Chapter 14

Damian

Brooke surprisingly hasn't told a soul about what she witnessed in the restaurant. She's stayed clear of me and Amelia, but I assume my mother would be way more overjoyed that I've seduced Amelia in order to win the company if she knew. Maybe Brooke doesn't want to give her the satisfaction. I'm surprised Mom hadn't suggested it herself, so maybe she does have morals I didn't know about.

That weekend had been spent either in the restaurant preparing for the start of the season or in Amelia's hotel room, neither of which I had a problem doing before returning home and doing it all over again.

But it's at three in the morning, with Amelia fast asleep at my side, after a particularly hot night of Amelia having all the control, when something suddenly changes. I'm woken to her writhing on the bed, her face screwed up in pain, her hand clutching her belly. "Something's wrong," she gasps.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I hurriedly jump out of bed, calling her doctor as I try to help her upright.

I do my best to soothe her, the pain etched into her face, and I'm worried about what losing this baby is going to do to her. She's lost so much already. She's seen more death, more grief, than anyone should have to. And especially not at her age.

It's only when she's lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a monitor, and pain relief kicking in, that I slowly start to relax. I grasp her clammy hand with both of mine and kiss her knuckles.

"It'll be okay," Amelia mutters, her eyes half-shut with exhaustion.

I manage a smile. "You woke me up at three a.m. because someone else's baby is freaking out in your womb, and you're here trying to tell me it's going to be okay?"

"Yes," she says with a pale smile.

The doctor comes in and smiles at us, her face tight. "Okay, Mrs. Garrett, I have good news, more good news, and some bad news."

"Uh oh," I whisper.

"Good news, you and your baby are going to be okay. We essentially stopped you from going into labor four months too early. Bad news is that you have to take it very easy for the next few months. You are essentially being put on strict bed rest. No bearing down, no heavy lifting, no physical activity. I told you right from the start that if you kept working as hard as you had, you're going to lose the baby." She gives Amelia a soft but firm look. "I am going to tell you this right to your face. If you don't listen to my instructions, there is a very high chance that not only will you lose your child, but your body is going to go into shock, and there is a very high chance that you will die as well. Do you understand?"

Amelia sighs. "I have to keep working."

"Fine," the doctor says. "But you are to do it from bed. If it cannot be done from bed, it cannot be done. Okay? You need to stop any unnecessary stress, unnecessary pressure, and unnecessary strain on your body and your baby." She turns to look at me. "You're new. Who are you?"

"It's a long story," I say with a smile. "But don't worry, I'll make sure she stays in bed."

The doctor chuckles before a nurse wheels in an ultrasound machine. "I don't know what your situation is, although I can assume due to only one conceivable physical exercise a pregnant woman can do in the middle of the night, but I'm going to say this to both of you: no penetrative sex of any kind. Fingers, penises, toys, whatever else there is… don't stick anything in, or you will go into labor."

It's Amelia who looks put out, not me, but we both give the doctor a nod.

"Can she have an orgasm?" I ask. Amelia immediately blushes, but the doctor thinks about it for a moment.

"Not for a couple of weeks. Let your body relax after this, Amelia. Come see me first, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers.

"Now," the doctor says, "the even more good news. Do you want to find out the sex? We should be able to see."

Amelia's eyes fill with tears.

Olivia comes over the following day, loaded with snacks, movies and a steel will for forcing her little sister to stay in bed. She's the only one I would trust for the job.

There was the expected look of severe panic when I'd suggested I would take her place as the president—everything run by her still—that maybe suggested she still doesn't entirely trust me to not be cheating her out of the company. Brooke's explosion probably didn't help much, either.

I take a deep breath and walk into her office, knowing Robyn already has Amelia in her ear, trying to figure out a way to still be doing work while stuck at home. God, if only. I want to be right by her side, spending our days for the next few months just lazing about the house.

I stop in sudden alarm at the direction of how domestic my thoughts have become. Enough that Robyn accidentally smacks into me as she tries to walk in the door.

"Is everything okay?" she says politely, but there's an implication that neither she nor Amelia think I can do this job.

"Yes," I saw awkwardly, continuing further into the office to place my bag at Amelia's desk. "I have to admit, I'm going to need some help."

"I would think so," Robyn says with a smirk. "I know you don't think Amelia is good at her job, but she's been handling it for longer than you know."

I chuckle. "I know Amelia's good at her job, Robyn. I meant I'd need help with some of the day-to-day running of this place that Amelia may not have told me about."

She nods and hands me a rundown of what my day looks like before she turns to the door.

"Oh, wait, Robyn?"

"Yes, Mr. Blake?"

I narrow my eyes at her, but she smiles sweetly. She's learned too much from Amelia, it seems. "Mr. Garrett while I'm sitting here, please. I was going to ask you to give me any information on any projects or systems that Amelia was trying to get through, but were getting stopped."

"Why?" she asks, her jaw tensing.

"Because the men that work here are sexist, misogynistic, and vile. I want to take a look at them, re-frame them with my name on them, and see if they get through."

Robyn sighs. "Unlikely. It was the same when Jackson was president."

I glance at her curiously. "Were you Jackson's assistant while he was in charge?"

"Yes, sir. And Victor. I've held this position for eleven years."

My mouth drops open. "And… you don't want to go elsewhere? Do something else? Move up?"

She gives me a professional smile. "I have already told Amelia that I will go wherever she goes. If Amelia stays here, I will stay here. If Amelia moves on, this will be the last time I work with MVM."

"Just like that?"

"Yes, sir. Just like that. Amelia saved my life, and for that, she has my loyalty for as long as she wants it."

"Saved your—"

"Call me if you need anything immediately," she says politely, changing the subject. "If not, you have a meeting with Finance in five minutes, followed by one with the Marketing team. I'll let Finance know you're on the way."

"Thanks," I mutter, trying to organize the papers on the desk.

Robyn pauses at the doorway. "Everything you need is in the manila folder on your right," she says softly.

"Oh," I breathe out nervously. "Thanks."

She chuckles. "You know what? Why don't I join you for these meetings?"

My shoulders relax. "Thanks."

How Amelia can stay cool and collected through the mountains of work she does a day is beyond me. No wonder Jackson had a caffeine addiction and an obsession with planting lemon trees. I don't think I've looked up from the computer in hours, and the only time I've left the desk at all was the meetings with Finance and Marketing when I first got to work.

Amelia has called five times. Or at least Robyn stopped telling me when she called after the fifth time.

It's four in the afternoon, and I've got two more meetings, a discussion with Robyn for the next few days of work, and, presumably reserved for Amelia only, several emails regarding a charity event ballgown she was supposed to wear.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes for a second. It's all too much.

There's a sharp knock on the door, and Robyn sticks her head in. "Rachel Stein to see you."

I groan. Just my fucking luck.

Rachel gives me a sly look as she sinks into the seat across from the desk. "You always said you hoped you'd make it here."

"I absolutely did not," I growl. "If I had my way, I would have sold the damn company before I got here."

"Yet, you're sitting there."

"Temporarily. Thank God." I fold my hands and give my ex-wife a tired smile. "Now, what are you doing here? You seem to pop up when you've discovered something of interest. Can I find out what it is now rather than when it shoots me in the ass?"

She regards me, leaning back in her chair. She has all the same characteristics she did when I married her; she owns every room she walks into, and it's up to her what she does with it, not anyone else's. "I thought I'd come straight to the source," she says, her gaze piercing into mine. I certainly don't miss that.

"Oh, brother," I mutter. I rub my hand over my face. "Sweetheart, can't you just let me have a—"

"I need a quote from you regarding the fact that Amelia Garrett is pregnant, and yet it's you that she has been seen spending a lot of time with recently. Including, but I'm sure is not all-inclusive, the Garrett Charity Ball last month, the opening of The Fisherman in Palm Springs, several evenings at The Secretary here in L.A., and almost every MVM event in the last two months."

"We work together," I say bluntly. "There's your quote. Fuck off."

She chuckles. "So, it's true that Victor left fifty percent of the company to both you and Amelia?"

"No," I say flatly.

"No?" She watches me closely before twisting her lips. "You have some ownership of this company, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"And so does Amelia?"

"Yes."

She grins. "Right, so you're getting me on a technicality."

"Aren't technicalities our thing, Rachel? Technically, our marriage ended before you found someone else."

Her expression pulls up short. "Technically, we were still married when you found someone else. The pretty blonde thing that worked the bar at The Blacksmith."

"We've been through this. I was helping her—"

"With an itch in her fucking pussy, Damian? I saw you."

I clench my jaw shut and ignore the conversation, switching it back to what we were talking about. We've been through this too many times. She'd already had divorce papers in her desk long before any of this. I'd just sped up the process.

"I am taking over some of Amelia Garrett's responsibilities for a short time while she goes through a medical emergency. Anything for the foreseeable future is to be run by me. There's your quote, Rachel."

"You are taking over Amelia Garrett's responsibilities in a job you have already expressed desire of taking and running into the ground while she is pregnant with your child and is on forced bed rest. Everything is to be run by you, so there is nothing to say that Amelia is in agreement with this, and I can assume you won't let me see her."

I breathe out slowly before grabbing the phone off the hook and placing it to my ear. "Robyn, get Amelia on the phone for me."

"She already is. Line three."

I switch to Amelia's call. "Mrs. Garrett," I growl.

"Yes?"

"Am I able to get you to speak to Rachel Stein, who is accusing me of things I'm not sure I'm capable of doing? One of them, probably the main concern, is somehow managing to get you pregnant with my child when you were already pregnant with Jackson's. That seems to be the one that is confusing her the most."

Amelia breathes out slowly. "Pass Rachel the phone."

Rachel looks genuinely shocked, and she slowly reaches for the phone.

I lean back in the chair and watch her expressions. She seems bewildered before plain confused. When she hands me the phone to hang up, she looks almost a little guilty.

"Did you get your quote?" I snap.

Rachel exhales a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're not a good man, Damian. You're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart. You despised Victor. Thought Jackson was an ass-kissing child, doing all he could to get in Victor's good books and push you out. You want something, and you'd better watch yourself, as I will find out what it is, and I will not hesitate to bring you to your fucking knees. You hear me?"

"I've been on my knees for you plenty, babe."

"I hope for Amelia's sake she doesn't fall for your pathetic tricks," she hisses. "I am watching your every move. You understand?"

I don't bother with a response. As soon as she leaves, I make a note to tell Amelia that we're going to have eyes on us. If she wants to keep us a secret, we're going to have to go back into hiding.