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Blurb
I fell in love with the enemy… and got her pregnant.
This could probably be the biggest mistake of my life.
Except that I don’t regret any of it.
Amanda is beautiful.
She’s with me for who I am… Not for my big bank account.
I can’t keep my hands off her gorgeous curves.
And my lips off her soft skin.
She’s all I want.
The problem?
Her father who’s my biggest rival in business.
He’ll do everything in his power to destroy what we have.
But there’s one thing he has no control over.
The baby that’s growing inside Amanda.
I’m ready to risk it all… if that’s what it takes to claim my family.
Chapter One
Amanda
The thump of the music, pounding through my body and driving everything else out, manages to finally settle the angry, rapid beat of my heart. I draw in a deep breath and cast all thoughts of my father from my mind.
Only half an hour ago, I left the company that Alan Simmons, my father, once built from the ground up when he was a young man, the company that I should, by rights, take over one day if my father stopped being such a chauvinistic bastard. According to him, it’s alright if I just work there. Why does he need to train me? It isn’t like he’s stepping down any time soon.
I scoff and knock back a shot of some sort of red alcohol; I’ve had enough by now that I really don’t care what I’m drinking anymore.
“‘You’re only twenty-eight, why do you need to learn more about the company?’“ I say mockingly out loud, repeating the words my father had said to me earlier. I knock back another shot.
“Because, Dad, I want to take it over one day!”
At least he isn’t eyeing anyone else as a possible inheritor. If he did that, I might just give up and go over to Energy Plus Co., the company that is currently rivaling Tech Square Inc. in the technology and information field. A company which, my father doesn’t want to admit, is doing far better than ours.
“A vodka and orange, please,” I say to the bartender, fishing some cash out of my wallet.
The bartender raises an eyebrow at me, which tells me he’s probably close to cutting me off if I don’t scale back, and pours me what I’ve asked for. I don’t get this one down straight away, though; I nurse it in my hands for a moment, frowning down at the counter.
It isn’t fair. Ever since I was a teenager, my entire goal has been Tech Square Inc. I studied business degrees in college, I learned everything I could about company maintenance and I even worked so well at the very bottom of the company when I first started that my father had no choice but to promote me. Now I’m one of the senior managers of the company, and my father still doesn’t seem to think I have what it takes to run it.
I just don’t know why.
I sip my drink, a morose mood settling over me. Every time I beg my father to teach me how the company is run, he refuses. Is he worried that I’ll want to take over sooner rather than later? I mean, it would be nice, sure, but I have no intention of stepping into the role until my father is ready to retire, regardless of how far away that is. I’ve told him that many times, but it’s something he doesn’t seem to want to hear.
I glance out over the dance floor. There’s a press of moving bodies, packed tightly together until it’s hard to tell who knows who. I watch a girl twirl around with a young man before spinning toward another woman. They’re all laughing and having fun. I came to the club tonight in order to do the same, but the alcohol only seems to have made it more difficult to forget why I stormed here in the first place. A club like Grande isn’t a place I would normally come, but I needed to get away from everything.
“Ugh,” I groan, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I sigh and glance at it. Of course the message is from my father.
“Where are you?”
I snort.
“Out,” I text back.
I don’t expect him to reply. He’s a man of few words, generally, and he doesn’t like texting so much, which is hilarious since he owns a company that deals with technology. He must have stopped by my apartment for some reason and discovered that I wasn’t there. Well, he can deal with it; I don’t want to talk to him or about the company anymore tonight.
Now, to my surprise, my phone has vibrated with another message.
“See me in the morning. I have a proposal.”
I blink at the message. That’s…odd. Curiosity burns in me, but I know he won’t tell me via text, and I’m not calling him only for him to make snide comments about me getting drunk at a club. I push my phone back in my pocket after sending an “Ok” in response and frown.
