Chapter 4
Logan: Dad says you need to be at the house Sunday. Sounds ominous.
Zeke: What makes that estúpido think he can order me anywhere?
Logan: He said to tell you he will show up at your place if you don’t.
ZEKE
“Mi chico ángel.” I smile, leaning back in my chair and extending a hand to Diego. He runs to me with an excited squeal, his black hair flopping over his tawny forehead. I catch him easily, scooping him up into my lap.
He places one still slightly chubby hand on my chest, his big warm brown eyes blinking up at me. “Papi, can we get ice cream?”
I chuckle, smoothing a hand down his back. It’s a sweltering day in Manhattan—so much so that even at dawn I was dripping with sweat two minutes into my run.
“Diego,” Maria chastises kindly from across the room. “I told you not to pester your father.” She chuckles, offering me an apologetic smile.
I shrug her off good-naturedly, returning my attention to the four-year-old boy in my lap. “If we go for ice cream, I don’t want to hear any more fussing about brushing your teeth at night.” I fix him with a stern glare that has his little brows trembling.
I bite back a laugh, my chest filling with warmth as he chews on his plump lower lip and considers.
As much as the world might consider me one of its most spectacularly gigantic assholes—thank you, Miss Devlin—I’m a big fucking softie for my son.
He is everything good in me personified and amplified by a thousand.
Lord knows I’m lucky he turned out so well with a dead-beat mother who barely pays him a speck of attention.
Holed up in her cushy Hampton home, courtesy of yours truly, she turns up for birthdays and the odd family gathering when summoned by my father.
But aside from this, she really has no interest in the boy.
Her loss is my gain. The best part of my day is coming home and putting Diego to bed.
In the darkness of his room, we lie and talk about our day.
He tells me about the crafts he made with Maria or confesses to me what he’s worried about.
He’s a sensitive boy, and I hope this world doesn’t chew him up and spit him out like it did me.
“Okay, deal,” he says solemnly, offering me a pudgy hand.
I tilt my head. “You know what this means?” I tap his hand gently.
He nods, a determined look seeping into his cherub-like features. “A handshake is my word.”
“And men don’t go back on their word. Ever,” I agree, taking his little hand in mine and shaking. He giggles, pressing his face into my chest. My fingers find their way to his ribs, digging in softly. He squeaks and starts writhing in my grip, a peal of high-pitched giggles ringing out.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I—” I’d know that soft, raspy voice anywhere. It’s been playing on a loop in my mind since that night I very nearly crossed a line. My head snaps up to see Miss Devlin hovering in the doorway, looking unsure and a whole lot confused as she glances between me and Diego.
“Need something?” I ask, righting Diego so he’s sitting in my lap again.
“Wow, she’s so pretty, Papi!” Diego whispers theatrically, but it’s loud enough that everyone in the room hears. Yeah, the kid hasn’t mastered subtlety yet.
I glance at Maria, and she jumps right on it. “Diego, sweetheart, let’s go and wait for your father outside.” She smiles, holding out her hand.
“But you promised ice cream.” Diego looks crestfallen, and his bottom lip wobbles.
“You have my word that we’ll go get ice cream right after I speak with the pretty lady.” I smile, ruffling his hair and sliding him off my lap.
I don’t miss the alluring pink blush that pulls into Miss Devlin’s cheeks as Diego bounds over to Maria.
They make to leave, but he pulls her to a stop beside the curvy redhead that is making my life difficult.
“Hi, I’m Diego. You’re almost as pretty as that lady Papi likes on the TV.
” He beams up at her, his gap tooth at the front on full display.
I groan internally. Kids have no filter. To her credit, Miss Devlin smiles down at him without hesitation. “Thanks kiddo, I’m Chloe, and you’re almost as cute as the Milky Bar kid.” She reaches down and boops his nose. Like a fucking dog.
My son really must be starved for female attention, because he turns to me with wide eyes that look almost glassy. “Can she come for ice cream with us?!”
“Not today, Diego. Chloe has to work.” It’s the first time I’ve said her name, and it feels too good on my tongue.
His lips turn down. “But next time?” He swivels his little head back to Chloe with pleading eyes.
I see Chloe’s eyes bounce from me, to Maria, to Diego and I suddenly realize what this looks like.
She thinks Maria is his mom. Maria is in her mid-thirties, attractive, brunette, and has been with us since Diego was a baby.
She’s a damn good nanny and I’ve never looked at her as more, but somehow, I don’t find myself rushing to correct her assumption.
Especially in light of her revelation of a boyfriend, though I’m not sure if he’s real or just created to ward off unwanted attention at this stage. Probably best I don’t know.
“Sure, Chloe can come next time, if she would like?” I flit my eyes back to find her watching me. It’s very clear she doesn’t want to come for ice cream with me. But judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t want to let down a four-year-old boy, either.
“Sure.” She plasters a bright smile on her face. “I’d love that.”
Diego beams and allows Maria to guide him out of the office. I can hear his excited tones even after the door has snicked shut.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She sweeps her long auburn hair over one shoulder and straightens her shirt.
“It’s nothing, what do you need?” Other than my cock in your mouth. I clear my throat and adjust myself in my seat, almost sighing at the direction my thoughts go with this woman. This woman who is very much my employee.
“Well, obviously it’s no great reveal to you, but I have a therapy appointment next week, so I wanted to clear it with you to go. I tried to change it so that it didn’t conflict with working hours but…”
“They close when we do.” I nod, biting back a smile.
“Yep.” She pops the P and stands like a sentinel at the door, as if she can’t wait to get away.
“That’s fine, take whatever time you need, just let Smith know.” I lean back in my chair, feeling the sun-warmed leather bleed heat through my shirt.
“Yeah, about that…” She frowns, and I sit a little straighter, somehow primed.
If that asshole is making her uncomfortable, I’ll wring his neck.
Shit, maybe he’s hitting on her. Last thing I need is a sexual harassment lawsuit associated with Guerra Enterprises.
Again, I almost sigh as I realize I've probably personally given her more reason than most to file one.
“Problem?” I press, watching the way her little white teeth worry her bottom lip. My cock swells in my slacks and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I get a coppery tang of blood.
“Well, he’s never here.” She clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable.
“I don’t want to be that guy, to tattle, I just have a couple of fixes I need him to sign off on and he’s…
” She sighs, scrubbing a small hand over her brow.
“Well, Guerra,” she starts to back up, all traces of uncertainty gone.
“He’s gone with the fucking wind most days. I don’t know what to tell you.”
My brows shoot to my hairline and despite myself, I let out a bark of a laugh. “Do you just say the first thing that springs to mind half the time?”
She beams and it feels like I’ve been kicked in the chest by a horse.
Her pearly white teeth flash widely at me, lighting her whole face up.
Her eyes sparkle the clearest blue and she looks fucking ethereal.
I have to fight very hard to maintain my outward composure.
What the fuck is happening to me? I’m not this guy.
“If you met my family, it would all make sense. We Devlins are very free with our words.” She snickers, shaking her head. “I’m actually the sanest of the lot, which is saying something, considering I came in here to ask for time off for therapy.”
I flatten my lips, not liking that she just degraded herself, even as a joke.
“I’ll look into it, but in the meantime, take this.
” I slide my top drawer open and hover my hand over the two neatly stacked piles of cards.
One is grey, subtly embossed, and houses my work mobile number.
The other… I pluck out the black matte card with my personal phone number on it.
Holding it out to her between two fingers, I watch as she walks forward and takes it curiously from me.
Our fingers brush for the briefest second, sending a zap of heat up my arm.
I’m selective with handing out both, but I can count on one hand the number of people in this city who have that black card, and yet here I am, handing it off to her like it means nothing.
“If you can’t find Smith, call me, and I’ll sign off on them for you.” My voice is thick, gravelly even to my own ears.
She swallows audibly and nods, making me wonder if she feels it too—that crackling tension hanging in the air like electricity. Fuck, I need to get laid. If simple hand touches and charged looks have my dick this hard, it’s been too long.
“I didn’t…” She shakes her head slightly. “I didn’t realize you were…that you had a child,” she settles on after a moment's hesitation.
“It surprises you that I keep my life private?” I tilt my head, scrutinizing every soft line of her beautiful face.
“No, it’s not that. You just don’t seem the fatherly type.” She lifts one shoulder, almost apologetically.
I chuckle, enjoying the way the bridge of her nose flushes alongside her cheeks, throwing those soft hazelnut freckles into stark relief. “Strong words for a woman who just booped my son's nose like a dog,” I retort dryly.
“Cute is cute. I don’t discriminate between species. I’d even boop your nose if you ever looked that cute.” She sniffs haughtily, but I can see a sliver of a smile tugging at her full lips.
I roll my eyes and snap my drawer shut. I’ve been called a lot of things, but cute is not one of them. Likely never will be.