Rachel Bailey - Return of the Secret Heir

Her cell rang and when she reached for it, she saw JT’s number. Her foolish heart leaped, and she laid a hand over her chest to steady it as she stared at the screen. Had she just congratulated herself on catching the dependency in time? She rolled her eyes at herself and pressed the talk button.

“Good morning, JT.”

“Are you watching the news?” he asked with no preliminaries.

She looked down at the contract on her desk, with an ironic smile. “No, I’m busy trying to impress my boss and make partner.”

“The media knows I was staying with you.” His voice was strained, as if he was holding back the anger by only a tenuous thread.

A swarm of butterflies took flight in her belly. It was on the television? The entire world would know by the end of the day. Her parents, her sisters. JT’s mother. JT’s half brothers. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “How?”

“Someone’s leaked it. Maybe someone in your office who noticed my things when they dropped your work off, or just as easily a neighbor who recognized my face on the television,” he said, voice weary. She could imagine him running fingers through his hair. “It hardly matters now.”

Her heart sank into her stomach with a heavy thud as a realization hit. “I hadn’t told my boss you were staying.” She dropped her head into her hand. This would change the playing field. Change everything-who knew how Ted Howard would react?

“He’ll know soon enough,” JT said grimly. “But my main concern is your security. As you pointed out, anything to do with Warner Bramson’s family has always been big news, and my being involved with someone from your firm has the undeniable scent of scandal attached. They’ll have a feeding frenzy and I won’t have you tracked down or your safety threatened.”

Just at that moment, Ted Howard’s secretary knocked on her open door, then dropped a note on her desk.

Ted wants you in his office as soon as you have a moment.

Bright panic flared in her chest, but she quickly tamped it down-if she didn’t stay on top of the situation, she’d drown. “My boss just sent word he wants to see me,” she said, adjusting her scarf with her free hand. “I have to go.”

“Listen, I’m sending a car over to you tonight. I’d come myself, but that will make it worse.”

Already planning what she’d say to Ted Howard, she blinked and had to replay JT’s words. “A car? Why?”

“It’ll be someone I trust to bring you to my place. Just grab Winston and what you need. We can send someone back for more of your things later.”

Overloaded with thorny information, her temples began to throb. “You want me to move to your place when I’m in a hot vat of trouble over your staying at my place?”

“The media is going to camp out in front of your apartment,” he said, voice adamant. “You don’t have enough security to deal with them.”

She’d watched the media go wild when JT’s half brothers had become involved with women recently, but both those women had already been famous-Macy had grown up in the limelight as the daughter of a movie star and a business magnate, and April was a world-famous jazz singer. Sure, there was the angle of her working on the estate JT was claiming against, but it was hardly in the same league.

Her two priorities at the moment were her baby and her career. Her baby wouldn’t be impacted by whether she went to JT’s apartment or not, but her job most certainly would. It could make her situation at this firm even more precarious than it was already.

Her decision was plain-she couldn’t go to JT.

“I appreciate your concern in making a plan to protect me, JT, but it won’t be necessary.”

“Pia, they’re swarming,” he said, voice deep. “But if you won’t come to me, I’ll have to insist on at least providing secure transport to your apartment. There will be a car waiting when you leave.”

She looked down at the scrawled note on her desk from her boss’s secretary and her stomach clenched. He was waiting for her. “Thank you, that’s sweet, but I’m sorry, I have to go.”

She straightened her jacket and smoothed her hair back, convincing herself she was ready for this meeting. That she had a chance of salvaging her career after the unacceptable mistakes she’d made. She would tell him everything, expose her actions and decisions as much as she needed to climb out of the hole she’d dropped herself in.

When she reached Ted Howard’s reception room, his secretary smiled sympathetically. “He said you could go straight on in.”

“Thanks, Margie.” She took a deep breath and opened the door. Ted looked at her for a long moment over his glasses, then waved her into a seat.

“Is it true?” he asked.

She gave a short nod and interlaced her fingers over her crossed knees. “As you know, when I was working from home, it was on the doctor’s recommendation for my safety. The doctor also recommended having someone in the apartment when I showered or did anything that would be dangerous if I fainted. JT was my only option. I have no family in town and he’s the father of the baby. So he stayed at night. I ensured there was no paperwork pertaining to the case in the apartment when he was there.”

Ted nodded and removed his glasses. “Pia, I have to be honest. I’ve had some calls from clients who’ve seen the story on the news. They’re worried about the firm’s integrity.”

Her mouth dried. She’d brought the firm into disrepute. Her lack of self-control around one man had created a domino effect that now had the potential to destroy so much.

She swallowed her pride and made the only offer she could see to fix the mess she’d created. “I’m prepared to take all my vacation time owing to carry me through to the start of maternity leave. With the extra months after the birth that the partners have approved, it should be enough time for the media interest and the speculation to have died down when I come back.”

“That should help,” Ted said, not missing a beat, obviously having considered this option already. “You should also know that when you come back from leave, things will be different. This has been a serious breach, Pia, and your new position will reflect that.”

He was demoting her. “I understand,” she said, her voice not much more than a croak.

“How long will it take you to hand your cases over?”

Digging her nails into her palms to keep from going numb, she checked her watch. Four-thirty. “I’ll make a start now. I should have it all done by lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Do it,” he said, then looked back down at the papers on his desk, dismissing her with none of the professional esteem he’d given her until recently. Despite flinching at the sharp slap of the rejection, she had to acknowledge it was nothing more than appropriate for the person risking the firm’s reputation, so she set her shoulders, ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach, and returned to her office.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a daze of handing cases to other lawyers and emptying her in-box. By the time she reached her building’s foyer, she was almost drooping with mental exhaustion. Two security guards met her and explained JT had sent them, and that there were already journalists outside the building. Goose bumps erupted across her skin, so she thanked them and followed them through to the basement garage.

When they turned into her street, she saw a small group of journalists and photographers awaiting her on the sidewalk outside her apartment building and groaned. JT’s warnings-and offer to stay with him-replayed in her mind, but she dismissed it, and when the media called out asking for a comment, she ignored them. The security escorted her to the door and saw her in before leaving. The idea of living in a fish bowl sent shivers across her skin, but as she’d told Ted Howard, it would die down soon enough.

As evening fell, even her bags of netting and ribbon couldn’t distract her from the swelling group out front. With no response, they’d become more bold, and now there were regular knocks at her front-facing window. It had state-of-the-art security, so there was no physical threat, but she felt assaulted every time they called out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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