The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(48)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He smiled down at her, tempted to pull her in for a kiss, despite the crowds around them. But Hannah kept on going.

“And you secretly like Christmas shopping, don’t you?”

This was probably one of the best days of his life. He looked from the gorgeous woman at his side, decked out in a red coat and jeans, holding her giant cup of coffee, to his niece contentedly sitting in the stroller. Fat, heavy snowflakes tumbled down as they walked along downtown Toronto. He gave Hannah a smile. “Fine, I like Christmas shopping. With you and Em,” he said, slowing as they approached a streetlight.

“Oh, speaking of Christmas shopping, when do you want to deliver our gift to the Sampsons?”

Jackson groaned. “You didn’t mention anything about us delivering the gift.”

“Of course we’re going to give it to them. Don’t you think they’d love to see Emily again?” Hannah smiled up at him as they crossed the road.

Jackson spotted the man leaning against the corner of their building as soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk. The hairs on the back of his head rose instantly as their eyes made contact. Jackson slowed their pace, passing the stroller to Hannah.

“Jackson, what’s wrong?” she asked, taking the stroller.

“I want you to go inside. I’ll be up in a few minutes, okay?” He kept his eyes trained on the thin man with the disheveled hair, dirty jeans, and sweatshirt. He knew him. He knew that face. Where?

“What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me.” His instincts were still sharp, fine-tuned to anything threatening. He needed to get Emily and Hannah inside. But before Hannah and Emily could get into the building, the man swaggered forward, a smirk on his unshaven face.

“Jackson Pierce?” he called out, his voice thick and confident.

“Who are you?”

“I’m that baby’s father.”





Chapter Thirteen



Jackson tried to ignore the sound of Hannah’s gasp and concentrate on this low-life.

“Like hell you are. Go inside,” he said, his eyes not leaving the man’s face. He needed to remember where he’d seen him.

“No,” he heard Hannah whisper frantically.

“Jackson Pierce, right? That’s what you’re calling yourself now?” The man smirked. Anger burst through him. This was the man claiming to be Emily’s father? Jackson reigned in every single urge he had to sink his fist into the other man’s face. Every fiber of his being wanted to hear that skinny jaw snap on impact. Revulsion slammed through him as he remembered this guy trashing his house, looking for money. This was not Emily’s father.

“I remember you,” Jackson said, keeping his voice steady.

“Glad to hear it. Too bad Louise is dead, she was a nice piece of—”

“I’d stop talking if I were you.”

The man looked at Jackson and then gave Hannah a thorough once over. “But I gotta say this one is a definite step up.”

Jackson bolted forward, pushing the man against the building, his forearm pinning him until Jackson felt him struggling under him to form words. His eye went to the small alleyway between the buildings. For a second he wished he was that adolescent that acted first and thought later.

He leaned down, letting his anger show, letting the carefully controlled emotions surface. “You stay the hell away from my family. You don’t look at my wife. You don’t talk to her. You don’t talk about her.”

“I came for the baby.”

“She’s not yours.”

“I’m willing to negotiate. Your sister always said you were gonna be rich.”

Jackson moved his face closer, disgusted by the stench of cheap liquor. “I came from nothing, just like you. I know how to fight dirty, and I swear to you I will. I will make you regret the day you ever thought about my daughter, or looked at my wife. I keep what’s mine. Don’t you forget that. So get your sorry ass away from my family.” Jackson pinned him harder against the wall, not seeing the man anymore, only the threat.


“Jackson.” Hannah’s soft voice broke through his rage. He clenched his teeth and looked over at her, took in the pallor of her face, the trembling of her chin. And all the words she’d ever spoken to him about her childhood rang through his mind, all the violence she’d had to face. He glanced down at Emily—asleep, angelic, innocent. And then he stared at the lowlife in front of him, and Jackson thought of his and Louise’s father, and he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t raise his fists in anger in front of Hannah or Emily. Not ever.

“Stay the hell away from my family,” Jackson said in a low voice, before releasing him and backing away.

The man clutched his throat, trying to take deep breaths and staring at Jackson with so much hatred that Jackson knew in his gut this wasn’t over.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to Hannah, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to be composed. He needed to be her rock. Jackson grabbed her hand and the stroller, ushering them toward the entrance. The doorman opened the doors for them and they were swallowed into the luxurious marble lobby. He turned around to look out the windows as they waited for the elevator. His eyes scanned the crowds of people, but the man was gone.