Chapter 12
Cross
A woman bursts into my office, shaking with rage. She’s pushing a stroller in front of her with a sleeping baby in it, and I blink, startled at the interruption.
“Mr. Decker, I’m so sorry, she just barged in!” my secretary Veronica pants while tugging on the woman’s arm. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re not supposed to be here. Don’t make me call security!”
But I hold up a hand because the woman and I have locked eyes, and I recognize her at once.
It’s Misty, from two years ago at the cabin.
Our gorgeous girl is even more beautiful than before, with the same big blue eyes and delectably curvy figure.
Of course, her eyes are shooting sparks right now, and she looks angry enough to set my office on fire, but then she pauses.
All blood drains from her face as she recognizes me.
“You,” she whispers.
“Yes, it’s me,” I state. “Veronica, thanks. I’ll take care of this.”
My secretary casts another nervous look at Misty.
“Are you sure? I can have security here in thirty seconds.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say in a low voice. “Just go.”
My secretary slinks off, shutting the door behind her without a sound, and we’re left in the silence of my giant office.
After all, I’m the CEO of Cross Holdings, which owns the Cross card, as well as a number of other brands.
We’re the leading credit card issuer in the world, with plans to expand into online payments, electronic banking, and fin tech in general.
But right now, I have Misty Earnshaw in my office after two years of no contact, and she looks absolutely edible. Her big breasts heave beneath a thin sweater, and her hips are wide and sassy in her tight jeans. But why is she pushing a stroller? Is she working as a nanny?
But then, my eyes snap back to the child. I saw him when he came in, but it was only a desultory glance. Now, I take a closer look and see that he has chubby cheeks, black hair, and long, dark lashes. At that moment, he opens his eyes and smiles sleepily.
“Mama,” he coos. “Mama.”
The blood drains from my face and I literally feel dizzy. The child’s eyes are the dazzling blue of cornflowers ... the same blue that I see each morning in the mirror . My knees buckle slightly, and I put a hand on my desk to prevent collapse.
“Misty,” I grind out. “Is that baby...?”
But the curvy girl isn’t listening to me.
Instead, she sweeps the tot from his stroller, and gently lifts him into her arms. Then, she does something so intimate that I genuinely lose my balance this time.
I literally fall back into the chair behind me, watching with stunned eyes as she lifts one side of her sweater and begins to breastfeed the baby.
“Are you hungry, Little Silly?” she whispers softly. “Then drink. Mommy loves you.”
I still can’t speak. I’m shaking in my chair, my mouth hanging open like a dying fish as I struggle for words.
“Misty,” I whisper again.
The blonde girl looks at me then, and she’s so young and beautiful that it’s almost painful.
“Hello Chris,” she says in a low voice. “Long time no see.”
I swallow hard, but there’s no saliva, so it’s dry and uncomfortable.
“Misty,” I manage to whisper again.
“So is your name Chris?” she asks, eyeing the nameplate on my desk. “Or is it actually Cross Decker, CEO of Cross Holdings?”
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. A headache is coming on, but I have to address the scene in front of me first.
“Misty, is that my child? Was that child conceived during our weekend at the cabin?” I demand.
The young woman’s chin trembles a bit, but then she lifts it in an act of defiance.
“Yes. This is your child, Chris, or should I say Cross? Either way, you’re the father, or Brett, or whatever your friend’s name is.
But you don’t need to worry because I’m raising Sylvester on my own.
He’s mine, and you can’t take him away from me,” she says in a fierce tone, holding the baby even tighter.
“I would never,” I say in return, my eyes drinking in the sight of the beautiful girl with our son at her breast. She looks absolutely delectable, like an angel nursing a baby with that long blonde hair and delicate features.
Suddenly, a rush of possession surges through my veins, and I know I’ve lied because Misty and Sylvester belong to me.
We conceived this child together, and I’m going to do everything in my power to be a part of their lives.
“Misty,” I say, my voice a bit stronger this time as I try to re-set the conversation. “Where have you been?”
She stares at me.
“That’s a funny question. Why do you care? What’s it to you?”
I pause for a moment, choosing my words carefully. This is obviously a delicate situation with our future hanging in the balance.
“I care because I care about you. You’ve had my child, and in secret I might add. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell us? Didn’t you think Brett and I would want to know?”
Misty’s pretty features are ice cold.
“No, because I was nothing but a random fuck to you, Cross,” she says in a cool tone.
“Don’t you remember? You were spending a month at the cabin with your friend, double-teaming a line-up of young women.
In fact, when I left, there was another chick arriving to take my place!
What were we: numbers five and six? Or fifteen and sixteen? Whatever it is, you disgust me.”
The baby senses his mother’s distress and pops off her nipple to let out a wail.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Misty whispers angrily, her eyes shooting sparks, as she gently directs the pink tip back into Sylvester’s mouth. “There you go, sweetheart. Yes, Mommy loves you.”
I feel ashamed because the month at the cabin was exactly as she describes: a hedonistic thirty days of fucking, sucking, and enjoying female bodies without the burden of names, feelings, or responsibilities.
It was what Misty alleges: a month-long fuckfest where women allowed their bodies to be used in exchange for money.
But what our pretty girl doesn’t know is that it all ended with her, and I try to explain.
“We sent the next woman away,” I say in a low voice. “Yes, it was a debauched thirty days, but I swear it ended with you.”
Misty stares at me, her eyes filled with disbelief.
“Do you really expect me to believe that? Two forty-five-year-old men planned out a sordid orgy in advance. And then they gave it up because of what? Guilt? Attachment? Remorse?”
I hold up a hand.
“I don’t know what you’d call it, but we definitely sent the next girl away. And no one else came later. We were done after we experienced that magical weekend with you, and you can verify this with Barrett.”
“Oh, so that’s his name,” Misty says in a sarcastic tone. “He’s not Brett. He’s Barrett.”
I take a deep breath because Misty’s obviously agitated, and I need to keep this conversation as calm as possible.
“Yes, he’s Barrett Coleman and I’m Cross Decker.
We couldn’t use our real names because we’re powerful, well-known businessmen, and shit gets around.
What we did was fucked-up, and we didn’t want the world to know.
So we kept it on the downlow, and if you remember, there were a lot of NDAs to sign. ”
“I remember,” she spits.
“But now, it’s two years later, and we’re in a different place in life,” I say, managing to speak in an even tone. Misty is an enraged filly, and I’m a horse-whisperer, trying to calm her down. “You’ve had our child, and that changes everything.”
She squints at me but then shakes her head furiously.
“No, it doesn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Decker,” she says, turning while trying to juggle the baby with one hand while managing the stroller with the other. “I need to be going.”
I stride over in a few steps and block the door with my massive form, looking down at the tiny blonde.
“No, not yet,” I say in a dark tone that brooks no dissent.
“You belong to us, Misty Earnshaw. You and the baby both because there’s no turning this ship around.
Barrett will want to know that he’s a daddy, and even more than that, we’re going to figure something out where all three of us are part of the child’s life. ”
“Oh really,” she says sarcastically. “You think you can barge in just like that.”
Misty grips her baby tightly, her eyes still shooting sparks.
But there are also tears brimming on her lashes, and now that I have a chance to look at her more closely, I can see that she’s pale and tired.
Her clothes are patched, and her hair is clean, but it’s lost some of its glossy shine.
Her stroller looks second-hand too, with silver duct tape wrapped around the handles and the front wheels slightly warped.
Suddenly, I know without a doubt that Misty is barely clinging to survival.
She and my son have been living on the edge of poverty, and there’s no way I’m going to let this go on.
I’m a wealthy man, and possession flows through my veins like molten lava because this woman needs me . .. and I’m here to answer her call.
“What the fuck?” Barrett gasps. “Are you shitting me?”
“No,” I growl into the phone. “Misty’s back, and she had our baby. His name is Sylvester.”
“Oh shit,” Barrett muses. “But how did she get pregnant? I thought those chicks from Sweet Lies always use protection. Like the site won’t let them create a profile if they don’t provide proof of protection.”
I shrug, my expression resolute.
“I don’t know, but it happened, and it doesn’t matter now.”
“But why didn’t she tell us?” Barrett asks. “What the fuck? Didn’t she think we’d want to know? We’re the fathers, goddamit!”
I shake my head again, suddenly tired.
“I think Misty didn’t tell us because she couldn’t find us, bro. We used fake names, and you know how those services are. Sweet Lies wasn’t going to give up our real identities just because a girl claims to be pregnant. Hell, they’re probably used to that ploy. Except, it was real in our case.”
“Are you sure the baby’s ours?” Barrett asks. I raise a dark eyebrow at my friend through the screen.
“Would it matter if he wasn’t?”
My buddy stops to consider for a moment because the truth is that we’ve been in love with Misty Earnshaw for two years now.
The moment her car left the cabin, we knew we’d made a big mistake.
She was the ray of sunshine we’d been missing from our lives, and the piece of the puzzle that completed us.
She was the remedy for years of mindless fucking and sucking, trashing women’s bodies without any emotion.
Of course, there’s a place and time for that kind of shit, but Misty rendered it unpalatable.
We weren’t interested anymore, and definitely not after we’d had a taste of the real thing.
We had half a mind to call her back, and to try and establish some kind of connection, but why would she want us? We destroyed Misty’s innocence, and not only that, but humiliated her in the process.
Plus, the young girl deserves better than two asshole motherfuckers who did what we did.
She deserves a man who will kiss the ground that she walks on, and who will give her a sweet life, complete with babies and a house with a white picket fence.
Me and Barrett, by contrast? Shit, we’re old.
We’re grizzled, hardened, and cynical, with a shit ton of baggage.
Misty deserves rainbows and smiles, and not the cold, hard realities of being with two older men.
But now, everything’s changed. The curvy girl is back, and even more beautiful than before.
She’s tired too, from life as a single mother to a newborn, and there’s no way we’re going to let her continue to struggle.
There’s no way we’ll let our son grow up as the poor kid in his class, with patched clothes while drinking government-issued milk.
He and Misty deserve more. Hell, they deserve everything, and we’re going to make sure they get it.
“So what do we do?” Barrett asks, his question somewhat rhetorical.
“We’re going to have a talk with her,” I growl, frowning as I contemplate possibilities. “Then, we’re going to turn the life of Miss Misty Earnshaw upside-down ... whether she’s ready or not.”