The Lawyer's Pregnancy Takeover (Destiny's Child Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Don’t Forget Your FREE Book!

  Excerpt from Prescription For Love

  Author’s Note

  The

  Lawyer’s

  Pregnancy

  Takeover

  A Destiny’s Child Contemporary Romance

  by

  Zee Monodee

  Destiny’s Child Series:

  Prescription For Love

  The Lawyer’s Pregnancy Takeover

  The Tycoon’s Second Chance Baby (Coming Soon)

  The Lawyer’s Pregnancy Takeover

  (Destiny’s Child, Book 2)

  By Zee Monodee

  Copyright 2008-2017 Zee Monodee

  (previously published under the title Storms in a Shot Glass)

  Kindle Edition

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  As the story is set in Europe, the spelling and Grammar for this book is English (United Kingdom.)

  Cover Artist: Zee Monodee

  Editor: Natalie G. Owens

  Blurb:

  Personal assistant Jane Smithers is no stranger to over-the-top drama. With a hysterical socialite mother, an immature boss posing as bank CEO, and twin models hailing from Russia as her best friends, the last thing she needs is another complication … in the form of an unplanned pregnancy.

  Hard logic and straight-on facts rule the existence of filthy rich corporate lawyer Michael Rinaldi. Drama? He’ll squelch it under the toe of his bespoke Italian leather shoes without a second thought. Until he crosses paths with Jane, that is.

  He isn’t her baby’s father. She isn’t in the market for one, either. But unforeseen circumstances followed by a tabloid frenzy set them on a completely unexpected path. Michael is all in. Jane just wants some peace, as well as this super-hot but too-tenacious bloke out of her life. Will it be possible for these two to find a compromise in this fairly hostile pregnancy takeover? And maybe, just maybe, find love, too?

  Warning: Contains overblown high society hijinks, a super-Alpha hero who takes no prisoners, and a supposed damsel in distress who knows how to hide her game!

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Don’t Forget Your FREE Book!

  Excerpt from Prescription For Love

  The

  Lawyer’s

  Pregnancy

  Takeover

  Chapter One

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “What?”

  If Jane Smithers hadn’t been sitting, her knees would’ve buckled under her, and she would’ve crashed to the floor as a result. Or maybe she would’ve fainted? No, she hadn’t. Too numb to even faint? Goodness!

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. In the barrage of emotions following the declaration and assailing her once the numbness receded just a tad, surprise came first.

  “You’re joking, right?” she asked.

  From the serious frown on her gynaecologist’s face, she faced nothing but the truth.

  “But that can’t be!” she protested.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I haven’t been with anyone recently.”

  The admission tore past her lips, and as much as it pained her to say it, the humiliation of confessing she lived the life of an old maid in a chastity belt and starched knickers at thirty-two proved to be nothing compared to the sudden realization that she had a life growing inside her womb.

  “So it’s the Holy Ghost. You must’ve met him in the past three months because you certainly weren’t pregnant when I gave you that contraceptive shot back in December.”

  The irony barely rattled her. “Oh my God.”

  “That’s it, luv. Bring Him in now that you got yourself up the duff.”

  “Oh, Gayle, stop sounding like a prissy granny, will you?”

  She brushed off her doctor and friend’s comment with a sweep of her hand. The two of them had first met on their university campus in a mentorship program established by the alumnae society. From the moment their friendship had taken off, Gayle had used the excuse she was five years older than Jane to boss her around and keep her in line.

  When Gayle had opened her surgery a few years later, Jane had lined up to become one of her patients. A single girl in modern London needed a good gynaecologist, more so when she was on the prowl looking for a man and not a baby. Neither had been in her aspirations, however, especially because she had no time to go scout for that elusive creature called the perfect male prospect, and she already clung onto her sanity by very thin threads.

  Yet, here she was, pregnant. What a pickle! She brought her palms up and covered her face. Her breath growing laboured, she pressed the back of her head against the headrest and shuddered at the thundering in her veins, her heart beating fast, the blood rushing at her temples.

  “Jane? Sweets, you okay?”

  She let her hands drop to her lap and opened her eyes.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She paused. “What am I going to do?”

  Gayle’s dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t know exactly yet how far along you are, but I usually don’t recommend a termination. Unless you’re dead set …”

  Horror filled Jane when she understood what Gayle was saying, and she grimaced. “What makes you think I’ll want an abortion?”

  “I’ve seen stranger things, luv. This news comes as a shock, and you may not be thinking things through yet.”

  “Eithe
r way, I’m not getting an abortion.”

  “So you’re keeping the baby.”

  Strange to hear her future stated in those terms. She couldn’t conceive of her condition as anything more than an abstract notion at that point.

  “It’s a good thing I asked for a check on your hormone levels before I renewed your injection,” Gayle said. “Judging by the concentration of HcG in your blood, I’d say you’re at least a few weeks along.”

  She paused then, and Jane squirmed under her friend’s sharp gaze.

  “Which brings us to the million-pound question. Who’s the father?”

  “I told you, I haven’t been with anyone recently.”

  “Tsk-tsk. The Holy Ghost theory doesn’t cut it with me.”

  Jane rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh. “I wasn’t implying that. Seriously, I haven’t slept with anyone in the past weeks.”

  “Unless you don’t remember ... Jane, that’s not the case, is it?”

  The serious concern in her doctor’s tone subdued her even more. Goodness, was she on an emotional roller coaster, and it hadn’t been five minutes yet. As to what Gayle implied …

  “Of course not! I clearly would remember if—”

  The memory of a passionate encounter she had forced herself to forget glided into her mind. High-pitched giggles. Feverish hands tearing clothes away. The brush of heat from the radiator sliding over her naked skin, and the slightly rough texture of the Turkish rug under her back while a man kissed her and took her in the hallway of her flat.

  “Oh my God,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  Gayle’s voice was a hollow sound penetrating the fog in her mind from far away.

  Eyes growing wide as realization set in, she trained her gaze onto the woman sitting across from her on the other side of the wide desk.

  “January first, half past three in the morning. I had sex with my neighbour.”

  Gayle huffed. “I bet unprotected, and you didn’t think of getting yourself checked afterward.”

  “I did.” Her protest would probably fall on deaf ears, but what did she have to lose? “You were on vacation in Mauritius at the time, remember? I rushed to the community centre and had myself checked for AIDS and STDs.”

  “Not for a pregnancy, though.”

  “Come on, I thought I was covered. Why’d you think I had the damn injection in the first place?”

  “Because Lord knows how it happens that you’re anal about everything else, but cannot stick to the schedule when taking the pill. And, may I remind you that no contraceptive measure is one hundred percent infallible? Only abstinence will do that trick for you.”

  This, she knew. She was also carrying her neighbour’s baby.

  Jane remained silent as she mulled over the revelation. Pregnant by a man who wouldn’t have looked twice at her if he hadn’t been drunk, and a man she’d never have had sex with if she’d been sober. The very good reason for her stand? He was engaged.

  On that fateful night, she’d met him at a trendy club in Chelsea, just two roads down from their block of flats in the posh neighbourhood. They’d both drunk too much, and he’d ended up confiding that his fiancée had broken up with him.

  Jane had sympathized with his plight. They’d been alone on a night when no one should be alone. Cue her perception getting warped from that notion alone. She’d only gone down the drain and into the gutter from that point on. They’d laughed and flirted over tequila shots. Soon after the New Year had kicked in, he had reached for her and licked the salt off her hand. They had then downed their shots and kissed over a wedge of lime. Before she’d reckoned, they’d been out of the club and back at the building, snogging like teenagers on their first night out. They’d barely made it into her flat before succumbing to lust.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Huh?” She blinked, coming back to reality, the sting of heat burning her skin. From the shame? Then she caught herself and shook it off. “Oh, him. Jeremy. Jeremy Wickham.”

  Gayle rolled her eyes. “Wickham, you say? No wonder you’re in this predicament. Wait a second. He’s the one you told me is engaged to that rich Indian heiress, isn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you’ve got yourself in a mighty pickle, girl.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  Way to point out the obvious! She slapped her palm on the armrest as frustration started to get the better of her.

  “Sweets, take it easy, okay? No point crying over spilt milk. You don’t need to tell him if you don’t want to, but it would help to have his medical history.”

  “That’s out of the question.”

  Not when he’d run back to his precious Shilpa the second the heiress had started talking to him again. Jane had been with him when he’d been free. Not only was she not a homewrecker, she also wanted nothing from him, much less his support in this parenting business.

  “It’s you and you alone, then?”

  She took a deep breath. Time for the plunge. “Yes.”

  Gayle watched her for long seconds. “Okay. I’ll need to run some more tests, but I’ll put you on prenatal vitamins and folic acid right away. The date you gave me is your conception date, so this means you’re at least two months along. An ultrasound will help shed more light on the situation.”

  Gayle paused to answer the phone, leaving Jane to absorb the information she’d just been given.

  The words merged in a jumble in her head, and a dull ache picked up behind her eyes.

  Gayle cradled the receiver again.

  “Jane, I have an emergency. This is what we’ll do. Today is Thursday, and I’m slotting you for an ultrasound on Monday. By then, we should have the results back. I’ll tell one of the nurses to get some blood samples from you before you leave.” She pushed a piece of paper across the desk. “Make sure you take these twice a day. I’ll ask the nurses to give you a bundle of information on pregnancy and the benefits you are entitled to as an expecting mother.”

  Gayle stood, removed her white lab coat, and picked up her jacket from the hanger near the door. She paused there and turned towards Jane. “Don’t worry, luv. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you Monday then. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” She waved at Gayle’s departing figure.

  In the silence of the big office, she closed her eyes. Was some semblance of calm too much to ask for? God, she didn’t need this. Not now, not ever. Still, she had no escape, and would have to face the situation head on.

  In a moment, though. She couldn’t do this right now.

  She sagged in her seat, exhaustion claiming her.

  She had to admit she had felt overly tired lately, and on some days, had woken up with nausea churning her stomach. Never one to throw up unless she stuck her fingers down her throat, for she knew just how easily she’d be tempted to throw up the little she even ate if she took that road, she had borne the sick feeling, ascribing it to her hectic work schedule, late nights, and coffee diet.

  Coffee! Had she drunk too much and put the baby at risk? What would she do if that were the case? And how had it escaped her notice when she hadn’t gotten her usually mild periods that this could be the sign of something else? Again, she’d ascribed this lack of her monthlies to her hectic work pace, thinking stress and burnout were taking their toll on her.

  “Ms. Smithers?”

  She popped her eyes open. A young nurse stood beside her, her smile warm and friendly. Jane smiled back.

  “The doctor said you needed some blood samples taken. Can you please come to the examination room?”

  Jane grabbed her leather Birkin and followed her. The sight of the dark blood filling the clear tube made her queasy, but she managed to keep herself in check. Twenty minutes later, she was leaving the private practice, stuffing her bag with a load of prospectus and other information sheets while catching a cab to head to work.

  Throughout the trip, she hung onto the door handle for dear life as the driver confused
the busy roads of central London with a Formula One racetrack. Young fellow, she mused, as she ran her gaze over his shaved head and pierced ear, a diamond stud glinting bright against his café-au-lait skin. Another Lewis Hamilton wannabe. She chuckled. What was it with men and their need for speed? Still, as long as he dropped her off at the Vista Standard Bank in The City in one fully functioning piece, he could burn the asphalt all he wanted.

  One and a half pieces, a little voice sang, and her spirits dampened.

  How was she going to deal with this? A baby hadn’t been in her plans for the future, let alone the present. When one knew her erratic course record with men—she picked out the jerks, and only the jerks picked her—not surprising then that she didn’t consider a semidetached house on the outskirts of Greater London with a Ford in the garage, a dog, and a handful of kids in the handkerchief-sized garden as her dream life destination. No. She’d need a husband for that, too, and men, the ‘good’ kind that married their girl and loved her, didn’t seem to trip over themselves to propose to her. Truth be told, she’d never been proposed to, and while that fact had hurt when she’d turned thirty, a couple years later, it no longer had any impact on her.

  So what was she to do now that her life had taken a ninety-degree turn?

  The car slammed to a halt with a screech of its tyres, sending a wash of bile up her throat. Throughout the ride, the contents of her stomach had rolled and ebbed, making her feel green. Speed and sharp turns were things she would need to steer clear of if she wanted to ease her nausea and not start looking like a leprechaun.

  After paying the driver, she exited the car, walked up the stone steps of the bank, and entered the marble lobby, heading straight for the private lift that led to the office of the bank’s CEO, Umberto Rinaldi.

  Her title said she was the big boss’s personal assistant, but few would realize how much this umbrella term encompassed. Secretary, planner, bail-out-of-trouble minion, cover-his-arse-in-every-business-deal ghost partner, love-life organizer, and as quirky as it sounded, friend. She was all this to the big man himself.