Page 148 of 5+Us Makes Seven
“I’m pregnant, Jack.”
He nearly spat the beer out on the plate in front of him. Eyes wide with panic as he looked up at me.
“Wha… what? How… I mean how do you know?” His unassailable confidence had vanished, and for once I saw fear in his eyes. Then he started to smile nervously at me.
“Pregnant. Wow. Ok, that’s good. Isn’t it?” I laughed at him and went over to sit on his lap.
“Yup. ‘Fraid so, Jack. I mean, you did it to me. So it’s your fault, really.” I poked him in the chest.
“Well, I didn’t hear you complaining!” We both laughed, though Jack was still in shock.
“Wonder if it's a boy or girl? Shit, we need a bigger house, Eden. We…”
“Whoa, slow down Jack. We’ve got nine months to get that sorted. Don’t worry. Try and relax.” He nodded. I squeezed his shoulder.
He looked up at me, eyes looking intensely into mine.
“Guess that means I’ll have to marry you now, right?” His eyes sparkled with humor. I slapped him playfully on the chest.
“Jack Storm. If that isn’t the best proposal a girl has ever heard, then I don’t know what is! Now, kiss me. And carry me back upstairs. I’ve got something to show you…”
Defending The Mafia Princess
A Bad Boy Bodyguard Romance
Ivy Blake
Chapter One
Alexandra
“For the last time, Alexandra, it’s not going to happen. Please, just drop it so we can eat in peace. I’ve had a shit day, and I just want to drink this wine, eat some junk food, and slump in front of the TV.”
I clenched my fists under the table and glared at him, giving him the slight frown that I had practiced in the mirror earlier. Normally it was effective, but at the moment, he wasn’t having it.
“Don’t even try it, sweetheart. I’ve had enough bullshit at work, so that it’s just not gonna work on me today. I said no, and I mean no. That’s the end of it.”
I sighed defeatedly but wasn’t ready to give up just yet on what had thus far been a week-long argument, played out in small one or two hourly episodes every evening.
“Dad, I know you don’t like it, but I’m not a little girl anymore. All I constantly see on Instagram are pics of my friends all over the world, and believe me, there isn’t a chaperone in sight in any of them! Cocktail bars, pool parties, gorgeous hotels...just young people having fun with no danger nearby!”
I raised my dainty, recently manicured eyebrows and pouted slightly again. If this was some random guy, I would have leaned forward and showed a hint of cleavage, guaranteeing a quick end to the argument.
But unfortunately, this wasn’t some random guy. This was my father.
He wistfully glanced up from his large glass of wine, looking almost annoyed that I was distracting him from it. “You can’t see the chaperones because they’re damn good at staying out of sight. That’s why the good ones cost so damn much! I’m not insisting on this just because I think you’re some special little snowflake, believe me. I have my reasons.”
And here we come to the brick wall again, I thought to myself, knowing we would soon begin skirting around the issue of why I needed protection, although Dad would never actually answer the question. But I decided to take the chance and engage the argument anyway. “Why do I need a bodyguard then?”
If my psychology degree had taught me anything at all about body language—which it had, considering that I’d graduated Summa Cum Laude—it was that my dad wouldn’t be swayed. Regardless, I refused to give anything away, despite the fact that I was nearing the end of my patience and almost ready to fold.
I’ll make it worth my while when I do though, that’s for damn sure! I thought bitterly.
Dad sighed and tore his eyes away from the TV for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I can’t explain, I’ve told you that. I’ve signed confidentiality agreements that would put me in jail if I even told you what kind of paper they were written on.” He drained his glass of wine.
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Not sure that’s how you’re supposed to drink a $300 bottle of red wine, Dad...
“Look, I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal,” I offered.