The Baby Contract (The Billionaire Bachelor Series) (16 page)

Abby frowned, not recalling giving the man her full name. He retreated just before Liam arrived.

“What did he say to you?” Liam demanded.

Shocked by his anger, it took a moment to collect her reply. “Nothing.”

He didn’t appear satisfied with her answer. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No, I’m enjoying myself,” she lied. “I’m staying.”

She watched his jaw work as he gritted his teeth. Irked by his attitude, her stubbornness set in. “Shouldn’t you hang out a bit longer?” She stared out over the dance floor of embracing couples. “I’m sure there are a few women here who’d love a dance.”
Like Charity and Miss Texas.

“There is only one woman here I want to dance with.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. She resisted but he held tight and marched toward the dance floor. She tripped and followed along into the mass of people, her shoes still sitting by the row of chairs.

“Liam.”

He whirled her around to face him and pulled her close, his hand pressing against her lower back.

She glared into his face. “Liam, for the love of God, you could’ve let me put my shoes back on.”

“What did Richard have to say?” His voice came out a low growl near her ear. Despite her annoyance, a shiver of hot awareness raced through her muscles.

“I told you, nothing,” she said above the music, trying to keep from tromping on his toes as he led the dance.

He pressed her closer. “What about Breck? He’s been watching you all night.”

She pushed at Liam’s chest, but he wouldn’t allow her space. She stared into his face. “Are you jealous?”

A muscle in his jaw worked and he looked over her head.
He
is
jealous!
Why it should cause her such pleasure was beyond her. Especially considering his ape-ish behavior.

“You’re mine while we’re under contract,” he ground out.

Abby’s mouth fell open as the ugly words formed into an uglier mass in her brain.
His?
And he
had
to throw the damn contract in her face. Again. She stomped his foot with her stocking covered heel. Startled, he released her and she weaved her way through the crowd toward her shoes. Liam caught up to her and grabbed her upper arm, drawing the stares of several onlookers.

“Let me go, Liam,” she hissed through her teeth. “Now.” Never again would she be controlled or owned by a man. She’d sworn that the night she’d left Jeff.

“We’re leaving,” Liam snarled.

Abby tried to wrench free of his grip. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” Liam pulled her toward the exit. Abby dug in her heels, her shoes still lay next to the chair. She managed to break free from his steely hand. A few times Jeff had flown off the handle during social functions and done the same thing to her. The memories infuriated her, hateful old memories that squeezed her heart.

“Like hell I’m leaving with you, you ass,” she snapped. “I’ll find my own way home.”

Jonathon manifested as if from thin air. “Hey, Liam. Long time, eh?” He wedged between Abby and Liam. Though his words sounded lighthearted, Abby caught the menacing look on his face. “How the hell are you?”

“Get out of my way, Breck,” Liam growled.

“Maybe we could have a friendly conversation outside?” Jonathon replied. “Reminisce about our old fraternity days?”

The two men stood eye to eye, equal height, but Jonathon carried a bit more muscle and didn’t look ready to back an inch. A hush had fallen around them, wide eyes fixated on the spectacle unfolding. She watched Liam’s hands ball into fists, and felt the blood drain from her face.
When he snaps...well, there isn’t much you can do but bear the brunt of his fury until it runs its course.
Spencer’s words of warning rang in her ears.

She ran to the coat check, still shoeless, retrieved her purse, and fled outside, leaving the two men behind. If there was a fight, Abby didn’t want to be there. Tears blurred her vision as she dug out her cellphone and called a taxi.

“Abigail.”

She spun and saw Liam striding toward her. Fear bubbled up, but she had no place to flee, so she stood her ground.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, his voice softer than before. His face had lost part of its anger.

“I called a taxi.” She didn’t trust him.

“Don’t be unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? You behave like an absolute ass and then have the nerve to call
me
unreasonable? Go to hell, Mr. Whitmore.”

“Abigail.”

She ignored him.

“Abigail,” Liam repeated, stepping around in front of her.

A tight lump had formed in her throat—even if she’d had the inclination to answer him, she couldn’t have.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She bit her bottom lip and stared to the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. She’d heard empty apologies before; meaningless words to manipulate her feelings. Abby was older and much wiser.

“I really am,” Liam pressed. “Please, Abigail, at least look at me.”

“No man owns me, Liam.” The words sounded choked. “I once dated a man who thought he did, and I’ll never put myself in that situation again.”

The taxi appeared and she walked over to meet it. Without looking back she climbed into the backseat, her fidgeting fingers reaching for her necklace. The dam burst and tears streamed down her face. The final blow, her mother’s necklace was gone.

Chapter 17

He’d become completely inept around Abigail. Liam had driven to the home he kept on the outskirts of the city. His apartment had seemed too claustrophobic, and he used the expanse of his house to pace through as he replayed the evening with his date. She’d called him an ass. An ugly insult, the ugliest he’d ever received and he’d been called many things in his life. From Abigail
ass
was the absolute worst. And he’d deserved her anger. He felt appalled at his own behavior.

Of course he didn’t own her, but he couldn’t help the possessive feelings that swelled when he was with her. Seeing Breck chatting her up made his face hot. He was a well-known playboy, putting to shame anything Liam might be accused of.

And then Richard had had the balls to approach her…
The SOB.
Liam took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm his rising blood pressure.

Not to mention the frustration. God, the constant frustration! Every turn seemed the wrong one, and half the time he didn’t know what direction he needed to head. Not only with Abigail, but his own wants. Relationship or no relationship—it was an easy question, but he bounced back and forth like a rubber ball with it. One minute he wanted nothing more than to have Abigail in his arms every night, and the next minute, his old need for solitude demanded his attention.

He’d reminded himself countless times that being a bachelor was what he was good at, not building intimate relationships. Liam wanted to focus on this very simple thing, yet he couldn’t. Not with the smell of Abigail’s shampoo easily called to mind. Or her sweet-as-honey taste and the shade of blue her eyes took when aroused.

He shoved his hands through his hair as he fell back onto his couch, staring at the wall. He was losing his mind over her. Abigail was too much for him, completely outside his realm of experience. What did he know about wooing a woman like her? He’d proved again and again not a God damn thing. And he
did
want to woo her. He could deny it all night long, but he couldn’t lie to himself about his feelings. They were there. They’d taken root and snaked their way into every part of his life, including his self-control and common sense, making both useless. He was a blundering idiot around Abigail.

He’d always assumed if he married it’d solely be for convenience. A woman with political aspirations who’d use him to catapult her career, or had family with the same goals. He’d get an attractive bed partner out of the deal, and that was it. Liam had never once considered he’d marry for love.
Love.
He swallowed hard, the four-letter word like a bucket of ice over his head, as was the notion he’d put
Abigail
and
marriage
together in his mind.

He wanted to know what she thought of him, but feared the answer. She’d built a fragile foundation in his heart, one that she could easily smash into splinters. Liam groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t want this, any of it. His life was stable, well-built and strong. Predictable, monotonous, and without surprise. A frown played over his lips. And one little nurse had walked into the middle of it and made him question his own self-imposed rules.

He had to make things right, if for no other reason than Abigail deserved it. Liam wasn’t in the habit of making amends to those he’d offended, and he considered his options. He snatched up his cellphone and pulled up a flower shop on his internet browser. Roses? Lilies? Orchids? None seemed adequate. Flowers withered and died too quickly, such things made apologies appear as fleeting.

He pulled up a jewelry shop. Glittering diamonds and gold didn’t quite fit with her, she only wore her mother’s necklace and didn’t have her ears pierced. Engagement rings caught his eye and he snorted, closing the search window before he pitched his cellphone onto the end table.

He was in one hell of a mess. He needed to make an impression on Abigail that she wouldn’t forget easily. Something meaningful, not a frivolous token to beg forgiveness.

An idea blossomed in his mind, and he let it simmer.
The Double H Ranch.
It was in financial straits. Abigail’s family needed to get out from beneath the burden of the place. He could make a few calls and then make an offer. Not that he’d have any use for a cattle operation, and he wouldn’t know where to begin in flipping an agricultural based business. Regardless, the idea had taken a firm hold. He’d purchase the place with his personal account then decide what to do with it from there. It wouldn’t be in an attempt to control Abigail, he reminded himself, but a way to offer an olive branch for peace.

He glanced at the clock, noting it was nearing eleven PM. Too late to call his banker. Liam may be at a loss around Abigail, but he was confident of his business skills. The Double H was in trouble and he knew how to fix it.

* * * *

Spencer nearly choked with his disgust. He kept his face impassive despite the tears shed by the woman standing before him.

“You need to step up, Spencer. I can’t do this on my own.” Angela sniffed and swiped her sleeve under her nose. Black streaks of eye makeup stained her flushed cheeks, making what he’d once considered a cute face into a clownish mask. Contempt filled him as he looked down at her.

“As I’ve explained, my wife can’t find out about this.” He straightened his shirt cuffs before clasping his hands behind his back. “I’d never hear the end of it.”

They stood within the shadows of a grove of trees. Evening had settled over the city park next to Lady Bird Lake, and outside of joggers few people were out. No one to overhear his uncomfortable conversation with the girl.

Angela narrowed her eyes. “So what, I have to raise a kid all on my own? Do you know how expensive kids are, Spencer? Remember, I work in a law firm. I’ll sue you for child support.”

“You know you have options, Angela. You don’t have to fall into the motherhood role that’s completely unsuitable for you.”

She bared her teeth. “I’m keeping the kid. End of discussion.”

Spencer simply grinned. “As far as suing me for child support through your employer it’d be conflict of interest. Plus, remember how much money I’ve put into the firm. They have the honor of representing the CFO of Whitmore Incorporated. You’re easily replaceable there, Angela.”

She crossed her arms, shoving her ample cleavage higher. He’d been infatuated with her breasts, they’d been his weakness that she’d used to seduce him. A low-cut dress showcasing her tits, which at the same time barely covered her ass when she walked—how was he supposed to resist when he’d bumped into her at a bar?
Damn seductress.
He looked away, regretting he’d fallen for her wiles. He should’ve kept his dick in his pants.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” A fresh flood of tears poured down her cheeks.

He lifted a shoulder. He’d heard worse from better. “How do I know it’s even mine, Angela?”

She snorted. “You know damn well it’s yours, Spencer. You think I wanted this drama in my life right now?”

He’d always been able to talk his way out of trouble, but this time words failed him. Throwing insults back and forth had gotten him nowhere. He was in deep shit, and sweat trickled beneath his shirt collar.

“You assured me you were taking birth control,” was all he could think to say.

She lifted her chin. “Sometimes it fails.”

“Sometimes rather conveniently, I’d say.”

“Fine, I figured you’d want out, so here’s the deal. You want me to keep my mouth shut then you’re going to make it worth my while. I want one hundred fifty thousand dollars so I can move back to Illinois.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped open. “What the—”

“I know you can come up with the cash,” Angela interrupted. “And it’ll help with medical costs and the like. This is the deal. You give me the money, and I’m out of your life.”

The bills were piling higher and higher. He’d had a run-in with his bookie that morning. He owed the SOB five hundred K after a double down he’d lost. A debt he couldn’t easily walk away from, because the man would make his life very uncomfortable. On top of mortgages, car payments, his wife’s hobbies, and other outstanding debts, he’d fallen into a hell hole.

Now he had to pay this bitch one hundred fifty thousand dollars because she’d lied about being on the pill? But what option did he have?

“Fine. You’ll have to give me a few weeks.” If all went as planned, and Whitmore went to him, he should be able to get an advance on its sale.

“I’ll give you three, then I’m paying a visit to your wife.”

Angela stomped away. He watched her go.
Fuck.
When had life gotten so out of control?

Chapter 18