Fifteen
ALLISON
T he trio had spent considerable time figuring out how they should approach breaking the news to Allison’s father. The plan still needed some fine-tuning, but after much deliberation, they finally reached a decision.
First, they’d meet with the rest of her brothers—which could either go semi-smoothly, like today, or it could go horribly wrong. After the brothers were informed, they’d finally confront their dad.
Which would definitely end terribly.
At least I won’t be alone this time , Allison thought.
They were outside the restaurant, all standing in the parking lot beside their own cars, when Allison called out, “Johnny!” Her brother turned to face her, dirty blonde strands waving around at the movement, one eyebrow raised in question. “We’re finding out the sex at the next appointment.”
He visibly stilled, and so did she, heart pounding with nerves.
Though she knew Johnathan was nothing like their father, she was always waiting for the moment he’d change, when the other shoe would drop and so would her heart. But her doubts vanished as her brother—a man as wild as a grizzly bear—broke into a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with joy and the rarest of dimples showing up.
“Make it a surprise for me, Shrimp,” he called out. Then he simply waved at her, nodded once to Angelo—who Allison had forgotten was behind her, watching their exchange—and got into his sleek, gray Audi, driving off.
Allison was momentarily stunned. Too much had happened in too little time, and her mind was too cluttered for her to drive, as it usually was. Anxiety was her constant companion; no issue ever felt truly resolved, and her brain never paused, running a thousand different scenarios until she slowly grew insane. Even when she lay in bed, trying to sleep, it took hours before she could finally drift into unconsciousness—if it happened at all.
“Allison.”
The second she heard his voice, her mind magically cleared. She wasn’t sure when it started or how Angelo gained such power over her, but the fuzz that plagued her thoughts simply disappeared.
She heard the gravel beneath his feet as he moved, and then he was right behind her—not touching, but close enough that she could feel his warmth, his hot breath, him .
Allison turned hesitantly, finally taking a moment to really look at him. Earlier, she hadn’t had the chance, but now, standing in front of him, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
He was dressed casually—or as casually as Angelo Taylor could manage. A black overcoat draped over his shoulders, partially hiding a fitted, white button-up shirt—which was far from weather-appropriate—that clung to his arms and chest, emphasizing his muscular build. His black dress pants, which she was certain were designer, concealed a weapon she had become intimately familiar with just three months ago. His chocolate curls framed his forehead, but thankfully, she could still see his captivating eyes.
In the distance, faint Christmas music played—fitting for mid-December—but it felt more like it was mocking her for her careful observation.
As if anyone in my position could resist checking this man out.
I dare you to try, invisible laughing audience!
“Allison,” he repeated, his voice different now—deep, primal, and dripping with desire that she felt down to her bones.
She tried to respond, but her tongue felt too heavy. After clearing her throat, she managed, “I’m fine.” But her voice sounded husky, almost needy to her own ears.
She blamed her hormones.
Angelo didn’t step back. He stood there, eyes roaming over her face, his breathing heavy.
Suddenly, she felt just as she had earlier, before her brother interrupted them.
They were close—so close that her breasts brushed against his chest with every breath. Yet neither of them moved away. Allison felt an overwhelming urge to taste him again. She remembered his touch, his scent, and the sounds he made in his most primal state. But she realized, with disappointment, that she’d forgotten his taste.
And she needed to be reminded.
She wasn’t sure who moved first. One moment they were locked in a silent stare-down, and the next, she was pressed against her car, Angelo’s hands on either side of her, caging her in as he leaned in close. His head nestled in the crook of her neck, and Allison didn’t dare move, fearful of ruining the moment.
His nose grazed her pulse, the light scruff of his jaw tickling her skin in the most tantalizing way. Angelo sniffed her neck like an animal, and she was utterly captivated. Allison’s breath caught in her throat as his tongue lightly brushed over her. He was the wolf, and she was his prey.
That small lick, that teasing touch, made her knees buckle. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, supporting her.
She heard, more than felt, Angelo’s chuckle—deep, dark, and guttural. And though they were outside a restaurant in broad daylight, with people milling about, she didn’t care. In that moment, all she wanted was for him to fuck her right there against the car.
“What are you doing to me?” Angelo whispered for the second time that day, as if pulling the words straight from her thoughts. His voice was husky, bringing back memories of That Night TM .
She didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure what to say, or even if she could speak at that moment.
That didn’t seem to faze Angelo. He pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. His chocolate brown eyes locked with her jade green ones, and she was trapped. She couldn’t look away, nor did she want to.
With a trembling hand, Allison reached up to touch his face, her fingers brushing against the scruff on his cheek. Angelo stiffened, his jaw clenching beneath her hand. Sensing his discomfort, she began to pull her hand away. But before she could, Angelo quickly released her waist and caught her hand, holding it in place.
“Don’t,” he commanded softly, the faintest breath of air brushing her face. She kept looking between his eyes, and the honesty she saw in them was alarming.
Allison’s heart skipped a beat as his fingers unraveled from her wrist, gliding up, up, up until they tangled with hers. She obeyed, her hand still on his cheek—how could she not? Angelo was the only one who could quiet her mind, and she craved that stillness—the calm that washed over her whenever she heard his voice. With him, she didn’t have to think twice, didn’t have to try. She just was .
And that frightened her more than anything.
“Allison,” he murmured again, as if her name was his favorite word, leaning in closer. “I need to kiss you.” His gaze locked onto hers, holding her captive. “Please?”
Her breath hitched at his pleading. Angelo Taylor didn’t seem like a man who begged, yet that little word sounded unfamiliar but so right on his tongue.
Yes, please—God, yes.
Allison nodded, too afraid to speak, fearing another needy sound might escape her throat. His lips brushed against hers.
And then his phone rang.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
He didn’t move, not an inch, but the mood had evaporated. Finally, he sighed deeply and pulled back, retrieving his phone and answering it with a barked, “What?”
I would not want to be on the other end of that.
“When?” His tone was calmer now, though tension radiated from him. “Fine. I’ll be there in five.”
He ended the call, and she stared. He put his phone away, and she kept staring. When he finally looked at her, she could only stare back, her chest heaving as her lips tingled with the memory of their almost-kiss.
“You need to leave,” Allison said, though her voice made it sound more like a question. Angelo simply nodded, his jaw tensing slightly.
There was a fierce intensity in his eyes. They were usually the color of molten chocolate, but now they’d darkened—wild and out of control. His fists clenched at his sides, as if he was resisting the urge to reach for her again.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, more for herself than for him. “We need to talk later about the appointment, anyway.”
He took a deep breath, looked away, and Allison could finally breathe normally again. “I’ll call you tonight.”
With that, he walked away.
Shit. What just happened?
Back at her apartment, Allison took a long, hot shower. She really needed a relaxing bath, but she’d learned her lesson; no waves. The tension from the day had left her muscles cramping one after another, and the hot water helped her unwind.
Afterward, she fed herself and her growing baby again, purposefully ignoring what had happened in the restaurant’s parking lot—or the Carcidents TM . She had just eaten lunch a few hours earlier, but she was creating a human from scratch, and she deserved to eat as much as she needed.
Her OB-GYN had given her strict guidelines on what was safe to eat and what to avoid, and she was determined to follow them like a holy text. But her love for food meant she was constantly either hungry or peckish. So, she ate.
Allison didn’t feel guilty about gaining weight. She had spent too many years growing up being bullied by kids whose parents hadn’t taught them better. Too many hours crying over her chubby cheeks, thick thighs, and protruding stomach. Too many days searching for clothes she liked that actually fit her, back when the fashion industry didn’t cater to plus-sized people—though it wasn’t much better now.
She had spent too many years purging after every tiny bite. Too many sleepless nights convincing herself she was worthy of the life she had, pushing thoughts of the razors in the bathroom out of her mind. Reminding herself that no matter how dark things seemed, she had three brothers who would be devastated if she ever gave in to those urges.
She had suffered enough.
When she finally went to college, she experienced what it felt like to be truly loved—not by a boy, friend, or anyone else, but by herself .
She had come so far since those dark days. Now she was creating life, growing a tiny human, and she refused to feel guilty for gaining weight. She could lose it later if she wanted. But she would never get these nine months back, and she would be damned if she let the world’s toxicity affect her baby.
Her baby would be taught right . That it’s okay to be yourself and love yourself, no matter how you look, sound, or dress. That everyone is perfect exactly as they are, and the only thing that makes someone ugly is their character. Her baby would be safe, healthy, and fucking happy .
Shit, am I crying?
She was. But she didn’t mind, because it meant she was growing.
Several hours later, just before midnight, Allison was cozied up in bed, sipping hot chocolate, and engrossed in her Kindle when her phone rang.
“Who the hell is interrupting my smut time?” she muttered.
She glanced at the screen, preparing to curse out whichever brother had decided to ruin her evening, but froze when she saw the familiar nickname she still hadn’t changed: Daddy .
Her Kindle nearly flew out of her hands—poor baby—and she sat up, the comforter slipping off her shoulders. Her heart raced, her breaths grew shallow, and her palms started sweating. She took a moment to compose herself before answering.
“Hello? Angelo?” she managed, her voice trembling slightly.
“Hi, Allison. Sorry to call so late. I had an emergency at work and just got free,” he said, sounding disturbingly casual.
“That’s fine. Is everything okay?” she asked, puzzled. Why would Angelo Taylor, her baby daddy and businessman extraordinaire, be available at this hour?
“Yes, of course,” he replied smoothly. Allison relaxed slightly. “I just wanted to see how you’re feeling after today.”
Allison’s mind immediately flashed to the events she’d been trying to ignore all day. She didn’t understand what had happened earlier or why. And now Angelo was asking how she felt about it?
As expected, internal panic set in.
How do I respond? Should I be nonchalant? Suave? Flirty?
Oh God, what if he misunderstands? Or what if I misunderstood?
After a few deep breaths and a wish that her brain would “just shut up,” Allison said, “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Her voice sounded steadier now as she fidgeted with a loose thread on her comforter.
Angelo took a moment to respond, and during those seconds, Allison had another brief freak-out.
Did I come off too strong? Or not strong enough? What if I weirded him out or offended him?
“Well, a lot of things happened today.”
Her fingers paused. He didn’t sound angry or disgusted. Instead, his voice had taken on a tone she didn’t recognize—almost… sad. Cautious.
“Angelo,” she said, mimicking the tone he used to calm her down.
He sighed deeply, and the sound resonated with her. She could almost picture him, one hand raking through his chocolate locks, jaw set. As hot as the image was, she didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry, Allison,” he whispered. She tensed up, bracing herself for whatever was coming next. “That shouldn’t have happened, especially not in front of Johnathan. He’s your eldest brother and…”
She stopped listening.
It took everything she had not to burst into laughter because— what the shit? Was Angelo actually worried about her brother seeing them?
She’d grown up with three older brothers—good-looking ones, no less, as much as it grossed her out to think of them that way. She’d seen more PDA from them than she ever needed to, and they’d all caught her in compromising situations too. It was just a part of growing up in her family.
Blegh!
And Angelo hadn’t even been kissing her, despite how it had felt in that moment. She knew her brothers wouldn’t handle it well, given their overprotective nature, but she didn’t care. She was a grown woman.
Allison tuned back into Angelo’s monologue just in time for his grand finale.
“…and I just wanted to apologize for my behavior during lunch.” His breathing was heavy, making her torn between wanting to coo at his vulnerability or feeling all hot and bothered— damn pregnancy hormones.
Before he could continue, Allison interjected. “Angelo, calm down. John is a grown man and I’m an adult. I’m sure the fact that I’m literally pregnant with your child has given him a clue about what might have happened between us.”
Although he would never know the details—because, ew, he’s my brother—if he ever did find out, his brain might start leaking out of his ears.
“I know that, sweet girl, but—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Allison interrupted. Hearing that nickname was taking advantage of her beating vagina-heart. “He’s not the type of man to hold himself back. If he had a problem, he would’ve told you. Or maybe just punched your face into a bloody pulp.”
She heard him huff and managed a small chuckle. This big, bad man was acting like a toddler, and it was kind of endearing.
“Fine,” Angelo said, and she could almost see him rolling his gorgeous deep brown eyes. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Her confidence surged, masking the arousal she was feeling.
Angelo cleared his throat and continued. “The doctor’s appointment is in a few weeks, right?” Her heart skipped a beat—he remembered. It made sense, considering how attentive he seemed to be— plus, you know, it is his baby —but her smile stretched dangerously wide.
“Yeah, January 24th.” She tried to calm her racing heart. She could handle the hormones, but this felt different—almost like…
Not going there.
“We just have to get through the holidays.”
“Okay. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up when it’s time.” Angelo’s commanding tone returned, and she was grateful for it. She didn’t want to admit it, but she missed it.
“I can drive myself, Mr. Taylor,” she replied with a hint of defiance, as she always had been independent.
Also, because she loved their banter.
“Allison,” he growled. She tensed up, shivering as a different kind of thrill coursed through her. “I’m picking you up. I won’t take no for an answer.”
She managed to keep her voice steady. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
She froze.
She stopped breathing.
She might have just ascended to Heaven.
She didn’t know what she was doing, only that she needed him to say that again. So, she did the only logical thing—she hung up.
Eventually, she would text him her address, but for now, she tossed her phone onto the bed and wrapped herself back up in her comforter. Picking up her Kindle, she tried to immerse herself in her billionaire romance while attempting to forget another billionaire’s influence on her.