Control (Kenshaw Ranch Book 4) Page 3

  I stand and fan my face while I’m still off the screen. Eamonn Piaget is either contacting me to sue for likeness rights, or because he likes my most recent Spring line I sent to him on a whim. I’m a nobody compared to Eamonn Piaget. A peon. And I cannot believe he’s video calling my assistant! What the hell is happening!?

  I clear my throat and reach out for the tablet, turning it to face me and smile, thankful I spent two hours on my makeup out of boredom this morning.

  Courtney does a quiet happy dance and I have to move across the room before I start to giggle.

  His French accent is thick, rough around the edges, but to fucking die for. I can’t wait to tell Tommy about this.

  Tommy…that asshole. That reminds me, Cash Fayer wants him dead after what he did. How or why Tommy’s stupid ass joined Cash’s little motorcycle gang is beyond me. God, that boy. He’ll be the death of me. My own brother doesn’t even worry me as much as Tommy does, and my brother has a death wish!

  After an hour of shoddy reception, I end the call with Eamonn and I dramatically faint.

  “Affton!” Courtney shouts, running toward me but the klutz stumbles over her six-inch heels and she falls right on top of me.

  “Ooff,” I groan when she lands on my boobs.

  “Oh god! I’m sorry!” She jumps up. “I thought you really fainted. Thank goodness you’re big-breasted.”

  Holding my tits, I glare up at her. “Cushion your fall?”

  Pink flurries over her cheeks and she starts to giggle. My giggles follow right behind hers. I’m still on cloud nine after spending an hour flirting with the very gay Eamonn Piaget. God! I made a fool of myself, but he was still interested in my design! Not the entire collection…only four pieces, but it’s good enough for me!

  I run for my chair and it glides halfway across the room when I land in it. My feet scuffle across the floor while I try to roll myself back toward my desk.

  Signing in to my email, I pull up Tommy’s message he sent about getting out of Cash’s stupid gang. I didn’t have time to reply because I got the video call before I could form a response that wasn’t me screaming at him. But now, I’m not even pissed at him anymore. My heart is beating so fast I can barely breath.

  YOU WILL NOT FUCKING BELIEVE WHO JUST VIDEO CALLED ME, THOMAS BARNS! EAMONN PIAGET WANTS ME! HE WANTS YOUR GIRL! FUCK MY LIFE! AHHHH!

  ***

  Finally I was twenty-seven and on top of the world! Maybe an alternate world. But that one video call from Eamonn Piaget spiraled my career upward. I hadn’t and wouldn’t match the likes of him in fashion fame, but I was a spreading name. The only problem was it wasn’t the name I wanted. Beany Designs wasn’t really bounding upward, but Fashion Blogger Affton Hart was making waves.

  ***

  ”Affton Hart?”

  My head jerks up from my cell phone and I stand, smoothing my skirt over my thighs.

  “Mr. Bower will see you now.”

  Corey Bower is CEO of Trenton. One of the top fashion editors in the US right now. Being a fashion journalist wasn’t my first choice, but I’d be lying if I said Beany Designs is making me as much money as I’m worth. It’s not, but if I land this journalist position, I’ll be able to feed more money into my designs. There are people all over the globe that want my opinion, but not since Eamonn has someone wanted my designs. If the fashion world wants my harsh, truthful opinion on today’s fashion, then I’ll give it because it’s going to make me money.

  “Ms. Hart.” Corey Bower leans back in his chair and scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, looking me from head to toe. “You’re a plus sized designer?”

  Keeping my cool, I smile, because it’s not the first time someone’s assumed because I’m a plus sized girl, I must be a plus sized designer.

  “Actually no. I go where the money is, Mr. Bower.” Sitting in the chair across from his desk, I hold myself tall and confident.

  This is a powerful man with a lot of money. The fact I ended up here is a miracle, but I’ve been working my ass off for four years to make the figures this company is willing to offer.

  “Good girl.” He smirks and my eyes take in his easy smile and sharp jaw. “Let’s talk business, Affton.”

  “I’m all ears.” I cross my right leg over my left and his eyes scan my thigh that’s exposed in my skirt. It’s not too teasing of a view, but it gives away enough to pique curiosity if you’re interested. And the fact Corey Bower seems interested blows me away.

  He spins the wedding ring on his finger and I blink my gaze away from him. He’s a married man and I have no business flirting with him even if it is just to secure a spot in this company.

  When I leave Trenton, my humble Beany Designs has moved from the back seat, practically to the trunk because I am now a proud fashion journalist for Trenton. With potential to move up.

  I can only go upward, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a crack in my heart because Beany will no longer be my main focus.

  A makeup wipe removes my fake face. So much contouring and highlighting. So much eyebrow mascara and eyeshadow. I haven’t sported a natural face since I lived at home. That shit wouldn’t fly in this industry.

  My gaze focuses on my hazel eyes in the mirror. I’m so far removed from who I was back then. My southern twang is long gone. Usually masked with a West Coast accent. My cowboy boots were thrown away two years after I left. I even started lying to people, telling them I grew up on the East Coast. A country bumpkin has no business in the fashion world.

  “Sham,” I whisper to my reflection when my eyes fill with tears. I blame the moisture on dry eyes. I’m not blinking enough. But today’s been emotional.

  Not only did Beany Designs get tossed out, I feel like my life in the south will finally be erased. The one person that’s always been there for me barely has time anymore, and I don’t blame him. When I got out of the south, I drifted so far away, but maintaining the company, a posh social career, and a fashion blog was not an easy feat. It took ninety five percent of my time, and in the grand scheme of it all, five percent isn’t enough attention to devote to my best friend.

  I’m crying hard enough that I’m sobbing. When I log onto my computer, I pull up my email. I wanted to call Tommy, but I don’t want him to hear my tears.

  Going to our email thread, I open the last thing he sent and it’s a picture of a new motorcycle. I chuckle and swipe at my cheeks. He still worries me to death. The boy’s gonna end up splattered on those gravel roads.

  You worry the hell out of me.

  Trenton accepted me. I am no longer Affton Hart, founder of Beany Designs. I am now Jr. Fashion Journalist for Trenton, Affton Hart.

  Your girl’s still moving up.

  Miss you.

  -Beany-

  PS, that beard is getting out of control, Thomas! Shave that thing!

  ***

  My world changed drastically at thirty. Dramatically. I’d been in a monogamous relationship with Corey Bower for almost two years. When he divorced his wife, he put me in a position I couldn’t refuse without losing my job. Not that I wasn’t attracted to him, but I wanted to focus solely on my career. He wanted to focus on me, which meant helping my career. What choices did I have if this was my only option to better myself?

  ***

  ”Ms. Hart, these aren’t your contraceptive pills.” My doctor’s staring at me like I’ve grown another head. Well…I have, except it’s growing in my uterus. And the ‘how’ is why I’m here right now. I’m on birth control and I’ve never screwed up my routine. Children are nowhere on my bucket list.

  “Come again?” I keep a smile on my face even though I’m internally dying.

  I cannot have a child. I cannot have a child right now in my career. Corey is going to lose his mind.

  “These are not the contraceptive pills.” She’s holding my pill bottle I gave her to inspect. After doing some research on the little yellow pills in the bottle, she returned to tell me I’m definitely pregnant. “These are the hormon
e-free pills. Sugar pill, or reminder pills, if you will. Where did you get these? These are not the birth control pills I prescribed you.”

  I blink rapidly, and every time I blink, I wish I could keep my eyes closed. Leaving the doctor’s office was a blur, but I’m sitting in my living room now, piecing together how this mistake could have happened.

  I’m four weeks pregnant and I think my boyfriend sabotaged me.

  “No, Af, this is amazing. We’re going to be great parents.” The smile on his face makes me start to tremble.

  “I was on birth control, Corey. I shouldn’t be pregnant right now.”

  “Well, you are.” He laughs. “You might want to consider dropping a few pounds for the baby’s sake. An obese mother isn’t healthy for you or the baby.”

  Dropping my chin, I look away, keeping my mouth shut.

  When did I become this woman?

  “You’ll be moved into my place tomorrow. Then I’ll have Vince draw up a marriage certificate and we’ll be married by next week.”

  “Moved?” I gasp. “Married?” My lip quivers.

  A look of disapproval darkens his features. “Are you a whore, Affton?” he spits at me. “Only whores have children out of wedlock.” The bathroom door slams closed behind him and I jump.

  Placing my hand over my racing heart, I gasp in small breaths. My life is going wrong at so many turns and I don’t know how to take it back.

  If I leave him, he’ll ruin my career. He has the power to ruin me from here on out. I’d hate to say that’s the only reason I’m with him. I’m fond of him because he’s charming. And he knows how to manipulate a mind. Not that I find that sexy about him, but his manipulation works on me. I fall for it daily and I don’t know how not to. He’s similar to my father. My father was an intimidating man, using manipulation to brainwash me when I was a kid. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I hated him, but I definitely don’t write home. Just like with Corey, I never stood up to my dad, but anyone else back in the south, I had no problem putting them in their place.

  Corey has so much to hold over my head that I bite my tongue like I used to at home. Once I realized it was my dad’s dime and pull that would get me out of the south, I knew I had to put up with the shit.

  Nothing’s changed.

  It takes two days for him to acknowledge me, and it’s in the form of giving my next big story to a journalist under me.

  I sit across from his desk, my face a mess from bawling in the office bathroom.

  “Why do you look like that?”

  “I don’t know.” Using my fingertips, I blot at my cheeks, hoping the swelling from a hard cry has gone down. I clear my throat and sniffle quickly. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Sign those please.” He points to the papers at the edge of his desk and my stomach tumbles with sickness that he’s firing me.

  It’s not a resignation form; it’s a marriage license. Fearing my job is on the line, I quickly scrawl my name.

  “We’ll go before Vince on Monday in a very small, private ceremony.” Those dark brown eyes were what drew me in at the beginning, but it’s like I’m staring through them now. “Then we’ll be happily married.”

  My lips react with a smile even though my mind is numb. Standing, I slide the papers toward him.

  “Af.” He gets to his feet, coming to eye level with me in my heels. “When’s the first appointment for the baby?” His eyes dart to my stomach and I stand taller.

  “On the nineteenth.”

  When he smiles, I study his face. I don’t think we’re in love, but here we are, moved in together, getting married, and having a child.

  “Tell Grace to clear my schedule for the day. I’ll be attending with you.”

  “Why’d you give Joan my story?” It blurts from my mouth and I want to run from the room, but I hold my posture.

  “Because you’re no longer junior journalist.”

  I can’t breathe. He’s firing me. I’m fucking pregnant and marrying him and he’s firing me!

  “You’re too good for that position, Af. My wife will not be a peon.” …But I could be a peon as his girlfriend though...

  Sitting, he crosses his legs and I stare perplexed. “You’re promoting me?”

  “Director of public relations.” The smile that attracted me to him from the start sits on his lips. “Seventy K salary increase. Your own office. A personal assistant. You’ve got it made here, Af. You’d be stupid to throw that away. Besides.” With a chuckle, he leans on his desk. “This is the top. Only place to go after Trenton is down. You don’t want to go down, do you, Af?”

  “No,” whispers from me and I clear my throat to answer with more confidence. “No.”

  “Good girl. Go tell Grace to clear my schedule for the nineteenth.”

  While my promotion is like a dream come true, it comes at a bigger price than before. But this is what I want, and I’m already pregnant. I don’t plan on leaving Corey, so what’s adding marriage to the pile?

  If my brother found out I got married without telling him, he’d completely lose his shit. I don’t want to think about what it’s going to do to Tommy.

  I haven't heard his voice in a year and when I get home I plan to call him, even though our last conversation was as brief as this one will probably be. I just need to talk to someone. Him. I need to talk to Tommy.

  I have a few minutes before Corey will be home so I grab my cell. He probably won’t answer, but after everything I’m feeling right now, I need to hear his voice. Even if it is his voicemail recording.

  “Beany?” Tommy answers a ring before voicemail. “Shit, sorry.” The phone rustles. “Hi, hey. Sorry.”

  I chuckle. “Did I wake you?”

  “No.” It sounds like he’s rushing somewhere. “So how ya been? Holy shit, I thought you lost my number!”

  My eyes roll but the sound of his voice keeps a smile on my face and I really need this right now.

  “I'd never lose your number, Tommy.” I bite my tongue a minute because the southern twang I've been hiding for years is shining through. “So what’s been goin’ on with you?”

  “Just stupid shit. Boring, stupid shit. Nothin' worth talking about, ya know?” He sighs. “Hey, you sound real good, Beany. It's... Hell it's fuckin' amazing hearin’ your voice.”

  Putting my hand over my face, I close my eyes, forcing my smile now. I want to go home. I want to sit in his room on his bed while he paints my toes and convinces me it's a good idea for us to have sex 'cause we're just friends with awesome benefits. But all that was over eight years ago. So far in the past.

  “You too. How's the south? Dusty, dry, hot, and lackluster?”

  His laugh comes through the phone and my smile stretches until I giggle at the sound.

  “Pretty hot, yeah. Summer's draining us on the ranch. Dusty and dry, yep.” He clears his throat. “So hey, I may stalk your social media accounts. You're killin’ it, Beany. That's fucking amazing. Just...amazing.”

  “Uh, yeah.” I chuckle and hate the weird feeling in my gut right now. Might be because there's a child growing in it, but something feels off between us. That might be because we've drifted so far apart it hurts. “Work's awesome. Dream job,” I mutter the partial lie. My dream job was growing Beany Designs. “But I fucked up.” I start to laugh, especially because I wasn't the one that fucked up.

  I know Corey did this intentionally, but I'll never be able to prove he switched my pills. The past two months he’s picked up my prescriptions. I stupidly didn’t question why they were in a pill bottle and not my normal packet. The label had my name on it and I never, never thought he’d do this. Of course when I questioned the odd pills, he blamed it on a pharmaceutical error and started threatening lawsuits.

  “Uh oh.” Tommy brings my attention away from my anger. “You need me to kill anyone? I got a few shotguns and a crew of boys here that know how to use 'em.”

  “Stop.” I laugh. “No need to kill anyone. But...you're gonna be an uncle... So
rta,” I mutter the last part because I used to have sex with him. He's not really uncle level. The line falls silent for too long and I look at the screen to make sure we didn't disconnect. “Hello?”

  “That's...” He sighs heavy. “Wow, Affton. That's awesome.” He clears his throat. “Wow. Congratulations.” He sure does find everything awesome or amazing today.

  “Stop.” I cover my face. “Please stop. I know I fucked up. I cannot have a child right now, Tommy!”

  “I mean, yeah. Wow.” He chuckles. “You never even wanted kids. How the hell did this happen?”

  “Um, well, I'm sure you're familiar with the act. You used to bang everything back in the day.” I roll my eyes and almost regret telling him. He's going to think so much lesser of me now.

  “Ha! Some things don't change, Beany,” he says before his laugh stops short. “So uh... Who's the dad?”

  This is the point where I'd tell him everything. All about feeling forced to stay in this relationship with Corey for fear of losing my job that’s finally moved to a six-figure salary. The suspicion I have that Corey is the one that switched my pills and it wasn't an error by the pharmacy. But Tommy's more a distant friend anymore and doesn't need to be burdened with my drama.

  “A guy I've been seeing for a little while.” I stare at my black computer screen, not even having the drive to try and create the ideas that were flowing through my head earlier.

  “He a good guy? Treat you well?” His tone screams worry for me and not for accurate reasons. Tommy knows I didn’t want kids.

  “He's my boss.” I laugh and tears sting my eyes. “I mean, I'm not sleeping with him 'cause he's my boss. But...oh shit...” I huff. “This is going to be an experience. That's for sure!”

  “Yeah. You could say that again. Hey, I know I'm all the way in the sticks, but if you ever needed anything. Or if I could...I don't know, fly out and somehow help when the baby's here, I will. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “I miss y—” I hear the front door and my heart rate picks up. The privacy of my own living space is gone. “Tommy, I have to go. I'll call you soon, okay?” I force a cheerful tone.