Page 43 of Play With Me
At nearly seven months pregnant, it’s impossible to hide it. So, when I come around the corner and almost run straight into Scott, his eyes drop to my stomach, and his mouth falls open. “Carmela?”
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my belly, protecting my little girl as though Scott could reach right in and grab her straight from my body. I don’t feel like I need to explain myself, but I beg him, “Please don’t tell Mick.”
His eyes hold mine as he looks at me astonishingly. “Carmela, I can’t keep something like this from him. I’massuming it’s his?”
“Yes!” I snap defensively.
“Hey, don’t come at me. He said you were upset and broke things off with him. How do I know you didn’t jump into bed with some other guy?” He holds his hands up. “What are you even doing here?”
“She works here,” Denise interrupts, appearing in the doorway that leads from the hall to the main room. “Now, you’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. Unless you want that pretty wife of yours to find out what you get up to behind these doors?”
Scott curls his lip with a grimace. “You have contracts for a reason, Denise. To protect your patrons just as much as your own ass. Tell my wife, I’ll have this place closed down so quick and sue you for everything you have.”
Scott has always been Mick’s nicest friend, but at this moment, I’m reminded that he’s just another rich man who thinks his money can buy him anything and that everyone owes him something.
He looks at me, his face softening as he gently warns, “Tell him, or I will, Carmela. He deserves to know. You know he does.”
Deep down, I know he’s right.
Present
Anders stares at me with wide eyes, mouth open in shock as his gaze bounces between me and my daughter. “Maya, go back to bed,” I command.
From my peripheral, I see Jill, the live-in nanny, pull Maya out of the kitchen by her shoulders, but my stubborn girl jerks out of her hold. “Why do you have a gun, Mom?” she asks again before turning to fix Anders with a curious stare. “And who areyou?” She bravely hops onto one of the stools at the kitchen island as she waits for him to answer her, not caring that there’s a complete stranger in our home.
He holsters his gun and watches her warily. “I’m a…friend…of your mom’s.”
“Are you her boyfriend or something?” Maya asks skeptically, looking him up and down like an overbearing father would.
Well, that escalated quickly.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend. And what are you still doing up, mijita? You should be in bed. Jill, it’s okay. I got her.” I motion to the woman to go back to her room.
“I know.” Maya’s shoulders drop. “But I was excited when Jill said you were coming home. Besides, I’m pretty sure you woke up the whole neighborhood with your screeching. Did you at least get it?”
Itbeing the giant spider hanging from the ceiling that I nearly walked into when I entered the kitchen. When I grabbed the nearest thing to kill it, it droppedand scurried across the floor toward me with an agenda.
Fucker reared back on its hind legs like it was going to start throwing punches.
I sneak a glimpse at Anders and see him staring at me in amusement. With a shrug, I explain, “I don’t like spiders, okay?” Then, to Maya, I say, “Yes. I got it. Now, get to bed. We can talk in the morning.”
My sweet, fearless girl doesn’t listen to me. She turns her attention back to Anders instead. “Are you here for a booty call?”
“Maya!”
Anders cracks a smile and shakes his head, walking further into the kitchen to rest his arms on the island. “Why would you think that, little one?”
The way he easily melts into a conversation with my daughter tugs at my heart. I tamp down my emotions so hard that they leave an ache in my chest like when you get a shock of adrenaline.
“Why else would you be here this late? Also, why do you have a gun? And why doyouhave a gun, Mom? You didn’t answer me,” Maya stresses again. The need to know every little detail about every little thing is something she’s had since she was a toddler, and I hope she never grows out of it.
Men hire others to find the answers to their questions. Smart women aren’t afraid to ask questions and seek the answers for themselves.
Cocking my head to the side, I look at Anders as Ireply to her, “It’s for safety. And I would also love to know why you are here this late, Anders. Or at all. Did you follow me?”
“Obviously. We need to talk.” He nods at Maya when she’s not looking. “I’m a detective, Maya. I wanted to make sure your mom got home safe. Would you mind if I borrowed her for a chat?” He’s all swoon-worthy and respectful as he asks her, and my teenager eats it right out of the palms of his hands.
Of course, he’s good with kids.