Baby for the Bosshole Read online

  Tears blur my vision, and my fingers seem to move up of their own accord to cover my lips. “Yes,” I whisper. “And I love you too, Emmett.”

  He gifts me with the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen and places the ring on my finger. It fits perfectly. I put a hand over my racing heart, but there’s no way to contain the sweet swelling of love I feel for this man.

  “When did you buy this?” I ask.

  “I just picked it up today. They had to adjust the band.”

  “How did you know my ring size?”

  “I’ve been watching you closely for almost two years, Amy.” He winks playfully. “I know a lot about you.”

  I laugh, look down at the ring and shake my head. “This is perfect.”

  “Thank you for being brave enough to make the first move.” He kisses my forehead, then my cheeks and my mouth. “By the way, can I ask why you’re in that trench coat?”

  “Oh?” I look down. “It’s, ah, something Sasha suggested when I was trying to figure out how to make my case.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Go on…”

  “She said I should wear nothing but a trench coat with some sexy lingerie underneath, but I told her it wasn’t going to work. I mean, it didn’t work when Brenda tried.”

  “I don’t want to belabor the obvious, but Brenda isn’t you.” A wicked gleam lights his eyes. “We can’t have your effort go to waste.”

  “Oh, we can’t…?”

  “Nope. I want to see for myself just how good Sasha’s suggestion is.”

  “Do you now?” I stand up, my eyes on his. Then, with a slow smile, I open the coat, projecting all the queen-of-the-world attitude I can muster.

  Emmett’s lips part, his eyes blazing. “Hot damn. Sasha’s getting a fat bonus.”

  I laugh in triumph, but the sound is almost immediately muffled as he claims my mouth.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Amy

  I roll over, burying my face in the pillows. It’s getting bright in the room, but I’m still tired and sleepy. Besides, Emmett’s placing lots of light kisses over my neck and shoulders and arms. Why should I give that up?

  I hear a phone vibrating.

  “Is that mine?” I ask in a small voice.

  “Nope. Mine.”

  “You need to go in.” It’s practically preordained, but I wish he didn’t have to go to work.

  There’s a pause while he taps his phone. “I scheduled a meeting, but they can handle it themselves.”

  I lift my head off the pillows and look at him with bleary eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with my former boss?”

  He grins. “My name is Emmett Lasker, and I’ve decided to spend the morning in bed with my super-sexy fiancée. Nice to meet you.”

  I flush at the possessive way he says my fiancée. “Well, if you insist. But I do feel just the tiniest bit guilty. I don’t remember you missing work ever.”

  “First time for everything.”

  True. And why not? It feels wickedly decadent to be lazy on a Saturday morning. He places a small kiss on the corner of my mouth, then another one on my ear. I start to smile. I shift around for a deeper kiss, but then my stomach growls so thunderously that I can feel the sound vibrating all the way to my head.

  Emmett laughs. “Wow.”

  I put a hand over my belly, my face flushing. “That was…loud.”

  “Yeah, it was. Did you eat anything yesterday?”

  “Uh… The last meal I had was…lunch? I was too nervous for dinner.”

  “Okay, can’t have that. You’re eating for one and a half, after all.”

  “A half?”

  “The baby. It’s like poppy seed right now. Maybe a little bigger. But it can’t be bigger than a gummy bear.”

  I laugh at how serious he seems. We get out of bed. I borrow one of Emmett’s dress shirts, since I can’t exactly run around in a trench coat and lingerie. He gives me a long look, digging his teeth lightly into his lower lip.

  “That’s hot as hell.”

  “What? This?” I look down at the starched shirt.

  “Uh-huh. Something about a woman in her man’s shirt…”

  I give him a saucy grin. “You got that right.”

  As we walk down the stairs together, he says, “We should start thinking about the wedding. I want us to have a tasteful and awesome ceremony.”

  “Let’s make it small, and preferably sometime very soon,” I say.

  “We can do it within two months.”

  “That fast?” Even Peggy I-Need-an-Appointment-to-See-My-Hubby spent a year on her rather simple ceremony. And she had the help of two wedding planners.

  “Money can speed a lot of things up. And we can use our garden as the venue.” He gestures at the windows overlooking the meticulous yard.

  I love the way he says our garden. Just that one word makes me feel like we’re really going to be together.

  He adds, “It’ll look gorgeous with the right flowers.”

  “That sounds perfect,” I say with a smile. “As long as it’s not a Vegas Elvis ceremony, I’m all for it.”

  “Deal. I think we can manage to avoid Elvis.” He kisses me, and we enter the kitchen in laughter.

  A few glossy real estate brochures lie on the counter.

  “You buying a new vacation home?” I pick up one of them. Mostly properties in Malibu, some in Florida.

  Emmett runs his fingers through his hair. “More like a retirement home.”

  “You’re going to retire? Seems a little extreme just to spend time with the baby… What are you going to do with yourself when the child starts preschool?”

  He looks horrified. “No, no. I’d go stir crazy without anything to do. It’s for your dad.”

  I look down at the brochures, then back at Emmett. “I don’t understand.”

  “You said you wanted to buy him a beach cottage in Florida, and I thought, why don’t I do it? Your dad sounds like an amazing guy, so…” Emmett shrugs. “Plus, honestly? I figured it’d help me get some Brownie points.”

  I laugh. It’s great that he already likes Dad for the amazing person that he is, and touching that he’s spending time and energy on making my dream of getting Dad a retirement home on the beach come true.

  “That’s really sweet, but it’s not necessary,” I say. “And you have all the points you need, trust me.”

  “Good to hear. But I’m entitled to do something nice for the man who single-handedly raised the love of my life. Besides, think about it. It’d be difficult for us to move to Florida, right?”

  “Well, yeah, with the firm here in L.A. and all.”

  He nods. “And your dad is probably going to want to hang around and see the baby. Not to mention any other kids that might come along.”

  Other kids…? I’m still getting used to the idea of this one. “He will definitely want to see the baby.”

  “And he wants to live on a beach. So a home in Malibu seems perfect.”

  Emmett knows exactly how to make my insides feel like squishy marshmallow. This is so thoughtful—especially since he put in all this effort while envisioning an ideal future he’d like to share with me. “I don’t know what to say. This is just…amazing.”

  “Nothing compared to all the happiness you’ve given me.” He hugs me, takes my hand and kisses the ring. “I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure you’re happy.”

  I cradle his face between my palms. “We’re going to be the happiest people in the world.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  –Sasha: So. How did it go?

  –Me: Perfect! I’m so happy!

  –Sasha: I knew it! I take cash or PayPal.

  –Me: What are you talking about?

  –Sasha: Our bet! Remember?

  –Me: Oh, that. Well, actually, YOU need to hand over the money.

  –Sasha: Did you trip, fall on your face into a mud puddle and bloody your nose? Because that’s the only way my method would fail.

  –Me: LOL, no! I never got to do it. It’s sort of silly to talk when you’re practically naked, you know?

  –Sasha: Poll any red-blooded man, and he’ll tell you there’s nothing silly about a virtually naked woman.

  –Me: Whatever. Point is, I got him without having to take off the coat.

  –Sasha: You’re kidding.

  –Me: Not even a little. Take a look at this!

  –Sasha: Holy shit! Look at that rock!!! LOVE IT!!!!! Tell me what happened after you said yes!

  –Me: What do you think happened? We enjoyed a lot of make-up sex.

  –Sasha: Aha! So you DID take off the coat!

  –Me: Well… OK, let’s call it even on the bet.

  –Sasha: I feel like I’ve been ripped off, but okay. *wink* I get to be your maid of honor, right?

  –Me: Of course! Can you find the time, though?

  –Sasha: Grant will have to let me take some PTO. I have so many hours carried over from last year that HR is after me to use them up. Otherwise they’ll have to pay me money for the unused hours, and you know HR would rather cut off its own balls.

  –Me: LOL, there’s some imagery. Regardless, awesome!

  –Sasha: Let me know when you’re going to be home so I can drool all over your ring!

  –Me: Sunday evening? Emmett and I have some stuff to go over regarding the ceremony and so on.

  –Sasha: Okay! I’ll be sure to be home. Hey, does this mean you’re coming back to GrantEm?

  –Me: I think so. I’ll have to talk with Emmett about it, but I don’t want to work anywhere else.

  –Sasha: Awesome. I’m so happy for you, girl!

  –Me: Love you!

  –Sasha: Love you back! *blowing kisses*

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  –Dad: So where’s my grandbaby?

  –Me: It hasn’t even been a month, Joey. Also stop pretending to be my father. It’s really annoying.

  –Dad: I speak for him via my fingers.

  –Me: The same fingers you use to wipe his ass?

  –Dad: Your crudity doesn’t deserve a response.

  –Me: If he’s too lazy to type up his own texts, he doesn’t get to bug me.

  –Dad: I suggest you be more accommodating. Unless you really want be embarrassed.

  –Me: Not really a threat. One, he’s an embarrassment just by being who he is. And two, I’ve become immune.

  –Dad: You don’t think so? He’ll boycott your wedding. Just imagine how that will feel.

  –Me: Please tell my father that I wish him the best of luck boycotting a wedding he won’t be invited to.

  –Dad: WHAT?! You can’t do that.

  –Me: Watch me.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Emmett

  –two weeks later

  The entire mansion is spotless, scrubbed and buffed and waxed until you could run your tongue all over the floor. The air smells fresh with flowers, and sunlight comes in through windows so clear it seems like the panes are gone.

  I hired a huge cleaning crew. Amy’s father is coming to L.A. to see Amy—and meet me for the first time. I plan to make an excellent impression.

  And I want to meet him as well. He turned down my offer to send a private jet and opted for driving. Said it would be more comfortable for him that way.

  “He should be here any minute,” Amy says, checking her phone.

  Just then, the intercom buzzes, and I have the security system open the gates immediately.

  Here we go. I inhale, readying myself mentally to meet the man who means the world to Amy.

  We go out and wait at the main entrance. Amy’s beaming, and I have on a patented warm and friendly smile that never fails to charm.

  A slightly dusty Camry pulls up, and a tall man of impressive width steps out of the car. A pale blue shirt stretches over thick muscles, and his jeans are worn but clean. Silver streaks his tightly cropped hair, and his eyes are warm as he hugs Amy.

  “Sweetie pie!” he says.

  “Dad!” She hugs him tightly. “So good to see you! How was the drive?”

  “Not bad. Not bad at all.” He grins. His gaze cools a few degrees, sharpening and more observant as he turns his attention to me. “I take it you’re Emmett?”

  “Yes, sir.” I extend a hand, disguising my nerves as best I can. No man wants a nervous wreck for a son-in-law. “Nice to meet you.”

  The man crushes my hand—or tries to. I’m ready for the move, and make sure to get a deep grip and rotate my wrist upward slightly. Then I just smile as he squeezes away.

  His eyebrow quirks. “Mac,” he says. “Nice to meet you as well. I heard you’re my girl’s boss, too.”

  “Was,” I say with a that’s-been-taken-care-of smile. “Please, this way.” I indicate the house. “Do you have any bags?”

  “Just this.” He takes a small duffel bag from the trunk. “I thought you were still working at the firm,” he says to Amy as we walk inside together.

  “I am, but not under Emmett. It’s better that way.”

  Amy and I agreed that we should compartmentalize our personal and professional lives, but not so much that she works elsewhere. Mostly I don’t want her working for some other asshole in finance. They might not be as nice as I am.

  But Amy thought it’d be awkward for her husband to give her professional feedback. So we compromised, and Grant and I swapped—Sasha for Amy.

  “She won’t think it’s weird to get feedback from her brother-in-law?” Grant asked.

  “You probably don’t feel like a real brother-in-law to her. Just look at me and you. Who’s going to believe we’re related?” I gave him a superior shrug.

  To be honest, I think he got the best of the deal, since Amy does better work. Not that I’m biased.

  Mac doesn’t look at the soaring ceiling, slick and expensive interior or the contemporary paintings hanging on the walls with the awe of somebody overwhelmed by material opulence. He also doesn’t dismiss it like someone who shrugs off anything they don’t understand. His attitude is more like somebody sizing the place up for an estate sale. The man probably needs to reassure himself his princess isn’t going to be living in a hovel by marrying me.

  “Let us show you to your room,” Amy says.

  Mac gives a frown. “The task isn’t so complicated we need two Ivy League-educated people for it. Why don’t you just take me there and let Emmett get to whatever he has to do?”

  “Sure.” He probably just wants a moment alone with her. Maybe examine the ring I gave her more closely, measure my worthiness.

  Good thing I bought the biggest non-vulgar rock I could find in SoCal.

  As they go upstairs, I check my phone, which keeps pinging.

  –Dad: I’m not amused.

  –Dad: You can’t decline to invite me.

  –Dad: Do you know how ridiculous you’re going to look?

  –Dad: What do Sandra’s parents think about this?

  I roll my eyes. More of Joey speaking for Dad. Clearly, neither of them can remember Amy’s name. I’d bet half my brain cells they believe such a trivial detail isn’t important—the name Ted Lasker alone should get him what he wants.

  –Dad: They’re probably worried about entrusting an asshole with their daughter.

  No. Amy’s dad is probably happy he doesn’t have to endure your bullshit.

  Amy and her dad return to the living room, sans his bag.

  “How’s the room?” I ask him. We prepped the best guest bedroom for his arrival.

  “Seems all right,” he says.

  Not so easy to read. “Well, if you need anything, let us know.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m not sure if you had a chance to grab a bite on the way.”

  “Yeah, I could eat.”

  “How about some brunch at Nieve?” Amy says. “You really liked it last time you were here.”

  She told me how much he enjoyed their weekend champagne brunch, so I reserved one of their nicest tables for two hours, since we weren’t sure exactly when Mac would arrive.

  “Yeah, that sounds great. They serve the best Belgian waffles I’ve ever had.”

  We take my yellow Urus to the Aylster Hotel. Mac looks at the car with interest—but again, not like “Hey, it’s an expensive car,” but more like “Look at that gorgeous piece of engineering.”

  I was hoping we could bond over car talk—but nope. He doesn’t say anything about it. Even has his lips pressed.

  He’s determined to not weaken his position. Not giving even a hint of approval until he’s sure about me.

  When we arrive, the maître d’ takes us to our table with cheery alacrity. We order—an egg omelet and bacon for me, French toast and bacon for Amy and a gigantic Belgian waffle for her father.

  “I’m getting a sparkling pear and peach cider,” Amy says.

  “I’ll have one too,” I say.

  “No, you and Dad should enjoy the champagne. I don’t mind. We should toast in style.”

  The drinks come out first. We toast to good health and happiness. Then the food arrives and Amy digs into her French toast with gusto.

  Her dad eyes her. “No morning sickness?”

  “Not yet. Just constantly hungry,” she says.

  “Hopefully it’ll stay this way,” I say. “I read that some women never get it.”

  I reach for my drink and almost knock it off the table when somebody smacks my shoulder. Hard.

  “Emmett! You didn’t tell me you were going to be here,” comes Dad’s loud voice.

  Fuck!

  I swivel around fast. “What are you doing here?”

  “Brunch, of course. Like any normal person.”

  He’s not alone. He’s with a scantily dressed blonde, who I hope to God is legal. At least he’s in a button-down shirt and slacks.

  He smiles at Amy. “Hi. Emily, right?”

  “It’s Amy,” she says thinly.

  Mac’s eyes go flinty, like he’s the Terminator eyeing a loud-mouthed punk.