The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Tyra’s Story

A BWWM Billionaire Pregnancy Romance

''It's okay, Tyra, hold on to me,'' Natalie said as Tyra collapsed into her arms.

Father Smith had told me it would be like this, Tyra thought. But which of the emotions had he meant? The Grief or the guilt? Tyra was experiencing both. Two of the most powerful human emotions were wracking through her at will.

''Tyra, we're so sorry for your loss.'' Tyra lifted her head from Natalie's shoulder. It was Mr. and Mrs. Radley Samuels, Tyra's boss and his wife.

''Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.'' Tyra didn't think she could speak, but the words came out somehow. Natalie handed her another tissue and for a moment, Tyra could see clearly again. She looked to her left and saw a line of mourners waiting to express their condolences to her.

''If only I hadn't been so selfish,'' Tyra said to Natalie as they walked up the cemetery path. It had taken an eternity to work through the line of those seeking to express their condolences and Tyra was exhausted. ''It was foggy, and I knew dad didn't want to drive that day. It was me. Me moaning that they hadn't been to see me in my new home in the city. Lord knows, I think I even suggested they weren't interested in me anymore.'' She held onto Natalie again as another insufferable wave of guilt rammed at her. ''No, I killed them. Dad would never have taken mom out in the car on a day like normally.'' Natalie didn't know how to comfort her friend. They were both just twenty-three and beginning to make their way in the world. Losing parents wasn't supposed to happen until later in life.

*****

Three weeks after the funeral, Tyra stood outside the jewelry store on West 47th Street and looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time. I've been working here for seven months, and this is the first time I've properly taken the place in, she thought. Grief-stricken and riddled with guilt; she felt her senses had become sharper since the passing of her parents. It was as if someone was making her take notice of the world. Making her appreciate what can so easily be torn away from you, in an instant.

West 47th Street was full of jewelry shops, but none as grand as J.P Samuels. They might as well have called it, 'Jewelers to the rich and famous,' she thought. For that's what it was. A place where the rich came to gorge on expensive stones. The front of the store was imposing. Between the cleanest store windows in New York, there were columns of polished black granite. The entrance was in the middle of the store and it too was surrounded by shiny black stone. The door itself was made of bulletproof, reinforced glass. What Tyra liked best about the facade was the sign. It was made of copper and ran the length of the store. The background was dark and the letters that had been forged onto it were polished and stood out better than any other letters on the street.

''Welcome back Tyra. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom and dad,'' Leon said. ''Thanks, Leon. It's very brave of you to say so.'' She'd found that most people just turned away from her, not knowing what to say. Not Leon. It was his job to stand inside the door and keep out the undesirables. He was perfectly equipped to do so at six feet seven and two hundred and fifty pounds, but it involved hours standing in the same place, day after day.

''Tyra, my girl,'' Radley Samuel's said. He'd been waiting for her. Normally, he didn't stand in the shop.

He had others to do that for him. His job was managing the business that his grandfather had started. ''Come with me.''

Tyra followed him through the store. They walked past glass cabinets filled with beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, and watches. At the back of the store, they went through a door and down a corridor. The first door on the right led to a security room. Tyra had never been in the room, but she had seen inside once when the door had been open. It was full of monitors and the latest lock down systems. It was all hi-tech, and she had no idea about any of it.

Radley pushed open the first door on the left and showed her into his office. How can anyone spend hours in an office with no daylight? she wondered. There were pictures of his ancestors on one wall and a giant flora vase in the corner. What she liked most about his office was the carpet. It was deep red with the company crest woven into it.

''Tyra, please sit down.'' He pointed to a button backed armchair that stood in front of his mahogany desk. ''I want you to tell me how you are feeling. You've been through a lot, and I want to make sure you’re feeling up to working again.'' I wish I had a daughter like her, she's so graceful and kind, yet determined and motivated, he thought.

''Well, honestly speaking, I'm still feeling awful.'' You can tell him everything; he cares for you, she told herself as a moment of doubt crept into her mind. ''I weep a lot, especially in the evening and I feel guilty. So guilty.'' She noticed how closely he was listening to her. The furrows on his forehead were deep with concern for her, and his eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking any sign that a return to work may be too early.

''There is nothing I can say to you that will make you feel better. All I can do is tell you what happened to me when my son was killed.'' Killed? I didn't know he'd had a son, she thought. The thought that someone close to her had also suffered such a loss made her feel better.

''My son was only nineteen. He was studying business at New York University and working here at the weekends.'' He stopped talking for a moment, took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. Tyra knew him to be fifty-nine. He was quite tall and very thin. It was as if he was so involved in his business he forgot to eat.

He looked at her with a pained expression as he continued. ''One morning, he left home to go to college, and he never came back again. A man who had been drinking all night decided to get into his car and drive to the girlfriend he had left for dead in her apartment the previous evening. When he fell asleep at the wheel, it was my son he hit.'' Tyra noticed a crack in his voice. ''Walking down the street minding his own business.'' He took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

''Oh my God, that's awful,'' Tyra put her hand to her mouth.

He nodded. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened her with this, he thought. ''At first, everything was a blur. It was only after the funeral had taken place that it really hit me. After the funeral, everyone seems to disappear. All the kind words and supporting arms are no longer there. You are suddenly alone.'' He ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and looked towards a photo on his desk. Tyra couldn't see who it was. She assumed his son.

''The Undertaker had warned me about it. A deep hole, he'd called it, and I fell into it.'' When he paused, Tyra thought about where she was mentally and recognized what he was describing. ''The Undertaker also explained that there is something called the cycle of grief. You go through stages of grief, and if you are lucky, eventually come out the other end. The last stage is called the acceptance stage. You stop all the blaming and come to terms with what's happened. Of course, you're still sad, but it gets easier.''

''It's very kind of you to tell me this. I had no idea. I was afraid I would have this level of pain for the rest of my life.'' Tyra looked at her hands. Her nails used to be so manicured, she thought.

''When I employed you, Tyra, I saw something in you. You are one of life's good people. I can see you care about people. When you talk to clients, you are patient, and most importantly, you listen to them. Did you know I have no relatives?''

Tyra shook her head.

''No.''

''Well, I don't. Not one, and no friends. There's only my wife and me.'' He looked at her, and wondered what he was about to say, would do to her. ''I am going to leave the business to you.'' He stared at her, not wanting to miss her reaction.

''Pardon?' Tyra said. She wasn't really in the mood for jokes.

''I am going to leave the business to you,'' he repeated.

What the hell is he playing at? This isn't funny, doesn't he know I've just buried my parents. She went to stand up, but he put up his hand and stopped her.

''For the last time, Tyra. You will inherit this business.'' Someone knocked on the door; it was his wife. ''Tell her Eliana, she doesn't believe me.''

''How are you, Tyra? We are very worried about you?'' she said ignoring her husband's plea for help.

''I've been better.'' What are they playing at, surely Jewish people don't give things away like this, she thought?

''My husband, as you know, isn't given to pranks. We have decided to leave it to you. Of course, you are young, and you have only just started in the business, but we see you have got what it takes.'' She put her hand on Tyra's shoulder and looked her into her eyes. ''You are intelligent, and you have an enormous appetite for the business. We have never seen anyone with your enthusiasm. We are both sixty next year and all we have done with our lives is sit in this store.'' She looked at her husband and gave him an assertive nod. ''In five years time, we will retire and travel. You will take over as manager, and when we die, it will all be yours. Take the time between now and then to learn all you can about the business.''

''Are you okay to come back to work?'' Radley asked. Tyra looked at him and burst into tears. It was a gesture so great that her emotions overflowed.

Eliana sat on the chair arm and put her arm around her. ''You have been through a lot, but you have us, and we will help you all we can.''

*****

Tyra started up Google and typed in: 'The Hope Diamond' She read: Value $350 million dollars, 45 karats, 9.1 grams. ''Three hundred and fifty million dollars,'' she whispered under her breath.

She and Radley had agreed that she would work in the shop four days a week and spend the other two days shadowing him. He' made a list of things he had to teach her. He hadn't realized how long the list would prove to be. One thing he couldn't teach her was diamond cutting. While he was an expert at grading and valuing gems, he'd never enjoyed using tools. Tyra had told him that she'd go to college in her own time and learn.

''How do you like your desk?'' Radley asked as he poked his head into her new office. Tyra wondered if the room had been intended as a broom cupboard when the place was built, but she didn't want to complain. She was grateful it had a window and more than grateful that the Samuels had seen so much potential in her.

''Lovely thanks. I was just looking up information on the Hope Diamond. It really is quite spectacular.''

He stepped into the office and looked at the picture with her. ''It sure is. One of the best diamonds in the world and it's coming here. I can't quite believe it.''

''Neither can I.'' She'd never heard of the program called, 'Diamonds for All.' It was an initiative set up by the National Association of Jewelers, with the aim of bringing famous diamonds to places where the public go and see them. Based on reputation, Radley had been asked if he would like to house the Hope Diamond when it came to New York. His store had the best security of any in the city, and it had a strong room big enough to house a large show cabinet, four security men, and the viewing public.

''Listen, Tyra, I know I said I'd show you the sales figures this afternoon, but Mrs. Johnson has told me she's feeling ill and would like to go home. Can you fill in for her this afternoon? Tyra nodded.

The shop was divided into departments. Not that the clients would notice. To the untrained eye, the store was one large area full of glass cabinets. To the staff, however, it was different. Usually, there were four sales people on duty at anyone time, and two security guards. Each sales person was responsible for six cabinets. Tyra didn't know why, but she enjoyed working on the cabinets where the most expensive ladies jewelry was housed.

''Wow,'' she muttered when she saw the man talking to Leon. Leon had a great eye for people and was a master at keeping scruffy, drunk or loud people out of the store. The man Leon was talking to was none of these. He was beautifully dressed, six feet tall, and well built. Tyra wasn't an expert on men's suits, but she knew enough to see that it was expensive. Leon pointed to Tyra, and she watched as the man walked towards her. When he got closer, she saw the dreamiest emerald green eyes. She inadvertently adjusted her hair and checked to see her blouse was tucked into her skirt.

''Hi. I have an appointment. My name is Dima Asakov. I'm looking for some jewelry for my mother's birthday.''

''Certainly sir.'' Although she had never seen him before, he was obviously one of the store's high net worth individuals. Very rich people were allowed to make an appointment, during which they got VIP treatment. Why don't you pamper me instead of your mother, I could use it right now, she thought. She was quick to chastise herself for being unprofessional.

He noted her features with interest. Black, beautiful, tall, thin, lovely curves, perfect breasts and beautiful face. His mother always said it was the sign of a classy man, when the man kept eye contact with a woman, despite the size of her breasts. Whenever he met a woman, he reminded himself of this. Most days it was easy, but today it required a Herculean effort.

''Follow me, Mr. Asakov.'' The VIP suite was the most comfortable place Tyra had ever been in, but it lacked atmosphere. It wasn't used nearly as often these days. The financial crisis had seen to that.

''Please take a seat,'' she said. He chose the sofa. In the room, there were two arm chairs and a sofa. Made of velvet, they were red, which gave the room a regal feel. Radley had spent a small fortune getting the lighting right. The ceiling was dotted with tiny spot lights, but around the sales table, they were larger. The sales table was a small glass affair, between the sofa and the arm chairs. Just a coffee table Radley had been advised that displaying jewelry in a homely setting would lead to more sales.

''I'm Tyra, it's lovely to meet you. Tell me about your mother what kind of woman is she? Tyra was the only sales assistant that bothered asking questions about the intended recipient. It allowed her to make better choices on behalf of the clients, she thought.

''Yes. Where shall I start?''

''Well, how old is she?''

''She's twenty-two years older than me,'' he said.

''Thirty-eight then,'' she said playing him at his own game.

''That would make me sixteen,'' he laughed. ''No she's forty-nine.'' Twenty-seven she calculated instantly.

''Sorry, I know it's a lot to ask but can you tell me, what color eyes and hair she has. Is her skin light or dark?''

''She's got blonde hair, like mine and her skin color is the same. Her eyes? Do you know, it's amazing how you think you know somebody so well and still don't know things like eye color.'' He looked embarrassed. ''Is it very important?''

She nodded. ''Have you got a sister?'' He nodded. ''Call her, she'll know.'' After a very short conversation in Russian, he hung up.

''Green,'' he said. ''Do you know what color eyes your mother has?'' When her eyes dropped, he felt awkward. ''Sorry, it's none of my business.''

''She's dead. But most black people have brown eyes, so it's not so difficult in my case. How much do you want to spend today?''

''My budget is five hundred thousand,'' he said it without flinching as if it was the kind of impulse buy mothers make to pacify their whining kids at the supermarket check out.

''Great, well thank you for choosing Samuels. I hope we can find you just what you're looking for.'' Tyra smiled at him. Not the usual friendly smile she reserved for people she liked, but the smile she hadn't used since she fell in love with her English teacher when she was sixteen.

''Of course, if you really want to make me happy, you can sell me the Hope Diamond at a knockdown price,'' he jested.

''I would, but it won't be here for a few weeks,'' she quipped. They both laughed. There was a silence as they looked at each other. It was one of those settling looks that leaves the participants at ease with each other. ''Where did you read we are hosting the Hope Diamond?''

''It was in the New York Times. They wrote a fascinating story about the life of the diamond, who'd owned it and where it had traveled to. It's been worn by some of the most beautiful women in the world. It would look really good on you.''

He's looking at my breasts, she thought. Get some jewelry in front of him to look at. ''Alright, lets get down to business. How about a matching necklace and earrings?'' When he nodded, Tyra called security and got them to fetch the set that Tyra herself admired more than anything in the store.

''So, tell me about yourself, Tyra?'' he said. She could tell it was genuine interest, not just conversation filler.

''There isn't much to know really,'' she said.

''That can't be true. I'm sorry if this embarrasses you, but you are very attractive. A woman like you must have a lot of stories to tell. I bet you get hit on everyday.''

I do, she thought. In the subway, on the street, in restaurants, almost everywhere. ''No, not really.''

''You're kidding me. In that case, the male population of New York must be blind.''

''Alright, I lied. I do get comments all the time. I can't go anywhere without someone looking at me in an inappropriate manner or whistling at me.''''And do you like it when a man whistles at you?'' he asked in a lower tone of voice.

This isn't the kind of conversation you should be having with a client; she told herself. Not able to help herself, she continued. ''Sometimes. It depends on who's whistling. If it's a group of guys on a building site, I don't mind because I know it's just a bit of fun. If it's a guy on the street next to me, it's too close, and I feel threatened.''

''And if I whistled at you now? How would that make you feel?''

Don't answer that, he's flirting with you. ''I'd like it,'' she said as her eyes rolled away in embarrassment.

''Let's see.'' He looked around to make sure the door was still closed and made a wolf whistle. ''There. Did you enjoy that?''

She was ashamed to say she did. It had been months since she'd had any real attention from a man. Just before her parents had died, she had talked with Natalie about it. Natalie told her it was because she was so beautiful and most men felt intimidated by her. She remembered telling Natalie she was mad.

“It was nice. Flirty.'' she an answered.

''Flirty? That's an interesting word.'' He was about to say more, but security arrived with the jewelry.

''There, what do you think?'' she asked when the magnificent pieces were lying on the table in front of him.''

''Why are you so sad?'' he said, ignoring what was in front of him. He noticed her eyes look into his and then down to the jewelry. The speed with which she did it, implied she wanted him to concentrate on what was in front of him, not on her. ''Why?'' he insisted.

''My mom and dad died in a horrific car crash a few weeks ago.''

''Jesus, I'm sorry. That's awful. How are you coping?''

She admired him. Most people would have changed the subject, but he didn't. ''Not very well.''

''I'm not surprised. Can you talk about it?'' Tyra had once read a book about body language and the way he was sitting said to her that he was interested in her well-being and not after a cheap disaster story.

''I don't know if I can talk about it. To be honest, I haven't really tried too much. I've mentioned things to Natalie, my best friend, and to Mr. Samuels, but really talk to someone about it, no. I haven't done that.''

''What happened?'' He asked directly.

''Well, in the first instance it was my fault.''

''Were you driving?'' he asked logically.

''No, my father was driving. It's a long story.'' She suddenly felt tired and alone. She realized she didn't want to talk about it.

''Tell me. I want to help you. How do you expect to get better if you never tell anyone about it?''

She was sick of feeling the way she did, and she desperately wanted to feel like she had before the accident, but she was afraid to let go. She was holding onto the pain because she felt she should be punished for what she did.

She decided she would try and open up. ''I moved to New York from a small town just outside the city seven months ago. I applied for and got this job. I was so happy. I got a tiny apartment in Queens and decorated it just how I liked it. Pink everywhere.'' She rolled her eyes to the ceiling in a display of irony. It should have been black, she mused. ''Mum was forty-two when she had me. They had tried for twenty years to have a baby, and it finally happened.'' Dima reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean tissue. She dried her eyes and cleared her throat. No, I'm going to tell him, she told the voice of doubt in her head ''They were so happy with me. They weren't rich, but they worked hard to give me a good childhood. I wanted for nothing, and I felt their love, every single day. How many people can say that?''

Dima nodded and thought about his own family. Polar opposite to Tyra's. Back in the days when he'd lived in a one bedroom apartment in Moscow, his drunken father had beaten him black and blue for the slightest misdemeanor. His mother had tried to protect him, but when she had, he had thumped her so hard, she'd had no choice but to cower away. What his father had forgotten was that little boys have good memories, and when they grow up they become strong. The look on the old bastard’s face when Dima had throttled him still amused him.

''When I left home, they were gutted.'' Tyra continued. ''Of course, I was twenty-two, and it was time. They realized that, but I could see how upset they were. What I couldn't understand was that they didn't come and visit me in my new home. I went to them most weekends, but they didn't come to me. I don't know why.''

''Maybe they were afraid?''

''Why?''

''Because they didn't want to let go of their child. The child they so loved and cherished. Perhaps seeing you as a young adult, not needing them anymore was too much.'' He noticed how the look on her face had changed. Exploring her feelings seemed to have lifted a cloud, albeit a tiny one. ''They tried for twenty years to have you. Sure it would have been hard to let go, no matter how old you were.''

He was right, and she'd never seen it. How could she have been so lacking in understanding, she thought? ''Yes I guess that's it. That makes what happened all the harder to bear. I was being selfish. Have you got another tissue?''

''Sure, here.''

“One weekend, I decided I wouldn't go to them. I decided to make a stand and insist they come to me. I called them and started to moan at them.'' A tear managed to escape the tissue and trickle down her cheek. ''If I remember correctly I told them they were unfeeling, and not interested in me. I asked them why they hadn't been to see me, and I told them to get in their car and come otherwise I wouldn't go home anymore.''

''A moment of weakness,' he said.

''A moment of madness. I don't know why. Suddenly I was lonely and afraid in the big city, and I needed them. It was pure selfishness. Anyhow, that morning it was foggy. So very foggy,'' she shook her head. ''I knew dad hated driving in fog, and although he told me it was too foggy, I simply didn't listen. I just kept on moaning.''

Dima already knew the rest of the story and thought she'd told him enough. ''It's okay I get the picture, you don't need to go on.''

But Tyra wanted to go on. She wanted to finish. She wanted to confront herself. ''Dad and mom, put on their Sunday best clothes, filled the car with food, including three pots of my favorite honey, and set off, in fifty-meter visibility.'' I don't know if I can go on now, she thought. She took a glass from the table and tried to pour herself some water. When he saw her hand trembling, Dima took over.

''Dad didn't drive too often. He only worked down the road, and he walked. Mom went on the bus. I don't even know why they had a car. Dad didn't see the slow moving truck until it was too late.'' She stopped and let out an sight. '' He ran into the back of it, bounced off it and lost control. They found them at the bottom of a ravine. The car was burned out.''

Dima just stared at her. Even for him, a man who had dispatched his own father, it was a horrendous story. ''Tyra, I......'' She looked at him and saw he was grieving for her.

''Thank you. Thank you for listening to me.'' A perfect stranger and he'd listened to her not because he was curious, but she was convinced because he wanted to help. ''How do I look,'' she asked.

''Your mascara has run a bit.''

''Okay, give me a minute and I'll be back.'' She hurried to the rest room to repair the damage.

Three security camera's here, he noted. Six in the main store. In need to get her to take me into the strong room, he told himself.

''That's better,'' she said when she reappeared. ''What about the jewelry?'' she asked.

''I'll take it, it's perfect.'' he said, noting how refreshed she now looked.

''Don't you want to see anything else, you never know, you might change your mind.''

''No, if I may say so, you have chosen the perfect gift, right from the start. Can you get them wrapped for me?''

''Sure, that's the least problem. Do you have a sure means of getting them home? We offer a .......''

''No it's okay. People don't tend to steal from me.'' Tyra noticed a flash of brutality in his voice.

''Talking of security, you must have a lot here if they trust you with the Hope Diamond.''

''Yes I suppose we do. It's not really my department, although I guess one day I'll have to learn about it.''

''Seeing as I spent so much here today, how about you show me where the Hope Diamond will be displayed. I'd love to have a preview.''

''It's just a blank room with a lot of cameras, it's really not that exciting.''

''Of course,'' he said. Don't push it, you've got her in the palm of your hand, he thought. ''Well maybe I'll buy a ticket and come and see it when it's here. Listen, Tyra, I have enjoyed our chat. You are a fantastic lady. Would you care to go on a date with me?''

A date? In her state? Nothing had been further from her mind, she thought. ''Yes, I'd like that.'' The words slipped out before she could help herself.''

*****

''What do you mean you didn't get to see it?'' Sergey demanded to know. ''You told me you had her eating from the palm of your hand.'' Sergey was leaning against the wall in his store. Over the door, it said, 'Russian Store.' It was really a front. Sergey used it to wash the cash he earned from his illegal drug dealing. The shop on Brighton Beach was big enough to put plenty of money through it but small enough to stay under the radar of the big boys.

He was not at all like his compatriot Dima. He was short, overweight and bald. The tattoo he had on his neck did nothing to enhance his appearance. They had been friends in Moscow and come to America together to further their business interests. In the case of Sergey, that meant, extortion, drug dealing, and contract killing. Since Dima had arrived in the US, he'd quickly realized that it was possible to make money legally. He was increasingly involved in real estate. He'd made a fortune in Russia by buying cheap stocks in major companies and selling them again. Luckily for him, he'd managed to get his cash to the US before the Rubel crashed.

''I asked her to show me the room, but she made it sound so bland it would have been too obvious for me to insist on seeing it. Who asks to see an empty room for the sake of it?''

''But we discussed it. You were going to get access to the room and check out the security details.''

''Well it didn't work out like that,'' Dima hissed. He'd had enough of Sergey. If it weren't for the Hope Diamond, he'd have cut ties with him by now. Sergey had become a liability. When Dima found out Sergey had killed someone on behalf of the mafia, Dimar had kept a safe distance from him. He'd only got back with him for one reason. Sergey was an expert in matters of security, better said, he was an expert in overcoming it during bank raids. Dima had always wanted to own the Hope Diamond, and when he heard it was coming to New York, his interest had been awakened. Not that he wanted to make money from it, he just wanted to own it. Besides, he doubted whether he could sell it on the black market anyway. It was too famous and he only knew a handful of people who had enough cash to buy it.

''So, how the hell do you want to proceed now?'' Sergey picked up a red lolly from the counter and began to unravel the clear film around it.

''I've got a date with the sales girl. Don't worry, I'll find out what we need to know. She's sweet and soft, and I'm pretty sure I can unlock a few secrets.'' He looked around the shop. It reminded him of so many stores in Moscow. He didn't want to be reminded of Moscow; it held no charm for him.

*****

She knew very well she shouldn't be there. It was slutty to go back to a man's apartment on the first date. But he was hotter than she could resist after two glasses of champagne, and the events of the last weeks had left her badly in need. In need of someone to hold her and tell her how special she was.

Three million, five million, thirty million, she had no idea, but she knew it was in the millions. Nobody bought an apartment this size with a view of the harbor without reaching deep into their pockets. Dima had gone to find a cork screw and left Tyra standing on the balcony. She didn't like heights, and she got a strange tingling sensation in her feet when she looked down from the penthouse, thirty floors above the streets of Manhattan. Three weeks ago, I would have jumped from here, she thought.

Just as a wave of despair threatened to envelop her again, it was smashed back by the feel of his protective arms. She hadn't heard him creep up on her from behind. Now he'd made a move, and she loved it. He stood behind her, wrapped her in his arms and pulled her back onto him. It made her feel safe and protected. As they looked over the city, she felt something behind her slowly moving against her leg.

''I want you, Tyra,'' he said gently.

She turned and looked at him as he put his arms around her neck. ''Take me to your bed and make love to me,'' she said.

When Tyra felt his naked body on hers, she felt a tear flowing over her cheeks. He was handsome and caring, and he'd roused a level of sexual desire in her that she'd never felt before. When he'd undressed her, it was as if he was unwrapping a precious gift. With each layer he'd removed, she'd felt herself moving to a higher plateau of lust. When she was naked she'd wanted to dash under the bedclothes and hide, but he'd held her, caressed all of her, and made her wet. When he'd started to undress, she hadn't been able to resist the temptation to touch herself. He was her private male stripper, and she couldn't get enough of it. When he'd put his hand to his shorts and lowered them over his strong thighs, she'd found herself rubbing faster.

Now he was on top of her, naked and warm. He kissed her, and she opened her mouth to received his tongue. As they kissed, her legs opened, inviting him in. When she felt his penis against her, she reached down and placed it at her entrance. He looked deep into her eyes and pushed himself slowly inside her.

When he began to make love to her, she realized how much she'd needed a man to cling to and how wonderful it felt to be filled by a penis. When she felt his thick desire splashing into her, she came too. Her spasms were strong, and they made her scream out. The noise she made was an attempt to drive out the pain forever.

They slept for hours, and when Tyra woke, she noticed it was daylight. It was her day off, and she was looking forward to spending it with Dima. She looked across at him. He was asleep. He was lying naked, half under the sheet, half out. The sight of his tight buttock and hairy thigh made her want him again, and she began to massage his back. He grunted, opened his eyes and turned over. She smiled. He was big and rock hard again.

''Tell me about work,'' he said when they were finished. His body lay entwined in hers, and she felt relaxed.

''What do you want to know?'' She ran her hand over the hair on his chest and stomach and cupped his manhood. He smiled and shook his head.

''How much does that job mean to you?''

''Everything. Mr. Samuels and his wife have been so kind. Without them, I wouldn't have made it.''

''Then you won't want to help me steal the Hope Diamond?''

She laughed. No, but I'll help you get this big man up and running again, she said as her hand began to rub him. She loved the contrast between her black hand and the whiteness of his shaft.

''I'm not joking. I want the Hope Diamond.''

She stopped what she was doing and raised herself onto one elbow. ''You are joking, right?'' He shook his head.

''You can show me how. You are close to all the security. I have a friend called Sergey. He is a genius when it come to stealing things from high-security areas. He could tell you what he needs to know and over the next few weeks, you could give him the information he needs.''

''You bastard, you absolute bastard,'' she thumped hard into his chest. He tried to hold her arms, but she ripped them from him and jumped up from the bed. ''Have you been planning this all the time? Make the stupid bitch fall in love with me and she'll tell me all,'' she mimicked his Russian accent. ''How could you take advantage of me like this? If my dad were alive, he'd kick your ass, you piece of crap. I never want to see you again.''

*****

''You're what?'' Radley said, the furrows on his forehead looking deeper than ever. There was a distinctly cool atmosphere in his office as they discussed Tyra's situation.

''She said she was pregnant,'' his wife intervened. ''Unmarried and pregnant. Tyra, I'm very disappointed in you. How could you let us down like this? ''

''Steady Eliana, don't be too harsh on her, accidents happen. She's had a rough time lately and maybe she needed a bit of love.''

''Well whatever she thought, she's let us down. She'll be off work for lord knows how long now. And even when she returns she'll be cutting her days short to look after the child.''

Will you stop talking about me as if I wasn't here, Tyra thought. ''I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional, and we took precautions. Something went wrong.''

Who's the father?'' Eliana asked, leaning forward in the arm chair.

''He a Russian, I met him when he came to buy jewelry. He asked me on a date. I wasn't' thinking straight; I'm sorry.'' Tyra was feeling ill. It was just gone nine and for the last three days, she'd had terrible morning sickness.

''A client. Tyra, you have been fraternizing with one of our clients? You know we frown on that kind of behavior.'' Eliana slapped the arm on the chair in frustration.

''Does he know?'' Radley asked.

Tyra looked up at him startled. ''No and he never will. I will keep the baby and bring it up on my own.''

''Then I'm afraid we will have to think what else we can do with the business. Under the circumstances, it would be fool hardly to go ahead with our plan to leave it to you. I don't want a Russian's bastard getting his hands on it in the future. You can keep your job here, but that's all.''

''Eliana,'' Radley exclaimed. But when he looked at his wife, he knew it was time for him to keep quiet.

*****

When Tyra got home to her studio in Washington Heights, she undressed and got into bed. She put her hands on her belly and closed her eyes. She began to wonder when life would stop kicking her, but she was so exhausted she could come up with no answers before she fell asleep.

The next day was a bright summers day, and she woke up feeling better. For her, the most important thing now was to protect the child growing inside her. It was a blow that Eliana had reacted in such a way, but she accepted she had been foolish. What she had seen in Dima was now beyond her. Perhaps it had been his good looks, or his money, or both. Maybe it had been the loss of her parents that had made her blind to his shortcomings.

As usual, she showered, dressed and sat down at the small table in the kitchen to eat some toast and jam. Yesterday she had been repulsed by strawberry jam, today she couldn't stop eating it. She even considered having cheese with it. She'd always loved her morning coffee but from now on she'd decided it was tea in the morning. On her way home she decided she would buy some fresh mint from the organic shop downstairs and make mint tea herself. The last thing she always did before leaving home was pick up her cell phone from the table next to the front door. Fifteen missed calls from Dima. Delete his number she told herself.

Her apartment was in a block of twenty on the Upper East Side. It wasn't a large apartment, but it was expensive. When she was younger, she'd always wanted to live in the Upper East Eide because it was so cosmopolitan. Just before she'd left home, she'd looked at rents there and decided she would never be able to afford it. Her mother and father had put money away for this eventuality, and Tyra was able to get her dream location.

She opened the door to leave and almost fell over a bouquet of flowers that had been left on the doorstep. She read the card. So sorry. please forgive me Dima. She picked them up and took them with her. As usual, she nodded at the man from two floors up. He was on his way to work as well. She didn't know him, but they nodded at each other every morning. Wouldn't it be funny if we nodded at each other for the next forty years until we retired, she thought. So much happening in our respective lives yet never exchanging a single word about any of it. She followed him downstairs and out onto the street. There was the usual hustle and bustle as began to walk to the bus stop. She dumped the flowers in the first trash can she came across.

When the man bumped into her, she thought for a split second that she'd been in the wrong. She was looking in the florist’s window and not really concentrating on where she was going. When he grabbed her and bundled her into the gray van, she tried to scream, but his hand was over her mouth. Nobody heard or saw anything. It all happened so fast. He slammed the door shut from the inside and put his weight on top of her while he reached for some tape.

''What the hell are you....'' she managed to say before he put his hand back over her mouth.

''Shut up and do as I tell you. If you do, you won't be harmed. If you insist on making a noise, I'll have to hurt you.''

Thinking of her baby, she decided to be quiet and do as he asked. The duct tape he placed over her mouth clung savagely to her delicate skin, and when she tried to speak through it, it stuck to her lips making it impossible for her to move her mouth. He put her hands behind her back and taped her wrists together. He did the same to her ankles.

When he drove off, Tyra had no way of holding on, and she slid across the floor bumping into the side wall. When he turned a corner, she slid to the other side. Use your legs as buffers, she thought. At all costs protect your belly.

She concentrated on the man. Try and remember him, she told herself. He was short and bald, and she noticed the tattoo on his neck. He was wearing a navy T-shirt and a pair of old jeans. A gold chain and a Rolex, she repeated a couple of timer to herself.

When they stopped, Tyra let out a sigh of relief. She had been thrown from side to side, and it had been a great effort to stay on her back and keep maneuvering her feet in front of herself all the time. The van door opened, and she blinked against the sunlight. The man cut the tape at her ankles and pulled her out of the van.

She was in a yard behind what appeared to be a mansion. It was, in any case, a large single property, but she was unable to determine whether it was a dwelling or for office use. A tree hung over the yard, and a gray squirrel ran in front of her and darted up it. He pushed her to a door, and they entered the building. They were on the ground floor at the rear, in the old servants quarters. He opened another door and turned on a light. She saw a flight of steps.

''Go down there,'' he said. She put her foot on the first step and slowly began to descend. Her arms were still tied behind her back making it difficult for her to balance. She was petrified she would fall and lose her child. Eventually, she made it to the bottom. She was in a damp cellar. There was just one solitary wooden chair in the middle of the room and nothing else.

''How long you stay down here depends solely on you. If you tell me what I want to know, you can go soon. If you refuse to answer my questions, this may very well be the last place you ever see.'' He's Russian; he sounds exactly like Dima she told herself. He wants to know about the Hope Diamond.

Without saying anymore, she sat her on the chair. He left her arms tied and the tape over her mouth. When Sergey climbed the stairs, he chuckled to himself. She won't ever leave this cellar even if she tells me what I want to know.

*****

At nine am, Dima rang the bell at the jewelry store. Leon answered. ''Hi I need to speak to Tyra,'' he said stepping inside.

Leon picked him up by the collar and took him outside. ''You've got a nerve showing up here. She doesn't want to speak to you, ever again and officially I should be handing you into the cops. She asked me not to when she told me what you'd requested from her.'' Leon's hand twisted the jacket collar further into his giant palm. ''Leave and don't show your face here again. You Russians are all the same. You may have bucket loads of money, but there is one thing money can’t' buy. Class.'' Leon shoved him away and went back inside.

''I deserved that,'' Dima thought. No point in trying again, he's far too big.

At ten, Radley came into the store from his office. ''Where's Tyra?'' he asked Leon.

''I don't know, Mr. Samuels. I haven't seen her today yet.

''But it's ten, she's always here early.'' He looked at his watch again. ''I'm worried about her.''

''There was a Russian here an hour ago looking for her.''

''Indeed. What did you tell him?''

''Er......'' Leon was lost for words. Tyra had told him in confidence about Dima's desire to pinch the Hope Diamond, and he didn't want Radley to think he'd scared client away. ''I told him, she hadn't arrived yet.''

*****

When the light went on, Tyra closed her eyes against the light. When she opened them, she saw the same man standing in front of her. He had a knife in his hand. Tyra screamed and stamped her feet as he ripped the duct tape from her face.

''Alright, Miss,'' He leaned in close, and she could smell vodka. ''You work at Samuel’s, and you are going to tell me about the Hope Diamond. I want to know all the details.''

''Please....I'm pregnant, please don't hurt my baby.''

''Who said anything about your baby. But good you mentioned it. I was going to punch you in your stomach; now I won't. I'll cut you instead,'' he laughed as he held the knife to her chin.

''Okay, what do you want to know?'' she said.

''I want to know, where exactly in the store it will be held. I also want to know how many guards there will be. Also camera positions and number. Then I want a diagram of all the wiring in the room and the security codes.''

My God I don't' know any of that information she thought. ''I really don't know any of that, but if you let me go, I will see what I can do.''

Again he laughed. ''Good try, but pathetic. I suggest you think about it a bit more because if you really don't know anything, the best you can hope for is a painless end.''

Again she was cast into darkness when he switched off the light. She tried to think what she knew about security.The problems was, it wasn't something they did at the store, it was outsourced to a specialist company, and she really did know nothing about it.

Think, darn well think girl, she told herself. What have you noticed down here? What is there that can help you? Blank walls, a chair, a light and nothing else. Nothing else at all.

*****

Radley and Leon stood in front of Tyra's front door and knocked loudly. There was no reply. ''I don't know what to do now Leon. We've rung her and knocked on her door. If she's inside surely, she would have answered.''

''She went to work at the usual time.'' Behind them, a door had opened. It was Mrs. Smith; she was the eyes and ears of the building. When she'd heard two male voices echoing on the staircase, she was curious and decided to see what all the fuss was about. ''She took some flowers that a foreign looking guy left on her doorstep last night and went to work at the usual time.''

''What did the foreign guy look like?'' Leon asked.

''Blonde, tall, well built and wearing an expensive suit. He parked up down the road in a red Ferrari.''

''Sounds like the same man that was at the store this morning,'' Leon told Radley. ''He was blond, and there was a red Ferrari in the street.''

''Alright, let’s go back to the store. This man was client wasn't he?'' Radley asked.

Leon nodded. ''Yes, Tyra sold him some jewelry. In fact a few hundred thousand dollars worth.''

''Well, in that case, we'll have his details at the store. Anyone spending that kind of money has to fill out a form stating that the funds used were legal funds and declared to the IRS.''

Back at the store, Radley went through the paperwork until he found the name Dima Asarov.

*****

When Sergey pressed the light switch, nothing happened. No light. It must be the bulb he thought; she's tied up. He went outside and rummaged around in the garage. He found a bulb and grabbed a torch.

''What the hell.....'' he shouted when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He dropped the torch and bulb and put his hands to his neck.

Tyra spun the piece of wood in her hand as fast as she could, and the cable on the end of it did what she wanted. It tightened beautifully around his neck. She gritted her teeth and wound as hard as she could until there was no more play in the cable. Standing behind him, all she had to do now was hold on until he dropped to the floor, but he wasn't so willing. He bucked and tried to throw her over his shoulder, and when that didn't work, he tried to stamp on her feet. Her strength was running out fast, and he was still struggling. He battered against her, but she held on. In desperation, she gave the wood a third of a turn more. Come on girl, she muttered, hold on. She let out a cry of effort as she pulled the wood to breaking point. Suddenly he stopped struggling and began to make a hideous noise. When he slumped to the floor, she told herself to keep the wire tight. He may be playing dead. But he wasn't.

When she finally let go, she dropped to her knees and picked up the torch. She shone it on Sergey and noted that his face was purple. As she was about to stand up, she heard someone on the stairs. She picked the piece of wood up from the floor and stood against the wall. When the man came into the room, he saw Sergey on the floor and a torch shining into the far corner of the room. Tyra lunged forward and hit him as hard as she could with the piece of wood. There was a sickening crack and a cry.

''Dima?'' she asked.

''Yes, shit that hurts.'' Good, she, thought. ''And this is for being an ass,'' she said as she hit him again on the upper arm.

''Stop, stop, for heaven’s sake, stop.'' He grabbed the wood and pulled her to him. She tried to break free, but he held her against him.

''I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't plan any of this. This was all Sergey's doing.''

''Then how did you know I was here? It's a bit of a coincidence isn't it, you turning up like this so suddenly?'' She landed a blow to his shin with her shoe, but he still held onto her.

''Stop struggling. Mr. Samuels called me and told me you hadn't showed up for work. He was worried about you. Somehow he knew we were friendly, and he wondered if I knew where you were.'' She tried to break free again. He put his head to her neck and inhaled her scent. ''I have missed you so much. I'm sorry, I know I can't ever make up for it, but please believe me when I say I have fallen in love with you.''

At his words, he felt her relax. When she felt liquid dropping onto her face, she put her hand to his head. He was bleeding badly. ''Come on, let’s get out of here, she said. ''You need help.''

He bent down and picked up the torch. He shone it around trying to get an idea of what had taken place. He saw a wooden chair with just three legs, and when he shone the torch at the ceiling, he noticed the cable from the light had been ripped out. There was a groove of broken plaster in the ceiling where someone had yanked the cable from the light fitting all the way to the wall. On further inspection, he saw someone had made a noose out of it with a winding mechanism. Gruesome, he thought.

*****

The doctor told Dima that a blow to the head of that intensity warranted a night of observation in hospital. Dima reluctantly agreed. When they wheeled him out of the treatment room towards a free bed, Tyra stood up walked with them. Once he was in bed, she looked at him. He had a deep gash in his head and a terrifying bruise on his arm.

''Jesus, I'm so sorry for that,'' she said. ''That looks really painful.''

''Don't worry, I deserved it, after what I wanted to do. I was being foolish, it was the most stupid plans I've ever thought of.''

''Yes it was, and it will take a long time before I can trust you again.'' She scowled.

''Are you willing to try? If you want me to beg, I will. Tyra, when you were mad at me, and you left me and wouldn't answer my calls, I realized I can't live without you.''

''I'm carrying your child.''

He looked at her stunned.

''Here is what we'll do.'' She decided to say something, realizing he was temporarily speechless. ''I love you as well. When I was in that cellar, I too realized I didn't want to be without you. But I am as mad as hell with you. Madder than I have ever been with anyone.'' She reached out and took his hand, minding not to dislodge the drip. ''However, I don't want to miss the chance of a happy life with you. I will have our baby, and you and I will be together. But if I hear anymore BS about stealing things, I'll kick you out, forever. Agreed?''

He nodded, still speechless. He gestured to her to come closer. When she did, he whispered. ''Thank you.''

*****

Bradley was in the middle of breakfast when the phone rang. ''Thank God, Tyra. I was so worried about you. How are you? What happened to you? Are you joking?''

When he closed his cell phone, he was fully aware of what had taken place. He knew that someone had wanted to steal the Hope Diamond and that Tyra had been kidnapped. He also knew that she'd said nothing and been very brave. He didn't know that the father of her baby had in fact intended to steal the diamond. Tyra was willing to keep that from him. All Radley had to know was that a very savage man had intended to steal it, and he was now no longer able.

''Eliana, get in here,'' he shouted at the top of his voice.

''Radley, how dare you shout at me like that,'' she exclaimed as she appeared from the kitchen.

'I'll shout at you how I like. I've had a belly full of you. It's my business. My family founded it and I run it. My name is above the door, and the tax man calls me when he wants something, not you.'' Eliana stood open mouthed and wide eyed as his verbal attack continued. ''We both decided to give it to Tyra. She's a good girl, but you pompously decided to take it all way from her, just because she made a mistake. You're a prude, and you always have been..''

''But.....but,'' Eliana floundered.

''No buts, I'm leaving the store to her, and you will have to get used to the idea.

*****

Five years later Radley and Eliana went on a world cruise, and Tyra took her position as manager. She felt comfortable in her role. Radley checked in with her every day from wherever he was in the world. Before he'd gone, he had asked a computer geek how he could connect to the stores accounting system from afar. That's my girl he would say every time he logged in and looked at the profits.

Tyra only had one problem. The glass cabinets in the store. They were awfully susceptible to sticky, little fingers. Jimmy was still a baby, but Dima Junior and Alicia weren't, and when their father took them to see mummy at work, he loved showing them all the priceless things money could buy.

Dima got the Hope Diamond for his thirty-second birthday. The woman in the picture framing store wondered why Tyra wanted such a beautiful frame for a simple photocopy of a downloaded internet picture.

****

THE END

The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Nicki’s Story

A BWWM Russian Pregnancy Romance

The plane from Moscow to JFK was three hours late due to heavy snow in Russia. Nicki had tried to call Nathan from Moscow but hadn't managed to get hold of him. She just hoped he'd waited for her. If not, she'd have to get a taxi, and she only had a purse full of worthless rubels.

When she'd cleared US customs and reclaimed her bag, she walked out into the arrivals lounge. There were a lot of people waiting to pick up family and friends. She couldn't see Nathan. Whenever he'd picked her up at the airport before, he'd stood where he could see her. Today he wasn't in the usual place. She walked to the left, put her heavy bag on the floor and reached inside her jacket for her cellphone. She let it ring a few times. No reply. Darn it, not only would she have to get a taxi but she also would miss the opportunity to talk to him.

''Nicki over here,'' Nathan shouted. ''I tracked the flight on the net and saw the delay so only set off when they gave a landing time. I didn't realize the traffic would be so bad. Sorry.''

That was Nathan she thought. Always apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. ''Hello,'' she said as he hugged her. Don't let him hold you for too long, it would be unfair.

''Let me have a look at you,'' he said, holding her at arm’s length. ''Still the same beautiful Nicki. Perfectly dressed and not a hair out of place even after such a long flight.''

“And you've lost weight. Have you been eating properly?''

''How can a man eat properly when he is love sick,'' he said as he picked up her bag. ''Jesus what have you got in here, a real elephant?''

''Just a few small one's to add to my collection.''

'I've never understood why you collect elephants,'' he admitted as they walked toward the parking area.

Correct all along, he never listens to me. ''I've told you a few times. Because my South African dad always told me the tale about how the little elephant got a long trunk. I have been fascinated by them ever since.'' She could see he wasn't listening again. He was looking for the parking ticket. He tutted and put her bag down as he searched though every pocket.

''You haven't bothered to clean out the car then?'' she said as she squeezed her long legs between empty coke cans and pizza boxes. Surely if you were going to collect the woman you love from the airport, after she'd been away for a year, you would make a bit of an effort.

The Fiat screeched into life, and Nathan reversed out of the parking lot, almost hitting the car next to them. ''So how was it really? I mean you told me you enjoyed it, but can someone really enjoy a year in Moscow? It's full of commies for a start.''

Nicki looked at all the dead flies on the windshield and considered her answer. ''I did enjoy it. And it's not full of commies. It was the chance of a lifetime. A lot of people applied for that exchange place to Moscow State University. I was the lucky one who got it, so I decided to make the best of it.''

She pulled down the sun visor and looked at herself in the vanity mirror. Nathan was right. Her makeup had withstood the grueling flight, her lips were still bright red, and her eyes bore no smudges. She'd gotten a new hairdo in Moscow; she was sure Nathan hadn't noticed. She liked it. Natasha the lovely girl who'd cut it was fascinated by black people's hair. She'd never had a black woman in her chair before. It looks wiry, she'd remarked, but quickly changed her mind when she touched it. Now Nicki wore it long and thrown to one side in sweeping curls.

''Jesus, asshole,'' Nathan shouted as he almost ran into a taxi that had stopped to turn left.

''Nathe,'' Nicki murmured. I'm going to hate myself, she thought. ''I want to talk to you.'' She looked across at him. He was tall and dark and had a strong looking face, the kind that women trusted. He would soon find some else. Someone more suitable. Someone who didn't mind dirty cars, and a boyfriend who doesn't listen. ''Nathe, thanks for giving me a lift home. It's really nice of you.''

''Nice? Did you think after a year that I wouldn't come and collect my girlfriend from the airport?''

They'd been together for four years, ever since Nicki had started her course in journalism at NYU. It was the first time she'd been away from her parents, and she'd been nervous. She was brought up in a small town in Alabama, and at the time; New York had seemed so intimidating. Now she had to admit that when she'd met Nathan, she had clung onto him for her own sake. Not because she loved him, but because he was a New Yorker and made her feel at ease with the Big Apple. Now she was going to have to pay for stringing him along all this time. Why had she just let it drift?

''Well, it is nice of you.'' Come on girl, out with it, she told herself trying to find the right words. ''Nathe I don't want to be with you any more. I want to be your friend, but I don't want a sexual relationship with you anymore.''

''What?'' he said as he swerved round another taxi.

''You never listen to a word I say,'' she shouted in frustration.

''Sorry, what were you saying?''

She took a deep breath and began again. ''Nathe you're sweet, but I want to finish our relationship.''

''What?'' She was fearful he hadn't heard her again, but he had. ''What the hell are you talking about, finish?''

''I want to be friendly with you, but not your girlfriend anymore. I've thought a lot about it while I was in Moscow, and we're not compatible. You could find someone much better suited to you. You're only twenty-four, and you've got a great job at the Times. You're bound to find Mrs. Right.''

''Nicki,'' he exclaimed. She closed her eyes; sure he was going to run into the car in front. ''No Nicki, you've got it wrong. I don't want anybody else. I want you. Jesus, I love you.''

It was the first time he'd said that, and it made it all the more difficult. ''You think you love me, Nathe. But really you only have time for one person. Yourself.''

''Will you stop talking BS. You're my girl, and that's it.'' He looked at her. She looked hotter than ever with her new hair. She had also lost weight, not that she needed to. Now she was slender, and it made her look taller than the five eight she always claimed she was. All he wanted to do was get her back to her apartment and go to bed with her. He longed to feel her long legs around him and her soft lips on his. He'd often masturbated to a picture of her when she was away. Not a blunt picture of her in some pornographic pose, but a simple picture of her face, smiling into the camera he'd taken with them on a trip to the beach.

''No Nathe. I've made up my mind. Please respect that.''

''So what's happened, Nicki? Have you fallen in love with some heartless communist? They're all communists you know. Spineless alcoholics all of them.''

What he was saying wasn't true. She'd met a lot of very nice people in Russia during her exchange year. None of them were communists, and apart from the odd drunken birthday celebration, she'd never seen any of them drinking alcohol. She'd gone there with an open mind. Sure it was a totally different culture, and it had taken a lot of getting used to, but she'd really enjoyed the experience. ''No I haven't fallen in love with anyone. I just don't think you and I are compatible enough to take it any further than we already have.''

''Well thanks a lot. Thanks for ruining my day and my life. What a bitch. You know you've always thought you were better than anybody else.'' He glanced across at her with hurt engraved all over his face.

Surely he'd suspected something, though. She hadn't exactly been nice to him when they'd talked on Skype. And she'd never called him. He'd even complained that he always had to call her. ''I'm sorry Nathe, but that's it. I can't be with you anymore.'' Her words sounded so final, she thought. If only, there was a better way, a less cruel way. She'd agonized over it for days but every time she'd come to the same conclusion. There was no kind way to dump someone.

''And what the hell are you going to do with you life, Nicki? Yours graduating in four weeks and you still haven't applied for any jobs. It's not easy finding work so you'd better get on with it.'' There was a cold father like sound to his voice.

''I've told you a few times. I'm going to be a freelance journalist.''

''Yeah right. As if an editor would buy a story from a rookie journalist. You've been told so many times by me, by your professor and by all your peers, you need to get a job on a newspaper. Learn your craft and then, only then, might you have a chance at being a freelancer.''

He was right, but only to a certain extent, she told herself. She was graduating from a great school of journalism. Then she had to write some great stories. As a young rookie, she knew it would be difficult, but she was daring, and she intended to get exciting, even dangerous stories that would sell themselves. Stories of hardship, crime, war and death were all on her list, and she knew exactly where she was going to start. ''But that's what I want to do. It's my life and my business, and nobody else can tell me what to do.''

''Like I said. You think you are better than anyone else. Everyone's telling you it can't be done successfully, but oh no, madam won't listen. Well, I tell you what, when I drop you off at your apartment, you can darn well go to hell. I don't want to see you anymore either. And I might add, my experience with you has been nothing short of unpleasant. You're self-centered, conceited, arrogant, and a whole lot more.''

Nicki put the key in the door to the apartment and opened it. She grunted as she put her bag down in the hallway. When she closed the door, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes. Home. Finally home.

The food in the plane had been exceptionally salty, and she needed water. She turned on the kitchen light and smiled. There was a large, 'Welcome Home,' banner tied along the curtain rail and a bottle of sparkling white wine on the table. Sarah and Lela, her housemates, had intended to drink it with her. Not surprisingly they had gone to bed. It was three am.

*****

Nicki woke to someone knocking on her bedroom door. She opened her eyes and immediately shut them again as the sharp winter sunlight tore into them. Why do I never shut the curtains properly, she asked herself.

''I'm awake. You can come in.''

It was Lela. Lela had started college at the same time as Nicki. They'd found they had lots in common, not least because they were both black and both are starting out in journalism. After six months they'd decided to leave the halls of residence and get an apartment together.

''Hi, welcome home,'' she said as she tripped over the bag Nicki had left unopened on the floor. She fell onto the bed and gave Nicki a kiss and a hug. ''So how was it? We waited up for you, but sleep got the better of us.''

''It was a fantastic experience. You know Russia is such a paradox. The people are so polite and friendly, yet if you listen to the rhetoric coming from the politicians that represent them, you wouldn't think so.''

Lela looked around the room. Nicki had the largest bedroom in the three-bedroom apartment, and it was stuffed full of elephants. Elephants in all colors and sizes. She even had a pink elephant on the pillow next to her. ''So how many elephants did you bring back with you?''

''The bag you tripped over is full of them. But I have got something for you.'' Nicki got out of bed and opened the bag. She'd filled it so full that a couple of elephants jumped out when she undid the zipper. She rummaged around and found a small box wrapped in pink paper with a thin ribbon tied around it.

''Thanks,'' Lela said as Nicki handed it to her. As Nicki jumped back into bed, Lela noticed how slim she'd become. She'd always thought Nicki to be the best looking woman on their course. In fact that was an understatement, she was the best looking woman she had seen at NYU. She lay next to Nicki and began to open her present. ''We all missed you terribly,'' she said as her fingers fiddled with the knot on the ribbon. ''The house hasn't been the same without out. We missed your story telling.'' She paused and laughed, ''but we didn't miss your garlic lasagna.'' Nicki gave her a playful thump. ''Oh wow, Nicki, it's too much,'' she said as she held a gold fountain pen up.

''You're going to be a journalist, so you'll need a good pen.'' Typical Nicki, generous and thoughtful.

''So what's the plan now, once you've unpacked all your elephants,'' Lela asked.

''Will you help me? I have so much to tell you about my experiences, and of course, I want to know what you've been up to. How many men have you brought back here while I've been away?'' she asked playfully.

''Only a handful,'' Lela lied, unable to count the actual number.

After an hour, Lela couldn't find anymore room for the last few two elephants. ''Where do you want me to put these? There's no room.''

''Leave them on the bed, I'll find somewhere.''

''Perhaps you could sell some of your Mills and Boon books. You don't need to keep all those trashy romance books, do you?''

''I love them, I don't want to part with them. I split up with Nathan last night.''

Nicki said it suddenly with no warning of any kind, and it shocked Lela. ''Why?'' she asked in a Sherlock Holmes kind of way.

''Because we aren't compatible. He's too different. He likes to be messy and casual, and I like to be neat and tidy and plan things. I felt sick when I got into his car yesterday. He hasn't cleaned it out for years.''

''But surely a messy car can't be the reason. I thought you guys were the real deal,'' Lela said as she picked up a book with a half-naked hero on it.

''No. It's more than that. I realized in Moscow that we aren't right together. I don't love him. I want to feel heat in my lower half when I think of my boyfriend.'' Lela nodded in agreement. She'd been out with so many men, and not one of them had set her alight. ''All I think of when I think of Nathan is chaos,'' Nicki added.

''How did he take it?''

''Badly. He called me some nasty things and dumped me at the door. I guess I deserved it. I said it so suddenly, it must have been a shock for him.''

''You're so intelligent and beautiful you'll find someone at the drop of a hat.'' Lela picked up another book, this time, the hero was holding a blonde woman who was looking at him as if he'd saved her from certain death. ''Look at you. You're tall and thin. Your waist is invisible and up top, you've got a really nice pair. Your ass is the envy of all the girls in the class, and your eyes are stunning. Don't worry you'll have men flocking to you once they know you're single again.'' Suddenly Lela's eyes lit up. ''Or have you already got some dark Russian prince?''

''No. I haven't and can you believe it? I was a very good girl in Russia. Not once did I entertain a man in my chamber.''

''You're chamber? You're definitely reading too many of those ridiculous historical romances. So what are you going to do now? Have you applied to any newspapers yet?''

Oh no not you as well. Why didn't people understand? She wanted to be a freelancer. ''No, don't you remember, I want to go freelance.''

''But.....''

''No buts. I had enough that from Nathan on the way home. He doesn't think I'll be able to make a go of it. He thinks editors won't buy my stories.'' Nicki pulled the trunk on her pink elephant and twisted it in frustration. ''I'm going to do it. It's very important to me. I want to work for myself, not some ego inflated editor. And as for them not wanting to buy my stories, I'm going to tackle such daring subjects that they'll be forced to buy from me.''

Lela cocked her head to one side. She had a habit of doing so when she didn't believe what she was being told. ''Okay. If it's so important to you, I really hope it works. But where are you going to start. I mean you need a story, you'll graduate soon, and your students loans will stop.''

''Maxim Sokolov.''

''What? He's a murderer. He killed the judge presiding over his trial. What was his name? '' Lela asked.

''Hudson. But he was acquitted. In the eyes of the law, he's not guilty. Simple. But after he came to Brighton Beach, New York, back in the nineties, he set up a vast empire of extortion, drugs and trafficking. I'm going to write about it.''

''You'll get yourself killed,' Lela said without hesitation. ''Do you know how many journalists have been killed by Russians? They are masters at it. As soon as you go sniffing around he will put an end to you. Don't do it.''

*****

Nicki pulled her collar up higher. She was glad she'd worn a scarf. The wind was blowing off the ocean and whistling between the restaurant buildings on the sea front. Only the gulls were enjoying themselves as they surfed the gusts high in the sky.

The Crab and Lobster seemed like a nice place to eat. On the sea front, it looked like a giant beach hut. The wooden boards in the facade painted yellow and the small cross bead windows, white. The door was maroon and contained a ship’s porthole. There was a balcony running the length of the building where clients could eat in summer, and its roof was adorned with lobster pots and pieces of fishing net.

Nicki climbed two steps to the front door and looked through the porthole. Inside, it was as cozy looking as outside. There were about twenty round tables, all with red and white checkered table clothes, and a long bar down the left-hand side with wooden stools in front. The ceiling was covered in sailing paraphernalia. Oars, lobster pots, fishing net, anchors, even a brass ship’s bell that hung down from the ceiling into the middle of the room.

She went inside. She noticed a couple sitting at a table in the far corner. They looked like they were making up after a fight. The woman had a blotched face, and the man a hurt look on his face and they were holding hands across the table. There were only two more people in the restaurant. The waitress was only about eighteen and pretty. Why such a pretty young woman should wear her hair in dreadlocks was beyond Nicki. The other person was a handsome blonde man of about twenty-five. He was tall, and his T-shirt clung to a physique he obviously spent a lot of time honing. Unusually for the time of year, he was wearing jeans shorts that showed off his long tanned legs. Nicki wondered what it would be like to stroke over the soft looking blonde hairs that covered them.

''Coffee please,'' she said, sitting on one of the bars stools. The waitress nodded. Nicki reached down to her bag and took out a notepad.

''You're a reporter then?'' the waitress inquired.

''Do I look like a reporter?'' she replied. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white blouse covered by a gray cardigan. Hardly a giveaway.

''The notepad,'' she said. ''Plus we get hundreds of journalists in here.'' She put a white cup and saucer down in front of Nicki.

''Why so many?''

''They're all after a mafia story.'' She picked up a tea towel and started to polish wine glasses.

''Doesn't the mafia own most of Brighton Beach? Sokolov owns this restaurant.''

''I have no idea. I just come and do my job and go home again. Andrey's my boss, and I'm sure he's not mafia.'' She pointed at the blonde man. When he heard his name, he looked up from his newspaper.

''Talking about me again Mel?'' he joked. He got up and wandered over to Nicki. ''I'm Andrey. It's a bit boring in here at this time of the day. Things don't usually get going until after seven pm.''

''That's okay, I only dropped in for a coffee. It's a lovely restaurant.'' He could have been a Californian surfer, she thought. His fresh face was tanned, and his blonde hair cradled his face in long waves.

''Yes, I love it. It's become part of me. There's always an opportunity to meet new people, like yourself.'' He leaned on the bar and put his foot on the brass foot rail. ''So are you?'' he asked.

''Am I what?'' she replied looking into his blue eyes.

''What Mel said. On the lookout for a mafia story?''

''Okay, I am a journalist. A freelancer. That's someone who works.....''

''I know what a freelancer is,'' he interrupted. ''If you're looking for a mafia story, you're fifteen years too late. All the shootings have stopped, and now it's a respectable area.'' He began to laugh, ''in fact the only bad thing that can happen to you around here, is a seagull messing on your head.''

''I don't know, there are secrets everywhere if you look for them. You for example. You sound Russian, so you have a story to tell. Why did you come here? Where are you from? How many girlfriends have you had? I bet a lot of female readers would enjoy reading about you.'' She put her hand on his arm as if she would be one of them.

''I'm afraid it would be a disappointing story. Tell you what, you tell me how many boyfriends you've had, and I'll tell you how many girlfriends I've had.'' He looked pleased with himself.

''One,'' she said without hesitation.

''I don't' believe you. A hot woman like you has only had one boyfriend. Get out of here.''

''What do you take me for?'' she jested. ''Are you suggesting that I may be loose?''

''Of course not. Sixteen.''

''You've had sixteen girlfriends?'' she exclaimed. ''I don't believe you. You're exaggerating, trying to be macho.''

''Sixteen not including the one night stands,'' he bragged. ''Not too bad for a simple boy from St Petersberg is it?''

''I guess not, but I still don't believe you. So why did you come here from that beautiful city?''

''Have you been there?''

''Last year. I studied for a year in Moscow and went to St Petersberg by train to have a look. It really is a very special place.''

''I came here to better myself,'' he said proudly. ''I had a bad start in life. My dad was killed in the Chechen war and my mother never got over it. I found her one day. Asleep in the kitchen, except she wasn't asleep. She'd taken an overdose.'' His eyes stared into the distance for a few seconds before focusing on her again.

Nicki was shocked. She'd had a relatively easy time of it in comparison. Her parents were both still alive and reasonably well off. ''Jesus that's horrible. Poor you,'' she put her hand on his. ''Does it pain you to talk about it?''

''No. Not nowadays anyway. It was nine years ago and time heals.''

''So have you got any relatives?''

''No, I'm all alone in the world,'' he said as if he liked it that way.

''Well, if you've had so many girlfriends, you probably haven't had time for relatives.''

''I guess not.'' He liked her. She was beautiful and had the same sense of humor. He liked the oval shape of her eyes and the way her hands moved when she talked.

''Andrey, it's almost five and where I'm from it's okay to have a drink after five. Would you join me?'' She was beginning to enjoy herself and didn't want their conversation to end. In addition, she was hopeful he could point her in the direction of Maxim Sokolov. She had it on good authority that this was one of Sokolov's restaurants.

''Okay, but you're my guest. Mel, a couple of glasses please.'' The waitress put two small glasses in front of them and handed him a bottle of vodka. ''In Russia we drink vodka, do you like it?''

Nicki hardly ever drunk anything alcoholic and she wasn't at all sure she could stomach a drink as strong as vodka. ''Yes, of course, I love it.''

The way he concentrated as he poured the drinks fascinated her. He reminded her of a young boy she used to sit next to in kindergarten. When he drew a picture, he always held his tongue between his lips. Andrey was doing just that.

''Nazdrovje,'' he said. ''We drink it in one go.''

''Nazdrovje.'' Nicki opened her mouth and downed it in one. ''Jesus, that stings,'' she hissed as her eyes began to water.

He laughed. ''You're not so cool after all are you.'' He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. ''You'll live,'' he said as she coughed uncontrollably.

''Let me buy you dinner,'' she said once she'd recovered. ''I'm enjoying out chat.'' What she really mean, was that she was enjoying being with him. His easy manner and good looks had aroused her, and she didn't want it to end. After a glass if vodka she was less focused on getting information about Sokolov and more interested in Andrey and his gorgeous body.

He'd talked her into trying one more vodka, but this time, she'd taken her time to drink it. He'd downed it one and poured himself another which he took with them to a table next to the window. Mel came over and lit the candle that was standing in the middle of the table in a brass candlestick.

''How romantic,'' Nicki said. The vodka had warmed her, and any inhibitions she may have had were gone.

''I think today was my lucky day?'' he said.

''What do you mean?''

''You. You are beautiful. Very beautiful.''

Nicki smiled and put her hand onto his. ''And you've made quite an impression on me.''

They both ate steak with fresh salad. Afterwards, he asked Nicki if she wanted anything else. What she wanted she dare not ask for. But he did.

''Come up to my apartment with me. I live above the restaurant.''

''Don't you have to work?'' she asked buying herself some time to think if this was a good idea.

''It’s eight, and it's quiet. Mel and the chef can handle it. If it isn't busy by now, it won't be later.''

''Okay then let's go.'' Strange, she thought. I have never done this in my life. Never have I gone to a man's apartment on the first date. Maybe that's why you've only had one boyfriend and he's had sixteen girlfriends. .

His apartment was wonderful. It was under the gable and looked out to the ocean. The end wall was made of glass and had a door in it, which led onto a balcony. He'd placed the sofa so he could look out over the ocean. At the back was a small kitchen and in the middle of the room was a double bed. Nicki noticed how clean it was. That was a good sign she thought, remembering Nathan and his disgusting car.

She stood and looked out over the veranda to the ocean. It was almost dark, and the seafront lights were glistening on the water. A gull came and sat on the veranda rail before impatiently flying off again. When Andrey had made them each a mug of tea, he stood next to her.

''Beautiful isn't it?''

''Yes, very.''

He put the mugs down on the floor and put his arm around her. She turned her head to him, and he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss of exploration. When she opened her mouth to him, he put his tongue into her. They kissed for several minutes, neither of them in a hurry to the next stage. When he eventually made a move, she helped him. She stood back from him, took off her cardigan and began to open her blouse. He quickly took off his T-shirt and when he did, it made her stop. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. All she could see was brown skin on top of perfectly formed muscles. She had never seen a man with a ribbed stomach. It made her hornier still.

Soon they stood naked in front of each other. His penis prodded into her as they kissed, and he felt her nipples hard against his chest. He ran his hand down her back and cupped her buttocks. ''You've got a perfect ass,'' he whispered. She kissed his neck and put her hand onto his shaft. Andrey sighed and let his head fall back. Soon, however, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He put her down gently and opened her legs.

''I want to taste you,'' he said as he put his mouth onto her womanhood. She gasped as he licked up over her clitoris and down again. ''Oh that's nice, do that,'' she instructed when she felt him press her clit between his lips. He continued as she'd asked, and soon she started to pant. The noise she was making turned him on more and he felt his rock hard shaft sticking painfully into the bed. When she shouted, ''now, now,'' he kept up the pressure, and she came.

''Was that nice?'' he asked. She only nodded and held out her arms for him to come up and make love to her. The scent of her was driving him wild, and he quickly accepted her invitation. As he pushed into her, they kissed deeply and passionately. She pushed her pelvis up to greet his thrusts and rubbed her hands over his back. ''You are more than beautiful,'' he whispered into her ear. His words pushed her further towards another orgasm, and when he increased the speed of his thrusts, she clung onto him and cried out.

''God your hard,'' she moaned as she came down from her plateau. ''You're so big and hard, and I love it.'' He was covered in sweat now, and she liked the ease with which her hands could slide over his skin. When she dropped her hands onto his buttocks, she felt him twitch inside her. She leaned into his neck, ''come on, give it to me.'' When he came, she felt his hot semen shooting into her in a jet like bursts. She put her legs around his back and held onto him. It was only then that she really took any notice of how beautiful their bodies looked together. Black and white.

''You want to do what,'' Andrey said as they lay next to each other. He pushed himself up, leaned on one arm and listened more attentively.

''I want to do an interview with Maxim Sokolov. He owns this place doesn't he? Which means you must work for him.''

''I don't work for him. I work with him and soon I won't be. I'm going on my own. Why do you want to interview him?''

''Because he's the big boss. The one who got away and the only one anyone is interested in anymore.''

''You're mad. Absolutely mad. A young woman like you has no chance with him. You won't even get in the door. In fact, he's more likely to murder you.''

''Well, I can try,'' she said defensively.

''Get your clothes on and leave now. And let this be a warning to you. If I hear that you have been anywhere near him, I'll finish you off myself.''

''But Andrey it was so lovely this evening, why are you suddenly so...?''

''Because you're pissing me off, now get your ass out of here.''

*****

''Hello Mr. Sokolov,'' Mel said as the short chubby man arrived in the Crab and Lobster. ''What can I get you.'' He was fifty-three and as round as he was tall. He'd been a boxer in his youth, a good one. He'd built up a fearsome reputation, and that had lasted all these years. To date, no younger man had dared challenge his authority.

''Vodka and ice.'' It hadn't been a good day. He'd lost three hundred thousand at cards and what was worse, he'd lost to Graham Sander, a small-time crook from Newark.

''Here we are,'' Mel said as she put the glass and bottle on the table. ''Shall I get them something,'' she asked him, referring to the two large men at the door.

''Coffee,'' he grunted. Mel never felt at ease when he was in the restaurant. He was unpredictable and explosive. Once he'd pulled her hair when she'd spilled some water on him. She'd apologized a thousand times, but it didn't matter, he'd made her suffer.

''So what's happening Mel?'' he asked after he'd thrown back two shots.

''Steady away really Mr. Sokolov. As always.''

''Tell me, who was that black woman that was here the other evening?''

How the hell does he know about her she thought? Then she realized, he had eyes and ears everywhere. ''I don't know Mr. Sokolov,'' she said trying to cover Andrey's back.

''What do you mean, you don't know? Are you blind, deaf or dumb or all three?''

Mel knew she had to tell him now. He knew she'd been at work then, and he probably knew that Andrey had taken Nicki upstairs. ''It was a journalist, I don't know anymore.''

He stood up and walked over to the bar. ''Come here,'' he said gently. Mel walked up to him on the other side. ''Lean over, I want to tell you something in confidence.''

Mel leaned over to him and waited for him to whisper. He didn't. He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her over the bar. Her blouse tore, revealing her overflowing bra. 'Nice,'' he muttered.

''Now you tell me who she was, and what she was doing here. Otherwise, I might just have to see a bit more of what you've got to offer.''

''Please, Mr. Sokolov, I'll tell you all I know.'' He laughed when he noticed her shaking. ''She came to the restaurant about four o'clock, I heard her saying to Andrey that she was a freelance journalist.'' She hated doing this to Andrey; she liked him, but what choice did she have? ''They seemed to get on well. They had a couple of drinks and something to eat.'' She didn't want to tell him that they'd gone upstairs, and the whole restaurant had heard them having sex.

''And, what else?''

''That's it, Mr. Sokolov. I don't know anymore.'' She cried out when he slapped her across the face.

''What else? I won't ask again.''

''They went upstairs together.'' Mel burst into tears.

''Jesus Christ. What next? I thought I could trust him.'' He tightened his grip on Mel's blouse. ''Screwing a journalist is going too far, but screwing a black journalist in my restaurant is disrespectful and deceitful. Tell him I want a word with him as soon as he comes back.'' Mel nodded and attempted to cover herself up.

*****

''Jesus, what the .....'' Lela exclaimed just as she was about to take the boiling kettle from the stove. She ran upstairs and banged on the bathroom door. ''Nicki, what's the matter. Are you okay?''

Nicki didn't reply; she was sitting on the edge of the bath with her head in her hands. If only she hadn't stopped taking the pill during her stay in Moscow, Nathan hadn't been with her, and she'd had no intention of sleeping with anyone casually so she'd just stopped. Andrey had worn a condom, yes he had, she remembered distinctly.

''Nicki, Nicki, let me in.'' Lela was getting frantic. Nobody screaming like that could be alright. She jumped back to one side as the door opened and Nicki ran passed her. Inside, Lela picked up the pregnancy tester and read the text on the tiny display. Pregnant 2-3.

*****

Why the hell do you still work with him? Andrey asked himself as he drove up to Sokolov's mansion. You have enough cash to last you a life time. You're a fool to have anything to do with him. All because you love the Crab and Lobster. Buy it off him and then tell him to F-off.

''I hear you wanted to seek me, Maxim.'' Sokolov's mansion was on the edge of Brighton Beach. It was just like one would expect a man of Sokolov's breeding to own. Brash and full of gold.

''Andrey, come in and sit down.'' Sokolov was sitting in his favorite chair next to the fire. It was another cold day and under normal circumstances, the sight of the burning logs would have raised anyone's spirits. But Andrey wasn't in the mood for cozy fires. He hadn't liked what Sokolov had done to Mel. Mel was just a kid, and she didn't deserve the kind of treatment he'd afforded her.

''What did you do to Mel? The poor kid couldn't stop bubbling when I came back yesterday evening.''

''What did I do to Mel?'' he retorted sarcastically. ''It's your fault.''

Andrey looked around trying to calm himself. It was a pretentious house. All the sofas in the large sitting room were gold, and the carpet was a different shade of gold. The wallpaper was gray with gold stripes, and all the pictures on the walls had gold frames.

''How is it my fault?''

''Andrey, how much money have you got in the bank?''

What the hell has that got to do with Mel? ''About thirty million.''

''And how did you come by all that money?'' Sokolov was being smug and coy, and Andrey hated him for it. Sure he'd helped him a lot during the early days, but there was no need to keep reminding him.

''Real estate deals.''

''Yer, real estate deals. And who gave you the first piece of real estate?''

''You.'' This was what he always did. Whenever he disliked something Andrey did, he'd call him in, and reminded him that it was he who had given Andrey a property to get him going. Sokolov was also from St Petersberg and when he'd bumped into Andrey they'd chatted about the city. Sokolov had been impressed by Andrey's physique and given him a job as one of his rent collectors. Some of the things Andrey had done, he was not proud of. Evicting men and women with young children had never been his thing, but he'd done it. He'd seen Sokolov's real estate gift to him as justified payment for the sleepless nights he was still having.

''Me indeed.'' Sokolov looked at the fire for a while then jumped up and took Andrey by the throat. ''What the fuck were you doing screwing that black journalist in my restaurant the other evening?''

''It was just that, a screw, so what's your problem?'' Andrey thought he was strong enough to push Sokolov from him, but he wasn't sure he could beat him in the boxing match that was bound to ensue if he did so.

''My problem is two fold. First she's a journalist and second; she's black. I don't want a person like that snooping around in my life. If I see her again, she's a goner. Got it?''

''So what if she's black, you racist pig? She's hotter than any slut you've ever had.'' Andrey fell back onto the sofa as Sokolov landed an upper cut to his chin.

*****

Nicki stood outside the Crab and Lobster for half an hour before she got the courage to go inside. Mel looked at her and turned away.

''Mel is Andrey here?''

Mel had nothing against Nicki but she didn't need another confrontation with Sokolov, and she was scared he would do worse than tear her blouse next time. ''Upstairs, but leave now. You're not welcome here.''

''I need to speak to him. It's important.''

Mel turned to her. When she saw Nicki's face, feminine intuition told her why Nicki had come to the restaurant, and she felt sorry for her. ''You know the way,'' Mel said pointing to the stairs.

Nicki knocked on the apartment door and turned the door handle. When the door opened slightly, she saw him lying on the bed. ''Andrey.''

When he looked across at her, she saw he had two back eyes and a lump on his chin. He jumped off the bed and ushered her inside. ''What are you doing here? It's too dangerous for you to be here now.''

Nicki didn't understand why, it had been fine a few nights ago, but now it was dangerous. ''Why?'' He didn't reply. ''Andrey, I need your help. I'm pregnant.''

''You've got to leave. I don't want to see you anymore.''

''Did you hear me, I'm pregnant,'' Nicki sobbed.

''I heard you, now go or I'll carry you out of here.''

''But you can't treat me like this.'' Her sobs became stronger. ''But we had.........such a lovely time.......I know you........care about me.'' She put her hand on his shoulder trying to pull her to him.

''No, Nicki, I don't want you, I'm not interested in you or your baby. Now go. I won't ask you again.''

This can't be happening. Three weeks ago everything was fine; now her life had become a living hell. Her tears went, replaced by anger. ''How can you do this, you heartless bastard. You could look at the very least offer to help me look after the child financially.''

He took hold of her by her coat, marched her to the door and pushed her through it. She heard it close and the lock turn. When Andrey lay on the bed, he put his hands over his ears to block out the echoes of Nicki's sobs as she went down the stairs.

Before Nicki left the stairwell, she wrote a note. When she went through the restaurant she handed it to Mel. ''Give him this will you?'' she said.

*****

Betty's tea room wasn't busy. Nicki counted four people. Two elderly ladies, deep in conversation, a young mother struggling to keep her toddler quiet and a man in a business suit. Betty's was the premier tea room in New York and usually impossible to get a table at. Nicki wondered what she was doing in such an expensive place. She had precious little money and not much prospect of getting any in the near future.

Nathan came in through the main entrance and looked around for her. When he spotted her, he smiled and wandered over to the table in his usual casual manner.

''Can't stay away from me,'' he said hopefully.

''Nathe I called you because I need your help.'' She knew it was a liability contacting him after she had dumped him, but she was getting desperate.

''Sure anything,'' he smiled. He took her hand, but she pulled back.

''I'm pregnant Nathan. I'm pregnant, and I really need a favor.''

''You're what?'' Now there was no chance they would ever get back together. ''So why the hell did you call me and not the father?'' Nicki avoided his gaze.

''He doesn't want to have anything to do with me.''

''I'm not surprised,'' he said cruelly. ''You're behaving like a whore. Limping from one man to the next.''

Nicki tried to ignore his words. ''Can you help me get a job at the Times?''

''You're kidding. Maybe I could have helped you, but now you're pregnant how do you expect anyone to employ you?'' The waitress appeared carrying a menu. The manner in which he waved her away did little to make her long day any better. ''There is no chance. Do you seriously expect to start a job and then a few months later go on pregnancy leave? Which boss in his right mind would welcome that?'' She nodded and stared out of the window at a woman with a pushchair. ''What happened to your dream of being freelance. Did it go down the pan as I told you it would?''

''I have written a couple of things that haven't sold. I don't have the energy to chase the big stories. Most mornings I'm hanging over the toilet.''

''Well you should have thought about that before you went screwing around.'' He scowled and drew in a large gulp of air. ''Here's what I suggest. You either go home to your parents or you look in the paper for a part-time job until the baby is born. I've noticed there's plenty of jobs for office cleaners. Goodbye, Nicki.'' When he got up, her eyes followed him to the door. What he was no longer there, she felt empty as never before.

*****

When Andrey saw Sokolov, he wanted to kill him. His treatment of both him and Mel had been arrogant and brutal, and it was time to teach him a lesson.

''Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?''

''No I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a low life, whore fucker.''

Sokolov flew into a rage. He got up and tried to grab Andrey, but he was too fast and dodged the heavier man. Andrey continued to goad him.

''All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people.''

Sokolov was now at one side of the sofa and Andrey, the other. They played cat and mouse around the sofa for a few seconds, before Andrey spoke again.

''You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You're not, you're a pussy.''

Sokolov was now beside himself. He jumped over the sofa and caught Andrey by his T-shirt. Andrey pulled away hard, leaving Sokolov holding the shirt. ''I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you,'' Sokolov shouted. One of his bodyguards appeared, but Sokolov held his hand up. ''Leave this to me.''

''You're just a show-off. Leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right. You haven't got the balls to kill any body.''

''I killed Judge Hudson, just like I'm gonna kill you.''

''You didn't, you're a liar and a cheat, I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.''

''I tell you, I killed him with this gun.'' He walked over to a cabinet and opened the drawer. When he pulled out a Magnum, he pointed it at Andrey. Andrey put his hands up and stood still.

''Bring him over here,'' Sokolov said to the bodyguard. The bodyguard took hold of him and brought him closer to Sokolov. Sokolov hit him in the stomach as hard as he could. Andrey fell to the floor and curled up. ''Lift him up,'' Sokolov ordered. He hit him again in the same place and again Andrey fell. This time, Sokolov began to kick him. On the back, in his face, and on his ribs. The bodyguard cowered away at the sickening noises Andrey was making. When Sokolov was out of breath, he looked at the bodyguard. ''Take him and dump him next to the freeway,'' he said.

*****

Nicki was lying on her bed considering what she should tell her parents. Her cell phone rang.

''Hello, is this Nicki?'' the man said.

''Yes, that's me.''

''My name is Sergeant Jonathon Greaves from the New York Police Department. I was wondering if you could help me.''

''Er....sure I will, if I can, but I haven't done anything wrong.''

''No I'm sure you haven't. It's just we've found a man lying by the side of the freeway, very badly beaten. When we checked his clothing, we found a note with your name on it.'' Nicki put her hand to her mouth. ''It says quote, 'Dear Andrey, I am sorry I have disappointed you. If you ever change your mind, please call me. I will always wait for you,' and then your telephone number.''

''Oh my God, is he dead?'' she asked fearfully.

''No. But he's in intensive care. Who is he?''

''He's a man I met at a restaurant in New York,'' she lied. We had a good time and then a bit of an argument. I liked him, so I left him a note. Can I go and see him?''

''Sure, but I warn you he's a mess.''

*****

Nicki almost screamed when she entered the hospital room where Andrey was lying. A TV hung from the ceiling, and there was a cupboard on wheels to the side of the bed. She didn't want to count how many tubes were sticking into him. There was a machine on a stand that seemed to be measuring his heartbeat and other vital functions.

She took off her coat and pulled up a chair. What had he been doing? Who had done this to him? Will he be angry when he wakes up and sees me? She would have to wait.

After a couple of hours, a nurse came and replaced the drip.

''Is he going to be alright?'' Nicki asked.

''We think so. All his organs are okay, and he hasn't suffered any brain damage. He's got a few broken bones, and he'll need painkillers for sometime, but we're optimistic.'' She looked at Nicki sympathetically. ''Are you his wife?'' She shook her head.

Sometime around eleven pm, he woke up. Nicki was asleep in the chair next to him. When he saw her, he smiled. His mouth was swollen, and he couldn't speak very loudly, but Nicki wasn't in a very deep sleep, and his whisper was enough to wake her.

''Nicki, I'm sorry.''

''No, it's alright. I'm just glad you're alive.''

''Where are my jeans?''

Why does he want his jeans? Surely they should be the least of his worries. ''I don't know.''

His eyes narrowed slightly. ''Please find them.''

Nicki went to find a nurse and when she came back she opened, the beside cabinet and pulled out a plastic bag. When she took out a pair of jeans, she heard him give a sigh of relief. ''Here, the nurse said she'd put them in the cupboard.''

''Great,'' he paused and took in another breath. ''Look inside the left leg.''

''Andrey, why?'' She put her hand up into the leg and felt around. When she pulled her hand out, she was holding a tiny wire with a little box on the end of it. ''What is it?'' she asked.

He didn't answer. ''Now call Mel at the restaurant and tell her to go into my apartment. Under the bed, there is a black box, the size of a cigarette packet. She should bring it here.'' He coughed and winced. ''Tell her to take my wallet from the bedside cabinet and some of my clothes. She should close the restaurant and come here. Tell her to be quick.''

Nicki dialed the restaurant and told Mel what Andrey wanted her to do. While they were waiting for Mel to show up, Andrey took his opportunity.

''I want you, Nicki. I want to be with you and be the father of our child.''

She gasped and fought back the tears. ''Then why didn't you tell me when I came to you? Why did you send me away in such a cruel manner?'' She didn't understand his behavior and she wanted some answers.

''Sokolov. Because of Sokolov. When you told me your were going to try and interview him, I wanted you to know how dangerous it was.'' He gulped some more air before continuing. ''I didn't want him to see you hanging around me. And when you arrived pregnant at the restaurant I had to be cruel and send you away. For your own sake. He's a racist and will kill you if he finds out about our child. Forgive me, but I could see no other way at the time.''

''So you cared for me all along?''

''Yes, very much. I have been thinking about you all the time.''

''Then why didn't you give me some indication. Anything.''

''Because I wanted to do something for you first.''

''What?''

''Wait until Mel get's here.''

They sat and held hands as they waited for Mel. Nicki tried to kiss him on the lips, but the pain was too great. She ended up kissing him on the top of the forehead.

When Mel arrived, she was carrying a bag that was almost bigger than her.

''Did you find the small black box?'' he asked. She nodded and held it up.

''And your wallet and some clothes. Hi Nicki by the way,'' she added.

''Right listen to me, both of you. I've got a house nobody knows about. It's in Montana. I want you both to go there and wait for me. When I get out of here, I'll come to you. You'll be safe there, and if Nicki does her job properly, we'll soon be safe forever.''

Nicki understood the part about going to Montana, not the part about her doing a proper job. “What do you mean?'' she asked.

''Take the black box, open it and listen to the tape inside.''

She took the box from Mel and opened the lid. Inside there was a tiny recorder. She pressed the play button and listened.

''Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?''

''No I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a low life, whore fucker. All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people. You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You're a pussy.''

''I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you. Leave this to me.''

''You're just a show-off. Leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right. You haven't got the balls to kill anybody.''

''I killed Judge Hudson, just like I'm gonna kill you.''

''You didn't, you're a liar and a cheat, I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.''

''I tell you, I killed him with this gun.''

''Bring him over here. Lift him up. Take him and dump him next to the freeway.''

''But how?'' Nicki asked when the tape had stopped.

''That wire in my jeans transmitted the signal to the recorder. I knew if I goaded him, he would give us something. I did it for you, Nicki. If you get this story right, your career will take off like you never expected. It's a very hot story. Take it and use it. The world will think you are the best journalists alive. The murder weapon is a Magnum; he keeps it in a drawer in the sitting room.''

Nicki had no idea what to say.

''Mel give me my wallet.'' He took out a couple of cards. ''Here are two credit cards. Use them to pay for the journey. There is a car in the garage in Montana so you can go and get supplies. Here's the address and the number of the housekeeper.'' He handed Nicki a note.

*****

Nicki and Andrey stood outside the church and applauded as Mel and her new husband, a rancher from Great Falls, Montana came out to cheers and lots of confetti. Nicki bent down to Andrey junior and helped him and his toy elephant onto his father's shoulders.

''Well, Journalist of the Year 2015, what do you think to that. Almost as good as our wedding, wasn't it?'' Andrey senior said.

Nicki nodded and kissed him.

*****

Three weeks later.

''Andrey, where do you want me to hang this?'' Nicki shouted

''What is it?'' he asked.

''The article about Sokolov being sentenced to life in prison.''

''The best place for him is the toilet.”

*****

THE END

The Billionaire’s Secret Love Child – Keke’s Story

A BWWM Billionaire Pregnancy Romance

He was taller than anyone else walking down North Market in Dallas. He was also much leaner. As he looked around, what he saw made him nauseous. Fat blubber America he called it. People with no self-discipline, filling their faces with all sorts of junk. Fat kids munching on fries, and their even fatter parents licking ice cream. It'd do them all good to be sent to a desert island and left to starve for a few months, he thought.

When he reached Wild Bills Western Store, he stopped and looked at his watch. He was a little early. He liked Wild Bill's. It was a throw back to the days when Americans were tough. When they wore cowboy boots and stetsons and ordered people to do things while holding a gun to their head. Not like the politically correct, soft, I know my rights kind of society that had emerged in the last decade.

He looked at his reflection in the window. He'd been looking at the same face for fifty-two years, and nothing much had changed. It was still thin, and his blue eyes had the same steely determination they had always had. Only now he was more careful. When he was younger, he'd been carefree, and the cops had almost caught him a couple of times. He couldn't recall how many people he'd killed, and it didn't matter to him, but he'd learned that eliminating people was a serious business and needed to be done with the utmost care and precision.

Late, he thought. Tardy bitches, he didn't care for them. If they were slovenly enough to be late to such an appointment, they usually had blabber mouths. Two minutes and she can go to hell, he decided.

Just as a man and his wife walked out of Wild Bill's with a new pair of boots, he spotted her. He didn't have to be told it was her. He knew. They all looked the same. Trophy wives. Same body shape, same hairdo and same pretty face. Come to that, he thought, they all had the same personalities. None of them had done well at school, none of them had a career or built their own identity, and all of them were spoilt brats who thought the world owed them a living.

''Are you Steve,'' she asked. He detected a tremor in her voice.

''Follow me.''

As she struggled to keep up with him, he laughed to himself. She was just like all the others. If there were a quiz show called 'Guess who wants to murder their fiancee,' he'd win it, he thought. They reached a small alleyway that ran adjacent to Wild Bill's. He pulled her into it.

She gasped as he held her against the wall. ''Now listen to me. On the phone, you told me you want me to do a job for you. I can do that job. But it requires three things of you, all of which must be strictly adhered to. If you fail to do so, I will kill you and leave your fiancee alone. Do you understand?'' She nodded. Maybe she'd gotten herself into more than she could handle, she thought.

When he let go of her, she rubbed her upper arm. His grip had been vice- like, and her arm had gone numb. ''Now tell me, slowly, what do you want?''

Britney composed herself as he watched her. All the same, he reminded himself. Brunette, five feet six, brown eyes, pretty face, anemic and neurotic. ''As I indicated when we spoke, I want you to kill my fiancee, as soon as we have signed the insurance papers. I'll tell you when.''

''Why do you want him killed?'' He looked round as a car drove past the end of the alleyway. It wasn't a cop car.

''I don't love him, in fact, I hate him, he's an alcoholic. I'm virtually forced to marry him, and I don't want to. He's rich and well insured, so I'll get a nice payout and be able to live a life of luxury.''

The same old reason as well, he thought. Greed. The bitch probably never got off his case, nagging and moaning him all the way to the bottle. Not being satisfied with ruining his life on earth, now she wanted the poor sod dead too. Not that he cared, money was money.

''The three things: First, you don't talk to anyone about this. If you tell a single soul, I will shoot you.'' Britney nodded, her eyes wide open and her bladder on the point of exploding in fear. ''Second, fifty grand up front, no negotiation.'' Again she nodded. That was the easy part she thought. ''Third: details, lots of details. Name, address, place of work, the time he comes home and the time he goes to work. Also a list of places he frequents regularly, and a list of his family members, friends and business colleagues.''

Britney hadn't expected him to be so frightening. A head taller than her and dressed solely in black he cut a very eerie figure. When she gave it a bit more thought, she realized he ought to be frightening, he was an assassin.

''Now you have met me, you are bound to continue with the plan. No going back. I told you on the phone, if we meet you are bound. Do you understand?'' She nodded again. ''Remember if you don't deliver what I have asked for, it is you who will die.''

*****

Keke Miller looked through the window at the man getting out of the red Ferrari. Not bad, she thought.

''I wouldn't mind a piece of that,'' the waitress said as she poured Keke's coffee. ''We don't often get guys like him around here.''

Keke nodded in agreement as her eyes followed the tall, well-dressed man from his car to the door. The waitress walked back to the counter and Keke dropped a lump of sugar into her drink. Jesus, when will I stop doing that, she thought. ''Next time, take the sugar away from the table, Jessie. My ass is fat enough as it is,'' she shouted.

''You've got a complex, there's nothing wrong with your ass,'' the waitress shouted back.

Keke kept her eyes on the man as he walked to the counter, and spoke to the waitress. ''Over there,'' the waitress said, pointing at Keke. Keke sat upright on the red seat and curiously watched as he walked towards her.

''Hi, are you Keke Miller?'' he asked.

Keke looked at him. He wasn't the usual type of man that came to her for advice. ''Yes, that's me.''

''I'm Dan Stephenson, I called into your office a few minutes ago. Your secretary told me you could be found here most lunchtimes.''

Darn woman, Keke thought. How often had she told Janice that she wasn't to be disturbed at lunchtime? ''Sure. Well, you've found me. Take a seat and tell me what I can do for you.''

Dan sat down on the other side of the booth and pushed the unused cutlery to one side. Beautiful woman, not at all like the stereotypical private detective, he thought. Since when were they young, black and attractive? ''You're not what I was expecting,'' he said.

''Really? And what were you expecting?,'' Keke said, leaning forward.

''I don't know. Most private detectives are white, middle-aged and fat. They are in the movies anyhow.'' Then, at least, he doesn't think I'm fat, Keke thought. ''I need someone to watch my fiancee,'' he continued.

Keke raised her eyebrows and leaned back again. ''Why?''

''Er.. I...don't really know I.....''

Keke looked at him and ticked off his features against her wish list. Dazzling green eyes, tall, well built, dark hair well cut, white smile, beautiful honest-looking face, no designer stubble and about her twenty-five, her age. Perfect. ''Dan, if you don't know why you're asking me to investigate your fiancee, how do you expect me to be able to help you?''

Dan felt embarrassed. The beautiful woman opposite him with the seductive lips and sexy smile had pointed out a flaw in his presentation of the problem. Lack of preparation, he usually did a much better job in his business, so why not now? He wondered

''Yes.. er ... sorry. Perhaps you'll allow me to be more specific?'' He picked up a spoon and threaded it through his fingers as he waited for Keke to nod. ''I have been engaged for around three months. My fiancee and I live together. Since we became engaged, her behavior has changed dramatically.''

Jesus, this man really can't get to the point, Keke noted. ''Dan, let me help you. You think she's screwing someone else, and you want me to check it out.''

''Maybe,'' Dan said as he looked around the diner. When he saw a picture of a tin of Budweiser, he was sorely tempted, but he remembered all to well, what Dr. Needham had told him would happen if he had another drink. '' I don't know whether she's having an affair, but I want her checked out before I settle down and marry her. She won't touch me anymore, and she spends two or three nights a week at a girlfriends house. She's just behaving really weird.''

Keke sighed and looked at her watch. She was anxious not to miss her two o'clock appointment with Mr. Sanderson. He could be really important for her struggling practice, she thought. If Dan were asking her on a date, she'd say yes, without hesitation. But asking her to investigate his woman just because her behavior had suddenly changed, was a much less interesting proposition. ''Dan, you'll have to excuse me. I have an appointment soon, and I need to go. It was nice to meet you.'' Keke nodded to the waitress who brought the check. When she put it on the table, she smiled at Dan and gave him a wink.

''I'm Jessie,'' she said, hopefully.

Dan stood up as Keke left the table and watched her walk towards the door. He'd always been a sucker for a woman in a business suit and black stockings, especially one with such a beautiful behind as hers, he thought. ''My Dad's Ernie Stephenson,'' he shouted after her.

Keke stopped and turned around. ''Ernie Stephenson from ESM, the largest mining company in the world?'' she asked, trying to hide the sudden surge of interest within her.

Dan looked at her and noticed how her breasts fought against the softness of her blouse. ''Er..yes. That's my father.'' Dropping his father's name worked every time, he thought, as Keke began to walk back to him.

''I'm sorry I was a little abrupt,'' she said. ''I really do have an appointment at two, but can you hang on until it's finished? It shouldn't take too long.''

''Okay, then let me give you a ride,'' Dan said.

''I usually walk, it's good for me, but I've never been in a Ferrari so why not.''

When Keke got into the low seat, her skirt rode up, revealing her soft thighs, a fact that didn't escape him.

*****

Dan pulled up outside the office and took a good look at it. The peeling paintwork around the windows and the weeds growing through the surface of the small parking lot led Dan to one conclusion. Keke's business was not flourishing. When she opened the door, he was already round at the passenger side, helping her up. Chivalrous as well as hot, she thought.

''Come with me. It's not much of an office I'm afraid. I've only just started the business. The office needs some renovation work doing.'' Inside it was a scruffy as outside, which surprised Dan because Keke was obviously the kind of person who took great care in her personal appearance. Perhaps it was a lack of money, not a lack of will, he thought.

A man in his middle sixties stood up and shook Keke's hand. ''Dan would you mind sitting here for a while?'' Keke picked up some old magazines from the arm chair and put them on the glass coffee table. Why the hell do I employ a secretary, if I have to do everything myself, she thought.

''Janice, make Mr. Stephenson some tea, please.'' Keke left Dan to the mercy of her secretary and disappeared into the back office with Mr. Sanderson.

''How do you like it?'' Janice asked referring to the tea.

''Milk, no sugar.'' He watched Janice as she got up and skilfully navigated her ample rear end through the gap between her desk and the wall. She walked past him to the kitchenette. The office was a small wooden construction, with white painted paneled wood walls and a V-shaped roof supported by iron trusses. It needed a coat of paint and the linoleum on the floor needed replacing. There was a picture of a tall ship in a storm hanging on the wall behind Janice's desk. The picture reminded him of his life. He was just like a ship in a storm, perhaps a rudderless ship.

Janice brought his tea and almost spilled it on him as she reached over to put it on the glass table. ''Thanks,'' he said. ''How long have you guys been operating?''

Janice put a finger to her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she tried to remember the exact date they opened. ''I think we started in April two years ago.''

''And is there much work for private detectives in Dallas?''

Janice put her head to one side and started to play with her red hair. Stop looking at his bulge, she told herself. ''Most of it is working for men who think their wives are cheating on them. Easy stuff really. Follow her, take a few pictures and send an invoice.''

''And how do you actually become a PD? I mean it's not exactly a mainstream kind of job?''

''I'm just a secretary, but Keke studied criminology at Harvard. She's a bright lady.''

''Does she have a male friend?'' He mentally crossed his fingers and waited for her reply.

'No, she's single.'' Janice felt disappointed. It was she who'd first helped him and sent him to look for Keke. Why was he asking about Keke? What was wrong with her? She tried to look nice everyday, she really did, and it wasn't her fault she'd inherited her grandmother’s pear shaped figure.

When the old man left the office, Keke appeared and showed Dan into her office. It was tiny. There was a laptop on an old dining table and two chairs. In the corner was an aluminum case that he assumed was her photography equipment. There was a picture of a black woman that he'd seen before, but couldn't quite place.

''Madame Tinubu. She was a slave trader who realized the error of her ways and became a scathing opponent of slavery,'' Keke said when she saw him looking at the picture.

''Yes, I remember now. She was Nigerian, and they called her the queen of the ladies. So why exactly do you have her on your wall?''

''Because she's a symbol that you can start life on the wrong foot, but still change your ways and do good. Sorry for the wait. Now where did we get to?'' She sad down and crossed her legs. Dan waited for her as he stared at her them. ''Yes, you want me to check out your fiancee. But you don't know why.''

''Now I've had time, I can explain more fully. It was all a bit of a rush to get here, and then I had to go to the diner so I guess I got thrown off course.'' What he really wanted to say was, when he'd gone into the diner and seen Keke her stunning looks had totally thrown him. ''I am engaged and have been for three months. The wedding is planned in ten weeks.'' Still no further Keke thought as she waited impatiently. ''She is the daughter of my father's chief accountant. You may not find this a plausible reason for you to start an investigation, but I want her checked out because I will have to live with her for the rest of my life and at the moment she is behaving very strangely indeed.''

''Okay, I understand.'' Mr. Sanderson had decided not to invest in Keke's business, and she was now quite desperate for work. Lucky break him coming along she thought, now make the most of it and stop looking at his bulge. ''Then I'll check her out for you.''

''Why the sudden change of heart?''

Keke refrained from saying: because your father is loaded and a potential business partner has turned me down. ''I was a little hasty before, and you obviously need my help, so I will do so.''

''Great. Then tell me what you need to know,'' Dan said relieved.

''Here fill this out.'' Keke handed him a client information sheet that covered just about everything she needed to know. ''Can we discuss fees?'' He nodded. ''Two thousand a day plus expenses,'' Keke said emboldened in the knowledge that his father was one of the richest men in American and that Dan was in all likelihood his heir. He nodded again. Keke smiled and shouted for Janice to come. She appeared and listened. ''When Mr. Stephenson has filled out this form, please draw up a contract for him to sign. The fee is two thousand a day plus expenses.'' Janice looked and was about to say 'how much?' She managed to stop herself when she saw Keke look at her in a 'don't say anything,' kind of way.

*****

Dan put his foot to the floor and felt himself being pressed back in the driver's seat. He loved his Ferrari. Not because it was an eye catcher, and woman after woman wanted to talk to him, but because it was his only chance to let off steam. His way of dealing with stress was flooring it and driving at a speed that made his heart race and his hands cling to the steering wheel in fear.

As he hurtled down the freeway towards his office, he thought about Keke. What the hell was he doing, getting married to Britney when he could have someone like Keke? She was a real woman. She had her own business and was fighting for herself in the big wide world. All Britney had ever done was sponge off him and moan that she was bored. Now she even refused to sleep with him. It had been three weeks since he'd had sex and he was bursting. Was that why he'd found Keke so darn attractive, he wondered. Or, was it simply that she was smoking hot? He realized it was the latter.

He pulled into the parking space marked Mr. Dan Stephenson and looked up. What a difference between this office and Keke's, he thought. Sixty floors of pure glass luxury versus an old hut in need of paint. As he was about to open the door and climb out of the car, it enveloped him. That feeling. Oh no, you're kidding me, he thought.

''Dan, I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?'' His father was sitting at his desk in his office. Dan put his hand over his eyes to protect himself from the stream of sunlight flooding in through the floor to ceiling glass wall and peered at him.

''Dad, sorry, I had a couple of jobs to do. I'm back now. What's happening?''

Ernie Stephenson was sixty-three years old and very tall. He had a full head of gray hair and a tan that showed off his smile. If only he knew how proud of him I am, he thought as he looked at Dan. ''Your mother has been on the phone, non-stop. She must have called twenty times. Something about the wedding. Apparently Britney has been to see her, and they have been looking at seating arrangements. They seem to want your input.''

''Jesus, what the hell does it matter who sits next to who? Throw a list of names into the air and see how they land.''

''I know how you feel son. Weddings are a nightmare. But just bite your tongue. Women love weddings, and you'll get yourself into a lot of hot water if you don't cooperate. Take it from an old hand.''

Ernie found it hard to understand how a man of Dan's age, twenty-six, could have so much business acumen. He himself had done okay, but he'd inherited the business from his father and expanded it gradually. However in the two years since Dan had left college, his suggestions had increased profitability by an amount Ernie had never thought possible. Born to it, he thought. All he had to do now was marry the daughter of his long time friend Jeff, and everything would be perfect. ''Are you alright?'' he asked his son.

''Yer. Just sick of all the wedding stuff. Britney just hasn't been the same since we got engaged. I haven't got a clue where her head is. I can't seem to get through to her.''

''Nerves. She's very young, give her time. We are all very much looking forward to the wedding. She's a great girl. You couldn't have found a more beautiful woman, and she'll make a fantastic wife and mother. Just be patient and don't go around upsetting her. She'll be a great asset to the family.''

What sort of asset? Dan asked himself as he walked to his office. Isn't an asset supposed to be of value and enhance your life? All Britney was doing was driving him away from her. Do you really love her an ugly voice asked him? You don't really do you, admit it, the voice continued. He plonked himself down in the leather chair behind his desk and took a deep breath. He shook his head and blocked all further thoughts of Britney. As soon as he had done so, Keke came into his mind, and the feeling he'd had in the car came back again. ''Oh no, please leave me alone,'' he said.

*****

Not again, Dan thought. He'd know for a long time that worker relations weren't good at the mine in Johannesburg, but they'd had a pay increase, and he'd implemented their suggestions for fair distribution of overtime. Now they were playing with his good nature, and he didn't like that. He'd had enough.

''Listen, George, we employ you to keep the mine profitable, and it is far from that, in fact, it's leaking money like I've never seen before. So here's the deal. I've been more than fair with everyone. You tell them to get back to work by six am tomorrow morning, or I'm closing the mine, and they can all starve. Got it?'' He slammed the phone down and looked out of the window. There it was again. The same feeling he'd had yesterday, twice. Give in to it, a voice said.

Time for rational thought, he told himself. You're engaged to Britney, and if you don't marry her, you will disappoint everyone and probably hurt her beyond repair. So much is clear, he decided. ''Now the hard part,'' he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Why, when you think of the private detective Keke, do you get this incredibly strong feeling you want to rip her clothes off, bed her and live happily ever after with her? Dan opened his eyes and looked at the clouds that weren't far above his office. Two birds flew passed and it came to him.

*****

Keke sat down in the diner and ordered her usual from Jessie. ''Take the sugar away Jessie, it's too tempting.'' As Jessie took the sugar pot away, she shook her head. ''You're crazy. Nobody's got a body like yours, allow yourself, at least, some pleasures in life.''

Keke's cell phone rang. It was Dan. Now there's a pleasure I could really get hooked on, she thought.

''Keke? I would like to talk to you.''

''I'm listening.''

''No, face to face.''

''I'm at the diner if you want to come round.''

''Okay wait for me.''

Keke's fists closed in a little show of triumph. She knew he wasn't coming to discuss business; it was too soon after their initial meeting for him to expect any results from her investigations. After forty minutes Keke saw his car pull up outside the diner. He was wearing jeans and T-shirt, not his suit. Her eyes followed him to the door and up to her table.

Do it, he commanded himself. Don't deny your feelings, to hell with Britney and the rest of them, it's your turn to be happy now. ''Keke get up and follow me.'' Keke wasn't used to being ordered around, but she didn't mind now. ''Come on, what are you waiting for?'' She followed him, trying to keep up, as he walked out of the diner. Once they were clear of the door, he took her hand and led her down the side of the building. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her, hard. He was relieved when she didn't knee him or scratch him. He didn't want her rejection; he wanted her love.

''Kiss me more, I want to feel your lips on mine. Give me more,'' Keke whispered when she thought he was going to pull away. He didn't disappoint her. Dan couldn't remember when he had last been so hard. We can't do it here, he thought. ''Get in my car, we're going for a ride.''

Keke complied without saying a word. She closed her eyes as he drove faster than she liked out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Put your hand on her knee, keep up the momentum, make her really want you, a voice said to him. When he did, Keke put her hand onto his and pulled it from her knee up onto her thigh. Where the hell are you going, he thought. He'd been in such a hurry to get her into his car that he hadn't given much thought to where he was taking her.

When he pulled into the driveway, Keke noticed a white post and rail fence on both sides. Beyond, there were fields filled with horses. Again she closed her eyes as they hit a bump and took off. When the car ground to halt, it scattered tiny stones all over the yard. Keke opened her eyes and saw that hey were at a ranch. Dan had pulled up in the middle of the stable block. Surely our first time isn't going to be in a smelly old stable. She noticed some of the stables were occupied and some not. The horses looked as confused as she was.

''Who does this place belong to?'' she asked.

''It's mine, but I don't live here. Horses are a hobby. The ranch manager lives here. Can you ride a horse?''

''Er....it's been a long time,'' Keke remembered all those Saturday mornings when her mother had forced her to go to the local riding school. Endless circles on bored horses, with a horny riding instructor staring at her backside as it rose and fell.

''Hi Mike. Saddle Domino and Pudsy would you,'' Dan asked his ranch hand. Keke didn't like the sound of Pudsy. It sounded like an obstinate beast that would buck and kick and eventually bolt with her clinging mercifully to its mane.

''Let's get you into some riding things.'' Twenty minutes later Keke emerged from the tack room, dressed in a pair of jeans with leather chaps.''Here, no cowgirl is complete without a hat.'' When she put it on, she laughed, and her face lit up. She's marvelous, he thought.

Pudsy turned out to be Dan's horse. He was a magnificent quarter horse stallion. If your master has muscles like you, I'm in for a treat Keke thought as they lead their horses out of the yard.

''Never mount in the yard. The yard is for grooming, feeding and stabling, not riding.'' Why he was telling her this, she didn't know. ''Let's mount here.'' They'd reached a mounting block with two steps. ''Let me hold Domino while you get on.'' Keke stood on the mounting block and put her leg over her. She half expected the white mare to buckle under the weight, but the trusty steed remained rock solid. When Keke's buttocks touched the saddle, it all came back to her. The endless circles.

''You're good,'' he said trying to encourage her to relax. Keke was already out of breath, and they had only walked two hundred meters. ''Breathe. You're hyperventilating. In....out.'' Keke began to relax. ''Domino is our best horse, you could trust her with your savings.'' Except I haven't got any, Keke thought. They walked for half an hour, and Keke began to really enjoy herself. It was warm and sitting on a horse had given her a sense of freedom and power. The meadows they rode over were filled with wild flowers and the air smelled far better than the choking fumes back in Dallas.

''We're here. Let's dismount and tie them to that tree,'' Dan said. They had stopped next to a beautiful lake. When the horses were gratefully munching the lushest grass they had seen for a long time, Dan took hold of Keke and kissed her. ''I want you, and I have wanted you since we met. You're amazing.''

And what about his fiancee, a voice said to her. She ignored it. Keke was a pragmatic person. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her and she wasn't going to let any thoughts spoil the moment.

Dan took Keke's breath away with his kisses. His lips kept perfect time to hers as their tongues danced with each other. My heads spinning, I need to sit or lie, Keke thought. Without breaking their kiss, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his knees. Before she could join him, however, he put his hands to her buttocks and pulled her groin to his face. When she heard him breathing in the scent of her excitement, she closed her eyes. That's what I want, she thought. I want sexual intimacy and he just proved he can give it to me.

She wanted to kneel with him; her legs were shaking, partly from the horse ride but mostly out of excitement. When she heard him lower her zipper she wondered how because his hands were kneading her buttocks. When she looked, he'd pulled it down with his teeth. My God, another surprise she thought as she thrust her hands into his dark hair. He let go of her to unfasten the button on her jeans. When it was open, he pulled her jeans down and watched as her pink panties came into view. ''Wow, you must have known,'' he said. ''I love black women in pink They look so sexy against your dark skin.'' If I'd known you were going to undress me today, I would have put another a better pair, she thought. She stepped out of her jeans and grabbed his hair again when he pulled the pink panties to one side and planted his tongue onto her.

''Oh Jesus, that's nice. Oh, keep doing that Dan,'' she said, winding his hair into her fists. Dan had no intention of stopping; she tasted wonderful. He loved the feel of her buttocks as his hands stroked over her smooth skin. She tried to take it all in. This wonderful man had his mouth on her womanhood, and his hands all over her ass, and it was too much for her to bear. Her legs began to tremble, and she had to lie down.

She dropped to her knees and then onto her back. Open you legs wide for him, you want this man, let him in, she thought. Dan lay between her legs and resumed his tongue work. Keke felt the grass on her back and his tongue on her womanhood, it was a superb contrast of hot and cold. Oh God, he's going to make me come, she thought as she felt her body begin to stiffen. ''Don't stop,'' she gasped. Dan grunted as Keke inadvertently pulled his hair too hard. She looked down and saw his mouth just below her pubic hair and his beautiful green eyes staring up at her. When their eyes met, it threw her over the top, and she screamed out. Dan held onto to her impressed at the intensity of her orgasm. Her legs straightened, and her toes curled. Her back arched, and her stomach muscles almost cramped under the strain. Dan almost laughed when he noticed how she had disturbed the turf next to her She had gripped it like a bed sheet and ripped it up towards her.

''Let me see you,'' she whispered as Dan came up to kiss her. ''Stand up and take your clothes off.'' Dan stood up and pretended to be a stripper. He gyrated his hips and began to open his shirt, button by slow button. This will take all day, she thought. She sat up and pulled him to her by the leg. He felt her hands at his belt, and in what seemed like an instant, he heard her take a sharp breath as his penis sprung up in front of her face. ''Just how I like it,'' she said looking up at him. ''You're so big and hard.''

When her mouth encircled him, she felt him twitch. His balls were heavy and coarse to the touch and she loved the feel of them. They moved in her hand as his penis disappeared into her mouth. She moved her hand up and down his shaft as her mouth played with the tip of him. When she started to suck, he knew he was in trouble.

''Stop, Keke, stop.'' She didn't want to stop. She wanted to feel him shoot into her mouth. She liked oral sex, and she especially liked the taste of this man. He tasted salty and fresh, and the scent of his arousal was making her wetter than any man had ever done. Dan was strong, and he pushed her from him.

''No I want to come in your pussy the first time.''

''Then come down here and take me,'' she said, lying back and spreading her legs once again. She felt his penis at her entrance and held her breath. When she felt him slide inside her, she let out a little gasp. ''Oh, I love how that feels.'' She arched her back and pushed her pelvis up. ''Now make love to me Dan, make me yours.''

Her words were too much for him, and he felt himself about to come. Think of a brick wall, he told himself. He'd read in some men's magazine that if you are making love to a woman who turns you on so much you are in danger of ejaculating too soon, you should start counting the bricks in an imaginary wall.

Keke felt the urge to hold onto him tightly. His strokes were long and firm, and she moved every time he thrust into her. When he'd settled, he stopped counting bricks and concentrated on the beauty under him. ''Open your shirt, I want to see you breasts,'' he commanded. As she gasped under him, she undid each button and let the shirt fall open. Dan loved the femininity of her pink bra. Her large breasts wobbled each time he pushed into her, and she heard him begin to grunt.

''Give me you sperm Dan. I want to feel you shoot in me.'' Dan couldn't resist anymore. He groaned and stayed stock still as his penis unloaded every last drop into her.

Damn, he thought. Far too fast. That wasn't what I wanted. ''Keke, I'm sorry it was a bit fast, but you turn me on so much I .....''

''Shut up, it was perfect.'' She hugged him and kissed the side of his face. ''You are a lovely man.'' After an age, his penis slid out of her, and he rolled from her. As they looked into each others eyes, they both knew, something special was happening.

''That was great Dan. I.....''

He didn't know what she was going to say but decided he would leave nothing to chance. ''I don't want the woman I'm engaged to. I want you. Just so you know.'' The last thing Dan wanted was Keke to think she was just a fling.

''And I want you.''

''Keke, before we get involved, I want to tell you something about me.''

''You can tell me anything, Dan.''

''I'm an alcoholic.'' I'm only twenty-six and I'm an alcoholic, but I haven't had a drink for three years.'' He looked at her face, desperately looking for any sign of disgust. ''I nearly dropped out of college because of it. I was drunk all day everyday. My father paid for rehab and since then I've been okay. I still get strong urges to drink, and I'm afraid I will fall back into my old habits one day. But so far I seem to be winning.''

It all came back to her. Her father. Two bottles of vodka a day. A mother with black eyes and broken ribs. ''Sorry Dan. It was lovely. I'll do the work for you, but I can't have a relationship with you.''

******

Britney knocked on the door and waited. Where the hell was he? She knocked again, this time, harder. ''Alright I'm coming,'' he shouted.

She was in Shelborne Springs a small town just outside Dallas. Witherington Crescent was a neat little street where the neighbors were friendly, and the lawns well looked after. It was the kind of place where dad washed the car on Saturday morning while mom baked apple pie, and the kids whizzed around on bicycles.

Jason held the door open for her, and she entered the house. Without saying anything he took her hand and climbed the stairs. If the neighbors had been more attentive, they would have noticed the bedroom curtains close.

After they had made love, he rolled his muscle-packed frame from her, leaned down and kissed her. ''You know Britney, you always were the best screw at school and nothing’s changed. You've still got it.''

''And you still full of the same old BS Jason Lopez.''

''How long now? I'm tired of waiting. I need you, babe.''

''I told you. We still need to sign the insurance papers. I've got it covered. Don't worry my darling. We'll soon be sitting on a beach in Grand Cayman.'' She looked at the man she had loved at school but rejected. ''You know I was such a fool to let you all those years ago.''

''If I remember, you didn't have much choice. When your dad sent you to rehab I tried to get in touch with you, but it was impossible. You know we had the world at our feet. We were supplying the whole school; nobody was a rich as us at that time.''

''When I came out of rehab my dad kept me locked up like a prisoner. When he introduced me to Dan, I took the opportunity. I mean it was better than sitting at home, and I hadn't got a clue where you were. You know, Dan's not a bad guy, but he's gotta go.'' When she'd stopped laughing she looked at the tattoos on Jason's body and tried to figure out which one was new. ''I don't know why, but when I orgasm I always seem to need a line afterward,'' she added.

Jason got out of bed and reached into a drawer in the cabinet next to the window. He pulled out a pack of cocaine and handed it to her.

''That's my boy. You always give me what I want.''

*****

Janice looked at her watch. Where was Keke? It was gone ten, and she was never this late. When she heard a car pull up outside, she was relieved. ''My God Keke, you look awful are you alright?''

''Yes, I'll be fine. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather; that's all. Be an angel and make me some tea.''

Janice looked at her quizzically. ''But you never drink tea. How about a nice strong coffee to get you up and running.'' The mention of the word coffee sent Keke rushing to the toilet.

''You're not pregnant are you?'' Janice asked when Keke came back into the room holding a tissue. Keke looked at her. Twenty minutes later Janice was back at the office with a home pregnancy test. Keke went to the bathroom and shortly after Janice heard a scream.

After she had stared at the picture of Madam Tinubu for over an hour and wiped away more tears that she wanted to remember, she picked up the phone.

''Hi Dan, it's Keke.'' Dan was sitting in his office reading an email from Johannesburg in which the union boss had apologized for the inconvenience and instructed his members to return to work forthwith. Just the sound of her voice made all those feelings reappear. But her rejection had been sudden and brutal, and it had hurt him deeply.

''Keke, how's the investigation going? It's only three weeks to the wedding, and I'm getting nervous? Have you found what she's up to yet?'' he blurted the questions out one after another as quickly as he could.

''Dan, I'm....pregnant.''

''Is it mine?'' Jesus Christ, what a horrible thing to say, Dan thought. ''Sorry. I'm just a bit upset after you know..... and I'm shocked.''

''Dan, it's yours, of course, it is.''

There was a long silence. ''Well that's fantastic, really good news. Of course, I'll take care of your every need, and you'll never want for money, I'll make sure of that.'' What Dan wanted to say was: please let's be a family,' but he didn't want anymore hurt.

''Thank you, Dan. I'd hoped you would understand. Raising a child as a single mom won't be easy, so I'm grateful for you support.'' The words single mom made him feel lonely and excluded. ''Let's have a coffee sometime and we can finalize the details.'' Sounds like a bloody business deal, Dan thought. ''You asked me about Britney,'' Keke continued. ''I've been following her, but I've been sick quite a bit, so I've put Janice on the job. The only time Britney went anywhere unlikely, Janice lost her in the traffic somewhere near Shelborne Springs. Do you know anyone there?''

''No.'' Dan's mind was still thinking about the horrific prospect of Keke raising their child without him. ''It's got to be a secret.''

''What has?''

''Your pregnancy. If people find out, my future may be at risk.''

''Okay. I won't tell anyone. Dan? Dan?''

Dan had hung up.

*****

Britney was driving towards Shelborne Springs when her cell rang. ''Hi babe, it's me.''

''Dan.'' How very inconvenient, he never calls me during the day, she thought. And why did he call me babe? ''What's up?''

''Can you meet me in town, I want to talk to you?''

''Sure when?''

''An hour.''

A line of cocaine flashed across her mind. She gripped the steering wheel harder and tried to block the thought, but it was impossible. She needed it and the thought of having to turn back to Dallas and go without was overbearing. Only a few days, keep it together girl, she told herself.

Dan liked Mary's tea room. It was a copy of one of those old fashioned bakers shops, with a tea room at the back. Britney arrived at the same time as the waitress. Dan ordered a pot of tea and scones with cream.

Don't mess it up Britney, told herself as she approached the table. Give him a kiss, make sure he suspects nothing. She flashed a false smile and sat down opposite him.

Dan looked at her. He was right, she really was behaving oddly, and she looked as thought she needed to sleep. Enough now, though, both your parents think she's a great girl, the fun you had when you first started dating will come back, and sure, she's nervous. After all, she's marrying into a dynasty.

''Are you okay?'' she asked. not really caring if the answer was yes or not.

''Fine. Listen I've been a bit aloof lately. I just wanted to tell you I'll help you finalize the wedding. I' haven't been much help so far. I thought it was time I did my bit.''

Did you drag me away from a good screw and a line of cocaine to tell me that you mean son a bitch? she thought. ''Yes great. I'll brief you when we get home.''

''And one more thing. You mentioned the insurance papers. James Ridley will be here in a few minutes. Remember him? The broker from Allinson and Allinson. We'd better get all those boring little details sorted before the wedding. You never know, I might walk under a bus, and you'd be destitute otherwise.''

Britney beamed back at him. Finally, she thought.

*****

Janice yawned as she pulled up, a couple of hundred meters away from Britney's car. Get yourself a new job, she thought. This is boring as hell. She'd spent day after day, sitting in her car, either outside Dan and Britney's house or following her on another shopping trip. The only time she'd left central Dallas was to go to some God forsaken town and then Janice had lost her. Today would be like all the other days, she thought.

When Britney got out of the car, she headed into a clothes shop. Janice followed her at a discrete distance, her hand on the camera in her bag. Keke had told her to keep back and take photos' if Britney met anyone suspicious. Particularly men.

Janice watched as Britney walked around the store. Britney picked up the odd garment and looked at it before replacing it. When Britney looked at her watch and suddenly made for the door, Janice was alert. She followed her outside and across the road to the park. Britney sat down on a park bench, and Janice hid behind a tree. After a couple of minutes, Janice reached for the camera. Britney was talking to a very tall, thin man.

*****

Keke was just about to throw up again when Janice arrived looking hot and sweaty. ''I thought they called it morning sickness because it's supposed to happen in the morning,'' Keke complained. ''I've been ill all day.'' She looked at Janice and noticed her familiar guilty look. ''What's the matter?''

''I've messed up.''

Keke wasn't surprised. ''What?''

''She met a guy.'' Janice slumped into the armchair and looked at Keke, who'd take the secretary's place for the day.

''And?''

''And I tried to take a photo, but the camera.''

''The camera did what?''

''Well, that's the problem. It didn't do anything.''

''Why?''

''I forgot to charge the batteries last evening.''

''Janice, how many time are you going to......'' Keke got up and rushed to the bathroom. In the time she was away, she decided not to fire Janice. For now anyway. She'd give her one more chance. ''Do you, at least, have a description?'' she asked when she returned.

''Yes. Tall and quite thin with a full head of gray, black hair.''

''What was he wearing?''

''All black. Pants and shirt.''

''Shoes, boots, sandals?''

''Ah yes that's the interesting bit,'' Janice remembered. ''Cowboy boots. Very noticeable ones. Black with white flashes.''

Keke opened the window. Janice's car didn't have air conditioning, and she was not going to let Janice drive her car. ''Drive slowly Janice please,'' Keke pleaded. ''I've got six stores on the list. Lets' begin at San Antonio Street and work our way around the downtown area.'' Janice nodded and put her foot down. Keke felt nauseous but managed to hang on.

''One more and we're done. It a very long shot but this is a game of coincidences. You never know what's around the next corner,'' Keke said as Janice pulled up outside Wild Bills. When they went inside Keke whistled to her self. There were more stetsons that she'd ever seen in one place and hundreds of pairs of cowboy boots. When Janice yelled, Keke jumped in shock.

''These. These here.'' Janice held up a pair of black cowboy boots with white flashes.

''Are you sure?''

''Yes. One hundred percent.''

Keke took the boots off her and walked to the sales counter, where a young man was unpacking shirts. ''Are you okay?'' he asked her. ''You look very hot?'' His observation was confirmed when a trickle of sweat dropped from her forehead and landed on the counter. He disappeared and came back with a glass of ice water and a clean towel.

''My word, you are one considerate man. You'll make someone a great husband one day,'' Keke said, wiping her face in the soft towel.

“'I'm already married,'' he said proudly. ''To Martha.''

Doesn't look old enough, Keke thought. ''And what's it like being married?''

''Wonderful. I love her so much; everyday is a fantastic experience. When I get home and see her, it's....it's like having the best Christmas present you could ever wish for, everyday.''

''Do you remember if a tall, thin man, probably dressed in black, bought a pair of these boots from your store.''

''That sounds like Steve. He's a good customer here.''

''Do you know where he lives?'' Keke wasn't hopeful.

''No but I can tell him you want to speak to him if you like. He's got some boots here for repair. I'll give him your number when he comes to collect them.''

''No it's okay. Don't worry.''

Keke sat in her office and thought about what the young man had said in Wild Bill's. He can't have been more than nineteen, yet he spoke with so much passion about the woman he loved. She looked at Madam Tinubu and felt racked with guilt and horror at what she had done. ''Okay, okay, I'm going to. Don't look at me like that,'' she said.

''Janice? Can you come here, please.'' When Janice appeared, she looked pleased with herself. Keke didn't know why. ''I want you to park yourself outside Wild Bill's everyday until you see that man appear. When you see him, I want you to follow him and find out where he lives. When you've done that I'll take over.''

''All day, everyday?'' Janice asked, horrified.

''Do you want to keep your job, Janice?'' Janice nodded. ''Well, in that case, do what I ask you. You know I've been very good to you, you should try to remember that.''

*****

I need to pee, Janice thought. She got out of the car and went into the alleyway next to Wild Bill's. She'd managed to pee there everyday for the last three days without being seen.

Janice didn't see the man, but she felt the slap across her face. ''Why are you looking for me? Who are you? Tell me or by God I'll stick this piece of steel into you.''

Janice stood with her jeans halfway down her thighs and whimpered. It was indeed the same man that she'd seen with Britney. ''Sorry, but I'm not following you,'' she said as she rubbed the place he had slapped her. ''I just came in here to pee. If it's......''

''Who are you? Last time I'm asking?''

''Janice.''

''You've been sitting in your car for three days and asking about me in Wild Bills. Why?''

Keke had told Janice that the last thing you do is reveal you clients name. In fact, Keke had told her that you die before you do so. ''It's to do with Britney.''

''I don't know anybody called Britney.''

Janice assumed he was having an affair with Britney. “Yes, you do. I saw you together. I'm a friend of hers,'' she lied.

''You're one step away from being murdered so tell me the truth. Why are you following me?''

''I told you. I'm a friend of hers, and she told me about you. She wasn't sure she could trust you, so she asked me to keep an eye on you.''

He didn't want another victim on his hands, especially one that he would have to kill on the spur of the moment. She also looked like the kind of woman who would go away and keep quiet if he threatened her hard enough. ''Piss off and leave me alone. If I ever see you again, I will murder you in the most savage manner possible.'' He let go of her and walked away. Janice collapsed onto the ground and forgot she needed to pee.

*****

When Jessie saw Keke pull up outside the diner, she went to the table and took away the sugar. ''The usual Keke?''

''No, can you bring me a plate of ice cream and some chopped onions.''

''What?''

''Ice cream and a plate of chopped onions.'' I hope the father is the nice looking guy in the Ferrari, Jessie thought.

When Dan arrived, he was wearing an Armani suit and open white shirt. As he walked towards her, Keke cleared her throat nervously. Without saying anything, he handed her an envelope. She opened it and gasped. ''No Dan, not like this.'' She handed the paper back to him.

''Then how?'' he asked. She looked at him and noticed how weary he looked. She took his hand, but he pulled it away.

''When I called you and asked you to come and see me, I wanted to talk to you about a couple of things. First, Britney.'' What does it matter now, he thought.

''We have witnessed Britney meeting a man in a park downtown. Janice was following him. He caught her and shook her up quite badly. He's up to no good.'' Dan looked confused when Jessie arrived with the strange mixture of foods. ''We can't say whether it's an affair or not, but she met a man. I need a bit more time to get to the bottom of it, but I think you, at least, have a case for postponing the wedding until we find out more.''

''I have decided to go ahead with the marriage.'' It could have been so different, he thought. When he sighed, Keke took hold of his hand again. Again he tried to pull back, but she held onto him desperately. ''What do you want, Keke?'' he said, almost angrily.

''I don't want a check for three million dollars, that's for sure. I understand when you came here, you came prepared to support me, but that's not the way I want it.''

''Jesus, how do you want it?'' he said no less angrily. ''It seems to me, you want it all your own way. You dumped me, now I'm offering you financial security for the rest of you life to look after you and the baby, and you throw it back at me. I don't understand.''

''Because I have made a terrible mistake,'' she said, tears in her eyes. ''I love you so much, and I am so sorry for what I did to you. I was hasty and didn't think it through properly. I just reacted on the spur of the moment to a problem that I've known before in my life. I have every faith in you, and I want you and me to bring our child up together, under the same roof, and in the same bed. ''Keke pulled him over the table and kissed him. ''What do you say?'' She looked at him as his expression changed. The tiredness in his face went, and the sparkle in his eyes returned.

''Do you know how hard it has been, thinking I would have to live my life without you. Without seeing my child every day? Of course, the answer is yes.''

Jessie watched as Dan stood up, walked to Keke's side of the table and got onto one knee. When she saw Keke nod, she broke out into applause.

*****

Britney got out of the car outside Jason's house. In her bag was ten kilos of the best cocaine money could buy.

''I warned you, if you talked, you would die instead of your fiancee. Those are my rules,'' Steve said as Britney appeared in the middle of the cross hairs of his long-range assassins rifle.

****

THE END

The Sexy Billionaire Daddy – A BWWM Pregnancy Billionaire Romance

1

Viola Turner couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was going to be late for work, but she couldn’t move from the doorway to her bedroom. She was in her small one bedroom apartment, half dressed. She wore her black skirt that was a part of her uniform, but the white shirt hung over her shoulder. Her toothbrush was in her mouth, and white foam leaked from the corner of her lips, contrasting with her dark chocolate colored skin. She had been multitasking when her boyfriend, Jerome, had decided to break up with her.

“Are you kidding me?” Viola asked.

Jerome was tall, but he was slumped down, sitting on the edge of her bed, looking at the floor. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t joke.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“I just don’t think it’s going anywhere, Vi.”

“Don’t call me Vi. People who are breaking up with me don’t get to call me Vi. It’s Viola. Or Miss. Turner, for you. Yeah, Miss Turner is fine.”

Jerome sighed and stood up. He still didn’t look at her, he stared at the back of his hands instead, which he held up under his chin, as if he had never noticed them before.

“Look at me,” Viola said.

Jerome did.

“What happened?”

“It just isn’t working.”

“You aren’t working. I’ve been paying for everything while you keep screwing up job interviews.”

“I knew you’d bring that up,” Jerome said, sighing.

Viola rolled her eyes. “Just get out, I have to go to work.”

“Get out?” Jerome asked. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“You thought you would break up with me, and then stay here? Jerome, get real. Get your stuff packed up, be gone before I get off tonight.”

“Fine,” Jerome said, and Viola didn’t waste another second on the man. She turned and headed for the bathroom, so she could finish brushing her teeth.

Viola worked downtown, at a restaurant called Vine, which was very posh, and very expensive. Viola would have never been able to eat there if she didn’t work there. The clientele was some of the most powerful and richest men and women in New York, and it was a rare week that Viola didn’t serve a famous actor or musician.

She lived in Brooklyn, and caught the bus to Manhattan, leaving her apartment without a word to her now ex-boyfriend. On the bus, she sat and seethed, trying to keep her anger in check, but failing to do so. As she neared work, she tried not to think of Jerome at all, but that was nearly impossible as well.

She and Jerome had been dating for almost two years, and she had begun to wonder if he was the man she would be spending the rest of her life with. When they had started dating he had been working at a good job and had been making much more than she did with her waitressing work. And then he had been laid off, and since then, nothing.

It was just before two when the bus pulled to a stop a block or so from Vine, and Viola climbed off and started walking. It was Saturday, and a few people were there as she walked in, having a late lunch, but it wouldn’t get busy until around seven or so. Most days of the week you couldn’t get in for dinner without a reservation, and you couldn’t get a reservation unless you had a certain reputation or enough money to grease the palms of the maitre d’s and get yourself that reputation.

The restaurant was sparsely furnished, with small tables and delicate looking chairs, the pain on the wall a soft cream color. Viola walked through the front door and to the back, something that her boss hated, but not enough to deter her from doing so and walking all the way around the block to reach the alley that ran behind the restaurant, and led to the employee entrance.

“Come on Vi,” Stephen, her boss said.

“Sorry, Stevie,” Viola said with a smile. The old man was sitting on a stool in the small area that lay between the large state of the art kitchen and the dining room. He was short, with big ears and a bald head. He wore glasses as thick as any Viola had ever seen, and they made his eyes look gigantic.

“You’re late too,” Stephen said.

“I don’t drive the bus,” Viola retorted. She went to the far wall, where a few lockers sat, and stashed her purse in hers before shutting the door. Then she went and clocked in before heading to the dining room.

The first part of her day passed slowly, as she busied herself with the work wait staff so often did when there weren’t many customers. Vine was a popular spot, but it had a reputation for being cool, and cool people simply didn’t show up to anything until the Sun had fallen from the sky.

Finally, the light outside indeed dimmed, and the dining room began filling up. Viola was offloading a few plates to one of her tables when she glanced at the door and smiled. There stood James Denning, one of her favorite customers. He was a bit older than her twenty-three, by a decade at least, and he always requested that she be his waitress whenever he came. She knew it was because he liked staring at her curvaceous body, but the man was friendly and funny, and he tipped incredibly well. She could deal with the stares and the flirting. Besides, he was rather attractive himself. He was white, with a strong jaw and sandy blonde hair that he always kept short, and it looked as though he got a haircut every couple of days.

James was the CEO of a company that owned and operated some of the most popular websites in the world. He always had his phone out, texting people, responding to emails, but when Viola would swing by his table to check on him he would set his phone down, and all of his attention would be on her. It embarrassed Viola a bit, but it excited her at the same time. She knew he wanted her. It was obvious, the way he would speak to her, the way he would flirt. His eyes traveled up and down her body, and he didn’t attempt to hide it. He was a powerful man, and she knew he was used to getting what he wanted. The fact that she had never accepted one of his invitations to go somewhere with him drove him wild, and she could tell.

Viola waited until he was seated, which of course he was without having to wait in line, and then she made her way over to his table. He was sitting with another man, an older man with silver hair and a pointed chin.

James looked towards the black woman and smiled.

“Vi,” he said. “I’m glad you’re working tonight.”

“I bet you are,” Violet said teasingly. She stood at the man’s elbow, and she watched as his eyes flashed downwards to her exposed thighs. He might as well have licked his lips; the desire on his face was unmistakable.

“This is Frank Geller,” James said, introducing the other man. Frank shook her hand.

“I own Meet a Lover dot com, and this swindler is trying to get me to part with it.”

Viola smiled and nodded. Rich people always loved talking about their business; it was as if they needed everyone to know exactly how and why they were rich. Still, they tipped her well, so she feigned interest.

The night wore on, and the restaurant continued to seat as many people as they could. James and Frank stayed for a long while, having a few drinks before they ordered food, and then taking their time and discussing business over steaming cups of coffee after they had eaten.

Near ten, they rose to leave, and Viola went to the table to get the check. James reached out as she did, and he took her hand in his.

“You alright tonight?” he asked her, looking into her eyes.

Viola nodded softly. She was looking at the man, really looking at him, and she realized just how handsome he was. She had never been with a white man before, but she certainly wouldn’t mind if he were her first. If he had any slight blemish on his looks, it was the fact that his nose looked just a bit crooked, but it actually suited him somewhat.

“My boyfriend broke up with me tonight,” Viola blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Well, I don’t know the guy, but I’m going to guess that he’s an idiot,” James said with an easy grin.

“He is,” Viola agreed, and she laughed, but she felt a stinging pain in her eyes as tears formed there.

“What time do you get off tonight?” James asked her, still holding her hand.

“Soon. Around midnight.”

“Perfect,” James said, nodding as though it made sense to her.

“Perfect for what?” she asked tentatively.

“I’ll pick you up. We’ll go to The Ice Room.”

The Ice Room was a very popular, and very elite night club in New York. Tables cost fifteen thousand dollars to reserve, and that was before you even ordered a drink. Viola had never been there, and she didn’t think she ever would go.

“I can’t. I don’t have anything to wear,” Viola said.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll bring something when I pick you up.”

Viola opened her mouth to tell the man no, as she always did when he asked her out, but when she spoke another word came out instead. “Okay,” she said.

James grinned, a wide smile where his lips pulled apart and showed off his sparkling white teeth. “Great,” he said. “Out front, midnight, alright?”

“Okay,” Viola said, unsure of what she had just gotten herself into. James bent and pressed his lips to her cheeks, and then he turned and left with Frank. Viola watched him go.

2

It was ten after midnight when Viola finally left the restaurant, heading out with her co-workers through the front door, before Stephen turned and locked the door behind everyone. There was a long stretch limo parked in front of the restaurant, pulled to the curb.

“Who is that for?” a waitress named Mary asked.

“The President?” Joey, a cook, joked.

The back door of the limo opened, and James climbed out.

“Me,” Viola murmured, and then she stepped forward towards the limo.

“Shall we?” James asked, holding the door open for her, and Viola nodded, ducking her head and climbing into the expensive car.

“Do you always ride in one of these?” Viola asked as James settled himself behind her and shut the door. He laughed.

“Only when I’m trying to impress a pretty woman.”

“So all the time then?”

James laughed again. “You think you have me pegged, I know that, but I bet I end up surprising you,” he said to the younger black woman.

“This is amazing,” Viola said, looking around.

“Champagne?” James asked, and he pulled a bottle from an ice bucket and poured two glasses when she nodded yes. He held one out to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Oh, here, I picked this out for you,” James said, turning and grabbing a nearby bag, and holding it out to Viola. She took it and pulled out a slinky and sexy dress. “For the club,”

Viola took the dress and held it in front of her eyes. It was black and tiny, and wouldn’t leave much to the imagination. She was already wearing black heels, so that wouldn’t be a problem, but she had never worn a dress like that, despite being rather comfortable in her body.

She knew men found her attractive, and she worked hard to keep in shape. She went to the gym, she ate right. She was on the shorter side, but a lot of men preferred that. Her hips were rounded, her butt big, but toned. She had large breasts and kept her black hair short and straight, working hard against its natural state.

“Where’s the rest of it?” Viola joked.

James grinned. “You’ll look great.”

“Yeah yeah, look out the window while I change,” Viola said, and the older man did just that. She shimmied and shook our of her skirt and shirt, dealing with the awkwardness of changing in a car, though being in a limo certainly helped with space. She pulled the new dress over her head and realized her bra was showing, so she took that off. When she pulled the dress down, the material slid over her dark brown nipples, hardening them. She had kept an eye on James as she changed, seeing if he would peek, but surprisingly he didn’t. Viola was surprised to find she was a little disappointed by that.

When she tapped him on the shoulder, he turned and gaped, and she felt a little better. His eyes were drawn to her ample cleavage, and she knew he was looking at her rosebud nipples, hard and pressing against the thin material of the dress.

“Holy shit,” he said, and left it at that. Viola smiled. James was dressed for the club, out of his usual suit and wearing a button up shirt that was no doubt more expensive than Jerome’s whole wardrobe had been. She thought of her ex for the first time that night since the rush had begun at work. She had been too busy to dwell on the breakup when Vine had been packed, but now it hit her again, and she felt herself growing sad and angry. She shoved the emotions from her mind as the limo pulled in front of The Ice Club.

They walked right in the door, James taking her hand and leading her in. A large line of well-dressed men and women groaned, standing outside of the club with no guarantee they would be let in. James shook hands with the doorman, and Viola was almost sure he had been palming some amount of money and passed it to the man. It was true what they said: money makes the world go ‘round.

Inside the club was decorated to its namesake. Plush couches and chairs were in white, and tables in a soft blue. The bar along the back of the club was see through, hazy though, like ice. There was a dance floor, with a stage and a DJ. Loud music was playing through the speakers. The space wasn’t that large, which only helped grow the exclusive reputation the club had, and it was quite busy. James led Viola to a table near the back, which had been roped off with a sign saying reserved. A waitress in a sexy white uniform hurried over and removed the rope, and then took their drink orders.

Viola had no idea what to order, so she allowed James to order for her. She was impressed by everything. Getting into the club, having his own table, it was all a great display of his wealth, and though Viola had always thought she was above that sort of thing, she decidedly wasn’t.

They drank and danced for hours, and then the club was shutting down and they went back outside. The limo wasn’t there, but it pulled up to the curb in front of them within seconds, and they climbed in. Viola’s head was swimming due to the alcohol, and she leaned against the far door and closed her eyes for a moment. And then James was there, sliding close to her, his hand on her bare thigh. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She thought he was going to say something, but instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She parted her own lips, and their tongues met, dancing together. His hand moved up her leg, pushing the already skirt higher. He broke the kiss.

“Come back to my place,” he said. It wasn’t much of a question, it sounded more like a demand. Viola thought of her own home for a moment. She wondered if Jerome had really gotten out that night. She blinked away the thoughts and focused on James.

“Okay,” she said.

3

James lived on the top floor of a massive skyscraper. Viola didn’t know if the whole building was nothing but lavish apartments, but there had been a doorman in an expensive looking suit, and the lobby had one massive wall filled with mail slots, each with a different apartment number on the little door.

They rode for a long time in an elevator, and James had her pushed against the wall while it rose, his lips on her neck. He kissed her there, nipped at her. She wrapped her arms around him. There was a soft ding, and they left the elevator and found themselves in a short hall, with only one door, straight across from them.

“Is your apartment the whole floor?” Viola asked.

“Yeah,” James said, sounding as though he wasn’t trying to impress her. He unlocked his door, and they went inside.

The apartment was spacious, and the views were incredible, but Viola wouldn’t have the time to appreciate them until the next morning.

They were all over each other as soon as James kicked the front door closed with his foot. Viola kicked off her heels, and then stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. She put one arm around his strong body, the other behind his head so her fingers could slide through his hair. He took her by the hips, his fingers powerful there, holding her. Their bodies pressed together, and Viola could feel the heat. She could also feel his cock, hard and pressing against her stomach through his pants.

He lifted her up then, and she wrapped her legs around him as they continued to kiss, and he carried her into the living room. It was furnished much like her own living room, a couch, a chair, a television, but everything was, at least, five times more expensive. Standing over the couch James pushed on her hips, and she fell back, landing on the sofa and grinning up at him.

“How long have you been wanting to do this?” she asked.

“A long time,” James answered as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off.

“You ever fucked a black chick?” Viola asked, and the man shook his head.

“You ever been fucked by a white guy?” James asked, and it was Viola’s turn to shake her head. He grinned and knelt down by the couch, using his hands to push the short dress up over her hips, exposing her black lace thong. “A white guy ever eat your pussy?” he asked, and then before waiting for a response, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh. He nibbled there, plucking at her tender flesh with his perfect teeth.

He ran a finger along her slit, through the lace material of her panties, and then he hooked his finger around the crotch of her thong and pulled it to the side. He pushed his head in nearer to her and ran his tongue along her. She was wet, and he tasted her, lapping up her steamy juices. Viola groaned and leaned her head back. The tip of his tongue felt like bliss as it found the small knot of her clit, and sent waves of pleasure through her body. James was good, and it wasn’t long before she felt herself nearing orgasm, and then without warning she was coming, moaning aloud as a wave of pleasure built in her loins and then unleashed, spreading through her crotch and up into the pit of her stomach. James kept his tongue on her, his face buried between her legs until she was done, and then he leaned back and smiled in the soft light. Her juices made his skin slick around his mouth, but Viola didn’t protest when he grabbed her and pulled her upright on the couch so he could kiss her. She tasted him, she tasted herself, and she knew the night was just beginning.

Into the bedroom they went, and she sat on the edge of his massive bed as he opened the fly of his pants and pulled his throbbing cock out. She leaned forward, taking it into her mouth eagerly. He put both hands on her head and began to guide her. He had been loving, gentle, as he ate her out, but now he was fucking her mouth, his rigid member sliding in and out along her soft, plump lips. He pulled her toward him, burying his shaft into the back of her throat. He was large, his cock thick, and she was gagging, her eyes tearing up. Then he released her, and she pulled off of his cock, fighting to catch her breath. As she did so, he reached down and pulled her up. His hands ripped the front of the sexy little black dress down, exposing her large breasts.

He dipped his head and took a nipple into his mouth, biting it softly. His hand was on her other breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Viola tilted her head back and moaned, and then she was moving again, James’ hands upon her, pushing her into position. He shoved her towards the bed, and then grabbed her hips and turned her over. She began to rise up onto her hands and knees, but he pushed her down with a grunt, so she lay flat. He lowered himself upon her, reaching down and sliding his cock inside of her. She was used to doggystyle, most men she dated or fucked enjoyed it since her ass was one of those asses, big and plump but firm, and most men liked grabbing it, or slapping it, or both. But she had never laid completely down on her stomach before, and she was worried he wouldn’t be able to get inside her at that odd angle, but he did. She kept her legs spread, and her fingers gripped his sheets, her knuckles turning white as her fists tightened with each thrust.

He leaned forward, his body resting against hers, pushing her down. She felt submissive, she felt used, and she liked it. He had taken care of her first after all, and now it was his turn, and she was happy to oblige. Besides, as he fucked her she felt the heat returning to her loins, and she came again before he had his chance. She yelled aloud, and he pressed his hand to her head, gripping her hair and pulling it roughly as she came. Within seconds of her orgasm, it was his turn, and his cock jumped inside her as he came, spraying his hot seed deep into her pussy.

“Fuck,” James said, as he pulled his slick dick out of her wet snatch, and she laughed and nodded. It had been a while since she felt so used, and she was hoping he would be up to using her again later that night.

It turned out he was, and he used her three more times before the Sun rose. She went home the next morning, early on Sunday. The limo wasn’t around, but James called a taxi for her, already paid with his credit card over the phone. They exchanged numbers, but Viola was half convinced it was going to be a one-time thing, and she was alright with that.

When she got home, she was pleasantly surprised to return to an empty home. Jerome was gone, along with most of his belongings. Viola showered and then took a nap. She hadn’t slept much the previous night. She was off on Sundays, and she slept until the late afternoon. When she woke up, Viola made a quick meal of a sandwich, and sat on her couch, flicking the TV on with the remote. She pulled her laptop onto her lap and opened it. She browsed through some emails and then opened Facebook.

Viola was surprised to see she had a friend request, and, even more, surprised when she saw who it was from. She recognized the picture. He was older than she was but a bit younger than James. He was a good looking man with dark hair and dark eyes, with trendy glasses and a beard. His name was Martin Alven, and she recognized him, but couldn’t remember where. She accepted the friend request anyways, and then googled the name.

She realized why she recognized the man. He owned MAA, one of the largest record labels in the country. It was, of course, headquartered in New York.

But then a memory flashed through her brain, and she realized he seemed familiar for another reason to. Viola had met him, the night before, at the club. It was hazy, but she remembered he had been hitting on her, right in front of James. She was pulled out of the memory by a small chime, and there was a new message for her on Facebook. It was from Martin.

He wanted to know if she wanted to go out to dinner with him on Wednesday, but she worked then, and she replied with that.

How about tonight then? he asked through Facebook, and Viola waited for a moment, thinking. She had been on a date with a billionaire the night before and ended up at his lavish apartment, where he fucked her all night. Now another white billionaire was asking her to dinner. The day before, her jobless boyfriend of two years had broken up with her, and rebounding was the furthest thing from her mind. Still, you only live once, so she told Martin she would go with him.

He told her he would pick her up at four, since it was a bit of a drive, and Viola went to get ready. She dressed in her nicest dress, unsure of where exactly they would be going. She had given him her address, a little self-conscious about that, and at four, she was out in front of her building. With a roar, a red sports car entered the parking lot, the top down, a smiling Martin behind the wheel. He was tall and thin, with an angular body. He waited for her to get in, and then reached for her hand, took it, and kissed it. Viola smiled.

“I thought you were with James, but I had to ask you out. You are enchanting,” Martin said.

“You know James?”

“We run into each other,” Martin said, and then, as he pulled out of the parking lot, he laughed. “I don’t think he likes me much.”

“Maybe it’s because you hit on the girls he goes out with.”

“You guys are going out? Because here you are in my car.”

“Not out out,” Viola clarified. “He just took me out last night.”

“You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?” Martin asked as they drove, away from the city. Viola thought back to looking out the windows at James’ place and shook her head.

“Not really,” she said.

“Good,” Martin said, and just outside of the city they pulled into the parking lot of a non-descript brown building. As Martin pulled behind it, Viola saw that they were at a small airfield. A helicopter sat behind the building on a miniscule tarmac. A pilot was checking something at the front of the helicopter.

“Is this your helicopter?” Viola asked, suddenly realizing why he wanted to know if she was afraid of heights. She thought perhaps he was going to take her to a restaurant that sat at the top of a building, she had no idea he was flying her somewhere.

“Yeah,” Martin said, and he didn’t seem embarrassed about his wealth, the way James had. “One of the first things I bought when I got the money,” he added. “You ever been in one?”

“No,” Viola said.

“It’s a blast,” Martin said, and with ten minutes they were in the sky, and Viola had to agree, it was pretty fun. The helicopter rose and fell with wind drafts, and the ground whipped by beneath them. They flew for a little over an hour, and then they were setting down near the coast. A car was waiting for them there, not a limo, but a very nice sedan. There was no driver.

“I’m sure James had a limo for you,” Martin said, looking to the black woman slyly.

Viola laughed and nodded.

“I like to do my own driving,” Martin said, and he climbed behind the wheel. It was only a ten-minute drive, and then Martin was parking in a small lot, sparsely populated with other expensive looking cars. The lot was next to a dock, with row after row of massive yachts. Martin led her to one, where a small crew was preparing to launch.

“This is Captain Reynolds,” James said, introducing Viola to a tanned man with a thick Mediterranean accent.

“It’s a pleasure, miss,” Reynolds said, and then he disappeared so he could ready the ship. Martin then led Viola to the deck, where a woman in a crisp white uniform, identical to the rest of the crew, stood waiting by two chairs. Beside her was chilled champagne and a platter of hors devours.

“Welcome, Mr. Alven,” the woman said.

“Thank you, Cindy,” Martin said. “This is Viola Turner.”

“Miss Turner.”

Viola found it strange that Cindy was calling her miss. She was just a waitress, more like Cindy the blonde bimbo than Martin, the billionaire. Cindy couldn't hide her shapely figure under the uniform, and Viola had a feeling that most trips on the boat, trips without a woman present, Cindy would be wearing something different. A bikini perhaps? Nothing?

They drank champagne and munched on things Viola couldn’t even pronounce as the massive yacht left the harbor and headed out to see. It was strange, when Viola thought about it, that she was going out on a boat with a man she didn't even know, but she figured there were enough members of the yacht’s crew milling around that she wouldn’t be murdered. In all, there seemed to be four people besides them, the captain, Cindy, and two young men who were barked at by the captain and rushed around the yacht doing various sea things that Viola didn’t understand.

“What do you do, Viola?” Martin asked her.

“I’m a waitress.”

“Oh? In the city?”

Viola nodded. “Vine.”

“I’ve heard good things,” Martin said. “Never been, though, believe it or not.”

“People seem to love it,” Viola said with a soft shrug of her shoulders. The Sun was hanging high in the air when they eventually stopped, so far from land it was nothing more than a gray line on the horizon, and a ladder was let down.

“Up for a swim before dinner?” Martin asked.

“I didn’t bring a suit,” Viola said.

“Cindy, take her into the cabin to find a suit, will you?” Martin said, and Viola was swept away with the blonde woman with her big fake tits. Soon Viola was outfitted in a white bikini, and then she and Marti were diving off of the boat and into the chilly sea.

They swam for an hour. Then Cindy called them for dinner, so they swam back and climbed up to the boat on a silver ladder.

Dinner was delicious, and it was full of expensive and exotic foods that Viola had never had. When they were done, Cindy cleared the plates away, and Martin and Viola sat at the back of the deck and watched the Sun go down, behind the gray line that was land. They went back in the dark.

When they docked again, Martin told the crew they were done for the night, but he held Viola back.

“Want to come have some coffee in the cabin?” he asked, and Viola grinned. She knew they wouldn’t be having any coffee, and she was somewhat surprised to know she was okay with that.

She took control when they were in the cabin. It was wide and open, with a bed and a small kitchen area. Martin went towards the kitchen, but the young woman caught him by the arm and stopped him. He turned to speak with her, but she was there, still wearing the damp bikini, her nipples already hard, a burning desire in between her legs. She pushed against him and then they were kissing.

When she felt him grow hard against her hip, she dropped to her knees and pulled his swimming trunks down. He sprang out, his cock bobbing in the air as the boat rolled softly on the waves. He was longer than James but thinner, and Viola took him into her mouth eagerly.

Where James was forceful, practically fucking her mouth, Martin was respectful and gentle. His hand went to her hair, his fingers running through it. Her lips were wet, and they slid sensually down his shaft, and then back up. She took him out of her mouth and used her tongue to tease him, running it along his tip, and then down the sensitive underside of his cock.

She gripped his balls lightly in one hand, massaging them as she took him into her mouth once more, and then, when she felt his pleasure was at a maximum, she stopped sucking his cock and stood up.

“Fuck me,” she said, and Martin obliged. They went to the bed, and he fell upon her. His kisses were gentle, almost tentative, and it turned Viola on. She was the one taking charge, and that wasn’t something she was used to. For all his money, and his cockiness in the beginning, Martin seemed a bit unsure of himself. She wondered if it was because, like James, he had never been with a black woman before.

Her top came off, flung to the floor next to the bed, and then Martin was sucking on one of her brown nipples. It made her wet, and she was yearning for the man’s impressively long cock, so she pushed him to the side, onto his back, and then climbed atop him. He was nude, his shorts left by the door where she had sucked his cock, and she slid her bathing suit bottoms down and kicked them over to the top. With one hand she held his rigid member as she guided herself onto it.

“Fuck,” Martin breathed. “You’re so tight,”

She wondered if he was used to fucking Cindy. She seemed like she might be loose. Viola grinned, but she didn’t speak. She just rocked back and forth atop the man, up as she went forward, so his cock slid almost out of her, and then pushing down as she moved back, so it was buried deep within her tight snatch.

His hands explored her body, sliding up and down her side, his fingertips light on her sensitive parts. He played with her tits, squeezing them, feeling her hard nipples pressing against his palms. Fingers rolled her nipples softly between them. Then his hands moved downward, to her hips, helping set a faster rhythm as she rocked on his cock. Then around to her ass, where his long fingers gripped into her skin.

“I’m going to come,” Viola said, just moments before she did. She gasped as he shoved upward, grabbing her hips and burying his cock further into her than anyone had ever gone. Her walls squeezed his shaft as the orgasm tore through her body.

Then it was his turn, and he was emboldened. Martin threw her to the side and then climbed atop and slid into her juicy pussy. He fucked her fast, but was still gentle, planting small kisses along the side of her neck, down over her collarbone, all around her nipple. When he came he didn’t announce it, he just grunted, and she felt his cock jump, and for the second night in a row, a billionaire blew his sticky white load into her brown pussy.

4

Over the next couple of weeks, Viola went on dates with both of the men. It was a blast, a time that she knew she would never forget. James had called her after all, and a couple of weeks after their first date he took her to see the opera, which she had never done. Afterwards, they fucked in the limo, with her riding his cock as they rode around town.

By the time she had gone on her second date with James, she had been on two more with Martin. He had taken her to a concert, where she got to see the show from the side of the stage and meet the group afterwards. That night she blew Martin since he got sidetracked by business, sucking him off and swallowing his cum as he spoke on his cell phone. He made it up to her by taking her to the zoo the next day, and afterwards, they went to his home just outside the city and made love all afternoon. It was soft and sweet, and he came inside of her again.

In the next six months, she fucked and sucked both men, and though sometimes they each came on her, whether it be plastering her face with their sticky sperm, or splashing it on her tits, when they came inside her it was always without a condom. Neither man knew about the other, as far as Viola knew, and at the very least they didn’t ask her about any other men she might be dating.

They both showered her with gifts while showing her a side of life she never thought she would experience. James spoke with a restaurant manager he knew, and Viola left Vine and went to work there, a place called Sharp. It was a big promotion, and Viola found herself in charge of the wait staff, and with enough of a raise to get a better apartment, downtown, close to where she worked.

Martin bought her a new car, and while it wasn’t a sports car like his, it was expensive enough that Viola balked originally. She told the man over and over she couldn’t accept it, but he wouldn’t hear it. Eventually, she simply kept the car.

In the eighth month of dating both men, Viola had a shock. She had been feeling nauseous for days at a time, and she had missed her last period, and still hadn’t had it a week and a half after she was supposed to. Alone at home one night, she took a test, and it came out positive. She was pregnant.

The worst part was she didn’t know who the father was. It could only be Martin or James’. She sat and cried, all through the night. In the morning, she knew what she had to do, and she called James and asked him to meet her at her apartment. He was there after work, and she smiled softly.

“I think we have to break up,” Viola said. The man looked shocked. His eyes went wide for a minute.

“What? Why?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Viola said, instantly regretting it, she knew it sounded bad.

“You cheated on me? I never knew we were official or anything,” James said. He tried to remain stoic, but he sounded hurt.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Viola said, but then she regretted it. “Well, I have been seeing someone else… but really… it’s not that.”

“It’s not?” James asked.

“I’ve been seeing him as long as I’ve been seeing you. It’s not new. It’s not why I want to break up. If anything, now, I really want to be with you. It’s you I want. Really. But I can’t. It’s not fair to you.”

“I thought there was someone else,” James said, shaking his head softly. “I just didn’t know it would sting so badly when I found out.”

Viola felt tears stinging her eyes, and she wiped them away with her fingertips as they spilled over her bottom eyelid and began to run down her cheeks.

“Really, it’s not the other guy.”

James just nodded. “It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.”

And then, with sudden abruptness, he turned and left, and Viola didn’t know what to say to get him to come back.

The next day, she had Martin come over, expecting much of the same, but he surprised her. When she told him she wanted to break up, he flew into a rage. He yelled, he screamed, he called her names, including the n- word. He swore he would get his car back, and Viola broke down into tears. She cried for days.

She had good friends who helped her through the pregnancy, but it just wasn’t the same without the father there. And after Martin’s horrific outburst when she broke things off with him, she hoped and prayed the baby wasn’t his. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t want to know whose it was, just so it wouldn’t be Martin’s. She didn’t want to do a DNA test, she didn’t plan on trying to get any guy for his money. She would raise the baby herself, and she would move on with her life.

As she grew closer to her due date, her mother flew in from Illinois, where Viola had been born and raised. It helped to have her mother there, but as the date grew nearer, Viola found herself in a state of depression.

Three days before the baby was due, he decided to come out, and Viola and her mother rushed to the hospital. It was a grueling ten-hour ordeal, but when it was done and Viola was holding her little baby boy, with skin the color of chocolate milk and a head of dark hair already, Viola felt nothing but happiness. All her worries seemed to go away. She thought it might have had something to do with the baby's nose. It was crooked, just like James’. There was no doubt in Viola’s mind that James was the father.

Viola named the baby Grady, after her grandfather, and she and her mother and the baby went home three days after he was born. The happiness of being a new mother couldn’t keep the crushing regret from coming back, though, and she found herself looking at the baby often and thinking of James. When it became too much, a month after Grady was born, she bundled him up and went to see James.

She got into his office building by having security call up to him, and she found him waiting for her as soon as the elevator opened. He arched a brow at the baby she held in her arms, but didn’t say anything until he led her past rows of cubicles and into his private office. The walls were glass, but he pressed a button on a small remote control he kept on his desk, and they darkened.

“Neat,” Viola said, smiling softly to James as she sat down across from him.

“You have a baby,” James said.

“I do.”

“Boy?”

“Yes,” Viola said.

“Is it mine?” James asked, not able to keep the question from springing forth from his lips.

“I think so,” Viola said, and she shifted the baby so James could see its face.

“He has my nose,” James said, and he smiled. “What’s his name?”

“Grady?” Viola said. “Like my-”

James cut her off. “Grandfather. I remember.”

Viola didn’t even remember telling James about her grandfather, but she must have, and he had listened, and remembered. It touched her, and with her hormones all out of sorts, it hit her hard, and she felt tears coming. She let them roll down her cheeks, but took a tissue when James slid the box across the desk towards her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I really messed up.”

James sat silently for a moment. “If he’s mine, I want to help. He’s mine. I can tell.”

“The nose,” Viola said with a laugh, and James grinned and nodded. “My father has it, so does my brother.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Viola said. “It was you. Always you.”

“I said I want to help,” James said again.

“I didn’t come here for that,” Viola said. “I don’t want your money.”

James grinned and nodded. “I know,” he said, adding, “and that’s why I love you.”

Viola couldn’t speak for a moment. He had told her he loved her. He had never done that. Martin had, and then when she broke up with him, he had yelled and screamed. James liked rough sex, and he had never said it, but now, that he did, she knew he meant it.

“I love you too,” Viola said.

“I want to help, and I mean that I want to be with you. I want to raise our child together. No one could fill the spot in my heart that you left behind.”

Viola was crying more, the tears rushing down her face. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t all of that. She had just wanted a man to know he was a father. They had talked about it once before, after sex one night in his apartment, wrapped up together in a bedsheet, naked bodies pressed together. He had told her he wanted kids, but he had never even been married, and he didn’t know if a woman would ever be alright with his lifestyle enough to settle down with him since he could never really settle down. There was always a meeting, always a dinner.

James stood, and he pulled something out of a drawer in his desk before he walked around and knelt down beside Viola’s chair. He held up a small box.

“I had bought this a month before you ended things with me,” he said as he opened the box to reveal the largest and most stunning engagement ring Viola had ever seen. “I think I should give it to you now. Will you marry me, Viola?”

Viola nodded and broke into wild laughter. “Yes,” she said. “Yes of course.”

James leaned forward and they were kissing. She had missed his lips, his taste, and she felt every old feeling come back to her. They broke the kiss, and James grinned at her.

“Can I hold my son?” he asked, and Viola laughed and handed him over. She sat there, watching the billionaire holding her son. His son. He looked like a natural, and he stared down at the baby with wonder in his eyes.

They were married less than a month later, and Viola and Grady moved into the massive apartment on the top floor of the sleek and shining skyscraper. She quit her job at the restaurant, and her days were filled with love. It was everything she had ever wanted, everything she was sure she would never get with Jerome. She thought back to him sometimes, and the gift he had given her. It had hurt that he was the one breaking up with her, but if he hadn’t, she would never have given herself over to her primal desires. She wouldn’t have gone to the club with James, she wouldn't have let him fuck her that night. She wouldn’t have met the love of her life, even though she took a roundabout way of getting to him. In a strange way, she owed her happiness to the unemployed loser who broke her heart. She thanked him on the days she thought of him, but as time went on, those were few and far between.

*****

THE END

The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Brandy’s Story

A BWWM Billionnaire Romance

I nervously toyed with the small porcelain mask I was given. The silver along the edge was starting to come loose from my handling it, and the plumage that jutted from the top was beginning to bend slightly. Still, I felt that nobody would notice the small wear and tear at the masquerade party.

My driver wasn’t particularly chatty, which was probably for the best, as my Russian was still a little rusty. So, I took out my phone again and checked the time. It was just a little past eight in the evening. The night air slipping through the slightly-open window was crisp and refreshing, and it helped me clear my head a little.

The car turned down a driveway, and we passed a pair of ornate iron gates. We came to a full stop, and a pair of well-dressed and muscular men approached the window.

“Invitation,” they ordered.

I pulled the glossy paper invitation from my clutch purse and held it up.

The talkative of the two men snatched it and examined it for a moment before passing it back.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said.

I nervously rolled the window up and affixed the mask to my face. I really doubted that it would hide my real identity. My gown for the evening left little to the imagination, and the mask wouldn’t hide my dark skin.

As we continued to drive, the estate came into view. It was possibly the largest house I’d ever laid eyes on. It may as well have been called a castle, as the brickwork alone made it appear to be so. Massive windows stared at anything that dared pass their gaze, and it felt like it wasn’t just the windows doing the staring. Lights erupted from the house as though a beacon, both warning and inviting travelers. Guests walked to and fro, drinks in hand and masks planted on their faces, making merry around the looming castle of a house.

We came to a stop, and my door was tugged open by a well-dressed attendant whom also wore a mask. He provided me a hand and assisted me from the car. My heart began to beat a little harder as my nerves continued to surmount. I inhaled deeply and exhaled, pushing back the nerves for another moment. I had been in situations like this before and wasn’t about to lose my composure.

I strolled up the red carpet leading into the manor with an aloof gaze and curious mind. I had been to gala’s and gallery openings, but this was something to behold.

People danced and drank without a care, I couldn’t say I really recognized anyone, but that feeling was quite liberating. I wanted to commence my own drinking, but my situation held me back.

“I see you’ve arrived fashionably late,” said a man’s voice from behind.

I recognized the voice quite easily as Viktor’s, the man who was kind enough to send me the invite and the mask.

“A girl needs to look her best for these sorts of things,” I replied. I began to turn but his arms caught me and held me in place.

“You needn’t have worked so hard, knowing what’s under that dress would make any man weep with joy.”

“Yes, but I find it best to wear clothing when I’m still easily recognized,” I replied.

“I need to speak with you in private,” he said. “Follow me to my study.”

I nodded. He released me and pushed his way through the opulent crowd while I followed. As we made our way, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that I was being watched. I looked about, and nothing seemed completely out of place, considering the party, except I noticed one person standing near the library with a drink in hand that tried his best not to make eye contact.

I didn’t have much time to think about the stranger as I was being shoved into a small office room that opened beneath the entry stairs. Viktor closed the door and twisted the key.

The room was surprisingly quiet and very cozy. A desk sat in the middle of the room with a high-backed leather chair protruding from behind. In front of the desk stood two smaller leather chairs. The wood paneling adorned the walls, and rich green carpet stained the floor.

Viktor dropped the key and bent down to kiss me deeply. I craned my neck to reach him, standing on my tip-toes as I did. His lean muscular arms grasped me tight as I melted into them.

He massaged his arm down my bare-backed dress, but I stopped him before he could go any lower.

“I’m here to talk, and it’s rather important,” I said.

“I have much to say to you as well, have a seat.”

I sat myself in the smaller of the chairs; Viktor walked to a nearby decanter and poured himself a glass of Cognac before sitting himself next to me.

“I hope you like the party, it was the only way I could think to get you here without pretenses,” he started.

“You are having this party because you couldn’t just invite me to come over?” I asked.

“Yes. I have too many people watching my home right now, and it’s important that I speak with you as soon as possible.”

I sighed, slumping into my chair and getting a little more comfortable. My nerves were back, and this time, it wasn’t about being the only dark-skinned woman at a party.

“There are a lot of people that don’t like me,” he said, “and many of them would stop at nothing to get revenge in any way they can. I want you to know this. I cherish our time together, and I need to keep you safe.”

“Viktor,” I said.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Before you continue, I need to tell you something …”

I stood back up and began pacing near the door.

“Last month, after you bought that painting from the gallery, we slept together.”

He smiled, appearing to remember fondly the night we gave in to our passions.

“Well, I visited a doctor, and I found out that I’m pregnant. You’re the only person I’ve been with in quite a long time, and I know you’re the only one who could be the father. I want to carry this baby to term.”

Viktor’s smile faded, but only a little. I started shaking, fearing the worst was in store for me. I waited for him to yell and me, and throw me from the building, but it never came. Instead, he just took me by the hand until I stopped shaking before answering.

“I would love to be the father to your child. But, this is very distressing for me.”

I nodded, assuming that he just thought I was telling him so that he would offer me money, but I so wished that he wouldn’t.

“Now I have two people that I must look after.”

He guzzled the last of the cognac in the glass and walked over to pour himself another. He turned to offer me a drink, then realized, shaking his head that I would surely turn it down.

“I have received a few warning calls this past week. There is a man that I used to work with, Anton. He’s dangerous and will stop at nothing to take his anger out on me.”

He returned to his seat, and I to mine. He leaned close to me and kissed my cheek.

“Brandy, he may try to kill me.”

I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing. It was at that moment that I wanted a drink quite badly.

“Why is he trying to kill you,” I asked.

He let out a sigh.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you,” Viktor stood up and went to his desk. From the top drawer, he produced a small wallet and handed it to me.

Inside the wallet was a hunk of bronze in the shape of a shield with a sword stabbing through the top. A familiar hammer and sickle displayed prominently in the middle. The markings and text were unfamiliar.

“That’s my badge from the former secret service. Anton was my partner,” he said.

I returned the badge and attempted to make sense of everything I had just heard.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I replied through a creaky voice.

Viktor flashed a smile.

“Ah, clever girl,” he said. “You’re right, I haven’t answered.”

He took the seat next to me again.

“You see, when Anton and I were coming up in the service he wanted more power. The more he grasped for it, the more it slipped through his fingers.”