Kidnapping the Billionaire's Baby (A BWWM Romantic Suspense) Page 7

  “Shh,” Amara urged her friend in a whisper. “Don’t antagonize him.”

  Jaslene silently gestured her apology with a grimace.

  Frederik looked down his nose at all of them, his smirk coming to rest on Amara. “You stole what should have been mine. All great men have their day, no matter how others try to keep them down. And I will have my day. I swear to all that is holy. I will have mine.”

  A foreboding shudder skittered down Amara’s back. She didn’t respond to him, however, only looked in the other direction, thinking of how her grandmother once told her to never meet the eyes of a predator.

  Frederik stalked away, and everyone watched him go. When he was gone, Pete turned to Amara.

  “I’m sorry that got so out of hand,” he said. “I hate to say it, but you need to report this to Dean Wilson.”

  James nodded his agreement, and Jaslene chimed in, as well.

  “No,” Amara said. “He was just letting off steam. He’s under a lot of stress.”

  Jaslene’s brows rose. “Why are you making excuses for that piece of human excre —”

  “He’s a fiery type, that’s all,” Amara said.

  Pete and James looked unconvinced.

  “That’s not fiery,” Pete said. “It’s looking more and more like unhinged. The dean needs to hear about this. You don’t know what Orlando’s been saying about you behind your back.”

  “I can guess. I’ll think about telling the dean,” she said, though she knew she wouldn’t. “I appreciate you coming and helping us out. Thanks.”

  The two men departed graciously, though she thought she heard James tell Pete quietly that he was going to tell the dean no matter what Amara wound up doing. Damn.

  Amara and Jaslene slipped back into her office. This time, Amara shut and locked her door, just in case Frederik decided to return.

  Jaslene gazed down at the snoozing Hampton. “Thank God. He’s sleeping.”

  Amara lightly touched his springy hair. “Guess he wasn’t ready to wake up from his nap after all. Did you actually call campus police?”

  Jaslene dropped back into her chair and studied Amara with a concerned air. “No, I was bluffing. Does Frederik always act that way when he sees you?”

  Amara also sat, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline broke down in her system. “No. He’s condescending and likes to get in a nasty remark or two, but nothing like today.”

  “You should think about getting a restraining order,” Jaslene said.

  The suggestion shocked Amara. “It’s not bad enough for that.”

  “It went south pretty fast, Amara. He tried to shove you out of the way to get to your baby. It was physical, and that’s really bad.”

  Amara considered it. No. It wasn’t like he hit her or anything.

  “Why was he trying to get to Hampton? What if he had gotten to him?” Jaslene asked.

  “He only wanted to look at Hampton, probably to say mean things to me about him. That’s what Frederik does. He attacks with words.”

  “I don’t see why he can’t let this go. You’ve been broken up forever. And I don’t see why he’s the bitter one.”

  “He was caught lying, and he lost a lot of status because of it.”

  “He should have been fired,” Jaslene said.

  “Maybe. Not my call, though. I keep thinking he’ll move on, get on with his own life again,” Amara said. “So far though, no such luck.”

  “At the very least, you should tell the dean.”

  “I’ll think about it. Anyway, I’ll stay away from the office for a while to let Frederik cool down. It’ll be okay. He’s all talk, trust me.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Jaslene glanced over at the sleeping baby. “For both your sakes.”

  THE NEXT NIGHT, AT HOME, Amara had just finished Hampton’s evening bath when her phone rang. She picked up her phone and saw Kari’s smiling face on the screen.

  They’d spoken several times about what Frederik had done at school, and Kari probably had plenty more to say. Amara considered ducking the call, but answered nonetheless. Kari was her best friend, after all.

  “Hey Kari. Let’s not talk about Frederik anymore, just for tonight, okay?” She headed back to the kitchen, picking up the dishes from her dinner.

  Kari’s tone was hard to place, not happy, not excited, not sad, but perturbed in some way. “That won’t be a problem. I just called to make sure you’re home. I’m outside, and I’ll be up in a sec.”

  “Okay,” Amara said, but Kari had already hung up.

  Amara placed the dishes in the sink then headed to the living room to wait for Kari. It didn’t take long before her brisk knock came on the door. Amara let her in.

  Kari looked harried and frantic. “I came right over. Thought you shouldn’t be alone when you hear this. And since you’re looking confused, I know you haven’t heard.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and rapidly thumbed over it.

  Kari handed it to Amara and said, “Read.”

  Amara hesitated, concern for her friend warring with curiosity.

  “Read it,” Kari repeated.

  Amara looked at the phone. It was open to a news app. The top story’s headline was in caps, bold and large:

  PHILANTHROPIST AND CEO QUINT FORBES

  FOUND ALIVE IN SOUTHWEST TAJIKISTAN

  She stared down at the story, agape. Her hands began to shake, making it difficult to read.

  “I know,” Kari said. “Sit down.”

  Amara let Kari lead her over to the sofa where they sat, side by side.

  Amara could hardly take it in:

  LENINGRAD—Reports from local authorities indicated early this morning that the missing philanthropist Quint Forbes has been found alive in rural Tajikistan. His private jet left Dasoguz Airport in Turkmenistan three months ago and never reached its intended destination. He was found in a small southwestern village medical facility in the Khatlon province, near Khovaling.

  The wreckage from the plane still hasn’t been found. Weeks ago, a shepherd spotted Mr. Forbes unconscious on the mountainside near his fields. The shepherd told a regional reporter that though Mr. Forbes was badly injured, he must have traveled a long distance over rough terrain before he collapsed of thirst and exhaustion. Without positive identification, Forbes remained convalescent in a nearby village hospital where he was treated for multiple injuries and cranial trauma.

  Due to the village’s distance from any major population center, news about the crash did not spread that far. Though conscious for the last few weeks, Forbes was said to have been disoriented and confused. Three days ago, he communicated his identity to an English-speaking nurse who recognized his name and reported his condition to Tajik officials in Dushanbe. He is expected to return to America for further treatment when he is cleared to travel.

  Chapter Twelve

  KARI CAUGHT THE PHONE FROM Amara as she dropped it. Amara leaned down, trying to catch her breath. It was hard to breathe and her chest hurt. Her mind raced with innumerable thoughts, overwhelming and confusing her.

  On one hand, she was elated to know Quint was alive. She was thankful for the chance to see him again. He was alive. Thank God. It seemed too good to be true.

  But on the other hand, she had Hampton to think of. What would Quint expect now? The thought that he’d demand she honor their contract and give Hampton up was too horrific to contemplate.

  She sat up straight and clutched at her shirt over her heart. Her head felt like it was on fire. Was this what a panic attack felt like?

  She looked at her friend, who appeared equally as horrified. “Hampton,” was all Amara said.

  Kari nodded slowly. “Hampton.”

  Quint was alive … and he’d be demanding his son.

  Amara fell, sobbing, into her best friend’s comforting arms.

  FOR THE NEXT WEEK, AMARA searched the news feeds for updates about Quint’s condition. He’d flown back to the states, at least that was known, but no one was certain where
. Everyone seemed to agree that he’d recover, but it was extremely difficult to get confirmation about his condition.

  A company spokeswoman announced that Quint was expected to make a full recovery, and that he must be allowed some time to heal before addressing the press. Speculation ran wild in not only the usual trashy tabloid magazines, but also on otherwise legitimate and even-handed television news networks.

  She was feeding Hampton when the news broke on television of Quint’s release from the hospital. He wore a heavy wool peacoat and slacks. His hair had grown long in the intervening months, and by keeping his head down, he managed to hide his face from the journalists jostling to get a shot of him leaving the hospital in his limo. Amara knew Quint well enough to know that his stride was off, and his swagger seemed all but gone.

  But that was nothing compared to the real shocker of the moment: he had been in a hospital in the city, Amara’s city. Holy hell. At that moment, he was only minutes away.

  A half an hour later, she received the call.

  The image of Quint that she’d set for his phone number only made the comparison with what she’d seen on TV more drastic. In the phone’s picture, Quint was perfectly coiffed and clothed, flashing his billion-dollar smile.

  She realized then that she’d never deleted his number from her phone. She wondered what it meant, if anything.

  She answered the call but found herself struggling to speak. All she managed to do was squeak out a small greeting.

  Quint’s voice was thinner compared to his usual deep, sweet tone. “Amara. I’m sure you’ve seen that I survived the crash. I’m … recovering.”

  “Yes. That’s good.” She stumbled over her words, unsure of the right thing to say.

  “I’m staying downtown at Forsythia Heights Hotel for the time being. I want you to meet me for dinner downstairs at eight. We need to talk.”

  Amara nodded slightly then remembered that he couldn’t see her affirmative. She was rooted in place where she stood in the kitchen. The possibility of him wanting to take Hampton away became all the more real as he spoke. Fear had frozen her.

  It was all but assured. Even as soft as his voice was, he was grim and determined in a way she’d never heard. Whatever it was he planned to discuss, he’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He never did.

  From somewhere, she found the strength to answer him. She agreed to meet at the hotel and hung up. She quickly dialed Kari, her breathing short and shallow.

  “Quint is back, and he wants to meet for dinner.” Hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop the warbling tremble in her voice.

  A long silence passed before Kari answered. “Don’t forget, we talked about this. You can’t get around that, can you? The papers were signed, he’s back, and he obviously wants to move forward in some kind of way. He’s probably gonna want Hampton — or, at least, to see him. Something. You’re not going to know until you meet with him. The Hampton thing aside, remember that you’re glad he’s alive.”

  Amara’s eyes widened. “Of course I’m happy. I’m not heartless. And I don’t want to get around it either. I’m so glad Quint made it out alive, but I can’t lose Hampton. He’s my world.”

  “I know, honey. Now go to the dinner, and see if you can work something out. Maybe his priorities have changed since the crash. An ordeal like that can put your life into perspective. Or that’s what I hear. Did you see him on the news, though? He wasn’t looking so hot. I couldn’t see too much, but I know what he’s supposed to look like and that wasn’t it.”

  After leaning down to give Hampton a gentle kiss at the crown of his head, Amara realized she was standing and re-took her seat. “He was trying to hide it, but, yeah, it was pretty obvious. The coat was so big, and he was hiding his face. I mean, people do that when they don’t want pictures taken. Who would want to be on magazine covers after all that? I can’t blame him. I’m just scared, Kari.”

  Kari gave a low hum, clicking her tongue a few times before speaking. “If you want, I could watch Hampton while you’re out. My place or yours, either way. I always love to spend time with him.”

  “I think I’ll drop him off at Momma’s. She’s always begging me to let her watch him, no matter how little time it’s been since she’s seen him.”

  As Amara took a breath to go on, it hitched in her throat as she realized the implication of Quint’s return. “Oh, God, what am I going to do about that if Quint wants Hampton? What do I tell Momma?”

  “I don’t want to rub salt in your wounds,” Kari said, “but you should have come clean with her a long time ago.”

  “I couldn’t do it. There was no way. I didn’t think I’d have to. She’s not going to understand any of this. She can’t.”

  “You don’t have a choice now, do you?”

  “I guess not. It’s only a matter of time until somebody snaps a picture of Quint and Hampton together or something. You know how Momma watches TV and reads those magazines. If I told her that the adoptive parents from before came to get Hampton, she’s gonna see that and kill me. Not that I can give Hampton up now, no matter what. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m making no sense.”

  Amara leaned over, pressing her palm to her forehead. “I should’ve been honest from the beginning. It was too easy to simply let people think what they wanted. I fucked up, Kari. Bad.”

  “Hey, hey. Come on. You couldn’t have known Quint would be coming back. No one could have expected you to hold onto the hope he’d turn up one day. In your position, I would have done the same thing.”

  “You would not have.”

  “Well,” Kari said cautiously, “maybe not. It doesn’t matter what I would have done, though. Seriously. You’re in a pretty tight spot, but it doesn’t have to be a catastrophe. You never know about mothers. Raneesha might understand.”

  “Never.”

  “Maybe Quint wants to meet up to tell you that he wants you to keep Hampton since you’ve been raising him by yourself this whole time. Maybe he wants some kind of joint custody. We don’t know anything yet. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”

  Every time Kari took on that upbeat tone, Amara couldn’t help but acquiesce to whatever she was pushing for. “Fine, fine. I’ll drop Hampton off with Momma and go meet Quint. I don’t think Quint knows where she lives, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out, would it? Anybody could, not that it matters. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Why would Quint go to Momma’s house?”

  Amara groaned loudly as she stood and pushed her chair back. “This is ridiculous. I need to stop worrying. You’re right. Worst case scenario, I bring it to court and argue for custody rights. A contract like that can’t hold up after all that’s happened. I mean, a lot of the language was talking about right after birth, and —”

  Kari cut in, interrupting her train of thought. “Amara, stop. Come on. Go meet the man and figure things out from there. Talk to him. I can’t tell you one way or the other. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you don’t calm down.”

  The force Kari laid on those last words snapped Amara out of her episode. She was silent for a long moment, her mouth half-opened, her next worried sentence cut short. “You’re right. You’re right. Okay. I have a few hours until I have to be there. Plenty of time. Everything is fine, and one way or another, it’s going to work out. Quint’s not an unreasonable guy. He’ll at least listen to what I have to say … right?”

  “Right. Now get yourself together, get Hampton’s overnight bag, and take him to Grandma’s house for an overnight stay. You got this.”

  Amara scowled in determination. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to you later, Kari. Thanks again.”

  “No problem. You know I’ve always got your back. Thick and thin. Call me later.”

  As they hung up, Amara tried to hold Kari’s advice and assurances in her mind. She repeated the encouragement over and over as she got dressed for dinner and put Hampton’s usual overnight bag together. Then she called her mother.

/>   Even as she spoke on the phone with Raneesha, Amara’s mind remained on the surety and serenity she felt, holding tight to it. Amara knew she was adaptable, strong, resilient — just like her mother.

  More than beauty, more than intelligence, or any other quantifiable thing about her, Amara prized her strength to carry on despite any adverse circumstance. Though she’d taken a hard hit when her sponsors pulled out, Quint caught her.

  It was the only time she’d ever relied on anyone that way, but their meeting was pure serendipity as far as Amara was concerned. He was there when she needed him most, and there was no way she could try to strong-arm him or mislead him about anything at the dinner.

  He deserved better, considering the way he’d taken care of both her maternal health and her financial situation.

  The same mantra that got her through so many of her personal hardships and fears was the one she repeated silently to herself on the drive over to her mother’s house.

  Worrying won’t accomplish anything. Just move forward.

  Chapter Thirteen

  AMARA ROLLED UP TO THE stop sign and heaved a heavy sigh before looking back at Hampton’s car seat. He was sound asleep as he generally was during car rides. It was always hard to leave him with someone else, no matter the circumstance, but today was especially rough.

  The first hints of pink and gold touched the sky and clouds, sunset imminent. She still had plenty of time to visit with Raneesha and make it to the hotel by eight.

  Her black dress was simple and elegant, a well-fit understated affair matched with glossy black patent pumps. The dress was chosen to keep Raneesha from asking too many questions about her plans while coming off classy enough for a dinner at a place as nice as the Forsythia.

  As much as she dreaded what Quint had to say at the dinner, she didn’t want to seem out of place or under-dressed.

  As Amara pulled up to her mother’s modest two-story home, she listened for changes in Hampton’s breathing or any signs that he was waking up. Hearing nothing, she made her way quietly around to unstrap the car seat carrier and gently lift him from the car. She hoped he’d sleep through her departure.