Fourteen
ALLISON
I t had taken Allison weeks to find a time that worked for everyone to arrange this lunch and, in hindsight, not mentioning that Angelo, the father of her child, would be there was clearly a bad decision.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
Allison flinched at the venom in her brother’s voice.
Maybe I should’ve just called him.
She made a mental note to improve her planning skills next time.
Initially, Allison had intended to slip into the upscale restaurant her brother had chosen, hoping to steal a few quiet moments to herself before the men arrived. She’d instructed each of them to come at different times for exactly that reason.
But of course, Angelo had to be too damn early.
“Allison,” Johnathan growled in warning.
Her overprotective brother’s voice, thick with malice, filled her with guilt. Guilt for keeping this from him, knowing it would be a huge deal, but mostly guilt for getting caught in the middle of what had almost been a kiss with Angelo Taylor.
And what the hell was that about?
Angelo’s reaction to her bloated baby bump had caught Allison off guard. The intensity in his piercing gaze, the warmth of his large hand holding her waist, and the deep rumble of his husky voice—all of it was unexpected, but not unwelcome. She’d felt herself getting lost in him, her resolve wavering.
She was almost certain she would have let him kiss her, even though she knew she shouldn’t.
If only Johnathan hadn’t been such a damn cock block.
“Answer me right this second, or I’ll beat his pretty face into a bloody pulp,” Johnathan demanded, his patience evaporating as Allison drifted off in her thoughts.
She didn’t get the chance to respond.
“I’d very much like to see you try, Mr. Lockwood,” Angelo shot back, his tone calm but challenging.
The tension thickened to the point where even crickets wouldn’t dare interrupt. Johnathan looked as stunned as Allison felt. Neither of them had expected Angelo to provoke the hungry lion that was her brother.
And that’s exactly what Johnathan looked like—a lion that had been starving in the savanna for way too long, now presented with a juicy meal.
“Okay, there’s currently too much testosterone in the air for me to think properly,” Allison cut in, trying to defuse the situation. “Can we please discuss this inside? Like civilized people?”
The men locked eyes for another tense moment, chests puffed in the perfect display of male ego. If this were a cartoon, she was pretty sure steam would be shooting out of both their noses.
Allison cleared her throat, cutting through the tension and breaking their staring contest. Both men nodded, heading inside the restaurant, but the intensity lingered in the air.
This will be fun , she thought sarcastically, already dreading what was to come.
A very simple, yet significant problem arose once the hostess showed their little group to the reserved table: where would Allison sit?
Naturally, Angelo and Johnathan positioned themselves directly across from each other—perfect for maintaining their ongoing glaring contest.
Since the table was rectangular, Allison had two options: she could sit next to her brother or next to Angelo. Either choice would seem like picking sides, which would only heighten the already unbearable tension between the two men.
Decisions, decisions.
Refusing to get caught in their brewing storm, Allison took a deep breath and waved over a waiter, politely requesting an additional chair be placed at the head of the unnecessarily long table.
Of course, that meant she was now quite literally sitting in the middle of the two men. But at least this way, she had the illusion of control over the situation.
Seriously, this whole dilemma could have been avoided if the table had just been square.
A second waiter appeared within moments, assisting them with the process of ordering without even presenting them with a menu.
After a few—very long, painfully awkward—minutes of Angelo and Johnathan glaring at each other while Allison pretended not to notice, they finally had a moment of relative peace.
She could practically feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife, and she was getting increasingly annoyed at the men’s relentless stare down.
Seriously? These are supposed to be two grown businessmen, not middle schoolers in a staring contest.
Needing a distraction, she let her eyes wander around the restaurant. Johnathan had sworn this place had some of the best food and service in Seattle, and she could see why it was his favorite. The dark green wallpaper with white accents, the leather booths discreetly tucked into corners, and the overall sophisticated vibe gave the place an air of intimacy, whether you were seated at a hidden booth or plopped right in the middle of the room. Soft, warm lights hovered over each table like little halos, adding a modern touch, while the plush, dark carpeting made everything feel just a bit more luxurious.
Yep. I can see why John likes it. It’s pretentious in just the right way.
Just as she was starting to appreciate the ambiance, her brother’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Care to explain what the hell is happening, Allison?”
Ah, there it is, she thought, internally rolling her eyes. Reality comes crashing back in.
“Like I told you, I have something to discuss with you. Something private, so you can’t tell the boys or Dad. Especially Dad.” Allison gave her brother a pointed look, trying to convey the gravity of the situation.
“If this is a private family matter, then that piece of filth shouldn’t be here,” Johnathan shot back, matching her glare with one of his own.
Green locked on green.
Her eyes were a deeper shade than Johnathan’s, but they were the only two who had inherited their mother’s striking green eyes. Leopold had their father’s brown eyes, while Frederick had inherited both—a green eye and a brown eye—something their mother always referred to as “the best of both worlds.”
Physically, Allison and Johnathan didn’t really look much like siblings. Their wavy hair, similar noses, and matching eyes were about where the resemblance ended. But spend a few minutes alone with the two of them, and there would be no doubt they were related—if not by appearance, then definitely by attitude.
“There’s a reason why he’s here, Johnathan. And he has a name.” Allison’s voice remained calm, but inside, a storm was brewing. She couldn’t stand it when her brothers slipped into overprotective mode.
“I know exactly who he is, Sister. What I don’t know is why the hell you were practically making out with him in the parking lot, in the middle of the day, like a fucking teenager . Especially in your condition.” Johnathan shot a suspicious glance at Angelo, clearly assuming he was unaware of her situation. Her brother was about to find out just how wrong he was.
“That is none of your business, John. In case you forgot, I am a grown woman.” Allison raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her, her posture daring him to challenge her.
She was acutely aware of Angelo’s gaze fixed on her profile from the corner of her eye. For the epic showdown about to unfold, she chose to pretend she didn’t notice.
Johnathan took a furious breath, but just then, their waiter arrived with their food.
Thank you, Jesus.
Allison’s chicken Alfredo looked absolutely delectable. Given that she was growing a human, she dove in with gusto, clearly showcasing the manners she currently lacked.
Johnathan cleared his throat, supposedly trying to make her slow down, but she didn’t give a single flying fuck. Nobody was getting between her and her food. Nobody.
Angelo chuckled softly, and Allison felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t embarrassed—she was a mid-size woman who loved food and appreciated her curves. But she had forgotten she wasn’t supposed to be this comfortable around him, so she reluctantly slowed down, trying not to look like a starved hyena.
She decided she had tortured her brother enough only after finishing her meal. Taking a few sips of water, she immediately drew Johnathan’s attention.
“It’s odd seeing you without a glass of wine in hand, Ali.”
Uh oh.
Allison enjoyed a nice glass of wine at home now and then, and she almost always had one when dining out. Apparently, Johnathan had a memory for these details.
And of course, the one time I drink something else, I end up pregnant.
Angelo cleared his throat, the sound low and gravelly, drawing Allison’s attention back to his magnetic gaze. Despite the turmoil churning inside her, something in the steadiness of his eyes made her feel oddly calm. Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to be a total disaster.
She took a deep, deep, deep breath, trying to gather the courage she’d spent the entire morning convincing herself she had. She could practically hear the seconds ticking by in her head. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice wavering just slightly. “I won’t be doing that for another seven months.” She forced a smile, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “remember?” The joke fell flat—so flat she wished she could scoop it up and shove it right back into her mouth.
Johnathan Green Lockwood, instantly became the most terrifying man on the planet, going completely still. His wine glass hovered mid-air, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing with it. His eyes zeroed in on hers, sharp as ever, and she could almost see the gears in his head turning, trying to make sense of her words.
Then, like a light switch flipping, realization dawned. His expression didn’t change, but the air around him seemed to drop a few degrees. He slowly lowered the cup to the table, his gaze cutting over to Angelo with the kind of precision that made Allison’s stomach flip.
Crap. That could have gone better.
“Did you get my sister pregnant, Taylor?” Johnathan’s voice was low, an octave deeper than usual, the words deceptively calm—like the eye of a hurricane. Allison had seen him use that tone before, typically right before all hell broke loose.
Angelo didn’t flinch. “Yes.” The single word was spoken with certainty, and he held Johnathan’s gaze without blinking, as if they were discussing the weather rather than a surprise pregnancy.
“Allison,” Johnathan’s voice cut through her thoughts, his tone commanding and sharp. It was the same tone Angelo used sometimes, the one that made her sit up and pay attention. But right now, all she could do was stare blankly at her brother.
“How?” Johnathan demanded, his eyes narrowing.
Angelo answered before Allison could even open her mouth. “I’m pretty sure you know how babies are made, Johnathan.”
Her jaw dropped. What the fuck? Does he have a death wish? She shot him a look that could kill, but he was already back to casually munching on his food, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of their conversation.
For a moment, the tension at the table was so thick that Allison was sure something was going to explode—or at the very least, Johnathan’s head. But then, Angelo broke the silence with a quick glance at her brother’s plate. “Are you going to finish those fries?”
Johnathan blinked, thrown off just enough that he actually looked down at his plate, where a few lone fries remained. “What?”
“The fries,” Angelo said, his voice as casual as if they were in a boardroom. “You look like you’re done, and I skipped breakfast.”
Allison stared at him, torn between laughing hysterically and crawling under the table. Of course, Angelo would choose this moment to make a play for food. Her brother’s hand twitched as if deciding whether to punch Angelo or just fork over the fries. She had to intervene before her brother actually decided to stab Angelo in the middle of the restaurant.
“Okay, let’s all relax,” she said quickly, forcing a tight smile. “There’s no use being tense and snappy.”
Johnathan narrowed his eyes but eventually pushed the plate across the table. “Take them,” he muttered. “I hope you choke on them.”
Angelo’s lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles as he reached for the fries. “Thanks, I’ll take my chances.”
Johnathan huffed, his gaze locked on Angelo, who still didn’t spare him a glance. Instead, Angelo’s focus was entirely on her, and she saw a hint of concern soften his chocolate-brown eyes. It was as if he was checking to make sure she was okay, and the thought made her heart skip a beat.
She nodded once, reassuring him as much as herself, and Angelo turned back to her brother, who was still glaring daggers at him.
“Johnathan, your sister is correct. We need to at least try to be civil,” Angelo said, his voice smooth and measured. There was a subtle “for her sake” hidden in his words, and he seemed to pick up on it.
At her brother’s reluctant nod, Allison let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, the tension easing just a bit. She could still feel the weight of what was coming, but Angelo’s unexpected deflection had diffused the worst of it—at least for now. And for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
But then she caught the smallest, most minuscule twitch in Angelo’s left eyebrow. It was so tiny that she doubted she would have noticed it if she weren’t so hyper-aware of him right now. He wasn’t as unfazed as he appeared. She was staring at him, gobsmacked, while he remained in control. Or at least, he was very good at faking it.
Allison’s focus shifted to Johnathan. “John,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her. “I’ll explain everything.”
His piercing gaze was locked on her, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. He was searching for something in her expression, some sign, some clue. Johnathan had always been like that—meticulous, protective, always reading between the lines. Her dear brother. Her shrew.
Johnathan’s eyes softened slightly, though the hard edge in them remained. It was a look she recognized well—deep in thought, weighing every option, every possible outcome. He’d always been like that, ever since they were kids. He was only ten years older than her, but he’d taken on the role of father figure with a seriousness that made her heart ache. He had been the one to take her to school, to ballet, to the mall when she needed new clothes. He baked her favorite brownies whenever she was sad, even though he was terrible at it. But when he started training to take over the family business—under their father’s orders, of course—something in him had changed. He had become cold, calculating, distant. With everyone except his siblings.
And now, as Johnathan’s gaze bore into hers, Allison knew he was looking for something specific. Perhaps he was trying to gauge if she was truly okay, if she knew what she was doing. Or maybe he was simply trying to understand how she’d ended up here, sitting across from him with Angelo Taylor by her side. Whatever it was, when it looked like he had found what he was searching for in her expression, Johnathan finally nodded. The tension in the air eased just slightly, and Allison knew she had his permission to continue.
“A little over three months ago, I went out to a bar,” Allison began, her voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. “I didn’t know who Angelo was, and he didn’t know who I was either. We were both completely wasted, so… we didn’t exactly think about protection. And, well… here we are.”
She watched as Johnathan’s face gradually lost its color with each word she spoke. By the time she finished, he looked like he might be sick.
Angelo stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “I’ve taken full responsibility for this baby, Johnathan. Allison won’t be alone in this. I’m committed to being in our child’s life and providing for both of them.”
Johnathan’s eyes narrowed as he processed Angelo’s words. The tension was palpable as he seemed to weigh the sincerity of Angelo’s declaration, his protective instincts warring with the need to trust his sister’s judgment.
Finally, without breaking his intense gaze on Angelo, Johnathan asked, “Is he kind to you?”
The question was directed at Allison, but it was clear the answer mattered more to Johnathan than anything else.
Allison’s heart melted. Her big, overprotective brother cared for her so deeply that it practically oozed out of his every word and action. She knew exactly why he’d asked the question, and instead of feeling offended, as someone else might have, she simply nodded.
“Yes,” she replied firmly, without hesitation. There was no doubt in her voice, nothing that could be mistaken for uncertainty—a reassurance her brother needed to hear.
She sensed, more than saw, the subtle shift in Angelo. It was a minor change—a slight loosening of his posture, the unclenching of his jaw, a barely audible exhale. The tension he’d been holding onto began to ease, if only just a little.
Johnathan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing just a fraction. But his eyes never left Angelo, as if still weighing whether to trust him or not.
Angelo, for his part, remained calm, though Allison noticed the briefest flicker of concern in his eyes as he glanced at her. It was subtle, but it was there, and it made her heart beat just a little faster. He was with her in this, no matter how complicated things got.
“Have you told Dad?”
Allison’s warm, comforting cloud of relief evaporated instantly. The question hit her like a cold splash of water. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was about to come.
“I was hoping you’d help me tell the boys first and—”
“And ambush him with it?” Johnathan cut her off, his voice sharp.
He wasn’t entirely wrong. Their father would definitely feel cornered if they all approached him together, and he always reacted worse when he felt backed into a corner. But Allison knew that his reaction would be harsh regardless—simply because it was her .
“You know how he’ll act if I tell him alone, John,” Allison pleaded, hoping to appeal to his protective nature. She didn’t want a fight with her brother, but she was prepared for one if it came to that.
Johnathan sighed, running a hand through his hair, a clear sign he was trying to remain calm. “And you know how he’ll be if we all tell him together, Allison.” His face remained composed, but his voice gave him away. He didn’t like this plan. “Maybe he’ll be calmer if you—”
“You weren’t there when I told him I’m pregnant,” she interrupted, her voice tinged with frustration. She hated that her brothers still harbored hope that their father might someday become a better man. Maybe he would—but never toward her.
Both men stiffened, the tension in the air thickening like a storm cloud.
“What are you—”
“Did he hurt you?” Angelo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl that cut Johnathan off mid-sentence.
Allison’s heart skipped a beat at the shift in Angelo’s demeanor. This wasn’t the tender, reassuring man who had been by her side the past few weeks. It was the fierce, intimidating Angelo she had first met in that conference room. Only, right now, she wasn’t afraid.
“Angelo,” she said softly, using the same tone he often used to calm her. The effect was immediate. His rigid posture softened slightly, though the tension in his muscles didn’t fully dissipate.
“Just tell me, Allison. Please,” he said, his voice low and almost unfamiliar with the word “please.”
“He didn’t harm me. But he did hurt my feelings.”
It was the truth. As much as she had become accustomed to her father’s cold treatment, she had let her guard down just enough to hope he might see her as his daughter—just once.
Angelo’s expression shifted from anger to something much softer. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.”
Allison blinked, not understanding why he was apologizing. This wasn’t his fault. Her father’s cruelty wasn’t on him. The confusion must have shown on her face because Angelo continued, “No child should receive anything but love from their parents.”
Those simple words hit her harder than she expected. Her throat tightened, and she had to fight to keep the tears at bay. She hadn’t anticipated feeling so vulnerable in the middle of a crowded restaurant, but here she was, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It took everything in her to hold back the tears, but she managed, and she felt a surge of pride in herself for that.
Before she could thank him for his kindness, Johnathan’s voice broke through, pulling her out of the emotional moment she was sharing with Angelo. “Do me a favor, Taylor.”
Both Angelo and Allison turned to look at him, momentarily jolted out of their bubble. Johnathan’s expression was a mixture of irritation and protectiveness.
“Don’t call my sister that in front of me ever again.”
Allison blinked, confused at first. Then it clicked. Sweet girl . Angelo had called her that before, on That Night TM —as she had started referring to their one-night-stand mentally—and now, recalling it, she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.
Angelo chuckled, a low, warm sound that only deepened the color on her face. Allison could feel the heat in her cheeks intensifying, her embarrassment growing until she was sure she was as red as a tomato.
Johnathan just rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with their little moment. But despite his annoyance, Allison caught a hint of relief in his gaze. He may not have fully trusted Angelo yet, but at least he knew his sister was in good hands.