“Ms. Davison, hello. Tom tells me your Mr. Snow has a proposition...”
I turned.
Her gaze came to me and then started to move away.
It snapped back almost immediately and I watched as she lapsed into silence, her face going pale. Shit. I'd forgotten how much I looked like
him
, the senator. The man who'd gotten her pregnant. My father. Shit.
I didn’t know what to say. Dammit. Why hadn’t I thought of something to say, how to say this?
Her face was ghost white, eyes huge and startled.
“Ms. Cole. May I offer you a seat?” Aleena touched her arm. Cecily looked around, dazed and then nodded, letting Aleena guide her to a couch.
Tom was staring at me, hard, dislike clear in his eyes. He'd already figured out that something wasn't quite right here.
I swallowed and reached up to tug at a tie I wasn’t even wearing. I just couldn’t breathe.
Aleena looked at me and I stared at her helplessly. I didn't know what to do. What to say. Me, Dominic Snow, who was always in control, was completely at a loss.
Aleena gave me an encouraging smile and then looked back at Cecily. “Ms. Cole. I...” She paused and then said, “I need to beg your understanding and your patience. Please.”
Cecily was still staring at me.
“Ms. Cole?”
Finally, she looked at Aleena and nodded.
I retreated back behind the desk and listened. Listened as the woman I’d never expected to love told the woman I’d never expected to find a story that sounded insane, even to me. But it had nothing to do with me. It was about the baby snatching ring from twenty years ago. When she stopped, Cecily was twisting a handkerchief around and around in her hands. After a moment, she looked up. “I know all about that ring, Ms. Davison.” She hesitated and then said, “I assume you’re telling me this because you know about my son.”
“Yes.”
Cecily nodded and struggled to smile. It was an attempt at a cool, collected smile and it was a damn good one.
But it wobbled and I could see the bleak heartbreak in her eyes. What were we doing? I didn’t need to know that badly. I didn’t need to tear open old wounds, did I? What kind of person was I that I'd hurt this kind, caring woman?
“If you know about him, then you know that my son died twenty-eight years ago. A doctor was there. He pronounced him dead at birth.”
Aleena leaned forward. The compassion that had gotten to me from the beginning showed in her eyes. “Your nana heard him crying.”
For a long moment, Cecily just stared at her. Then she leapt up, her jaw going tight. “No!” Her voice was harsh, jagged. Fists clenched at her sides. “No. Stop this. You…why are you doing this? It’s cruel. Isabel left because of what I’d done. Because I’d
killed
my son with the life I lived.” She swept the room with a gaze, but this time, her eyes bounced right off me as though I wasn’t there. “Tom, we’re leaving.”
But Tom was studying me, and it wasn't dislike in his eyes anymore. It was something else.
“She
heard
him crying, Ms. Cole,” Aleena said again, her voice gentle. “We spoke to her brother. She was fired the day after you gave birth. She didn’t want to leave. They made her. They wouldn’t let her come back, Cecily. They fired her because she knew you’d given birth to a healthy boy and they sold him.”
“No.” It was a whisper this time.
Her eyes skipped to me, held for a bare moment and I knew she was seeing the face of the man who’d fathered me. She’d felt something for him, I realized with a start. I could see it in her eyes. He’d turned his back on her. She’d written that much in the book. She’d thought she loved him and now she was staring at a man who looked so much like him.
Clearing my throat, I said, “My name is Dominic Snow.”
She jerked at the sound of my voice, as though it hurt.
“Twenty-eight years ago, on April twenty-seventh, my parents brought me home. I’m adopted...”
I stood up and walked over to her. She sat back down onto the couch, staring up at me with guarded eyes.
I settled on the chair across from hers, not wanting to spook her by sitting closer. “What day was your son born?”
“April twenty-sixth.” Her eye sketched a quick, nervous circle across my face.
“The private investigator I hired made some loose connections between the people who facilitated my adoption and a lawyer your parents used. There was a...sizable transaction that week.” Five hundred thousand dollars. The cost of a healthy baby boy.
She flinched as though she’d been slapped.
“They said he died.” She said it pleadingly, in the voice of the child she once was. But she didn’t sound like she believed it anymore.
I looked down, bracing myself. Then, slowly, I slid off the chair and settled on my knees a foot away from her. “I’m just about positive they lied, Ms. Cole.”
She took a deep breath and then reached up and touched my cheek. “So...my son’s name is Dominic.”
Chapter 14
Aleena
It had been three days. The first twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of paternity testing and questions. The testing had been gently suggested by Tom. “You would both feel better, knowing for sure,” he’d said.
He was likely right, though I was grateful I hadn't needed to suggest it.
The tests, done on a rush in under twelve hours, were positive. Cecily Cole was Dominic’s mother.
The FBI was brought in directly since the case had originally gone to them when it had first been uncovered. With the new information, and two new players—namely the elderly couple I'd seen Tom speaking with—the authorities were confident they could start finding some of the bigger names, and possibly track down other stolen babies.
I almost felt sorry for the Coles. They had only done what they'd thought was necessary to protect their family's reputation. Now, Cecily was cutting off what little contact she'd kept with them and they'd never get to know the wonderful man their grandson had become. Still, the ‘almost’ was all there was. Seeing how badly they'd hurt Cecily took away most of the sympathy I would've had.
Dominic’s parents were a different matter legally. They’d thought they were participating in a private adoption, a pricy one, but a legit one. Or at least one with the mother's consent. Even the FBI said the papers looked legitimate. If Dominic’s mother had had some reservations, something her hunger for a baby had made her overlook…well, it wasn’t anything she would be convicted of. Despite her flaws, in some ways she was a victim too. And now, she had to look at Dominic and Cecily for the rest of her life and know how she’d hurt them both.
The worst part of the whole thing was the press. Someone along the way had leaked the news and we'd been swarmed as soon as we'd gotten back to New York. We’d retreated to the house in the Hamptons for some quiet and now, as night fell, Dominic and I sat staring out over the ocean and listening to the cry of the gulls.
“You won’t be staying in the guest house anymore,” Dominic said suddenly, breaking the silence.
I rested my head against his chest, smiled. “Yes, sir.”
His lips brushed my neck. “I love hearing you say that,” he murmured.
“I love you.” I turned my face and whispered the words against his cheek.
He turned his head so that our foreheads touched. “I love you.” He hooked his finger around my necklace. “Did you ever think that this necklace would come in so handy?”
“How so?”
“Well, it brought us together, didn’t it?”
I laughed. “That’s a good point.”
His fingers slid along the chain then lower, the tip of one teasing the neckline of my shirt. “Come here.”
I shivered and glanced around us, recognizing the tone in his voice.
“There’s nobody here.” Clearly tired of waiting, he pulled me into his lap. His hands slid up under the hem of my skirt, the heat of his hands sending a shiver up my spine. I'd never lounged around in a skirt before I'd met him, but I was definitely learning the appeal of easy access.
I looped my arms around his neck as he bent forward, arching me backward. He pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to the center of my chest, his mouth open. It was a raw, intimate touch, so much more than a kiss, so much more than a caress.
One arm remained at my back, steadying me, while the other went between us. I could feel him working at his trousers, then tugging my panties aside.
“Inside…?” I whispered.
“Yes. Inside you. Here. Now.”
The demand in his voice was enough to make me not care that we were outside. I groaned as, mere seconds later, he fulfilled that promise, shoving inside me. I was wet and eager; he was hard, demanding, our bodies moving together in perfect sync.
“Take off your shirt,” he said, his fingers digging into my hips as he lifted me, then brought me down, guiding me into a hard, driving rhythm.
My fingers skipped along the row of buttons, shaking, fumbling. When I reached the last one, he took over, shoving the shirt down until it trapped my arms at my elbows. Then he reached for my bra, freeing the clasp and shoving the cups open. “I love your tits,” he muttered, cupping them in his hands as he continued to rock up, driving into me. He slumped deeper onto the couch, rolling my nipples between thumb and forefinger. “Ride me, Aleena. I want to see you, watch you.” His hips stopped. “Use me to make yourself come.”
I swallowed and stared down at him, unfamiliar with this. He was always the one in control. A faint smile curled his lips, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Ride me,” he said again, one hand going to my hip and showing me the rhythm.
Slowly, I started to move. Up. Down. He cupped my breasts, teased my nipples, but his hips stayed still. I looked down, staring at his hands on my breasts. His cock swelled inside me and I cried out, leaning forward. It changed everything, the angle of his cock, how it felt inside me.
“That’s it, baby…ride me…”
I moved faster, felt everything clenching inside me. Unable to stay still any longer, he started to thrust up, meeting my every downward stroke.
Too much, too much—
I threw back my head and cried out his name.
He moaned mine.
We climaxed together, bodies shuddering as we moved against each other, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until we couldn't hold anymore.
As I slumped against his chest, he slid one hand up my back, under the tangle we’d made of my shirt. I shuddered as his cock twitched inside me, sending a series of sensation tripping through me.
He sighed and shifted, rolling so that we lay sideways on the fat, well-padded cushions of the outdoor couch. Tucking my head into the nook just below his chin, I smiled. “I was thinking…”
“Thinking…” Dominic rubbed his cheek against mine. “If you were thinking just now, I may have to deal with a damaged ego.”
I laughed and pressed a kiss against his side. “No. But…well, my necklace, yeah. It broke. But maybe I should send my old boss a thank you note. If he hadn’t decided to be such an ass, you might not have felt the need to come rushing to my rescue. Who knows…we might not be here. And I’m pretty happy being right here.”
“Oh, Aleena.” He wrapped me up tight, hugging me closer. So close I could barely breathe. “I would have found you. I was all but waiting for a reason to hunt you down. I just didn’t realize it.”
The End
All series and box sets from M. S. Parker
French Connection (Club Prive) Vol. 1 to 3
Chasing Perfection Vol. 1 to 4
Craving HIM
Connect with the authors on Facebook:
Cassie Wild:
http://Facebook.com/CassieWildAuthor
MS Parker:
http://Facebook.com/MsParkerAuthor
Acknowledgement
First, we would like to thank all of our readers. Without you, our books would not exist. We truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big “thanks” goes out to all the Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of the series.
We have to thank our PA, Shannon Hunt. Without you our lives would be a complete and utter mess. Also a big thank you goes out to our editor Lynette and our wonderful cover designer, Sinisa. You make our ideas and writing look so good.
About The Authors
MS Parker
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privè and Chasing Perfection.
Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing.
Cassie Wild
Cassie Wild loves romance. Every since she was eight years old she’s been reading every romance novel she could get her hands on, always dreaming of writing her own romance novels.
When MS Parker approached her about co-authoring the Serving HIM series, it didn’t take Cassie many seconds to say a big yes!!
Serving HIM and Pure Lust are only the beginning to the collaboration between MS Parker and Cassie Wild. Another series is already in the planning stages.