she turned back to him and said, "I offer many services, Mr. Davenport. If there is anything you want..." she looked at him suggestively, "...I am at your disposal."

Kent thought about her many advances, and then it finally registered how deprived he had been.

Kimberly had made it clear to him that she didn't want to see him anymore the one time she picked up his call recently, claiming she needed more space; complete separation. "Just leave me alone," she had said, "I don't need you checking up on me."

Now, here this girl was, offering carnal pleasure with no strings attached—definitely the kind of girl he liked back in the day. And he sure as hell needed a stress reliever.

He put down his pen, got up and went straight to her, one hand shutting the door she had been about to exit.

He took in her beauty—those inviting eyes, that intoxicating perfume—and said, "Listen, Shelly..."

"It's 'Amy,' Mr. Davenport."

"Whatever. Look, I know what you want, so quit the games. Meet me at my place tonight, and you'll get what you're asking for."

She mocked disappointment and pouted.

"You mean, I don't even get dinner?"

"We both know it's not your stomach you want to feed. But if you really want to, I'll put something in your mouth."

She suddenly seemed very excited.

"Oh, Mr. Davenport, you're a bad boy!"

"Tonight, you can call me Kent. Meet me at eleven. On second thought..." Her shoulders drooped. "Meet me at the Lucky Six Motel, instead." _A whore should be treated like a whore_ , he thought, watching her let out a sigh of relief. "Same time."

Kimberly sat, thinking, on her bed. Her time was nearing. She had about two more weeks, and then the baby she and Kent Davenport made would be here.

She touched her protruding belly.

She had to tell him soon. But how?

For now, she felt safe because no one would expect her to deliver early anyway. Almost everyone still believed the baby was Kent's—except, of course, Kent himself.

As soon as Kent let himself into the rented room, Amy was all over him.

She pulled his head down for a long, sensual kiss, and her hands started working on his buttons.

"A little eager, aren't we?" he said as her mouth went from his lips to his neck.

"Oh, Kent, I've wanted you so much for so long; you're so fucking sexy."

He stopped her feverish kisses, held her head in his hands and looked her in the eye, and then brought his mouth down on hers. It felt so good to be wanted again.

By now, his shirt had been unbuttoned, and she started tugging it off. Once it was removed, they were kissing again.

"Kent," she said in between kisses.

"Kimberly," he replied, snapping them both out of the moment for a second.

She didn't bother to correct him this time—she was clearly not about to let anything stop her.

"Call me whatever you want, you freak," she said, smiling, resuming her activities.

Kent ignored his verbal blunder.

Kimberly had to call him.

She knew she had to tell Kent, somehow, some way.

Before she realized what she was doing, she had picked up the phone and dialed Kent's cell.

Amy groaned. "Please don't get it."

They were in bed, and she was down to her lingerie, while he was down to his boxer-briefs, and having just grabbed protection, they were about to get down to business.

"Are you crazy? This could be important. Probably something at work."

He got up and grabbed his phone.

"Kent Davenport," he answered, trying to look cool and remain calm—he had seen Kimberly's name on the caller ID.

There was no answer, but he knew Kimberly was there and that it wasn't a butt dial. He could almost hear her breathing.

Was she having the baby? Did she want him there at her side as she gave birth? Was she finding it hard to speak now because she felt bad that it was Damien's baby?

His mind flooded with possibilities. It was as if everything he had buried bounced back, and now, he could think of nothing else but her and how she was doing.

He was certain that she was on the other end of the line, but he wasn't certain why.

He had to find out what was going on with her.

"So who is it?" Amy shouted from the bed.

The call disconnected.

He started yanking on his clothes.

"Something came up at work," he said. "You can show yourself out."

"Is this to be continued? Some other night?" she asked, looking pleadingly at him.

He didn't answer.

Kimberly stared at her phone in horror.

She was sure that it was a woman's voice she had heard with Kent, and it seemed that she had interrupted something between them.

She started feeling sick to her stomach.

She couldn't believe she had just tried to contact him—what a stupid thing to do. What did she think, that he was there every day, waiting for her to call him back to her?

Kimberly took a few deep breaths and tried to keep herself calm. She mustered up all the pleasant thoughts she could, continuing to breathe deeply as she closed her eyes.

She rubbed her stomach.

_I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I subjected you to that_.

She got up from her bed and then turned on the same classical music Kent had played in the car for her when he had taken her to the hospital.

Kent pulled up to the Jordan home, thinking it certainly didn't sound like a hospital Kimberly had called from, and if she wasn't at home, someone there would know where she was.

Kimberly's father answered the door.

"Well, if it isn't the son-of-a-bitch who left my daughter high and dry," Carl said as he punched Kent in the face.

Kent heard a scream of alarm from the stairs.

As he recovered from the blow, he held out his arm and said, "Wait, Mr. Jordan."

"Dad!" Kimberly said, coming down the stairs. "Dad, stop it! Hold on a second."

Carl turned toward his daughter.

"Sweetheart, can you believe this fool had the nerve..."

"Daddy, no, okay? He didn't leave me. I know that's how it seems, but it was me who called it off, all right?"

"Oh, so he lets the woman pregnant with his child go, just like that?"

"No! Daddy..."

Fearing she was about to tell them all the truth about Damien's baby, Kent stepped in. "Mr. Jordan, I'm sorry you saw it that way. The only reason I stayed away was because I thought coming around would stress her out, that's all. And I'm sure you know, she got medical advice to stay away from stress. I gave in to her wishes because I wanted to do what was best for the baby, so if she wants some space from me, I give it to her. But she knew, she _knows_..." he said, looking directly at Kimberly, "...she can call me anytime she needs me. _Anytime_. I'm always here for her, Mr. Jordan—just waiting till she's ready for me again."

"It's true," Kimberly said, reaching his side. "Dad, I just...I don't know, a pregnant thing, I guess. I needed him to give me lots of space. But we still see each other every now and then."

Kent appreciated the lie.

She led him into the house and indicated something to her aunt who had come out to see what the commotion was about.

Kent had met Carl's sister many months ago when she had come to visit, and he wondered if she was staying with them now specifically to help Kimberly with the baby when it came.

Carl shut the door and turned to Kent. "Well, I'm sorry about that then, Davenport. I just thought..."

"Hey, I don't blame you, Mr. Jordan. But honestly I don't know if anyone in their right mind could ever leave Kimberly 'high and dry.'"

Kent saw Kimberly smile out of the corner of his eye.

Kimberly's aunt came back with a cloth, some tissues, hydrogen peroxide, and a first aid kit.

Kimberly giggled as she took in the selection. "Thanks, Aunt Pat."

"No problem, honey. Monique, darling, it's okay, you can go back to bed," Pat said to Kimberly's sister, who was at the top of the stairs looking down curiously.

"Hi, Kent," Monique said before turning to go back to her room.

"Good night, Monique," Kent replied with Kimberly tending to his face. Pat gave Carl a signal for them to leave the room and they headed up the stairs.

Kimberly sighed.

"I'm sorry about that, Kent." She paused a moment. "Some pretty convincing things you said to my dad, there."

Kent stayed silent.

"So what made you come over?" she asked.

"You called me."

"How did you know it wasn't a mistake?"

"I just knew it."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for interrupting your little rendezvous."

"Kimberly..."

"No, you don't have to explain anything to me or anything. It's not like we're together." She attempted to laugh, and the way her face didn't cooperate broke his heart. Then she suddenly put her hand over her mouth. "Excuse me," she said, running to the bathroom.

When she returned several minutes later, Kent took another good look at her. "You all right?"

She nodded. "The smell..." she began but stopped.

Kent realized his previous female companion's perfume was all over him and wondered if that was what she had gotten a whiff of.

"You look different," he said, taking in her slightly more rounded face, her hair, even longer now, hanging at her waist, and her protruding belly. She definitely looked like a healthy pregnant woman. And she was so darned cute.

He began to feel his love for her start overwhelming him, so he tried to think about something else before he grabbed her and held her like there was no tomorrow, telling her all the things he had wanted to for the past few months.

"You look different too," she said, "besides the obvious bruising." She laughed, and his heart warmed at the sound.

He smiled at her. "How so?"

"Well, I guess it looks like you haven't shaved in a while. Your eyes are the same though," she said, looking intently into them.

So many emotions swirled in hers, he couldn't catch what was what. Regardless, he wanted to kiss her. "So," he said, "you haven't answered my question. Why did you call?"

She seemed to deliberate. It took her more than a few seconds to finally give him an answer.

She sat down on the couch, and he followed her there.

"Well, it's stupid. I just...I kind of missed hearing your voice," she said, looking at him briefly before turning her eyes away.

"Kimberly..." He didn't quite know where to go next. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't gotten as far as she thought with that Lacy girl—or whatever her name was—and that there had been no other women.

Then he suddenly realized they had fallen into one of their old positions—her, at one end of the couch, legs extended over his thighs as he rubbed her feet, ankles, and calves every now and then.

"Hey," he said, "aren't you due any day now?"

"Pretty soon," she said.

He thought about it. "Have you told...?"

She shook her head.

"If it was me—even if I was your half-brother—I would want to know I'm about to be a father," he said cautiously. "You should tell him. Hell, it might save me from attempts on my life," he joked. She just looked at him, her face grave. "I was just kidding about the last part—this has nothing to do with me. I just think a father should know."

"Kent," she whispered, her voice and eyes forlorn and intense.

"What is it, Kimberly?" He knew something was going on that she wasn't telling him, but he couldn't guess what.

She swung her legs to the ground and then held out her arms to him. "Hold me, please," she said.

Kent slid over and hugged her.

At that moment, that they had spent three months apart didn't matter.

"Hey, what is it, huh?" he asked gently. "You can tell me. What's bothering you?"

Kimberly sighed deeply as she pulled back. "I do have something to tell you."

"Then tell me. What's on your mind?"

Kent wanted so desperately to hear what she had to say that he had to check his emotions so he could continue speaking as gently as possible.

"I can't tell you now, Kent. We need more privacy."

Kent got up, ready to take them somewhere else, even if she was in her nightgown.

"No, Kent. Not tonight. Can we talk tomorrow? I need to gather myself."

Kent bellowed on the inside. "Yeah, sure, Kimberly. We'll meet tomorrow and talk then. When? Where?"

"Well, I'll be home all day tomorrow, so can you meet me here? In the afternoon sometime? Like around three?"

"Okay, sure."

"How's your cheek?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks for looking after it."

She lowered her eyes. "My pleasure." Then she got up and headed to the door as if to see him out.

As they reached the door, Kent turned to face her. "You sure...?"

"I'm fine, Kent. Everything is—and will be—fine."

She smiled up at him. It was the same kind of smile she had on her face after her checkup at the hospital. Her eyes twinkled, and she looked like she had a juicy secret.

"Well, okay," he replied. He couldn't help but give her another hug.

They held on to each other for what felt like a welcome eternity. When they finally broke apart, he ignored the way he could swear her lips were calling out to him, and he kissed her on the forehead instead. "Take care," he said, and then headed to his vehicle.

# Chapter 10

### Premonitions

**A** s Kent headed home, it struck him how glad he was that Kimberly had called and interrupted his little 'rendezvous' as she'd called it.

The truth was, he'd been having trouble maintaining an erection with Amy.

He kept feeling like he was cheating on Kimberly; her face constantly popped into his head.

Every time he mentally pushed her away, she bounced back—one way or another. Was she okay? How were things going with the baby? Was she thinking about him? Would she call him soon? How could she just leave him? What would happen to her once the truth about the baby's paternity came out?

He kept fighting with himself and up and down went the flag.

By the time his cell phone rang, he had realized he was fighting a losing battle with mini-Kent and was only too glad for an interruption.

He also realized that the old player in him was really dead; he couldn't just think of that girl as tail. He worried about consequences and thought about how it would affect Kimberly if she knew—not that it was any of her business. Still, he needed even more from the girl herself to maintain his attraction to her.

Kent felt like he had evolved into a hybrid of the Kent he used to be—the hard-edged, sneaky, ruthless womanizer—and the Kent he had become from loving Kimberly: someone who actually thought about other people's feelings from time to time. It reminded him of something he had heard on a TV show about water being both one of the softest and most dangerous things on earth—such as a flood. Kent felt like he had become a healthy combination of the two versions of himself—soft and hard, like water.

As Kent pulled up to his place, the feeling that had gnawed at him came back.

It was as if he knew what Kimberly wanted to say to him, yet didn't—it hadn't yet crossed over from his subconscious to his consciousness. He was sure that there were signs he could put together, so he began trying, thinking hard.

He thought about what had happened tonight, and then he thought about the last time he and Kimberly were together months ago. Something was there, but what was it?

Maybe he was too tired; he was coming up blank.

As he entered his room and started undressing for bed, he decided to just let his mind work on it as he slept. He would see what a good night's rest brought him.

_K ent tried not to look at them appearing so happy together—the image of the perfect couple—but he peeked anyway from behind the bushes._

_Damien wasn't a bad guy, but_ he _was the one who should be with Kimberly—Kent Davenport. And she looked so goddamned happy with Damien._ He _should have been the one to put that beautiful smile on her face, not Damien._

_Now he was peeking from a window outside of the Jordan home, watching the happy couple as they sat on a couch. This time, Kimberly had a big belly in front of her._

That lucky bastard _, Kent thought._ He gets to put it on her whenever he likes, be with her, start a life with her, she was carrying his child...

_The scene changed, and Kent now watched the couple through walls outside of a hospital room. Kimberly was pushing, pushing—it was time. She looked into Damien's eyes...but suddenly it was now Kent she was looking at._

_"It's almost here!" she breathed, squeezing Kent's hand as he looked down at her. "The baby..."_

_Then she was screaming, "The baby!" as Damien grabbed the child and bolted._

_Kent ran after him._

Kent sat up, the last part of his dream causing his body to imitate the adrenaline rush in it.

_What the hell was that about?_

He laid back down and closed his eyes, trying to lull his body into thinking it was going back to sleep so he could hold on to the pieces, the details that had started drifting away once he had awoken.

Had he been remembering Damien and Kimberly as they were as a couple?

Maybe, but what was that bit about them being together after she was pregnant? After knowing they're siblings? And what about himself—how come he was stalking them?

He remembered that he did sort of stalk the couple at some point in reality, but what about him switching places with Damien?

Kent looked over at his clock: three a.m.

He continued trying to make sense of his dream until sleep grabbed him again.

The next morning, Kent woke up and felt like he had missed something.

Then he remembered his dream.

He tried recalling it because he felt like it held something important—like his brain was trying to find a way to communicate with him.

He had heard something about dreams being answers to unformed questions, but what question did he not realize he had that this dream was answering?

He could barely even remember the basics of it—something about Kimberly and Damien being together and wishing it was him instead. Then it _was_ him, and Damien kidnapped her baby...something like that.

Why did he dream about Damien anyway? He hadn't seen the guy around for a while, and he wasn't a threat to his and Kimberly's relationship.

Kent got ready for work.

Kent had trouble concentrating throughout the morning. He eagerly anticipated his chat with Kimberly, and all day it distracted him.

What was it she had to tell him? Was it related to the way she smiled at him at the hospital after her checkup? That smile she gave him last night? Did she just want to declare her feelings for him and request they get back together for good?

With a clear head, even after a not-so-good night's rest, Kent's mind went to work trying to figure out what he was missing.

He began remembering little things that alerted him but weren't significant enough to stand out at the time: the sudden phone call in the night, for example—there had to be more to it than she let on. He figured that, whatever she planned to tell him today, she had planned to tell him at that moment, and as she was already chickening out, she heard that girl in the background.

Maybe it had to do with them getting back together after all— except it seemed weightier. Those smiles—they seemed to hold a secret. But what secret could she have? Didn't she tell him the one and only already? What could be bigger than that?

His mind flashed back to when he asked her about her due date. She did not seem to want to say; in fact, it seemed she had tried to stall, but why?

She also didn't seem like she was expecting any day now; she appeared quite comfortable—like she had more time. And when he asked her specifically when she was due last night, she never really answered. What was it she had said? Oh yes— _pretty_ _soon_...

Kent's blood rushed.

The dream was also about Damien though. What could that mean? The last thing he remembered about his half-brother was him just being a pest—although there was that one time he went too far with Kimberly.

Kent decided to call Damien at work—he had to put his mind at rest somehow.

He dialed Damien's work number.

"Hey, is Damien there?" Kent asked when the receptionist picked up.

"I'm sorry, he's not in today. He's actually on vacation this week. And next week."

"Oh, okay, thanks."

Kent didn't know why, but that information chilled him to the bone.

He started thinking about his dream again—he had to be more logical about it.

Clearly, it represented his memories of wanting to be with Kimberly while watching her and Damien as a happy couple; it reflected his wish of wanting to be the one to start a family with her. But that couldn't be it—dreams weren't about things you already knew—not consciously, anyway. They were mostly about feelings, wishes, desires, and fears that lived beneath the surface, things suppressed, denied, kept on the back burner. Dreams brought such things to light, albeit in strange ways—ways that could confuse even further. Sometimes, they even seemed to give a glimpse into the future.

Kent wondered if there was another way he should think about the dream.

He pushed aside the obvious.

_Okay, let's try this again—let's twist this as much as we can here._ He decided that one twisted possibility was that he was actually Damien in the dream and that Damien was him. Kent choked on his laugh, because, although ridiculous, he realized it made some sort of sense.

_Okay_ , _let's say it was Damien stalking Kimberly and me, and that I was the one with her, making her happy..._

He started to reject the thought because it got confusing once the baby was brought into it, especially when he and Damien switched places.

_Probably because it's actually Damien's baby_ , he thought. _Or_...He got excited as another possibility popped into his mind. Maybe the actual switch was the key to crack the dream's code!

_But that would mean the baby's actually mine..._

The thought slipped in so unassumingly that Kent had a delayed reaction, quickly strangled by disbelief. _That couldn't be, could it? I mean, why would Damien steal my baby...unless he thought it was his? Besides, Kimberly had said it was Damien's, so unless she had made a mistake..._

Kent had to contain himself—the possibility was driving him nuts. The juicy secret she looked like she was so happy about—that had to be it.

_And when I suggested to her that she tell Damien because I think a father should know—the way she looked at me_...He thought about the dream again. _It was me—_ I _was the one by her side, and she was looking into_ my _eyes. That's my baby!_

He remembered the feeling he had at the end of the dream and realized danger could be present, and that it probably had something to do with Damien.

Kent shot up from his seat.

Screw three o'clock—he had to see Kimberly immediately.

# Chapter 11

### The Chase

**D** amien felt like he had it together this time—especially with Luke's generous assistance.

Damien had been watching the Jordans for a while now, and he knew their patterns. Right at this moment, Carl and Pat would be at work, Monique would be in class, and Kimberly would be home. On days like this, after everyone left in the morning, she got up, ate breakfast, and then took a bath. After that, she watched a TV show or two and then started reading or writing for one of her grad classes, breaking every now and then for a snack.

Monique would be the first to come home around five, and Carl and Pat would follow sometime after.

He had more than enough time; Luke and the men he hired had taken care of everything. All Damien had to do was show up and get Kimberly to go with him—the only part that wasn't __ planned.

Damien watched her on a monitor as he sat in his car a few blocks away from her home—a setup also courtesy of Luke, installed a few weeks earlier. Being able to actually see what was going on in the living room and kitchen made everything easier.

Damien noticed that today was a little strange—Kimberly had shifted her patterns a bit.

Usually, she would have gone upstairs to take a bath by now.

Damien dialed her phone number.

"Hey, Kim," he said cheerily when she picked up.

"Hi, Damien. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something—drive with me?"

"Oh, I actually have plans pretty soon."

"Aw, sis, come on—it won't take long, I promise. Quick question."

"Well then, ask me now."

Damien sighed. She sure wasn't making this easy.

"Kim, I need someone to talk to about this, and you said I could talk to you about anything—including my love life. We'll just go around the corner, and I'll buy you a quick brunch if you want or whatever. Twenty minutes, tops."

"Well, I have Kent coming here in about two and a half hours..."

"I need a woman's opinion, Kim. Please help me—I don't know who else to ask. You know I don't have any other real friends to talk to about this kind of stuff, although I used to."

He heard her sigh. He knew he had her.

"Okay, Damien. Just let me take a quick bath. How far are you by the way?"

Damien suppressed his laugh.

"Not that far," he replied. "I can be there in ten."

"Well, I better hurry, then. See you soon."

"See you soon," he replied, feeling satisfied as he watched her on the monitor.

"Okay, Damien, make it quick; I don't have much time to spare," Kimberly said as she got in the car.

"Neither do I, sis," he replied in a way that made her wonder if this had been a very bad decision.

He drove off.

After a couple of minutes, Kimberly noticed that he hadn't turned toward Candy Café.

"Hey, Damien—I thought we were stopping at the café?"

"Well, there's this other place I want to try. Do you mind?"

"As long as it's not far."

Kimberly tried to ignore the feeling of dread continuing to fill her stomach.

_W hat the...?_

Kent wasn't sure if he was seeing correctly, but he could've sworn the guy driving the black Mazda that passed him going the opposite direction looked like Damien. But Damien didn't have a car like that—not as far as he knew.

For an intense moment, he wondered if he should turn around immediately and follow the car.

But what if he was wrong? What if Kimberly was still at home?

His brain won over his gut; after all, he wasn't sure what he saw. Suppose the time he spent chasing the wrong car, she was at home and in danger?

He took note of the direction the car was going and sped the remaining mile to Kimberly's house.

Kimberly wondered if she was seeing things—was that Kent's car she had just seen speed past them?

She watched Damien pull out his cell.

"Code Blue," he said lightly into it.

Kimberly stared at him.

He laughed, looking at her face.

"It's just a shorthand way of informing my assistants I'll be a bit late getting back to work. I didn't plan to see you today at all," he said.

Kimberly wasn't buying it. Something definitely felt off and had been feeling that way for a while.

It took Kent a minute to arrive at the Jordan home.

He pulled up, hopped out and pounded furiously on the door, alternating between ringing the doorbell and shouting Kimberly's name.

There was no answer.

He knew right then that his first instinct about the Mazda was correct.

He hopped back in his car, speeding in the direction he had seen the car going.

"Okay, Damien, you want to start talking to me about your situation? What did you want to ask? And can you please slow down?"

"I was just trying to get this done quickly since you're in a rush and all."

"You know what? On second thought, forget it—just take me back home; I really don't have time for this. And you're scaring me. I mean, I'm pregnant, for Christ's sake."

Damien neither slowed down nor changed his direction. Instead, he replied, "Kim, you look really beautiful as you are right now. You're glowing! When are you due again?"

"About two weeks, Damien."

"You sure?"

"What the hell do you mean if I'm sure? Of course I am."

"Just asking."

"Damien, why aren't you turning around?"

"I thought it was sooner for some reason."

"Damien..."

"Kim, do you ever wonder if we're actually brother and sister?"

"Damien?"

"I mean, suppose it was a setup or a mistake—we would have wasted all this time when we could've been together."

"Damien, please stop talking like that—you're really starting to scare me."

"Scare you?"

Damien turned to her so quickly, and with such an insane look in his eyes and intensity in his voice, that Kimberly now felt terrified out of her wits.

"Kimberly, I love you!" he said, and then turned his eyes back to the road.

The feeling of dread that had started in her stomach now engulfed her entire being.

"Damien," Kimberly began in a timid voice, "what is it you want?"

"You, Kimberly. And that baby. We're going to be a family."

Kimberly closed her eyes and breathed deeply, as one hand rested on her stomach. She tried to hear Mozart in her head.

Soon, Kimberly felt the car slow down and stop.

She opened her eyes, hoping to see her own home, but instead she saw a completely unfamiliar one.

"We're here," Damien said.

Kent gained on the Mazda quicker than he expected, but out of nowhere, a car slammed into his side.

"What the..." He turned to look at the car and driver. They were both unfamiliar, but by the look on the driver's face, he was dead set on running him off the road.

Kent put up a good battle, but the guy was clearly an expert. He even had a car bumping him from behind.

Kent realized he couldn't beat them.

His car slid off the road and spun.

# Chapter 12

### Home Sweet Home

**K** imberly visually scanned the room Damien had forced her in.

She had no idea where she was—the place looked completely foreign but cozy.

"Damien, why did you bring me here?"

"Because we have everything we need here. I can give you any and everything you want."

"Well, can you start by taking me back home?"

"Kimberly, you're such a kidder—you _are_ home!"

"Place is all set up," said a strange man, his face partially obscured by a hat as he came out of one of the rooms, wiping his hands.

"Great! Hey, tell Luke everything worked out. Thanks, guys. I can take it from here."

The man nodded and left as another man seemingly came out of nowhere and left with him.

"Luke?" Kimberly wasn't sure she had heard correctly.

"Yeah. You know, he's actually not a bad guy—not as much as people say he is. He helped me set this whole thing up. He understood how important it was for me to be there for the birth of my child."

" _Your_ child? Damien, where the hell did you get that idea? This is not your baby!"

"Oh, Kimberly, you can drop the act now. It's okay—I know. I know you were hiding the true paternity and understandably so...I guess. It's just that, well, I wish you had told me. I mean, it's still my baby too."

"Damien, it's not your baby—how many times do I have to say it?"

"Kimberly, look—I know it's hard to think you're having a baby with me because you believe I'm your brother, but it's not our fault. Plus, we might not be related after all."

"Damien, where on earth have you been getting your info?"

"Kent and Elliott talked about it a few months back. Elliott's place has been in the family for decades—they don't know Luke's got that place bugged, I guess. Anyway, he let me in on the intelligence, and I've got to tell you, it was hard to sit still on it, but I had to plan carefully."

"Well, you didn't get the rest of the info. Yeah, I thought the baby was yours at first, but I found out when I first went to the hospital that I was wrong. I really am due weeks from now—do the math!" Kimberly felt her anger growing to new proportions.

"Look, I don't know what the doctor told you..."

"Damien, the last time we slept together was when, huh? Kent and I were together a few weeks later."

"I still can't believe how quickly you jumped into bed with him."

"That's not the point! Yes, I slept with Kent soon after, and I did think I was already pregnant, but I was wrong. _Kent_ got me pregnant when we slept together, and you know what? I couldn't be happier."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? Damien, I don't want to have my brother's baby! And guess what—even before I knew you were my brother and I imagined someday getting pregnant by you, I didn't like the idea."

"Kimberly..." Damien said in a low voice.

"No, you listen, Damien—before the big DNA reveal, I realized I didn't want to be with you anymore. And I certainly didn't want something that would connect me to you forever like a child would. When I took that first test, I was horrified to think I was carrying your child, beyond being related to you."

"Kimberly," Damien said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kimberly went straight up to him.

"Damien, Kent is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Damien's hand came down hard on her cheek, almost making her lose her balance and fall.

She held a hand to her stinging cheek in shock.

Damien came over to her.

"Aw, Kim, see what you made me do?"

As he was about to help her straighten back up, she narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

"Don't you dare touch me," she said.

"Kim, I'm sorry. Let me help you."

She laughed. "Help me?" She laughed again. Then she felt a sharp pain in her belly.

"Kimberly, are you okay? You see, I knew that baby was mine—you should be due any day, any minute now..."

"Damien, shut up! I'm fine."

"Just let me help you over to the couch."

"I can walk, thanks," she said as dryly as she could, still in shock over Damien slapping her.

She began walking to the couch, bent. Damien helped her anyway.

She sat down and looked around the place, studying it once more.

"I know what you're thinking, Kimberly. No one who would help you knows that you're here; no one's been here in years. And Luke's making sure no one comes. We'll stay here for a bit—until after you've had the baby. Luke has staff members who can take care of our needs. A few of them even fixed up the place for us—added some furnishings, a baby room, stocked the cupboards..."

Kimberly watched him through the slit of her eyes as he went on and on. Never in her life did she want to physically hurt someone as she did right then.

"So, Kimberly, where?"

"What?"

"Which country would you like to move to eventually?"

"Damien, you're out of your cotton-picking mind. I'm not moving anywhere with you. Kent and I..."

"Man, shut the hell up about Kent, all right? There will be no more Kent—get used to it. You're lucky I won't have him killed."

Kimberly's heart stopped. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I thought about telling Grandfather to get rid of him."

"What makes you think he'd do it? Kent is his grandson too."

Damien laughed. "We're talking about Luke here—I'm pretty sure that man would kill his own daughter."

"What makes you think he wouldn't kill you, then? Us? This could be a whole setup right here, right now. Maybe this whole place is about to blow up with us in it."

"To be honest, I think he's getting something out of this. I really don't know what, but I doubt he'd bother to do away with me. Besides, you and I will be out of his hair, soon. And he won't have to worry about Kent dirtying up the Davenport line having children with you."

Kimberly was only half-listening, unable to stop wondering if it was really possible that Luke or Damien would have Kent killed.

"Why would you even think about killing Kent?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'd be eliminating the competition."

"Damien, you're sick and you're sickening, in more ways than one."

Damien smiled deviously. "Maybe I need some sexual healing," he said, leaning toward her as if for a kiss.

She put her hand out, covering his mouth, and then shook her head. "Damien, no."

"I get it," he said, smiling. "No smooching till I prove we're not siblings, right? I guess that's fair."

She rubbed her tummy. _He's certifiable._

"Hey, are you hungry?" he asked suddenly.

Kimberly looked at him, amazed he was acting like this whole thing was normal.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, what do you want to eat? I know pregnant women can be picky, but there's quite a selection here."

"Make whatever you want, Damien." Anything to get him out of her face.

Damien smiled. "You think you're so smart, don't you? As soon as I go in there, you're gonna try to escape, but guess what? I'm two steps ahead of you." He pulled out a gun. "I shouldn't have told those goons to leave, but I can do this. You sit in that chair right there."

Kimberly looked at the gun, and although she was almost sure he wouldn't hurt her, every thought and instinct fled but self-perseverance; she had to protect herself and Kent's baby.

She obediently went to the chair and sat still as Damien got some ropes and tied her up.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this," he said sadly as he finished. "I'll be right back, okay? I'll see if I can fix you something."

"Since when can _you_ cook," she said quietly, not really caring for an answer, but wanting to distract herself a bit from the horror of her circumstance.

"Well, I said I'll try. You see? I'll do anything for you, baby. Be right back."

Damien bumped his way around the kitchen, doing his best to make a good meal and impress Kimberly. Maybe she'd relax a bit more once she saw how capable he was of taking care of her.

But despite having cookbooks to help him, he just couldn't get anything right.

He decided to stop trying his hand at making chicken after overcooking the outside and realizing the inside was raw, and then ultimately burning the pieces.

He ended up making macaroni and cheese, deciding to ask Luke later about hiring a chef for them.

He shared out Kimberly's portion on a plate, poured a glass of water for her, and then headed back to the living room.

"Well, the chicken didn't come out quite right..." he began but got stopped dead in his tracks by the murderous look in Kent's eyes.

# Chapter 13

### Pleasure & Pain

**D** amien noticed Kent had already untied Kimberly and was so shocked to see Kent there, it took him a few moments to take action—a few moments too late. Before he knew what hit him, Kent had charged him and slammed him into the wall, pinning him against it. The plate of food and the glass of water fell from his hand, shattering on the ground.

He saw Kent briefly look at the broken pieces.

"You know, I have half a mind to pick up one of those shards and slice your throat right here. 'Cept I don't want anything of yours touching Kimberly ever again—even if it _is_ your blood."

Damien struggled against his grip, but the adrenaline rush from his fear was no match for the strength that came with Kent's apparent rage.

"Damien," Kent began calmly, conversationally, after taking a breath and closing his eyes for a brief moment, "before I ask the obvious, why the _fuck_ is Kimberly's cheek red?"

Damien didn't know what to say. He knew anything he said would be the wrong answer, so he just looked into Kent's bruised face, wondering what had happened once Luke's goons got to him. Eventually, he focused on a sliver of dried blood on the side of Kent's mouth.

Damien was snapped out of his thoughts as Kent pulled him forward and then slammed him backward, banging his head against the wall.

Damien tried to fight against him again—this time, attempting some blows.

He swung fruitlessly at Kent.

Kent slammed him against the wall once more and said in a low voice, "I've got a gun on me that says you won't try that shit again. Now, I'll ask one more time—why does my fiancée have a mark on her face?"

Damien glanced over at Kimberly and saw her face transform with joy. What was she so happy about? Being freed? Or being referred to as his half-brother's fiancée?

"You..." Kent's chuckle was dry as he shook his head. "You didn't hit her, did you? Kimberly, did he hit you?"

Kimberly didn't answer, looking frightened again.

Damien decided he would go ahead and answer the question. "Kent— _brother_ —I didn't mean to..."

Damien was unable to finish. Kent rained into him with so many blows to the gut that he thought he was going to die.

He felt like he had transformed into the punching bag Kent used daily when they lived together in grad school—as if Kent was once again in his workout zone, practicing his jabs and right hooks.

When Kent drew back and punched him in the face, he fell to the ground.

"Get up, you sick freak. Get up!" Kent shouted.

"Kent!" Kimberly called out.

Kent grabbed Damien, pulling him up only to knock him down again.

"Kent, wait!"

"You know, Kimberly," he said, "I would honestly be able to tell you I have no qualms about killing him right here, except I do—I wouldn't want to do it in front of you."

"Kent, you wouldn't really kill him?" she asked, and Damien was glad to hear some concern in her voice.

"Are you kidding me? Lucky for him, he's your brother and Ms. Jordan's son. I don't care that he's my half-brother too—I only care I'd be hurting you and your mom."

Damien flooded with relief. It seemed as if Kent's anger had waned a bit, and the fists of fury had stopped. But then he heard Kent say, "Of course, that doesn't mean I won't beat him to within an inch of his life."

"No, Kent!" Kimberly shouted, but it made no difference.

Kimberly panicked when she saw Damien no longer moving.

Kent stood over him menacingly as if waiting for him to regain consciousness only to hit him again.

"Oh god, Kent—you didn't have to kill him!"

"He's not dead, honey. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for me, he'll make it to another round."

"No, Kent." She started crying, head in her hands.

Kent rushed to her side.

She hadn't moved from her chair, even though he had untied her long ago.

"Honey, I'm sorry about this, but he has to pay."

"Hasn't he paid enough? God, he probably won't ever be able to reproduce after what you did to him."

Kent grinned. "I did the world a favor then." His face went grim again. "Kimberly, don't be afraid to say, honey—what did he do to you? How did this whole thing happen?"

She continued crying softly into her hands, speaking through her fingers. "He called me up and said he wanted my advice about some girl he was interested in. He promised to have me back home in twenty minutes, but he brought me here instead."

"And then..." Kent prodded.

"Then, he..." She decided to downplay what happened. "He was just saying he suspected we weren't siblings, so he thought we could still be together. And he's convinced the baby is his."

"Did he try anything, Kimberly?" Kent asked. He looked like he was struggling with himself, his face going from gentle askance to anger. "Besides hitting you."

Kimberly thought about Damien's intended kiss, and, removing her hands from her face, considered whether to mention it or not.

She realized as she moved her hands that Damien had made his way over and was about to swing something at Kent's head.

Kent caught her glance, and he managed to duck to the side, just missing the full impact of the vase, yet not completely dodging it.

Kimberly screamed when she saw the object connect with Kent's head.

That swing seemed to take all of Damien's strength, and in no time, he was again the victim of Kent's blows, not willing—or perhaps not able—to fight back. He fell to his knees, then on all fours, and then on his stomach.

Kent flipped him over and kneed him in the groin, making his body contract. Then he punched him in the face.

Damien went still again.

"Come on, Damien, don't give up yet," Kent said.

"Kent, please stop!" Kimberly called.

"No, Kimberly—he deserves to die for this! How dare he kidnap and hit __ my pregnant fiancée? The woman about to have my child? My soon-to-be wife? Swing at me, Damien, please!"

"Kent!" She paused, marveling at Kent's words—did he know the truth about the baby? How?

She barely noticed Damien beginning to stir again.

"Yes, that's right, _brother_ , you can do it," Kent said, his expression still hard.

"Kent," Kimberly said more softly.

"Damien, I don't believe you, man—what the hell were you thinking?" Kent shouted at the struggling figure.

"Kent!"

This time, both men turned their heads toward her.

Her predicament was, no doubt, clear. "I think my water just broke," she said needlessly.

# Chapter 14

### Emergency

" **T** his is all your fault, Damien!" Kimberly said, groaning as she held her stomach. "You caused this!"

For a moment, Kent was at a loss what to do. There was no way he wanted to give Damien the opportunity to escape, but he had to help Kimberly, fast.

Kent ran over to her and helped her up.

"Kent, what are you going to do?" Damien asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, Damien, I don't know how to birth a baby, do you? Where'd you park your car? I sort of lost mine."

Kent continued helping Kimberly toward the door.

Damien described the car's position to him.

"Care to hand me the keys, dumb-fuck?" Kent said. "And hurry up—this is an emergency! My child's about to be born."

"It's _my_ child!" Damien said as he threw the keys weakly in Kent's direction.

Kent held Kimberly with one hand while bending to pick up the keys with the other.

"I'm coming with you guys," Damien said, struggling to move.

"The hell you are. You might actually need to see a doctor, but you're definitely not coming anywhere near my baby. Hell, you're too close now."

"Why do you keep saying it's yours, huh? How do you know?"

"Because it is, Damien. Now, you stay here like a good boy and wait for help to get here. You'll be waiting a while."

Kent helped Kimberly to the car and into the backseat, and then hopped in and started dialing; he had a number of calls to make.

Vivian didn't answer, but he left a message.

He began driving fast, yet a little slower than usual, trying to be careful.

Kent gave a voice command for his phone to call the Jordan home next. Again, he left a message on the answering machine.

"Don't forget Monique," Kimberly moaned from the backseat, and Kent obeyed.

Then, he made a few other calls and tried to be vague about what he was doing, but Kimberly picked up two words.

"Father Williams? Who's Father Williams?" she asked.

Kent didn't answer. Instead, he called someone else and again tried to be vague. This call he kept off of the speaker and spoke quietly, yet firmly. "...Yeah, well, make it happen. I need it as soon as possible, and by soon, I mean within two hours—I don't know how long she'll be in labor."

He dropped the cell on the passenger seat.

A contraction seemed to hit Kimberly, and her arms reached out for him as he reached back with one of his. When their arms connected, she squeezed it.

"Oh god, Kimberly, I wish I could do more at this point, but we're almost there, honey. Is there anything specific I can do for you?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a long breath that seemed to calm her down.

Kent put his hand back on the wheel.

"What's this about a Father Williams and a marriage license?"

When Kent pulled up to the hospital, waiting hospital hands immediately helped Kimberly out of the car and took her in.

"We've got her, Mr. Davenport."

"She'll be fine, Mr. Davenport."

"We'll take good care of her and your baby, Mr. Davenport."

Kent expected nothing else.

He managed to clean himself up a bit so no one would ask any questions. Hopefully, they would all be too focused on Kimberly to notice his own bruises.

Once Kimberly got checked out, the doctors relayed she wasn't quite ready to give birth, estimating she had a few more hours. Kent was glad Kimberly would have a chance to see and talk to her loved ones; even though he was there, he figured giving birth had to be a frightening experience, and the more support and love around, the better.

Monique soon showed up with a radiant smile.

"Oh my god, I can't believe Kimberly's having the baby, can you?" she asked him without waiting for an answer. "My sister's having her first child! Hi, Kim," she said, going over and hugging her sister. "How do you feel?"

A contraction seemed to hit Kimberly and she groaned. Kent held her hand on the other side of the hospital bed and gently rubbed it. He kissed her forehead.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said softly.

"Does that answer your question?" Kimberly said to her sister, smiling.

Monique grinned. "Oh, Kim, I'm so excited—my niece or nephew's gonna be here soon! What do you think you're having? Kent, you must be so excited."

Kent smiled. "We're having a son," he said.

Kimberly looked at him. "How do you...?"

He winked at her. "Trust me. Anyone wanna take bets?" he said, grinning.

Monique shook her head vigorously, and Kimberly smiled at him, also shaking her head.

When James and Vivian showed up, Vivian shared a brief hug with Monique, and then went up to Kimberly and rubbed her forehead while James gave him a brief nod in greeting. He nodded at his father in return.

"Kimberly, honey—how are you feeling?" Vivian asked, looking worried.

"Why does everyone ask that?" Kimberly screamed through a contraction.

Kent noticed a concerned look on the doctor's face.

"Okay, people, show's over. Time's winding down," he said.

Kent kept looking toward the door and at his watch. "No, not yet," he said under his breath.

He looked at the beauty in the bed, her face glistening with sweat. She smiled at him and then addressed the others. "No offense, Mom; Monique—I just want my baby's father in the room. You guys can catch the next birth."

Everyone was ushered outside of the room so that only the medical staff and Kent were left with Kimberly.

"Have you changed your mind about natural childbirth, Miss Jordan?"

The address made Kent check his watch and the door again. He planned to change that title soon.

Kimberly squeezed his hand through a contraction and then turned to the doctor. "Isn't it a bit late for that?" she asked.

"Well..." the doctor began, but a knock interrupted him.

"Finally," Kent couldn't help grunting out loud. One of the nurses went to the door and started telling the person on the other side that they had to wait until it was all over.

"No," Kent said, "let him in."

The nurse looked at him quizzically. "Are you sure, Mr. Davenport? Miss Jordan, are you okay with...?"

"I said let him in," said Kent. "Don't worry—'Miss Jordan' doesn't mind, does she?" He looked at her pointedly.

Kimberly stared back at him. "But, Kent, you're not really..." She squeezed his hand again, gritting her teeth against something in her body.

"Kimberly, he's blind. He can't see you, so no need to be modest. Father, we should hurry."

"Kent, you know that's not what I meant. Can't we just wait until..."

"I have nothing against bastards, babe—well, except the one who happens to be related to both of us—but my child will not be born into this world one, okay? We can do a big thing later, with all the bells and whistles. All right, love?" He caressed her forehead. "Father, let's get busy. My child's getting impatient."

Kent pulled Kimberly's engagement ring out of his pocket and slid it on her finger as Father Williams did a fast version of his usual spiel.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Kent kissed Kimberly, who was in one of her somewhat calm moments. Then he said, "Okay, just sign here, sweetheart. My folks will take it from there."

He felt his hand being squeezed.

"Mr. Davenport, this baby's about ready. Father, we must escort you out now."

"Wait!" Kimberly managed to sign in her next small break, and Kent did the same, handing it to Father Williams, who was then escorted out.

Kimberly looked up at him in a way that immediately reminded him of the odd dream he'd had. Even her next few words were the same. "It's almost here!" she said softly, squeezing his hand. "The baby...oh god, Kent, it's coming!"

He kissed her sweaty cheek and corrected her. "'He' darling. It's a 'he.'"

"Kent!"

# Chapter 15

### Betrayal

**D** amien found himself in a hospital bed—alone at last and slightly groggy from the painkillers for his injuries.

His wounds had been treated, but he was still very much bruised and swollen.

For a moment, he thought that the drugs made him hallucinate when he saw Luke Davenport walk into his room.

Even in his seventies, Luke still looked like a formidable figure—tall, slender frame in an expensive suit, thick head of white hair, good posture. Eyes still very much aware.

"Dear Damien," Luke began, continuing his leisurely stroll to the head of his bed, "looks like you failed."

"Luke," Damien said in greeting, as neutrally as he could manage.

Luke gave him a false half-smile. "You do know that my grandson, Kent, is not far from here, watching the birth of his child?"

"It's _my_ child."

"He's pretty convinced that it's his."

"Yeah, well, he's wrong. And I'm not letting him get away with this," Damien said.

"And what do you plan to do to stop him?"

Damien looked firmly at Luke through his one open eye.

"You'll help me, right? I mean, you believe Kimberly and I should be together too—you'll help me out with this, won't you?"

Luke laughed, and it seemed genuine. Damien marveled at the sound.

"Damien, you've been so much fun, I've got to tell you," Luke said lightly. "You know, that whole scene at the house was absolutely hilarious."

"You were watching us?"

"Of course! You really gave me a great payoff for my investment in your life, Damien—especially when you ultimately committed incest."

"But Kimberly and I aren't really brother and sister, right?"

Luke howled with laughter this time, his manicured straight teeth gleaming. "But, Damien, that's the best part—you are!" He continued laughing.

"What?" Damien said angrily. "You mean, you misled me..."

"Damien, you misled yourself. I just made it easier for you to travel where you were already going."

"I can't believe you! How could you do this to me? Your own grandson!"

"Damien, come now. You already believe I would kill my other grandson, Kent, and my own daughter—you said that today. But you won't believe I'd do something like this? And let me just clarify something—I was most disturbed that you seemed to think I'd kill Kent for you. What gave you that idea?"

"Well, I know how much you oppose Kent and Kimberly being together, and how much you approve of Kimberly and me being together, so I thought..."

"Silly boy. You think I'd kill my own Caucasian grandson before I'd kill you? A half-breed? That makes no sense. I can always break up Kent and Kimberly and take away their child later if I want."

"It's _my_ child—even you said so!"

Luke sighed. "If only, Damien, if only. That would be the icing on the incestuous cake. I really don't know who it belongs to, but Kent's pretty convinced it's his. I suppose they'll test it at some point and find out for sure."

He shrugged casually. "I'll deal with them when the time comes. Anyway," he said, walking right up to Damien and putting one hand on his shoulder.

Damien winced at the contact.

"I just wanted to thank you for the entertainment you've provided me over the years. Watching you battle it out on the streets, living in poverty and in fear of your life, bouncing from foster home to foster home, and then eventually finding your sister, dating her, and then falling in love with her. Making love to her..."

Luke sighed dramatically, and with a look of barely contained amusement and pleasure softening his face.

"I couldn't have planned that better myself. And when everyone found out that you two were siblings..." He shook his head, his perfect teeth almost too white, "...it was absolutely priceless. Oh, and let's not forget some months ago when you completely lost it and grabbed Kimberly and tried to kiss her, feeling her up, and not caring that you were related." Luke shook with mirth. "She almost got a restraining order on you after that, did you know that? And you're lucky Kent didn't kill you then. But today is almost my all-time favorite: watching Kent beat the crap out of you."

He sighed, the hint of a smile remaining. "I'm gonna miss you, Damien. You've been a great grandson, providing an old man with such entertainment and amusement. But I'm simply tired of you now—I guess I've used you up."

Luke turned and headed for the door, but before walking out, he turned back to Damien. "I guess I should warn you—the police will be waiting for you, once you're clear."

"What?"

"You didn't think kidnapping was a crime? And I'm sure Kent and Kimberly can come up with some other charges against you."

"But you helped me with all of this!"

"Yeah, you're right—I should be worried too," he said, his words dripping with mockery.

"But Kent assaulted me!"

"Can you blame him? You kidnapped the love of his life and his child."

"But you're gonna help me out of it, right?" Damien asked. "Who called them, anyway?"

"I did, of course—trespasser!" Luke grinned evilly.

"You...you won't get away with this!"

"Damien," Luke said, shaking his head and looking at him with an impression of pity. "I already have."

"Okay, Mr. Davenport, time to cut the cord," a nurse said.

"You're all mine now, buddy," Kent said as he did so.

"Hey, just 'cause he's no longer physically attached to me doesn't mean he's not gonna be mama's boy," Kimberly muttered.

Kent scoffed. "Yeah, right—like my son's gonna be a punk. No apron strings for you, kiddo."

Kimberly laughed and they both watched as the doctors whisked their son away.

"Well, I do have to feed him and you know __ how that's going to be done," Kimberly said, grinning slyly.

"Rats! You're cutting in here, junior—those are mine." He smiled at his beaming wife.

When the doctors brought the baby back, all wrapped up, they placed him in Kimberly's arms.

Soon, Kent wanted to hold him himself.

He turned to the doctor. "Can I...?"

"Of course, Mr. Davenport. Do you know how?"

"Oh, come now. I'm very proficient with my hands, right, Kimberly?" He winked at her.

She blushed.

The doctor came over to help him, and when the weight of the soft bundle met his arms, his heart nearly burst. "My boy," he said gently, gazing at his son in wonder. "He's so beautiful."

He kissed the baby, his heart still swelling with love.

Then he grinned at his two favorite people: the brown-skinned beauty gazing at them both with adoration in her own sweet, brown eyes, and his pinkish son looking up at him with eyes like his mom's.

"I'm almost jealous of all that love I see from you to him," Kimberly said. "I better keep my eye on you—you might try to run away with my child!"

Kent chuckled.

"You know I'd never leave you," he said seriously, making sure that she knew he meant it.

Suddenly, his dream came back to him, and he realized that Damien kidnapping the child could very well have been him instead, metaphorically 'running away' with his son.

Then he frowned.

Why did the dream connect him and Damien like that? They both loved and wanted Kimberly—that was obvious—but was the dream telling him he was more like his brother than he had thought?

_My brother_.

The words swirled around his brain, and the phrase hit him in a way it hadn't before. Previously, it meant nothing, but now, it stunned him that he and Damien were genetically connected and that Damien was genetically connected to the woman they both loved, and the child she just bore.

Damien had lost all that mattered to him, and as far as Kent could remember, he didn't have much of anything to begin with.

As far as other similarities went, neither of them knew their biological parents when they were younger in a way, and now Damien's parents—both biological and adoptive—had no idea their son had almost been beaten to death.

Kent quickly caught himself.

_What the hell am I doing? Is this kid turning me soft?_ _Oh, hell no, junior—not this time._

Kent remembered the events of the past day and the past several months—particularly a conversation he'd had with Damien about Kimberly before meeting her.

_"_ You have to keep them in their place, you know?" Damien had said to him then. "Find something they're insecure about, and remind them about it every now and then. That way, they won't ever think they're too good for you. __ For example, Kimberly used to be on the path to becoming a ballet dancer. She also had weight issues around then—not that she's been anything but a beanpole for the time I've known her, but she had a rough time being around other dancers; eating disorders are a part of their culture, apparently. Anyway, she eventually got an injury that killed that dream.

_"_ Even though she's no longer on that path, you think she's happy when I mention she has put on some healthy weight? It's a good thing, of course—I pretty much don't know any guy attracted to super-skinny chicks in real life, but Kim has some old pain associated with her body. No matter how sincerely I mean that she looks better now than before, the mere mention of her body puts her on edge. Of course, sometimes, I make my meaning vague so she's thinking about it, wondering if she's good enough, attractive enough. You have to know their weaknesses, so you can strategically exploit them," __ Damien finished.

"So you deliberately try to make her insecure?" __ Kent had asked, appalled.

"Best way to keep 'em, man," __ Damien replied, grinning. "Be slick, but always point out a flaw."

Kent shook his head.

Damien had been responsible for most of Kimberly's pain for a long time. He had to pay for what he did to Kimberly and for endangering his child.

_Maybe I won't do what I originally planned, but he will pay_.

"Kent?" Kimberly's voice finally filtered through his thoughts. "What are you thinking about? Doesn't look like something good."

Kent smiled and then bent to give her the baby.

As his head came close, she whispered, "Promise me you won't do anything more to him—promise me you won't kill him."

"He's my brother, Kimberly. I don't make it a habit of killing my siblings."

He straightened back up, the transfer of weight complete.

"Promise me, Kent," she said in her normal voice.

"Okay, Kimberly, I won't," he managed to say with a straight face.

"Thank you," Kimberly said, breathing deeply.

"Heck, I can even make his stay in prison more comfortable," he said.

Kimberly appeared to relax a moment, and then looked at him suspiciously. "Kent..."

"Don't worry, Kimberly—I said I won't kill him."

"Don't arrange for someone else to do it either."

Kent laughed. "Good idea, but I've got an even better one. Just don't worry your sweet little head about it. We have to concentrate on our baby now."

That was enough to stop Kimberly's prying, and her attention redirected to their baby.

She gave him a look he recognized—she would, no doubt, grill him later, but her questions would wait; right now was about their son.

# Chapter 16

### Confessions

**K** imberly chose to room in with the baby, happily allowing eager friends and family to join her and Kent in admiring the newborn.

A rainbow of faces soon greeted them—a crowd with arms and hands bearing gifts and balloons.

Soon, the two of them were smothered in hugs and kisses.

"Congratulations!" came from every angle, and Kimberly didn't know who said what and when.

Then as Kent hugged his mom, he said, "You made it to the delivery room."

Catherine looked confused.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Kent grinned. "You'll see."

Kimberly smiled to herself, knowing what he meant.

She watched the group gush over Michael Kent Davenport II, the sleeping baby unaware of all the attention.

"Aw, he's so cute!"

"Oh, what a darling!"

"What a sweet little thing."

Again, Kimberly didn't register who said what and when.

Then an unmistakably loud exclamation left Catherine, "Oh my gosh, his eyes!"

Kent looked at Kimberly, smiling, and then he looked at his mom.

The baby had finally awakened to the commotion.

"Told you," he said to his mother. "Just like yours."

Catherine turned to Kimberly, looking hesitant.

Kimberly braced herself.

"Kimberly, honey, you'll have to excuse my ignorance—but will the baby's skin and eyes get darker?"

Kimberly chuckled before she could even try to hold it in. It amused her to see Catherine so humbled.

She shook her head and then shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to laugh. To be honest, I really don't know. There's a chance he'll continue to look like this, and there's a chance he could get darker. There's even a chance he could get lighter."

"Come on, now," said Kent. "He's gotta look like you in some way. I was hoping he'd get your eyes, but he ended up with mom's. And he's got my lips. Jury's out on the nose."

"Maybe he'll have curly hair," Kimberly said.

Kent held up crossed fingers.

"So, Kimberly," Catherine interjected, a little more confidently this time, "You're saying he could remain this...light?" Kimberly nodded. "I just wasn't aware that..." She suddenly looked sheepish again, "...you know, that African-Americans could be so fair."

Kimberly tried not to look at her sister and mom, knowing they would have the same look and knowing smiles on their faces. "We come in all shades, Catherine, from ebony to ivory, multiracial or not. Don't be embarrassed—you're actually not the last person on earth to find out."

Kimberly smiled up at her, hoping she felt reassured and free to approach her with anything; they were, no doubt, family now.

Catherine smiled back at her, looking relieved. "I'm just tickled pink about seeing my eyes on another human being," she said. "I mean, none of my sons got my eyes. Gosh, it's so thrilling to see a part of yourself in someone else."

Kimberly nodded, noticing Kent doing the same, grinning proudly at their baby.

"Okay, let's get to business," Monique said suddenly. "We need to talk about the wedding."

Kent grinned, a sparkle in his eye. "Well, everyone, I'd like you to meet my lovely wife: Kimberly Daphne Davenport," he said, bending to kiss her on the cheek.

"I guess a second 'congratulations' is in order!" Kent's dad said. "I'd say, 'welcome to the family,' but you've kind of always been family, Kimberly." James smiled at her warmly and then glanced at her mother, who returned his gaze with pure love in her eyes. Then James looked back at her and said, "Your anniversary and your child's birthday on the same day—quite a feat."

"Well, I'm a two birds with one stone kind of guy," Kent said.

Another round of muddled congratulations began.

"Oh, come on—y'all know what I mean," Monique said. "That little ceremony you guys had in here without us is _not_ gonna cut it. There's no way you're robbing me of being maid-of-honor, sis." Monique smiled at her.

Kimberly grinned back and then addressed the expectant faces before her.

"Of course we'll still have a wedding, you crazies."

"Yeah," Kent said. "If you have any questions about it, just ask Kimberly. She's planning the whole thing."

Kimberly cut her eyes to him quickly.

Kent put his hands up in a defensive position. "Hey, I've heard all the groom has to do is show up, so have fun planning, babe."

He grinned again, and she couldn't help but smile back.

When they finally got some time alone, Kimberly seized the chance to ask Kent the questions that had danced around her mind.

"First of all," she began, "how did you know the baby was yours?"

"I had a dream," he said.

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue, but he just said, "Long story. Next question?"

"How did you know I was in danger?"

"Because Damien is a sick fuck, sweetheart," he said matter-of-factly. "But seriously, it was also in the dream, so I guess I should just tell you. Long story short, I dreamt you were having _my_ baby, and that Damien was planning to take it from me. And knowing Damien is a sick fuck, I knew it was not a dream to ignore."

"I'll make you change ten diapers for every time you swear around me, Kent."

Kent grinned. "I'm sorry, honey. Damn, woman—you've been my wife only a few hours, and you've already put on the pants."

"That's ten diapers, Kent."

"What did I say?"

"Anyway, so this dream basically gave you clues?"

"Actually, some things came back to me—strange behavior on your part, things you said or didn't say, like that night you called." He paused.

Kimberly looked away, staring at the baby for a few seconds as she remembered the feminine voice in the background, and then looked back at him.

He was staring at her intently. "Things did not get that far between that girl and me," he said.

"Didn't sound like it."

"Trust me, Kimberly—there have been no other women since we've been together. I'll admit—I almost gave in that night, believing you'd never come back to me, but sometimes, your timing is impeccable." Then he kneeled in front of her. He took her hands and kissed them. "I only want you. Once I fell in love with you, you were everything to me. Truth is, all that stuff in there about me marrying you to make sure my son's not a bastard was only half-true—I needed a legal equivalent of handcuffing you to me. You're mine, Kimberly, and I don't plan to ever let you go. No matter what."

She felt tears come to her eyes. "I love you, Kent," she said.

"Words can't even begin to describe how much I love you. But that's enough for now. Gotta save some of that talk for the wedding vows." He grinned at her and she smiled back.

Still, she had a few more questions for him. "How did you find us at that place? How did you know where to go? And what happened to your car?"

He shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. "You won't believe it," he said, "but Luke had a hand in it all."

Then he began telling her the story.

# Chapter 17

### New Beginnings

"... **O** nce I realized you weren't home, and that it _was_ you and Damien, I got in my car and followed. But some fools in cahoots with our brother ran me off the road. Strange thing is, as sure as I am that my grandfather had something to do with this whole setup with Damien, the men who helped me out and took me to the house were also my grandfather's henchmen. I'm not quite sure why he'd harm me, and then help me, but who knows with Grandpa."

"So where's Damien now?"

"Not quite where he should be. But currently in a hospital being treated."

"So what are you going to do about him?"

"I told you not to worry about that, hon."

"Are you going to have him arrested?"

"Of course he'll be arrested, Kimberly. You think I'd let him live just to be let loose?"

Kimberly watched him for a few seconds. "So, what are you going to do to him?"

"Kimberly! Hey, that reminds me—I have a few phone calls to make. Excuse me a sec."

He didn't go far, but she couldn't hear what he was saying over his phone. In one of his calls, it sounded like he was telling someone about the birth of his child, and then talked a bit about their upcoming wedding. In the other calls, he definitely lowered his voice, and she just knew he was making arrangements for Damien. But what were they?

"Okay, darling," he said as he returned. "What date do you want to go for?"

"Oh, I don't know. With the baby here, I don't think I'll be able to do much wedding planning."

"I was kidding about that, Kimberly. You don't have to lift a finger, you know that. We'll get the best wedding planner around to take care of everything. It's just a matter of when. Tomorrow?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He laughed. "Next month?"

"No way. Maybe when our baby's at least three months. Something like that anyway, after we get used to him. Whenever I can let him out of my sight or let someone else hold him for a while," she said.

"Yeah, I know how you feel. He's such a cutie. A little too pretty right now, but he's got my chin at least. He'll have chest hair in no time. Anyway, three months it is."

"Sounds good." She paused. "So what are you going to do about Damien again?"

Kent rolled his eyes.

Luke let Damien believe he had changed his mind. He allowed Damien to leave the hospital, call a driver to pick him up, and hop in the car.

Luke waited until he was sure relief had washed over Damien; he gave him enough time to feel like he had gotten away after all.

But as soon as Damien's car hit the highway, policemen showed up, pulled him over and arrested him.

Luke watched the whole thing unfold on the car camera, and he felt a laugh building in him at the flabbergasted look on Damien's face.

Damien appeared incredibly angry and frustrated all at once, and Luke knew he would have been howling with laughter at the boy's dismay had it not been for the sudden squeezing in his chest.

Kimberly's dad arrived just after both Monique and James had taken off—James back to work, and Monique on a food run for Kimberly.

Catherine felt relieved that James and Carl had missed each other, unsure how Carl would react to seeing James and Kimberly's mom all over each other making goo-goo eyes. Catherine herself felt mild jealousy—mostly due to wishing she had something similar, a love lasting through the decades such as theirs.

Vivian had made it clear she would stay around the hospital as long as Kimberly could stand it, and Catherine took her lead from Vivian, figuring Kent would appreciate the same show of support from her.

Vivian returned from the vending machine with two bottles of water and offered her one.

Catherine felt warmth run through her.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the offer, unable to stifle her surprise.

They sat quietly for a moment, sipping the water.

"You know, my parents pushed me into it," Catherine suddenly felt compelled to say.

Vivian remained silent and didn't look at her.

"I mean, I know the majority of the blame—the responsibility—falls on me. On both James and me. I know his parents forced him since they considered us a match made in political heaven..."

"Catherine, I know I'm not blameless. Obviously, it's partly my fault—it's not like I gave James and me much of a chance back then. I didn't go after him, never gave him a reason to stay. I gave up our baby and didn't even tell him that he existed." She shrugged. "Maybe it would have made a difference if I had, maybe it wouldn't have. Either way, I let him off the hook easily and pulled off a disappearing act myself, going so far as to do exactly what the two of you did—I made a safe choice and married someone who made sense." She sighed. "I don't regret my life with Carl, and certainly not my two daughters with him. Things may not have worked out between all of us back then, but it seems like it all worked out for the best. I mean, who knows what Luke would have done if James and I had tried to power through all the opposition? Everything happened as it was supposed to, I figure."

Relief flooded Catherine again. "Yeah. Without James, there'd be no Kent, no Elliott, or the girls. We wouldn't have this beautiful moment right now, I guess." She looked directly at Vivian. "I hope I can have what you and James have someday. Your love is truly...something. Quite beautiful to witness, to be honest. And it seems my son has found the same with your daughter, and I couldn't be happier."

Suddenly, Vivian seemed to be scrutinizing her.

"How is everything with John? I hope I'm remembering his name correctly."

Catherine beamed. "Great so far. It's really lovely living with him, a wonderful change of pace. I've become domestic, and I like it!" She laughed. "You'd think I'd prefer to continue having someone else take care of all that house stuff, but I can't believe how happy it makes me to come up with a new dish for him and make it all by myself. I feel like my love pours into it, and I love watching him consume it."

Vivian smiled. "Wow. Sounds like you've found 'the one,' after all. I never would have imagined you enjoying that kind of stuff."

"Tell me about it. Even doing his laundry makes me happy."

Vivian burst into laughter and hope spread through Catherine that her old best friend had it in her to forgive her after all.

# Epilogue

### A Wedding & A Funeral

**L** uke's pathetically attended funeral made Kent think.

In less than three months, he and Kimberly would have their public wedding ceremony. One of his sisters already said she wouldn't be able to make it, and Damien wouldn't be there—a good thing in anyone's eyes. Kent didn't think even spending a few months in jail would magically change the way Damien felt toward Kimberly and Kent's relationship with her.

But still, Damien was _family_.

He wasn't a bad guy—no worse than others Kent encountered on his various paths; in fact, Damien was probably one of the better guys he had met, his obsession with Kimberly aside. The worst thing about him was this desire of his to hold on to Kimberly at all costs. Could he really blame him for that? Wasn't that what he was doing himself?

Kent decided to scale back his revenge.

Damien had already lost the love of his life, and his life had been pretty miserable, in general, until around college. Ultimately, Damien was a danger to no one but himself, and Kent was sure that Damien could get it into his thick skull to leave Kimberly alone if given enough time.

Kent thought about it more.

Maybe he'd make sure Damien was away for just a year instead of the many years of the sentences that came with the charged crimes; Kent could drop the necessary charges to make sure.

When Damien was finally released, Kent could also ensure he got the help he needed to get going again: therapy, job offers, and perhaps open arms back into the family, if he could handle it.

_A few months later_

The church teemed with loved ones, including Kimberly's aunt, Pat, James and Vivian sitting together, with Vivian holding Kent junior, and Catherine sitting with her boyfriend, John.

A few of Kent's and Kimberly's high school and college friends populated the benches, as well as some of his coworkers and lots of other random people who just wanted to attend a Davenport wedding. Some of the attendees were connected to their parents.

Kent couldn't help but grin the whole time, his heart full.

Elliott and two of Kent's old friends stood on his left looking handsome in their tuxedos, while Monique, one of his sisters, and one of Kimberly's cousins stood pretty in light pink on the right. But he wasn't really seeing any of them—especially not at this moment, as his beautiful bride walked up the aisle toward him, her thick, curly hair in a partial up-do, jewels glistening from her ears, neck, wrists, and her head.

She looked stunning in her white princess gown, and he couldn't wait to take it off her later that night.

Carl walked her down the aisle proudly, and when they reached Kent, he placed her hand in his.

"You better take care of her, son," Carl said softly, his eyes wet.

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Mr. Jordan. She is my life," Kent replied, speaking a promise to the man with his eyes.

Kent and his bride proceeded up the aisle.

"Here we are again," Father Williams began as they reached him, smiling. A rumble of crowd laughter followed.

When the time to exchange their personal vows arrived, Kent held Kimberly's hands tightly while staring into her eyes.

"Kimberly, you captured my heart from the day I met you as a barista about to make me a perfect mocha. I knew then that you were the one I would love for life, without being able to put it in words; I could tell you were a sweet, shy girl with a warm spirit. Then I got to know you more, and I discovered a complete package: a beautiful, smart, talented, loving, and strong-minded woman. I needed you to love me, to be worthy of your love because I couldn't help but love you with every fiber of my being." He grinned wide. "I finally won you over, and I'm beyond happy that you're mine—for eighteen years at least," he joked, winking at her, and then briefly looking over at his son. Then he looked back into his bride's glistening eyes. "Kimberly, I love you. My goal and mission in life is to keep you happy. And nothing could bring me more joy than spending my life doing just that."

He wiped a tear that had fallen from her eye.

Kimberly took a breath before taking her turn and then looked at him firmly.

"Kent, you intrigued me the first day I met you—you're such a charmer. I can admit now that when you walked in the café that day, there was no way I couldn't notice you. You are definitely what some would call a looker—'hot' even." She giggled, blushing. "The very image of a typical Californian handsome surfer dude or something, with your tanned, golden skin and tall, fit frame. Anyway, your eyes were intense and engaging, and I just knew you'd be trouble for me. Still, for a number of reasons, I was able to keep a safe distance—although not for long. Once we started spending time together—and mysteriously, it was quite a lot of time," she smiled at him conspiratorially, "I realized what a generous, caring soul you really were, and I couldn't help but fall in love with you. You were such a wonderful friend, and such an incredible person, that I couldn't believe such a warm, sweet guy existed within such a handsome exterior."

Kent knew he was preening at her words, but he couldn't help it.

"I'm just glad we were able to navigate all the obstacles thrown our way, and not only find each other but keep coming back to each other. And now, we get to stay together." She paused, letting out a breath. "I'm in it for the long haul too, babe; after all, there'll be more where he came from." She looked over at their son, her eyes full of love. Then she turned back to him and said the words he hoped to hear several times a day, for the rest of their lives, "I love you, Kent. Forever."

They kissed prematurely but caught themselves.

Father Williams was able to finish his spiel without missing a beat, and then finally, the moment Kent had been waiting for.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. Again," Father Williams said, grinning wide, blue eyes staring ahead at nothing. "You may _now_ kiss the bride."

The ceremony complete, Kent and his wife locked lips, joy bubbling over in his heart in anticipation of their new life.

* * *

END

*** If you enjoyed this story, please let others know by leaving a ****review** **!***

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**Excerpts from two of her other books coming up next, starting with** ** _The Billionaire's Assistant_** **.**

**SYNOPSIS: Stressed Naomi** is having one of those "Murphy's Law" kind of days—everything that can go wrong is going _horribly_ wrong. Traumatized by events from the night before, she ends up distracted at work—to the point that it gets her fired. Her continued distraction leads to more catastrophe when she almost smashes into a stranger as she hurries away—or is it a blessing in disguise?

Noticing her distress, the **handsome, wealthy-looking stranger** offers her an attractive solution to her immediate needs: work for him as his personal assistant—no catch.

Ha! She doesn't believe him, but her desperation makes her accept, and it isn't long before she suspects he wants a whole lot more from her than getting his coffee!

She is used to saving herself. Can she resist the hunk who suddenly saved her? **Grab it now** or keep reading for a sample!

# The Billionaire's Assistant

### Excerpt

### CHAPTER ONE - NAOMI

Hot, smelly breath on her face slowly woke Naomi up, then the pressure on her body finally registered, jarring her wide awake.

Someone was on top of her.

She started struggling and two rough-skinned hands were immediately on her wrists, limiting her movement.

Just as she was about to scream, one large hand found its way to her mouth, muffling the beginning of it, so she bit the hand hard.

A stinging slap stunned her for a few moments, giving her attacker time to reposition himself, and before she knew it, he had planted himself between her legs and started working on removing her panties.

"Jenna!" she screamed, now that her mouth was free, horror and fear merging into a blood-curdling sound, and soon she heard her roommate's footsteps running toward her room.

Her light flicked on, and she caught a glimpse of Jenna's horrified pale face before her green eyes snapped around the room as she looked around for the nearest viable weapon.

Then Jenna grabbed the nearest lamp and brought it down on the head of the strange man on top of her.

The man collapsed immediately, successfully knocked out cold, and Naomi shoved him off of her to the ground, breathing hard and fast as adrenaline continued coursing through her.

The intruder had gotten so close!

"Call 911!" Jenna reminded her, and Naomi fumbled around for her phone to make the call.

Once the operator answered, she spilled the events of the past few minutes, begging them to send the cops soon; she didn't know how long it would be before the guy regained consciousness.

But Jenna had her wits about her and was already working on makeshift restraints, tying one of the assailant's arms to the foot of the bed using a piece of clothing, then working on the other.

"Not the best knots, but it'll take some time for him to wriggle free if he wakes up before they get here."

Naomi nodded, still stunned by what had just happened.

"Who the heck is he?" she demanded after a few heart-pounding moments, her blood rushing so hard and fast, she could almost hear it.

Then it dawned on her.

She stared at Jenna accusatorially.

"Did you bring him home with you?"

Jenna shifted, looking guilty and sheepish.

"Yeah," she said softly, then more firmly, she said, "Naomi, I would have never brought him home with me if I thought he'd do this. I'm so sorry! I don't know what got into him. We had fallen asleep, and I was right there if he needed some more relief. I mean, damn—we did it twice!"

Naomi held up her hand.

"I don't want to hear any more of that right now. We'll talk about this later, once he's out of here."

"Are you gonna try to get him charged?"

"Of course! He can't get away with this! Who knows if he's done this before? And if he gets away scot-free, he most certainly will try to do it again. He _has_ to answer for this."

"But do you think anything'll happen?" Jenna asked.

Naomi suddenly realized her roommate's eyes were glistening.

Then she remembered a possible reason why.

She was there when Jenna herself was assaulted by a new member of their group home, and nothing really came of it.

Jenna's attacker got a slap on the wrist, even though he actually managed to get all the way inside her, so as far as Jenna had always been concerned, he essentially got away with his crime.

"Nobody cares about us," Jenna reminded her, snapping her back to the tense moment. "Even girls who get to go to college and have their parents behind them don't get convictions sometimes. What chance do we have with no one to back us up? Especially now that we're grown-ass women that people have no problem blaming for poor choices?"

"Okay, this sure as hell wasn't my fault; I didn't make the choice to bring him home."

"No, I know—it's mine. But we're here together and...what if he gets mad if you keep pushing for him to get prosecuted or whatever?"

"Wait, you think I should just let it all go and hope he doesn't try to come back here anyway?"

"Sort of! I mean, if he gets off easy, he won't bother us again. But if you gun for him to pay and go through the court and all that stuff and he still gets away, he might want revenge."

"I can't believe you're saying this," Naomi said. "I can't talk to you right now."

A groan made them both jump, and they realized that the man was slowly waking up, but they also heard sirens in the distance.

The next hour was a blur—Naomi and Jenna gave their accounts to the cops, the stranger got taken away, and a detective left his card with them, promising to keep them updated.

By the time the night quieted back down, leaving her and Jenna alone, all Naomi could think about was possibly having to cover up dark circles from a restless night in addition to a mark on her face from her attacker's slap.

She hoped she didn't end up late to work again.

Naomi stayed in place, unable to return to her bedroom just yet, and watched Jenna go to the bathroom, then watched as she exited it and headed toward her room.

Just as she crossed the threshold of it, Naomi said, "Not so fast."

It had been about fifteen minutes since the commotion had died down.

Naomi knew she should really just get to bed since, unlike Jenna, _her_ shift started in the mornings, but she had no chance of sleeping if she didn't say what was on her mind.

"This can't happen again, Jen—you can't have strangers spend the night here."

Not looking at her, Jenna said, "Look, I know this was horrible, but what happened here could have happened anywhere—while you were walking to your car after a shift or even on the way to the library. Sometimes, regardless of how careful you are or what you do, shit just happens, and who knows that better than us? People bring strangers home all the time and it usually doesn't work out like that."

Finally, Jenna's green eyes met hers again.

"I'm sorry it happened this time, but I don't think it's fair for you to try to make some rule about my dating."

"I'm not saying you have to change anything about who you 'date' or anything! What I'm asking is perfectly reasonable. I got attacked by some stranger—a stranger _you_ let in. I'm just saying we should make a rule not to bring strangers home. If you want to bone someone, just go to his place or take it in his car. I shouldn't have to pay for your careless, slutty mistakes!"

Naomi regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth.

Jenna let out a dry chuckle.

"There you go again, all high and mighty. You think I don't know you've been looking down on me since the day I started stripping?" She put on a ridiculous high-pitched, mocking voice. " _Ooh, look at me! I'm a virgin. I'll never have to strip. I'm gonna make something of myself despite everything. My sister's adoptive parents are gonna regret not taking me too."_ Jenna rolled her eyes. "You really think you're better than me just because you haven't started using your body to your advantage yet? And yes, I'm saying 'yet' because it's probably just a matter of time. If you want to make any kind of money, that's how girls like us do it. I'm telling you, while you're still young and tight, you might as well let those assholes throw money at you."

"I doubt I'll end up like you, Jenna; I have a moral opposition to the whole thing."

Jenna let out a nasty laugh.

"Who cares? Your morals definitely don't pay our bills with your minimum wage four or five shifts a week. You keep talking about getting your own place, but how the hell are you gonna do that making that kind of money? Do you have any idea how much money I make now? Remember how excited I was when I made two hundred dollars in one night? I make more than double that now, and I can get my own place with two or three bedrooms if I want. I'm doing you a favor. I paid the deposit and first and last so we could get this place, so who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do here? As long as I'm paying the bulk, we're going by my rules."

Naomi's shoulders drooped.

Jenna was right—what say did she really have?

"I really can't believe you," Jenna said, suddenly sounding really hurt. "You know we have no one—no one but each other. How dare you look down on me for doing whatever the fuck I have to do to survive? You know what? You probably wouldn't make that much anyway—everyone prefers skinny and white."

Naomi let the sting pass.

She realized she had carelessly offended her friend, and now she was lashing out.

She and Jenna had lived together in a group home for three years and since then, they had been rooming together for two years in their current apartment.

Like Jenna said, she was doing her a favor while she tried to get her life together, so what alternative did she have?

She was stuck for now, but she had been saving up and was planning to give her thirty-day notice in a few months or so.

She just had to bide her time a little longer, and in the meantime, make sure her door was locked at night.

She had been waffling about moving out for a while, postponing thinking about the logistics—especially since it was out of the range of affordability—but tonight it was clear: she had to move out as soon as possible.

Long before tonight she knew she had to leave sooner than later—the day Jenna mentioned she was considering leaving the stripper world to try to become a porn star, Naomi got a sinking feeling that a part of her life was coming to an end.

They had both worked at fast food restaurants until Jenna decided she wanted more money faster and became a stripper, and Naomi figured she could live with that.

But porn?

Naomi had never said it out loud, but all she could think was that she couldn't room or be friends with a potential porn star.

She worried about various things—including the fact Jenna might earn a crazy fan who might track her down to their home.

Naomi had tried to talk her out of the whole thing, but all Jenna had said was, "Look, I do it with dudes all the time, and sometimes, I don't even get to come. Might as well get paid for doing it!"

"But there's an obvious difference—you don't usually broadcast your...sessions for the world to see. Do you?"

"No, but I might as well just embrace this totally natural thing. It's just my cunt, after all; I'm happy to be paid for owning it."

"It's more than that!"

Naomi had always felt it was more sacred, hence her virginity.

She also knew there was no arguing with Jenna, especially since she had no experience to speak from, so she never brought it up again.

She would simply plan to get her own place sooner.

And now, with tonight's horrifying incident and Jenna's almost casual response to it, she knew it was time.

One way or another, as much as she hated the thought of leaving her closest friend, she had to find her own place.

After a moment, she said quietly, "Just so you know, I'm going to try to leave here as soon as possible."

"Oh really? Let me guess—you think your sister will magically reappear out of the blue and be some kind of knight in shining armor, helping you get on your feet. Then you guys'll go prancing off, arms linked as you embark on rebuilding your sister relationship." She let out a derisive chortle. "You really think she's out there waiting for your tearful reunion? What a joke."

Naomi stayed silent.

Jenna studied her face for a moment then said, "Oh my god—you really think that's gonna happen! You think you guys will find each other again and everything will be right! Get a grip, Naomi—I mean, your name's the same, you've lived in the same general area your whole life, there's Facebook, Google, and after all this time, she still hasn't come looking for you. It's been over ten years! Sure, you were nine when you got separated, but she's a grown-ass woman now—no excuse. "

Jenna was right—she was still pretty easy to track down if anyone wanted to find her.

Was her sister even still alive?

Naomi figured her name probably got changed—both first and last, perhaps—since she never found any online hits for her.

She decided to redouble her efforts soon, her determination to track her sister down fortifying.

Jenna shook her head at her.

"Man, I can't believe you've just been waiting all this time to leave me behind. I really thought we were like family, considering everything we've been through together. Shit, I fucking perm your hair! Every two months I'm there putting that nasty shit in it to make it all straight, and at the first opportunity you're gonna pretend like we're nothing to each other just because you don't approve of my career."

"It's not just that, Jenna. Like you said, we're grown-ass women, and grown-ass women need their own space. I love you, Jen, but I'm getting out of here."

Jenna's face twisted and she stormed into her room, slamming her door behind her and leaving Naomi to drift back to hers to finally try to squeeze in some sleep before her early morning café shift.

### CHAPTER TWO - KEVIN

Kevin leaned back in his large, black executive chair and smiled wide as his cousin entered his office.

"To what do I owe the honor?" he said as he put his pen down, getting up to greet him with a hug.

They embraced quickly, and Kevin returned to his chair while his cousin grabbed a seat from the side to sit in front of him.

Michael looked healthy and handsome as usual, his easy smile in place, blue eyes sparkling with good humor, dark hair immaculate. He looked every bit the billion-dollar tycoon he was.

The two of them were often mistaken for brothers—they had similar builds and thick, dark hair, though Kevin's eyes were gray instead of blue like his cousin's.

"Just had to see you, Kev. You're telling me you never get the urge to pick up the phone and call me sometimes? Thought I was like a brother to you?"

Kevin knew he was just teasing. His cousin knew just how much he meant to him.

As an only child, Kevin had no idea what having a brother was actually like, but he figured his relationship with his cousin, Michael, and their other cousin, Richard, had to be fairly close to it.

Their fathers were brothers who'd had each other growing up, and Kevin was grateful to have had his cousins the same way.

"Actually, I do; in fact, just yesterday I got the strongest urge to dial you up and say hi."

"See? Now where's that call in my phone log?"

"Well, I didn't actually follow up; something came up I needed to take care of, and I figured I'd just catch you later."

"Ouch. I'm low priority—I get it. Well, lucky for you, I heard you mentally cry out to me, hence, here I am. Just got in around nine last night."

Kevin smiled.

"That was about the time I got that urge. What a coincidence!"

_Shit_. Why the hell had he said that? No need to get Michael started on his mumbo-jumbo crap.

No one knew where Michael got it from since they'd all been raised by practical, logical folks with no interest at all in the spiritual or metaphysical, yet somehow Michael ended up leaning in that direction.

He talked about signs and messages from the universe like it was a real thing, when sometimes, things just lined up—broken clocks correct twice a day and all that.

With the millions of events happening every second, _of course_ every now and then it appears as if some kind of synchronicity is taking place.

But Kevin knew everything was pretty random; there was no greater force pulling strings.

One could bend things to one's will and walk a certain path for certain results, but sometimes, shit just happened.

"The healthiest person in the world can still get taken out in their prime by a semi truck," he'd told Michael once.

Although things sometimes happened beyond one's control, planning and execution were the tools to their family's success. Research, logic, calculation.

"Anyway, I'm going to the islands in a few weeks," Michael said. "Something tells me I'll find my bride there."

"Wow, you're really serious about getting married, huh?"

"Yeah, it's definitely time. What's the point of all this if I can't share it with someone? I want to live beyond being pieces in various people's memories; I want to exist as a whole to someone else, make a lifetime of memories with them. I want a family—get settled, watch my kids grow—all that junk. Groom yet another Davenport heir. I mean, come on—you, me, and Richard are in our primes and none of us have settled yet. Our fathers all produced healthy, strapping sons long before this age, and here we are in our thirties, still childless. Everyone before us did their duty, and now it's our turn. My sister doesn't even want kids, so it's up to me to keep our particular branch going."

Michael suddenly let out a dry chortle.

"Watch—just because I want it the most, I'll probably be the last to find it. Either way, I'll find that girl, Kev. And when I do, I'll know. You'll see."

"Well, I'm happy you're pretty clear about that stuff and I wish you all the best. I'm definitely not there yet, and I'm certainly in no rush; I still have a lot of work to do."

Michael's face softened into sympathy and Kevin felt anger build in defense—he knew exactly what was coming next.

"Still trying to get his attention, huh? I suspect no matter what, your dad's not gonna give a fuck, Kev. He's stealing your life making you dedicate so much energy to pleasing him—an impossible task, it seems. Protect your energy, bud. And, look—you've been so distracted by wondering when I'll finally take off so you can get back to work that you didn't even notice this sweet watch I got myself."

Kevin examined his cousin's wrist and felt his eyebrows raise and his frustration start to abate as he took in the titanium timepiece.

"Jesus, man. How much is that one worth? Half a mil?"

"All this goddamn money we have, every now and then, gotta splurge."

They both laughed.

Kevin wasn't sure either of them knew the difference anymore. Money was never a concern when it came to buying what they wanted—whether necessity or toy.

None of them were particularly indulgent for it to matter—they all spent fairly conservatively.

Kevin continued to examine the watch.

" _Of course_ you'd pick something with phases of the moon on it."

" _Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Grande Complication._ This is my gift to myself after closing that McConnell deal. Worth more than twenty times the cost of this watch. Plus, I like to look at it. Reminds me the clock's always ticking. For most people, watches remind them to hurry up, but this thing reminds me to slow the fuck down and take in the tiny moments."

Michael stared at him pointedly.

"Here we go again," Kevin said, rolling his eyes playfully in response.

"I'm just saying, man—don't be so hard on yourself. Take it easy once in a while. And for god's sake, live life for you, not him."

"Hey, I play just as hard as I work," Kevin said, ignoring part of what his cousin had said. "I recently had this wonderful two-week tryst with a gorgeous redhead in..."

"You know what I mean. I'm sure you had work at the back of your mind the whole time, and you probably picked that particular girl thinking that somewhere, your dad's giving you a nod of approval for the women you choose to sow your wild oats with."

They both held it together for a moment, then burst into laughter again.

Michael had used a general idiom, but they both knew where the other's mind went at that moment—the three cousins had watched _Coming to America_ countless times and verbally connected back to it at every possible opportunity.

Michael had even once had a crush on the leading lady.

"Live life untethered to his opinion, Kev," Michael said as he stood, straightening his jacket. "There's no harm in living life for you, and while you're at it, stop and smell the roses."

"You did not just say that."

Just then, Kevin's assistant came in with his coffee.

When she left, Michael said, "Like maybe get your own coffee for once."

"I fucking hate lines, Mike. Forget it."

"Waiting every now and then isn't a bad thing—you'll be surprised what you're forced to see upon being made to slow down."

Kevin was really starting to get irritated.

"Christ. Is this about Luke?"

Their grand-uncle had died of a heart attack a little while ago, and as far as Kevin knew, he had no fans in the family—not even his own children—but had his cousin been affected by his death after all? Was Michael all of a sudden concerned with mortality because their old, evil granduncle died a fitting death not a moment too soon?

"It was probably stress that killed him," Michael said flatly.

"Nah. Most likely all that hate he carried around. That man was pure evil."

"Evil people tend to live long, though, as do the men in our family. Yeah, he was old, but my bet was his _relentless_ pursuit of evil. If he had only taken a break to recharge his hate batteries, he could have lived to cause more chaos."

Kevin smiled grimly.

"Well, good thing for all of us he didn't _stop and smell the roses_ ," he said mockingly.

Michael smiled at him, but the smile melted to seriousness once again.

"I'm serious, Kev. Break out of your comfort zone and slide out of cruise control. I bet you'll end up thanking me."

"God, get out of here," Kevin said, shooing him with his hands, but he and his cousin shot the breeze for a few more minutes before Michael checked his obnoxious watch and said he had to go.

They hugged once more before he took off, making promises to meet up again before he left town, and Kevin forgot all about Michael's advice until the urge for more coffee hit him again.

He was about to buzz his personal assistant, but Michael's words suddenly came back to him.

He stared at the stack of paperwork in front of him.

If he powered through the next few hours, he'd stay on top of it, no problem.

But could a forty-five-minute break really set him back that much?

He usually never left his desk unless entertaining a woman, and it had been a while since he'd done that.

He powered through ten- to twelve-hour work days while nourishment was brought to him.

He took a deep breath.

Maybe it was time for a short solo break, and if he was going to do that, he might as well "break out of his comfort zone" as his cousin had urged and try somewhere new.

He had a few places to choose from in his own building for coffee, but he felt a need to go outside.

No doubt after a short walk, he'd come across a coffee shop; you couldn't throw a rock without hitting one in this city.

### CHAPTER THREE - NAOMI

Naomi knew she should have stuck with buses.

Sure, they could be unreliable every once in a while and make her late, but not as unpredictable as her stupid old car.

She tried the ignition again.

What the hell was wrong this time?

She didn't have the luxury of finding out just then, and she had few choices: either she could wait for AAA or she could call Uber or grab a taxi and just try to get to her shift on time, even if it meant spending half the day's pay.

Why had she even bothered getting a car again?

Then she remembered—at the time, she'd had two jobs, and the end time of one was too close to the start time of the other, which made her late sometimes. Plus, taking a bus home at night freaked her out.

She no longer had that second job, but she still had the stupid car, and though her good sense told her to park it now that she didn't really need it, she figured she might as well just keep on using it since it still worked.

She sighed as the car refused to start again.

The car was definitely more trouble than it was worth and she'd have to get rid of it if she wanted any hope of moving out of the apartment sooner than later.

Naomi tried to make up for her tardiness with an extra cheery attitude, but pretending to be extra-bubbly while distracted only ended up with her causing a massive spill.

_Shit_ , she thought as she hurried to clean up the mess.

She tried to ignore the eyes of her manager burning into her once he had hurried out to hear what the commotion was about.

"Shall we switch you to the register?" he asked kindly, and she gratefully accepted.

Unfortunately, by the time she messed up her third order, she knew she was in big trouble.

She just couldn't get it together; she still felt frazzled.

Dread filled her stomach once her break arrived and the manager called her into the office instead.

"Naomi, I'm really sorry to have to do this," he began, his eyes looking like he meant his words. "I mean, we all like you here..."

"No, please don't, Brad—I'm just having a bad day after a _terrible_ night..."

"We all have bad days, Naomi, and I'm not saying whatever happened to you isn't a valid reason for you being late today and causing a mess out there, but this isn't exactly the first time we've had trouble with you."

"Yeah, but last night, my roommate..."

"I can't, Naomi—if I let you stay it sets a bad precedent. Others would have let you go earlier, but I figured you'd get it together and you're so pleasant to have around. But you've had one too many chances, and I have to do my job. I'm really sorry to have to let you go, Naomi."

_Don't cry_ , she told herself. _Whatever you do, don't look pathetic, no matter how much the tears are building up_...

"Just one more chance, Brad," she said, horrified to hear the break in her voice.

"I'll take your apron now. I'm sorry, Naomi, and I wish you the best of luck. I'm sure you can find a better gig than this place anyway," he said, softening his face into a tiny smile. "Please don't take this personally. All the best to you."

Naomi held her head high as she stood and began untying her apron.

She handed it to him and headed for the exit, unable to look in the direction of any of the folks she had worked with for the past eight months, and whose eyes she could feel on her as she made a beeline for the glass double doors.

Her mind was buzzing.

She had to find a new job fast—she couldn't afford to be set back for much longer.

She thought about Jenna—the smug look that'll probably crawl across her face once she hears about the firing, the offer she'll give to put in a good word for her at her night club.

"I'll let 'em know you have nice tits," she imagined her saying.

Naomi maneuvered the sidewalk just fine in her distracted distress until a miscalculation put her into the path of a man who dodged to the left the same time she tried to dodge him by stepping to the right without slowing down, causing him to grab her by the shoulders to avoid them smashing into each other in their dance of avoidance.

"Hey, watch where you're going," he said as he let her go, successfully sidestepping her.

The casual annoyance in his voice set her off and made her look up at him, just as everything she'd been holding back bubbled to the surface.

Seeing him look like some entitled prick in his expensive-looking suit only made everything worse.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole!" she spat at him before turning to take off, but not before registering how good-looking he was.

His gray eyes had seemed to soften as their eyes met, and he seemed startled, yet not like the asshole she initially took him for once her gaze went from his suit to his chiseled face.

And was it her imagination or did his eyes momentarily drop to her lips?

Her own eyes had lingered on his beautiful masculine features until she had to force herself to tear them away.

Still, she didn't regret cursing him one bit—that suit, that hair...no matter how kind his eyes had looked, she had no doubt a douche lurked beneath those fine threads, and entitled douchebags like him needed to be treated like normal people every now and then and get an earful of profanity directed at them.

Now that she was thinking about it, he looked just like one of the types of guys Jenna talked about—wealthy men who regularly bought women's company.

Jenna had told her all sorts of stories about those kind of guys, and she had even tried to become a high-class escort for guys like them herself, but she had never been able to meet the base requirements for agencies she applied to.

She had been brought in for an interview once, and she had been so excited when she left for it but came home all dejected saying she had a feeling she had only been called in for laughs.

"The bitch said she was just curious after seeing my résumé and had to see what I really looked like after my phone interview. Then she went on to list all the ways I lacked what it took for the job—from a college degree to a solid grasp on English," Jenna said of her "stuck-up looking" interviewer. "She said she's sure there's a market somewhere for no-class trashy hicks, but _her_ clientele has no 'inclination' in that direction."

As Naomi turned to walk away from the man, she decided that _he_ was probably among _that_ clientele, and although she looked nothing like a high-class hooker, the way the guy had looked at her, there was no doubt what had crossed his mind.

_Humph. Men._

Well, _she_ wasn't for sale, and she sure as hell wasn't about to be some rich guy's fetish purchase.

She was not the one.

### CHAPTER FOUR - KEVIN

Kevin's arm snaked out and grabbed the girl's arm before she could storm off and leave him.

His fingers felt like they were burning through her, the heat and electricity between them catching him by surprise.

Her body jerked at his grasp, then she stared at him in disbelief, her face morphing into a pinched expression of offense.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" she said, her voice full and sharp, but the lasers of her eyes were softened by the beginning of tears in them.

Still, he dropped her arm like a hot potato, then he held his arms up in defensive surrender, but he knew his stance communicated his intent to keep her there a moment longer.

His eyes took in her polo shirt and khakis and he immediately figured that she had just left work—no chick wore polos and khakis out in public unless she was on a golf course or on a job. And by the look on her face, she was devastated, so she probably just got sent home, or worse, fired.

The details were little to go on, but he was satisfied with his guess; either way, she was clearly having a shitty day, and the main reasons for such distress were usually work and romantic relationships.

He knew where to go from there.

He tried to keep his eyes from her beautifully-shaped luscious lips and ignored the curiosity poking him about what it would be like to kiss them and said, "Listen, I know this is kind of a weird time and place, but I hire a lot of people on gut instinct, and my gut says you might be able to help me out—that we might be able to help each other out, in fact."

It wasn't exactly true, but none of what he was about to tell her was.

"I couldn't help but notice your work clothes," he continued, energized that she had remained in place and was looking at him with slight interest, "and I could be way off base here, but I suspect you might be on the job market, and I recently got an unexpected opening; I might have a job for you."

He watched her eyes slowly and deliberately travel over him, from head to toe and back up again.

Luckily, he looked every bit the wealthy man he was, so there had to be no doubt he was a job provider.

"Thanks, but I don't do that kind of stuff," she said flatly.

Then she turned as if to leave again.

He almost reached for again, but he let his voice do the grabbing.

"I'm sorry—what kind of stuff? I haven't told you anything about the position yet," he said, infusing his tone with authority.

"Escort or whatever it is you think you can use my body for," she said, turning back to him but not looking at him.

He put on his most formal, all-business voice.

"I assure you—the work I have in mind is less...glamorous than what you're thinking. Do you have any experience as a domestic worker?"

He watched her entire manner change.

Her body sagged, but along with the relief emanating from her was something else.

Disappointment?

Well, a job offer for domestic work wasn't exactly thrilling for most people, and he felt kind of bad for deflating her, but he had to ease her somehow and get her off guard; he needed her not to see him as a perv, and if implying all she was good for was to help out in the home, so be it.

Still, she looked hesitant.

She was certainly a ball of negative emotions, and he hoped to see what her smile looked like soon.

The fact that she hadn't continued to storm off, nor had she denied needing a job gave him hope.

No matter what, he couldn't let her go; the girl's eyes had arrested him, the raw pain in her voice as she cussed him out had pierced his chest.

He had to do something to help her; he needed to do something to take her pain away.

He was never one to be moved by women's tears, but this woman's sorrow inspired an almost crippling sympathy, and he had to do something to soothe the ache in himself too.

What else was going on with her besides losing her job?

He had no doubt her sorrows went far beyond that.

"In fact..." He made a show of checking his watch. "I can interview you quickly. Ten minutes is all I have time for. If the position sounds good to you, you can start tomorrow. It's not exactly the kind of job where you need an extensive résumé."

Her eyes flickered to the coffee shop less than half a block away, but he had long figured that was where she had been let go from.

"I know you can probably make coffee, and I have a feeling you might be open to taking a position to hold you over until you can move on to bigger and better things," he said, nodding his head in the direction of her wayward glance.

Her beautiful brown eyes held him for what almost felt like a full minute, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. But he had no idea what was really going on in her mind, especially with the doozy she surprised him with, accusing him of being a John.

Still, he could imagine a few things churning in her mind.

_Was he a loon?_ she was probably wondering. Should she trust him? How many options did she have? Should she take the chance?

Finally, she nodded.

"Great! We can take a quick walk, grab some coffee—from elsewhere, of course."

She nodded again.

He indicated they continue walking in the direction she had been headed, and they quickly found another small coffee shop.

He asked her what she would like and she looked startled.

"No, thanks," she said.

There was that wariness again; her skepticism button was strong.

What, did she think he'd want a kiss from her as repayment?

What kind of life had she led that left her so distrusting and suspicious?

"Suit yourself," he said, putting in his order.

They sat down at a small table; in fact, everything felt rather small and uncomfortable, and he wanted to curse his cousin for encouraging him to do go out and do this, but with the sad beauty sitting in front of him, he couldn't get too mad.

Mike might be right after all, and maybe he'd end up more than a bit grateful soon.

"So, what exactly is the job position?" she asked.

Her body language was still completely closed off—hands gathered in front of her, everything else about her pulled tight.

He produced a small smile and shook his head as if she had just tried to get away with something.

"You know there's this thing people do—once they know what the job's for, they tailor their experiences to it, which, obviously, you're supposed to do. But this position requires more insight into personality. Compatibility beyond whether or not the objective of the current version of your résumé lines up with the job description. Get my drift?"

She nodded but looked unsure.

"Anyway, so just start by telling me about you. Hand me your résumé verbally. Tell me about your job experiences, as far back as you want."

His coffee was brought to him just as she started to launch into her job history.

He watched her carefully as she spoke, listening to everything she said and everything she didn't say.

She looked sort of embarrassed by some of her jobs—the fast food places, in particular—and her eyes darted to his suit as if realizing those jobs were silly to mention in the face of his apparent wealth.

Her slightly elevated energy as she first began to speak started to come down, as if she started losing hope of being good enough for whatever he was looking for.

"So you've been working a while. Keep going," he encouraged her.

She continued to talk about her jobs and he found himself distracted by her lips again.

What he would give to pull them between his...

"Hm. Well, that sounds great. I mean, what I'm looking for doesn't require all that much experience and training like I said. Sort of an on-the-job kind of deal; no degrees needed."

"Um, what kind of terms are we talking? Is it part-time or full-time? And what's the salary range?"

She looked embarrassed to have asked, and he wasn't sure how to answer her since everything was on the fly.

"It depends," he began. "It's a pretty fluid position. You can start off part-time but go to full-time, for example, depending on how things work out with the workload."

He watched her eyes light up.

"As for salary range, pretty standard."

She nodded as if she knew and he was glad he didn't have to throw out a figure in case he was way off.

Did she really just need a job that badly that she wouldn't even press for how much it paid? What the heck had she been making?

"What was your previous salary?" he asked.

When she hesitated, her eyes wary, he said shortly, "It's a standard question."

He tried to keep his face neutral when she answered, then did some math in his head.

Even if she had been working forty-hour weeks, at the rate she gave...holy cow—he made more than her annual salary in less than an hour. Pretty much anything he threw out would be a vast improvement.

"If things work out, you could be making upwards of fifty grand a year," he said. It was the price he'd paid for his current watch.

Her eyes looked like they might pop right off her face; the figure was almost three times what she made recently.

He fished around in his pocket.

"Here's my card. Call that number at nine p.m. tonight, and I'll have more info for you."

She took the card, still looking dazed.

He knew he had her.

He checked his watch again, reconsidering the time. No need to keep them both waiting too long—four hours was far more than enough time to make something up for her and iron out the details.

"Make that six o'clock," he said, trying to keep himself from smiling at his own cunning.

He had done exactly what potential employees did in their interviews with potential employers, twisting it for his own needs. Instead of having her tailor her answers and résumé to the prospective job, he could now tailor the job to her, forming the position based off of her answers.

Retail, she'd said? Food and Beverage? Some babysitting? Done.

Kevin briefly considered having her work in one of his buildings, but he had a strong desire to bring her home and have her in his space.

He already had a full staff of housekeepers, but surely they won't mind another pair of helping hands?

He wondered why he felt such a pull toward that particular girl—he wasn't usually so moved by other people's plights; she wasn't the first strange female on the verge of tears he'd seen.

So why did he feel a need to help her?

And beyond that, why didn't he just pull some strings and get her started filing things away or some other unskilled administrative work away from him? Why did he feel a need to have her in his mansion?

Sure, she was an attractive girl but there was certainly no shortage of those; he had access to more refined versions of her in droves.

He pushed his thoughts away.

For now, he'd just go with it—it felt great to do a good deed every now and then, something that wasn't just a tax write-off.

He stared at the pile of paperwork on his desk again.

Maybe Michael was right and it was time for him to take a mini-vacation and stop and smell the roses.

Instead of coming to the office, maybe he'd just work from home for the next week or two now that he had a reason to hang out there.

His office assistant might appreciate the break—or maybe she'd be a little miffed he wasn't bringing her home instead, since she knew pretty much all of his preferences—down to how he liked his sandwiches.

Either way, his needs would be slightly different at home since he already had a full staff of people who knew what he liked and how he liked it.

Damn it, where could he really slot the girl in then?

He talked to his house manager, Jeffrey, and according to his assessment, they were, in fact, overstaffed; there was only so much dusting and dry-cleaning and laundering their current staff of six could do daily.

Kevin knew he kept more workers than needed, but he certainly didn't have the heart to let anyone go.

He didn't want Naomi to work in a cleaning capacity anyway.

Maybe she could work with his personal shopper as a sort of nod to her past retail experience.

He finally decided to confine her to Food and Beverage needs.

She'd bring him his coffee, and maybe he'd arrange for her to work with Chef Manny—have her sent on runs for groceries or whatever he needed.

And if that wasn't enough, he'd eventually figure out more ways to fill up her time.

She looked pretty desperate; she'd do almost anything, probably.

When his phone rang at six p.m., Kevin's heart sped up unexpectedly and he felt on edge.

_What the hell was that about?_ he wondered.

He never got nervous about calls unless he thought his father was on the other end.

"Great news!" he said when he heard Naomi's voice. "I'd like to offer you the position. As I mentioned, it's in a domestic capacity so it's for my estate, and it's a rather fluid position—you'd be acting as a sort of general household assistant mainly to the cooks and my other personal assistants."

"What should I wear? Or is there a uniform provided?"

Kevin thought of the plain blue and white uniform his domestic staff wore and scowled.

"Well, you won't be getting your hands dirty exactly—especially since it's your first day—so feel free to wear what you'd wear if going to the mall or something. Jeans, long, dark pants. T-shirts. No sleeveless tops. I'll send over a wardrobe guide. Also, you already have the job, but I'll need you to fill out a formal application. We can do this all electronically—send me your email, I'll send you the secure application. Then look out for more details later tonight."

Once her details came in, he started to research her.

Unlike his crazy cousin, he still had to use reason and logic when about to invite a stranger into his home.

He proceeded with a background check, and his heart softened once he discovered her residence at a group home in her teens and realized she was a child of the system. One of those kids who never got adopted.

Now that he had the workplaces she'd told him about on paper, he followed up and confirmed her former places of employment and her places of residence.

His portrait of her filled out more as her previous employers had nothing but good things to say about her—even the one who'd fired her.

So she was late and distracted a lot—it only pointed to what he suspected—she had serious issues and he looked forward to prying them out of her...

* * *

****Grab the rest of _The Billionaire's Assistant_ ****from the retailer** **OR get all 3 books in the series in a discounted** **bundle** **.****

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**U P NEXT: **A short sample from **_Alec: The Wilde Brothers_** (A BBW BWWM Billionaire Romance).

# Alec: The Wilde Brothers

### Excerpt

**_A_** lec knew it would strike him again, yet he was still unprepared for the force of the jealousy and longing that seared through him when the lovely bride appeared on the lawn, and then began her walk up the petal-covered aisle toward his grinning, waiting friend.

Alec had had doubts about the integrity of the relationship between the blond beauty and his friend, Jake; he had wondered if they had 'the real thing' or an arrangement. But in that particular moment, the two looked genuinely ecstatic to be legally joined.

Alec wanted nothing to do with the beaming blonde in white—merely what she represented, and what being outside in formalwear on a stunning beach with a tropical wind kissing everyone's faces meant.

No matter how much Alec had tried to drown out his longing with every luxury that money could buy, he knew exactly what he was missing, and it was a moment like this.

He also knew that he had no right to feel resentment toward Jake and Laura for discovering what he had been unable to uncover.

How dare he feel deprived? How could he feel anything but joy in Bora Bora, surrounded by heavenly island beauty?

It was not his first trip to the paradise, and likely not his last since it was one of his favorite locations for a love affair, and by the look on one of the three bridesmaids' faces, the dawn of a new affair was on the horizon.

The pretty bridesmaid kept glancing at him—a brunette with unusually long black hair, dark eyes, and dimples—with a look that he recognized all too well. She was cute and obviously willing, but this time, Alec felt no desire to take her up on her silent offer.

She would probably look amazing naked with all that dark hair draped over her curvy body and tickling her hips, but Alec's emotional funk prevented him from getting roused by the possibilities.

He figured that once he broke his strange mood, he would get back to his usual business and there would be no loss; even if he returned to his senses when the brunette was no longer around, it would be no problem finding another girl like her who was willing to give all of herself to him for whatever reason she had—whether it was merely the satisfaction of sleeping with a billionaire, or the silly hope that their fuck session could turn into something more.

Alec could not believe the number of women who thought sleeping with him nearly immediately would make him more interested in them; he didn't get the logic at all. The women didn't whet his appetite; they merely satisfied his temporary hunger, and once that was done, they had little more to offer him—at least, he never really got the chance to see if there was more to them since he lost interest so quickly.

The few he remembered made him work for it a little, and it gave him enough time to get to know them a bit, leading him to appreciate some of their unique qualities.

Still, none of them stuck, and damn it, he wanted a woman who would stick.

"You think this could be you someday, man?" Jake said when they got a moment alone, the ceremony melting into a light reception.

Alec nodded. "Actually, I do."

Jake's face transformed into shock. "You know I wasn't serious—are you really ready?"

Alec just looked at him with an expression he was sure communicated just how serious he was.

Just then, the bridesmaid who had been making eyes at him made her way over to him.

"Dance with me," she said, her dark eyes twinkling, and he obliged.

All the while they spun and dipped, Alec's mind kept drumming something up—a memory, an impression.

Eventually, the churning stopped, and a face emerged clearly—a face that represented all that he had been looking for—and he knew exactly what he had to do.

Alec was grateful for the excuse of having to leave the reception almost immediately to fly out and meet his brothers for their annual birthday celebration. He looked forward to seeing them and hearing their stories about everything that had happened since the last time they saw each other, and he definitely couldn't wait to hoist his proposition onto them.

Throughout the entire plane ride, he thought about how he would propose this year's challenge to them. He considered just mentioning his long-term plan to his brothers, but no doubt, they'd laugh. They were only two years behind him, but in maturity, he felt like they lagged by at least five years. Alec decided that the only way—besides not mentioning his plan at all—was to frame his intent in the terms of the game they had been playing for the past three years.

As his jet made its way toward the Hawaiian beach house he shared with them, Alec ran over the plan in his mind again, trying to anticipate any objections and arrange his words in a way that would set off no alarms.

Even if his brothers didn't agree to his proposition, he knew he had to go forward with his scheme. His urge had overtaken him; in fact, he had a hard time flying to their usual meeting spot instead of setting his plan into motion right away, but it would be good to see his brothers again.

Alec smiled as he took in the signs of his brothers' arrival. For so much of their lives they repeated events in their birth order: his younger brothers always arriving at the beach house later than he did—Brandon slightly ahead of Connor like twenty-four years ago, when they slid out of their mother's womb two minutes apart.

Alec didn't know how their mother did it—if it was fate or if she induced it—but he was grateful she managed to give them all the same birthday, and an easy reason to see each other at least once a year in their adulthood.

Alec stood, ready to embrace his brothers as they burst through the door.

Brandon's smile was wide as he entered, wearing only cargo shorts and sandals and with a surfboard at his side. Clearly, he had imminent plans for the ocean a few hundred feet away.

"Happy Birthday, brother," Brandon said as Alec embraced him.

At six feet one, Alec was no shorty, but his younger brother dwarfed him by a few inches.

"Happy Birthday," Alec replied. "Heard from Connor?"

"He'll be here soon. He stopped to chat up some chick."

Alec grinned. "Of course."

"You mean _you_ don't have some chick around?" Brandon asked, looking around the house with exaggerated movements.

"Come on, Brandon, you know this place is sacred ground—at least for today."

Brandon chuckled.

"What about you?" Alec said. "Still no lucky lady in your life?"

"Come on—plenty of lucky ladies."

"You know what I mean."

Brandon looked at him strangely. "You mean like a girlfriend? Why the hell would I do that?"

Alec didn't answer.

Just then, they heard giggling and Connor entered the beach house with a grinning, bikini-clad cutie.

Every now and then, Alec was struck by how little the three of them looked alike. They all had blue eyes, but Connor stayed fair-haired past childhood, and although the same height as him, he had a lither, lean frame. Brandon towered over them both and had a medium-frame and light brown hair. Alec, although the second tallest, had the largest frame of them all—built in the gym. Brandon always asked him for tips to bulk up, and Alec never knew what to tell him—he had no need to stack up on pills and powders—his body just responded to his exercises.

"You should totally audition to play Clark Kent sometime," Brandon had told him once,—as if he'd ever be interested in acting. Alec had assumed his brother suggested it because of his eyes, dark hair, and heavily muscled physique, but then he quickly realized that his brother probably meant it mostly because of the geek who lived underneath it all.

Anyone who met Alec now would never imagine what he was like before, but neither he nor his brothers could forget.

These days, Alec was well aware of the effect his evolved physicality had on women and why they had no chance against him or his brothers since, beyond their billions, women considered them 'dreamy.' They had even had women approach the three of them with an interest in sleeping with them all, but the idea did not appeal to Alec.

One girl had wanted them on the same night, and Connor had been down for it, but, of course, wanted to go first.

Another simply went after both him and Connor after sleeping with Brandon, and Connor took her up on her offer, but Alec refused; he was not interested in any of his brothers' sloppy seconds—the same night or otherwise.

Connor broke away from his current girl to briefly hug him and Brandon, wishing them a happy birthday before going back to the girl's side.

"These are my brothers: Alec and Brandon—my twin. Fraternal, obviously."

The girl smiled at each of them in turn, shaking hands with her fingertips.

"This is Melissa," Connor said, smiling at her.

She frowned briefly but corrected him with a smile. "Clarissa," she said.

Connor whispered something in her ear and she giggled. Then he led her away toward the stairs.

Brandon rolled his eyes. "Sacred ground, huh?" he said with a wry smile as he watched the couple ascend.

Alec observed Brandon examining the girl's butt under her flimsy bikini coverup.

"Well, nothing's sacred to Connor," Alec grumbled, trying not to feel put off; after all, the three of them used the house at various times of the year to rendezvous, even though it officially belonged to him. But this day was supposed to be about them alone, and the house was supposed to stay clean—at least for one day.

Alec would remind Connor later.

"I'm itching to ride some waves," Brandon said. "While he's busy up there, I'm gonna hit the surf. Be back in a reasonable time."

An hour later, the girl avoided eye contact with him as she and Connor came down the stairs and then headed outside.

_Great_ , Alec thought.

He knew his impatience was a bit selfish, and that they probably never got to their game right away on their meet-ups, but he couldn't help it; this year's challenge was especially important.

The usual chef arrived and finished making dinner before Alec's brothers made their way back inside.

Alec waited until the chef left.

"Wait, so no hot masseuses this year, bro? What's up with that?" Brandon asked, toweling off.

"Your party planning skills are fading, brother; I'm disappointed," Connor agreed. "We had that sick-ass party the first year..."

"And ended up with a million in damage," Alec pointed out.

"Yeah, but, come on—how much fun was that? I didn't even know half those people who showed up..."

"I didn't either."

"...but it sure as hell didn't matter. Shit was unbelievable."

"Yeah, and we had to pay off a few who tried to hold us liable for a few things."

"Meanwhile, last year was off the chain," Brandon jumped in. "All those amazing nude female living statues, the burlesque show, the aerialists..."

"And now this year, what—we just get sushi," Connor said, staring down at the spread. "Pretty fucking amazing sushi, I'll admit, but that's it?"

"I figured we'd take it easy this year. Relax. You guys have probably been working hard at one thing or another for the year—I know I have. And I'm beat."

"You're getting old, bro—that's all there is to it."

Brandon shared a glance and chuckle with Connor.

Alec couldn't help but smile. Mid-twenties was nowhere near old. Besides, his brothers were pretty much right behind him.

"Perhaps," Alec said. "My priorities are certainly changing."

"Oh boy. I don't have a good feeling about this," Connor said, popping some sort of eel roll into his mouth.

Alec took a breath. "Look, I've been thinking, and our game this year—I'm thinking we go after someone we met a long time ago. Secondary school days or earlier."

Alec was almost surprised birds hadn't started tweeting into the silence. His brothers only stared at him with blank eyes.

"May I remind you that last year, we dated VS models," Brandon said.

"I remember."

"Genetic freaks, remember? Tall, thin but curvy bods, gorgeous faces...just overall exceptional beauts..."

"I know!"

"And the year before that, we snatched up juicy little pop stars at the top of their game. Remember that?" Brandon asked.

"And the year before that," Connor said, "what was it, hot athletes? Or budding actresses? The point is high profile, high maintenance, well-manicured, well-groomed women. Women who are used to this life or expect to be treated with some reverence. Chicks who are trying to play it cool while hoping we decide to sweep them up permanently. Am I wrong?"

Alec sighed. He had anticipated the resistance, but he hadn't anticipated it to feel so draining.

And Connor didn't stop there. "So let me get this straight—you're suggesting we go after some chick we happened to go to school or church or whatever with."

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting."

"Aren't we supposed to be running away from that type?" Brandon said. "You do remember our high school girls, right? Do you really think any of them are ready for us today?"

"Oh, I get it," Connor said, a thoughtful look on his face. "Therein lies the challenge: finding one who isn't already married with six kids, and who doesn't make us want to gag." He shook his head. "This one doesn't sound fun at all."

"Come on, Con, we're twenty-four; they're around the same age. Most of them haven't gone to shit yet, right?" Brandon turned to Alec like he might have the answer.

"I'd imagine there's some girl you met in the first eighteen years of your life you wouldn't mind revisiting," Alec said firmly.

"Honestly, it strikes me as kind of cruel," Brandon replied. "The girls we date now, they know what to expect, and after us, they're on to the next rich guy. The poor hometown girls—they're not asking for any of this. What, we're just gonna swoop in, show them a good time, and then bounce as usual with them not knowing how to get back to regular life?"

"Aw, Brandon. You mean you care? A heart of gold beneath the man-whore behavior?" Connor made a mocking puppy face. "Spare me," he said. "We'd be doing them a favor. When else will they get a chance to be treated like a princess for a week or however long we're doing this? Don't you think they'd be grateful for the opportunity? You think when they're eighty they won't look back at the time they dated some hot billionaire with a smile? This is what they all want—some whirlwind romance. So okay, let's do it. The Hometown Hottie." Connor shook his head slowly. "Wow. Well, finding the prospects might be harder, but it should be the easiest thing in the world to get a regular girl to fall for our charms. According to my observations and experience so far, every woman desires to be a high-class prostitute—to sell herself to the highest bidder in exchange for a life of luxury; a life every woman is born or conditioned to think she deserves. A life we—the providers and protectors—owe her, the princess or queen she thinks she is."

Alec realized that Connor spoke with some bitterness. Shouldn't he be happy about such terms and conditions? It seemed that he took every opportunity to enjoy those types of women—sought them out, in fact, and, therefore, wouldn't know any other way.

"I'll have to break out the yearbook on this one," Brandon said. "'Cause I have no clue where to start."

But Alec knew exactly who he wanted to go after: Dahlia Bridges.

He would honestly be disappointed if she just fell into his arms like the others, but he looked forward to seeing how long it would take.

"Here's the twist," Alec said. "You have to wait two weeks before sleeping with her. And whoever gets her to say, 'I love you' first and still stays with her at least three months after, wins the title to this beach house."

Brandon shrugged. "This should be cake..."

****Grab the rest of _Alec_ ****from the retailer** **or get all 3 Wilde brothers books in one** **bundle** **!****

# About the Author

Rose Francis likes reading and writing psychological fiction, particularly stories addressing difficult topics.

She has been writing from a very early age and is thrilled to have a platform that allows her to bring her tales to the public!

* * *

_A Tangled Web_ is the first book in the _Dangerous Secrets_ series. The second (unrelated) book, _Chrysalis_ , is also available.

* * *

**Check out Rose's author page for more interracial love stories!**

Contact:

    author.rosefrancis

rosefrancis.poisonarrowpublishing.com

rose_francis@live.com

# Also by Rose Francis

Unexpected

Alec: The Wilde Brothers

Brandon: The Wilde Brothers

Connor: The Wilde Brothers

The Billionaire's Assistant

Serving the Billionaire

The Tycoon's Reluctant Bride

The Billionaire Scoop

A Christmas Miracle

A Valentine's Day Surprise

Playing with Fire

In Hot Water

Chrysalis

Trapped

Leap of Faith

The Lifeguard

# MAILING LIST

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