Pregnant by the CEO Read online

  His smile widened. “We’ll see.”

  Five

  The DC Insider: We are hearing that our Hottest Ticket in Town wants to get serious with his new lady but the lady’s disgruntled baby brother is having none of it. He’s making some big claims, all of which Derrick Jameson denies with a shrug. But can this budding romance bloom with all these distractions?

  Ellie was starting to think her headache would never go away. It thumped in her ears and over her eyes. Even the back of her neck ached.

  She’d had two employment interviews today and nothing. Well, not nothing. In the second, the interviewer wanted to talk about Derrick. He didn’t specifically ask about her dating life but he bounced around the topic, honing in on her “influence” over Derrick and his decisions and questioning if that would be a conflict. Since she was trying for a generalist HR position—one unrelated to Derrick or his habit of buying up most of the property in the city—she couldn’t imagine what Derrick had to do with her possible paycheck.

  Being a fake fiancée had sounded easy, two months of playtime while they went to dinner and she didn’t panic about the water bill, but it was starting to take over her life. In addition to thinking about him and that voice...and that face...she had other issues. She’d splurged on a muffin at the coffee place around the corner that morning and two people took her photo.

  And then there was the Insider. Her teeth ground together at the idea of being in the Insider’s daily round-up section for two more months. Derrick needed to knock that off. She knew she should have insisted on a “no talking to gossip sites” clause in that stupid agreement. But she hadn’t, so now she nursed a glass of wine as she propped her feet on her coffee table and tried to pretend she was stuck in a bad dream.

  She’d managed to kick her heels off and find her pink slippers. She had no idea where she’d thrown her suit jacket. Since she couldn’t afford new clothes or a big dry-cleaning bill right now, not when she was saving every penny just in case, that could be a problem. She’d just leaned her head against the couch cushion when she heard the rattling. She stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to place the sound.

  Jingling. Keys.

  The mix of sounds had her jackknifing and jumping to her feet. The wine went everywhere. Down her shirt. On her couch. A line ran over her hand as more dripped onto the carpet, destroying any chance of getting that security deposit she so desperately needed back.

  The door opened and she spun around, ready to throw the glass. She stopped just in time.

  The wind rushed out of her. “Noah?”

  Her brother stood there with a face flushed red with fury and his hands balled into fists at his sides. He looked ready to launch. She stepped back without thinking and rammed her calf into the edge of the coffee table.

  “What are you thinking?” He hovered in the doorway, with the open hallway to her neighbors in the three-story, converted apartment building right there.

  That tone, deep and shaking, brought back memories of the days before she’d found the right doctor for him. Once she’d understood that her parents had caused more trouble for him by not immediately seeking treatment and that the delay could lead to bigger issues later in life, she got Noah help.

  But that didn’t solve the problem completely. Even now, the more stressed, the more under fire he felt, the more skewed his boundaries became. The uncontrolled anger of the past when he would punch walls was gone, but the faint whisper of frustration remained.

  Disregarding the way her shirt now stuck to her skin and the wet chilling her from the inside out, she inhaled and pitched her voice low. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to barge in.”

  “I thought you might have someone in here and not let me open up,” he said.

  That struck her as the worst response ever. She set her now-empty glass on a months-old magazine and stared him down. “And you thought that entitled you to use the emergency key?”

  “Do you really care that I came in without knocking?”

  That was a typical Noah response. He flipped things around to make her feel like the unreasonable one. “It’s a matter of privacy.”

  “I want an explanation.” He stepped into the apartment, leaving the door hanging open behind him.

  “You mean Derrick.” At the use of the name, she could see Noah’s jaw clench. His features hardened.

  With the straight brown hair and dark brown eyes, Noah looked like their father. While Dad’s perpetual good looks and boyish charm had helped to launch him in hundreds of get-rich-schemes over the years, including the one her parents were flying to when they died, Noah tended to be aloof and always assessing.

  He came around to the same side of the couch as her. “You’re on a first-name basis with the guy who fired me and is trying to frame me?”

  She wasn’t sure how to broach this subject but she tried anyway... “Is it possible this thing between the two of you has gone off the tracks a bit?” When Noah’s mouth dropped open, she hurried to finish the thought. “Maybe there was a miscommunication and then you—”

  “He’s brainwashed you.” Noah sounded stunned at the idea.

  She tried to ignore how insulting that was. Tried and couldn’t. “What?”

  “Is it the money?”

  And he made it worse. “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, I know you’ve had a tough time dating and stuff, but Derrick Jameson?” Noah asked. “People are asking me about you and Jameson in the comment sections of my videos. They’re questioning me now.”

  So that was it. His precious videos. His crusade. Just once she wished someone would care about her. “That’s what this is about? I’m messing up your revenge plans?”

  “Having my sister sleep with my enemy is a problem, yes.” Noah practically spat as he talked and stepped toward her.

  Out of habit, she moved back. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he sometimes still funneled his frustration into throwing things, and she did not want to be in the firing line. “You sound like you’re twelve.”

  “He really does.”

  A now-familiar deep voice sounded from the doorway. Relief slammed into Ellie before she even looked over. It washed right through her, calming her down.

  Derrick. He loomed there, wearing a dark suit and fierce frown. The glare did not waver away from Noah.

  “You’re here.” Noah’s shoulders fell as if a load of shock had replaced his anger. “In my sister’s house.”

  “You always were very observant.” Derrick stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  The soft thud snapped Ellie out of the haze enveloping her. That fast, she flipped from soothing mode to trying to wrestle control back. “Derrick, sarcasm is not helping here.”

  He looked at her then. His gaze traveled over her, hesitating on the stain plastering her silk blouse to her chest before bouncing up again. “Sorry.”

  The word sounded so sincere and heartfelt. As if he understood she was ten seconds away from shattering into a million pieces.

  “You apologized to her?” Noah’s full attention centered on Derrick. “What about me?”

  “You stole from me and got caught.” Derrick’s voice stayed steady even as he shook his head. “If you needed money you could have asked for an advance on your salary.” Derrick’s eyes narrowed. “But I’m not sure any of this was about money.”

  Noah turned to face her again. “Do you hear him? His accusations?”

  She did. Saw him, too. Watching Derrick was a revelation. If he carried around any guilt, he hid it well. If he had falsely blamed Noah...no, that didn’t make sense. It had never made sense, but seeing Derrick now, in full de-escalation mode, made her brother’s story even less believable.

  She inhaled, trying to calm the last of her frayed nerves, and pointed toward the now wine-stained couch. “Maybe we could all sit down.”
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  “Not with him.” Noah pushed by Derrick. Shoved his shoulder into him and kept going. Didn’t say anything until he reached the door. “Just wait until the next video.”

  As soon as Noah’s hand hit the doorknob, Derrick spoke up. “Post whatever you want about me but keep your sister out of it.”

  Noah slowly turned around to face Derrick. “You think you get to order me around when I’m not working for you?”

  “If you have a problem, you come for me.” He pointed toward Ellie. “Not her. Not ever.”

  Noah’s face went blank. “She’s my sister.”

  “Then act like it.”

  * * *

  Derrick forced himself not to follow Noah out the door. He wanted to have it out, make the kid understand he was playing in an adult world now.

  Instead he stood there, staring at the door and trying to ease his temper. Something had happened before he’d walked down that hallway and heard the shouting. Ellie was drenched in wine. Hell, it beaded in her hair. But nothing, no furniture or glass, appeared to be broken.

  She shook her head. “So much for thinking I was going to be able to enjoy two months of fake engagement bliss.”

  “Did I promise that?”

  “Honestly, no. But I knew my brother would be a bigger problem than you thought.” Ellie said the words on a heavy sigh.

  Derrick looked at her again. “Your brother is—”

  “Still my brother, so be careful with what words you use.”

  That seemed like the Ellie he’d experienced so far—tough and sure—but the tone sounded defeated. He hated that. “Right.”

  “He’s upset.” She lifted the wineglass from the coffee table and a magazine page stuck to it.

  “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

  “He was diagnosed years ago with this disorder you’ve likely never heard of. Believe it or not, this is a thousand times better than he used to be.” She held the glass in midair, peeling the paper off with a loud ripping sound. “His teen years were exhausting.”

  That was enough of that. Derrick stepped over to her and put his hand over hers. With one quick tug, he liberated the glass then carried it to her kitchen sink. “He’s not a teen now, so don’t make excuses for him.”

  “I’m explaining that this is not a matter of him being spoiled.”

  “Are you willing to concede that, maybe, you make it easy for him to not deal with his issues as an adult?” He stopped for a second with his hands wrapped around the edge of the counter.

  Noah was nothing like Derrick’s father, Eldrick, except that people rushed to forgive both of them. That innate ability to have people fall all over themselves trying to make things rights and ease any burden... Derrick didn’t get it. No one had ever done that for him, which was probably a good thing.

  “My point is that he doesn’t always handle his anger and frustration the way others do.”

  Derrick turned around and watched her pick the soaked edge of her shirt up with two fingers and wave it around a little as if trying to dry it. Another button popped open under the strain of all that flapping. He couldn’t imagine that move would dry her shirt, but it sure as hell was making him think about things other than this conversation.

  From this angle he could see a sliver of skin and the outline of her bra, all lacy and, from the few peeks she’d given him, pink. This dating, no-touching, possible fake-engagement thing might be the death of him.

  “Ellie, I have an office full of Noah types. I don’t mind odd comments, social awkwardness or even controllable behavioral issues. But I do get pissed off when people steal from me.”

  She sat on the couch’s armrest. “He insists you’re lying.”

  “And I insist he is.”

  “So, we’re at a stalemate.”

  “Are we?” He appreciated her loyalty to her brother, but she wore emotional blinders when it came to Noah.

  He got it. He had brothers, too. Even though, thanks to their father, they didn’t see each other much these days, he would do anything for them, including pushing them to take responsibility for their actions.

  “If you had evidence...” With her head down, she picked at the couch’s material.

  “I’m not accustomed to having to prove myself. Most people take my word.” Derrick heard his voice rising in volume and lowered it again. “It’s one of those things I’m known for, which is why your brother’s actions are doubly problematic.”

  “Any chance you could bend your rules and maybe...” She winced. “I don’t know, review the evidence again? With me?”

  It was a fair request but this sudden unexplained need to have her trust hit him. It wasn’t rational. He hadn’t earned it, but still. “We already have a deal, Ellie.”

  “I don’t appreciate being made to choose.”

  She wasn’t getting this. He pushed off from the counter and walked into the living room area. Stopped right in front of her so she had to look up to give him eye contact. “The point of the agreement is to defuse the issue with the public. Noah will either stop with the videos or he won’t.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  The urge to reach out and brush his fingers over her cheek almost overwhelmed him. He shoved his hand into his pants pocket to prevent any touching.

  It was bad enough he was there. That he had this odd need to see her, to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind. He had a phone. He knew how to text. Hell, when he’d first thought about a fake engagement and how it would work, he’d assumed his assistant would be the one in contact with Ellie. That his time with her would be for public view only and a complete farce. Yet, here he was. In her house. Talking family drama.

  There was nothing disconnected about this arrangement that he could see.

  “With us being together, Noah won’t be able to hide from me. I’m confident I can get him to understand. I hired him, young and untested, because I saw something in him.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scanned the room, not doing anything to hide his long look. “So...this.”

  “You’re changing the topic.” She stood as she talked.

  The move put her so close. He could smell the shampoo clinging to her hair and the sharp scent of the wine.

  “Obviously.” His gaze drifted to her shirt. “Do you want to change?”

  “I probably have to throw it away.” She winced as she plucked at the material. “And I love this shirt.”

  He didn’t become attached to clothes, so he had no idea how to respond to that. “Go ahead.”

  Without another word, she slipped into the bathroom, hesitating only long enough to grab a balled-up sweatshirt off the top of one of the boxes piled around the room.

  He took the few minutes of alone time to study her apartment again. Tiny and cluttered but homey. There were things everywhere. Shoes piled under the window. A stack of magazines under the coffee table. A...was that a suit jacket on the floor? He scooped it up and draped it over the clean part of the couch. That took him to his next errand. Into the kitchen area to find something to clean up the wine on the cushion.

  He was kneeling on the only clean and open part of the floor, doing a combination of dabbing and scrubbing on the stain. He was pretty sure it grew the more he worked on it.

  Just as he decided it would be easier to buy her a new couch, she stepped into the room.

  “Okay, I’m relatively dry...” Her laser gaze honed in on him right away. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.”

  “You probably have a team of humans who clean for you.”

  “Are we fighting again?” He hoped not because there was no way for him to win this battle. She clearly thought he was inept at anything but running a business, and since her brother was trying to ruin that, she might not even find him competent in that regard.

  “No, but is there
a reason you didn’t tell me I had wine in my hair?”

  This seemed like slightly safer ground. “I wasn’t sure you cared.”

  She frowned at him. “You are an odd man.”

  That wasn’t a topic he wanted to explore, so he stood with the wet rag still in his hand. “You have two choices.”

  “You’re not planning on testing me on the agreement provisions, are you? I didn’t memorize the thing.”

  Her mind really did bounce from topic to topic. Sometimes it took him a few minutes to catch up. He didn’t want to admit that or how invigorating he found the entire verbal battle. “This evening we either can go to dinner or I can help you get packed.”

  “You make those sound like reasonable options.”

  She stood right in front of him now. Blame the pink slippers, but he towered over her. She wasn’t petite or even short. She likely stood around five-seven. But compared to his six-one, he had the definite height advantage. “I can be reasonable.”

  “I haven’t seen much evidence of that.” Her voice took on a breathy quality.

  He chalked it up to the room or dust or the boxes or something, because his breathing didn’t sound right in his ears, either. “Well, I’m told the early days of fake dating can be rough. We’ll both adjust.”

  “That almost sounded like a joke, but you’re not wrong. There really should be a handbook.”

  “No kidding.” He’d be studying that thing nonstop if it did exist.

  “Dinner sounds fine, but I know there will be a reporter or photographer lurking somewhere, so what you’re proposing is a setup with a side of food.”

  He sighed at her. “You’re paranoid.”

  “Gee, I wonder why.” She added an eye roll as if she didn’t think he picked up on the sarcasm dripping from her voice. “And the packing thing...”

  Any other time. Any other woman, he wouldn’t ask. “Yes?”

  The oversize gray college sweatshirt shouldn’t even earn a second of thought from him. But on her, with her sexy mouth and those invigorating comebacks and her refusal to take any crap from him, he got reeled in. She talked and he wanted to know more. He’d studied her background in preparation for making their agreement, but now he wanted to hear the details straight from her, in her time.