Chapter 2
Joran glanced at Tila’s half closed door. Through the narrow opening, he saw she was still fast asleep. The dark circles under her eyes told him that she hadn’t been sleeping well.
Walking to her front door, he jerked it open and peered outside. He gestured to two of his guards, who immediately came forward.
“I need help,” he announced quietly.
Both men straightened, exchanging puzzled glances as they peered into the dimly lit interior of the house. "What's going on?" one of them ventured, his voice tinged with confusion.
Joran, still reeling from the baby revelation, couldn't resist the urge to blurt out the absurdity of the situation. "Babies," he declared, his voice colored with the solemnity of a seasoned commander facing down an imminent threat.
He marched back towards the second bedroom, expecting his guards to follow him. But to his irritation, he turned to find them still frozen in the doorway, their expressions a comical mix of disbelief and dread. It was as if he had just announced the impending arrival of a stampede of rabid monkeys.
"Get in here!" he hissed, attempting to inject some semblance of authority into his voice while still maintaining a hushed tone to avoid waking Tila.
But his orders fell on deaf ears—or rather, terrified ones. The guards exchanged hesitant glances, then shook their heads in unison. "Not a chance, Boss!" one of them protested, taking a cautious step backwards, followed by his equally reluctant companion.
Joran could only watch in exasperation as his supposedly fearless guards retreated like scared rabbits, leaving him to face the bizarre baby situation alone. It was a far cry from the bravado he had come to expect from his elite team, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement at their terror. After all, who knew that two tiny humans could strike such fear into the hearts of trained soldiers?
“The house isn’t contaminated,” he hissed, then glanced nervously at Tila’s doorway and listened. Her soft breathing continued. So did the odd sounds coming from one of the babies. “It’s just an infant!”
The men shook their heads again, both visibly terrified.
"I need help. Now! " Joran barked, attempting to suppress the rising tide of panic threatening to turn him into a blubbering mess. The last thing he needed was to dissolve into a puddle of nerves while trying to soothe a tiny tyrant. He couldn't quite grasp why he felt so compelled to protect Tila from the crying baby, but one thing was certain: he was determined to do whatever it took to keep from waking her up.
Reluctantly, the two guards shuffled into the house, their movements akin to a pair of reluctant penguins trying to navigate a landmine. They made a valiant effort to silence the cacophony of clunking weapons against the doorframe, their faces a mix of terror and resignation as they reluctantly closed the front door behind them.
As the trio made their way deeper into the home, it was an almost comical sight to behold. Joran shed his tactical vest in a desperate bid to appear less intimidating to the tiny baby-dictator, but his guards remained clad in their fortress of black cargo pants and snug-fitting tee shirts, their muscles straining against the fabric. Their bulletproof vests were adorned with an arsenal of gadgets and gizmos, like a walking Swiss army knife. And let's not forget the pistols—each man was armed to the teeth with enough firepower to take down a small army of teddy bears.
“What does it need?” Joran demanded in a low hiss.
The three stared down at the squirming infant, their expressions a hilarious mix of horror and terror. After a prolonged silence that bordered on ridiculous, they collectively shrugged, as if to say, "Well, this is certainly a new pickle."
"Uh... Boss," one of the guards finally ventured, his voice tinged with a touch of incredulity, "we do just about everything possible to avoid this kind of situation." He shot a sheepish glance at his colleague, who nodded vigorously in agreement, their discomfort palpable.
It was a moment that begged for a laugh track, as if the universe itself couldn't resist adding a dash of absurdity to an already comical situation. After all, when trained soldiers found themselves at a loss for how to handle a squirming bundle of joy, you knew you were in for a wild ride.
Joran rolled his eyes. “I get that. But Tila is exhausted. You saw her earlier. She’s out of her mind.”
One of the guards burst into a grin, his thumbs tucked onto his pistol belt. “Does that mean I get to slap you when I’m tired?” Edin asked hopefully.
Algar dropped his head so his chin pressed against his chest in a pathetic attempt to smother his snort of laughter.
Joran rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Try it and find out,” he growled.
They turned their attention back to the infant. The wiggles were becoming more frantic. The tiny body was wearing some sort of outfit that covered it from neck to toe. Joran wasn’t even sure how to get the thing off.
“Maybe it’s hungry,” Edin suggested.
Joran nodded. “That’s possible.” They all stared at the infant for another long moment, no one moving. Joran knew that this was the time for leadership so he then turned to the man. “Go make a bottle.”
Edin’s eyes widened. “A what?”
“A bottle!” Joran snapped, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the doorway. “I’m sure there are supplies in the kitchen.”
The man made a choking sound, then shook his head. “I don’t know how to make a bottle!” the guard hissed.
Joran rolled his eyes and turned to face the man. “You figured out how to booby-trap a doorway last year with a paperclip and a pack of gum. I’m pretty sure that you can figure out how to make a bottle for a baby.”
Edin stared at Joran for a long, horrified moment, then huffed. He shifted on his feet, still unsure. Finally, he turned and left the room, grumbling about never wanting to learn how to make a bottle.
“And be quiet about it!” Joran hissed after him.
Then he turned and stared down at the wiggly baby again. “Okay, so now what?” he asked his other friend and bodyguard.
Algar shrugged. They stared at the infant again. Finally, Algar suggested, “Maybe you should…pick it up?”
Joran suspected that the guard was right. But how? Joran knew that he was a big guy. Joran stood at six feet, three inches tall. Plus, his hands were accustomed to beating people up and holding weapons. He’d been well trained in defeating an enemy and figuring out military strategy. Those skills wouldn’t help him in this situation. He wasn’t sure how to pick up a tiny human being without crushing it.
That’s when he thought about Tila. She was small. Well, not exactly small, but she was smaller than he was. And her breasts were soft and tender. His body tightened at the memories of just how soft and tender. Gently. And with his mouth and…okay, he wasn’t going to do that with a baby. Gross. But he could lift the infant with the same gentleness with which he would use to touch Tila. He was always tender with her.
Bending down, he saw the startled expression in the infant’s eyes and knew that the tiny thing was about to scream.
“It’s okay, little one,” he crooned softly. He remembered reading something about how a baby’s neck wasn’t strong so he put one hand under the baby’s head and the other under his bottom.
Before he could fully comprehend the absurdity of the situation, Joran found himself cradling the baby against his chest, like a bewildered new parent thrust into the deep end of childcare without so much as a floatie. The infant, too startled to cry, stared up at him with wide eyes, as if trying to decide whether to burst into tears or laughter at the sight of this imposing figure trying his hand at baby whispering.
Desperate to maintain some semblance of control, Joran began bouncing awkwardly, as if auditioning for the role of a malfunctioning jack-in-the-box. He hoped the rhythmic motion would soothe the tiny being before it realized it should be utterly terrified of him. At the same time, he was desperately trying to hide his own rising sense of panic. After all, if this little man ever figured out that he was just as terrified, all hell would break loose—quite literally, considering the potential for diaper explosions.
It was a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy, with Joran playing the role of the reluctant babysitter in a mismatched buddy comedy. And as he bounced and whispered soft, pointless reassurances in a desperate bid to keep the peace, Joran couldn't help but wonder if this tiny tyrant would be the one to finally crack his steely exterior.
He walked out into the den area, stepping over piles of clothes, mail, toys, and blankets. At certain points, Joran just kicked the items out of the way while continuing to bounce the infant in his arms. Baby and Joran stared at each other and he had to admit that the tiny human fascinated him. Those big, dark eyes stared up at him and there was a flop of dark hair on the baby’s head.
"I think he's fussy because he needs a clean diaper," Algar grunted, his tone a comical blend of resignation and determination as he rummaged through the scattered items on the floor. With the precision of a seasoned detective unearthing a crucial clue, he straightened up triumphantly, brandishing a clean diaper. He offered the diaper to Joran, a gesture laden with expectation and apprehension.
Joran's eyes widened in horror at the sight of the diaper in his guard's outstretched hand, his brain short-circuiting with the sheer absurdity of the situation. "I don't know how to change a baby's diaper!" he blurted in a hushed voice, as if confessing to a crime he hadn't realized he'd committed.
Algar shrugged and shook the clean diaper. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Therefore, you currently own that baby and it definitely needs a clean, dry diaper.”
Joran knew that Algar was right, still, he really didn’t want to do it. He’d heard horror stories of dirty diapers.
Again, Algar waved the diaper impatiently as Joran glared at him. But in the end, he took the diaper.
“Any tips?” Joran demanded, settling the infant onto the only space on the sofa that wasn’t piled high with clean or dirty laundry.
“Look it up on the internet,” Edin called from the kitchen as he busily fixed a bottle.
Algar did just that, smiling triumphantly when he found a video. It took over twenty minutes, and four torn diapers, but eventually Joran got a clean diaper on the…boy. Yep, this was a little guy with very strong, impatient legs. When the diaper was finally securely in place, Joran stood up, triumphant.
Only to have Edin shove a bottle into his hands. “It’s ready.”
Joran grumbled, but in truth, he found he wasn’t ready to give up the little man. He was so adorable. And hungry! Joran watched with fascination as the little infant reached for the bottle eagerly,. As soon as Joran scooped the infant back into his arms, his tiny mouth wrapped around the tip and started sucking, staring up at Joran the whole time. The infant finished most of the little bottle quickly, his eyes fluttering as he drained the foul smelling stuff.
Joran was still holding the infant, the baby suckling every few moments to get the last drops of milk, when sounds started coming from the second bedroom again.
Algar sighed and, with a swift rip, released the Velcro bands on his vest, carefully setting it against the wall. “I got this one.” He turned to Edin. “Can you fix another bottle?”
Edin nodded and headed back into the kitchen. Joran half listened to the sounds, impressed when Algar found another diaper and started changing the second baby. He followed the video instructions carefully and it only took him five minutes start to finish. He looked up at Joran with a smirk.
“Think you’re an expert?”
Algar stood with the baby in his arms, then knocked a pile of laundry onto the floor. “I did it faster than you,” he said as he offered the second boy the bottle.
“Fine. You can handle all of the diapers while Tila sleeps.”
Algar’s smirk of triumph vanished. He stared at the small boy in Joran’s arms, then at the one in his arms. “No way, Boss. That’s not fair.”
Edin grunted and nudged a pile of laundry. “Why is there so much stuff everywhere?” he demanded. A moment later, he removed his vest and set it on the floor next to Algar’s. “I can’t handle this kind of chaos,” he said, then hefted a pile of laundry into his arms, sniffing suspiciously. “I think these are dirty.” He looked around. “Some piles are clean though.”
A moment later, he disappeared. Several minutes later, the sound of a washing machine churning preceded Edin’s return. “There was a load in the washing machine already and a dry load in the dryer.” And with that, he dumped everything on the kitchen table and started sorting and folding. Most of the clothes were infant sized outfits, but some of Tila’s clothes were mixed in. He hummed quietly as he folded the clothes. When he finished, he headed into the kitchen and started washing the dishes. He left the bottles on the counter, but figured out where the other dishes were stored.
“Boss,” Edin called out softly, “are you sure that Tila is only watching these babies for someone else?” he asked as he returned to the den.
Joran reluctantly looked up from the now sleeping infant in his arms. “Of course she’s only babysitting. These aren’t her babies.”
The man shifted slightly, his hands fisted on his hips as he looked around. “Are you sure ?”
Joran rolled his eyes. “Tila wasn’t seeing anyone last year. I’m sure of it.”
Edin rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, but before he could say anything more, the buzzer on the dryer sounded. He hurried out of the room and the sound stopped.
Joran looked over his shoulder at the still-mostly closed door. No sound came from Tila’s room.
Still, Joran looked around, wondering why the house was such a mess. In his mind, the babies couldn’t be Tila’s, because she would have told him if she’d started seeing someone else.
Of course, he hadn’t had time to really speak to her other than the occasional short text message over the past several months. Now that he thought about it, Tila had been oddly quiet lately.
In fact, now that he really considered it, he’d been so busy with trying to reorganize the military and take over the defense issues in order to ease some of his older brother’s, Khal, burden, that he hadn’t texted Tila in…well, months! Even in the beginning, she’d been pretty quiet, ignoring his phone calls and text messages.
He’d thought about her, of course. All the damn time! Plus, the dreams he’d had about her had made him ache to hold her. But the past six months or so had been absolute chaos. With Khal marrying Tasha and punishing the bastard who had tried to take her away, plus the military and his new responsibilities…!
Joran grinned, thinking about the abused face of Senator King at that last campaign rally. The man had tried to pretend that his bruised face was because he’d been attacked while trying to protect a woman. But the police were questioned and there was no report made about an attack.
Then the videos came out. Oh, that had been brilliant timing! Tasha was safely away from the vile man. So, the videos of King and another man talking about illegal activities, including one conversation about a murder, had been the perfect retribution. The police immediately looked into the conversation and connected the clues, tracing the conversation back to a specific murder. King was currently in prison, thanks to Tasha’s recordings. The other man on the video had been a contract killer. Khal had sent two of his guards to find the man. He’d been secretly imprisoned and would remain in prison for the rest of his life.
So, in reality, it had been about nine months since he’d last seen Tila. Seven months since she’d last responded to a text message from him, and…!
“Boss,” Algar hissed, looking around with a stunned, thoughtful look, “are these your babies?”
Joran was suddenly wondering the same thing. Could these be his sons? Had Tila given birth over the past…how long had it been?
He looked around at the messy space. The toys, the cribs, the laundry everywhere…!
All three men came to the same, stunned realization.
“Let’s not panic until Tila wakes up,” Edin whispered. “But I’ll head outside and…?”
Joran nodded, his arms tightening slightly around the baby in his arms. “Yeah,” he rasped, numbly nodding. “Get more security in here. If these… are my children, then…!”
Edin slipped out of the house as silently as possible.
Joran and his men weren’t supposed to be here! As crown prince, if he were discovered in a foreign country, the danger was high. The Uftar government wasn’t openly hostile to Lativa, but the bastard ruling the country wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of the situation if Joran, or his babies, were captured here.
They needed to get out! They needed to get back across the border as quickly and quietly as possible. Joran needed to get Tila and his babies back to Lativa, into the palace, as soon as possible.
Edin came back inside, standing alertly by the chair. “More guards are on the way. But we should…!”
“I know,” Joran interrupted. He stood up and handed the baby to Edin. “I’ll talk to her. Start getting ready to leave.”
Edin started moving. He set the sleeping infant down on the sofa, adding a pillow to keep the baby on the couch.
Joran went into the bedroom and stared down at Tila. She looked so beautiful and so clearly exhausted. She hadn’t moved since he’d set her in the bed. Her hands were still cradling her cheek and those dark lashes lay against her pale skin.
Which made his job even more painful. But it had to be done.
Kneeling beside the bed, he shook Tila’s shoulder gently.
When her lashes fluttered open, Joran’s heart stopped as a dreamy smile broke over her lovely face. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I must be dreaming.”
“Tila, love,” he started off, holding her hand in his own. “Are the babies my children?”
“Yes. They’re cute, aren’t they?”
Then her eyes fluttered shut again.
Joran pulled back, stunned by her confirmation. He had a child? Correction, two children? Two babies. Two sons!
He remained kneeling by her bedside for several long moments, too shocked to move. So, it was a surprise when Tila jerked upright, nearly screaming as she stared first at him, then around at her messy room.
“Rafi!” she gasped and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Laith!” Then she ran out of the room. “My babies!”
Joran followed her with his eyes at first, but when his brain was able to process, he jumped up and followed her. He ran into her, literally, as Tila came back out of the second bedroom.
“My babies are gone!” she gasped.
“They’re fine, Tila,” he assured her. “You don’t remember greeting me at the door?”
She blinked and looked around, trying to shove him out of the way. But he was several inches over six feet and packed with muscle compared to her five feet, five inches of soft curves.
“My babies! I have to find my babies!” she gasped, still trying to push him out of the way.
That’s when Edin and Algar stood up, a tiny, sleeping bundle in each of their arms. “They have been fed and changed,” Algar assured her.
Tila ran to them, running her hands over their fleece covered bodies. “My babies,” she whispered, needing to touch both of them, but it was also obvious that she wasn’t sure which one to pick up first.
“Tila,” Joran snapped, pulling her attention back to him. “Calm down. The boys are fine.”
She spun around, her hair flying around her before settling back around her shoulders. Sort of. She’d pulled her hair into a band to keep it out of her face, but the band was losing the battle. At this point, only a small lump of hair was caught while the rest of it fluttered freely.
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” she hissed. “I’ve been caring for our babies ever since you walked out of my life, Joran! Laith and Rafi were nurtured in my body and I’ve done my best to care for them since they were born! Alone, I might add! Because you left me!”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Tila,” he assured her, moving closer, aching to take her into his arms. “I didn’t know that you were pregnant, love.”
“Don’t you call me ‘love’ you bastard!” she yelled, then glanced nervously over at her infant sons. When they didn’t wake up, she glared up at Joran but lowered her voice. “Don’t you ever call me ‘love’! You don’t have that right! Not anymore. You walked out of my life one day and I don’t hear from you for months! You don’t reply to my text messages, you don’t answer my calls! You just…abandon me, alone and terrified for the entire pregnancy!”
“I didn’t know you were pregnant, Tila,” Joran repeated in what he thought was a very soothing tone.
It wasn’t, according to Tila. “You would have known, if you’d bothered to answer my phone calls!”
Joran shook his head. “Tila, I didn’t get any calls from you. I haven’t received a text message from you in months.”
“Liar!” she snapped. “I texted and called, left voice mails pleading with you to call me back.” She jerked the band from her hair, then impatiently gathered her curls and re-banded everything so that her hair was out of her eyes again.