The Married Billionaire's Surrogate An African American Pregnancy Romance For Adults(8)

“It’s going to be a full moon in a day or two,” Steven said, straightening up his back.

Jonathan growled and yelled his son’s name. “Your thirtieth birthday approaches. Steven! I. Need. An. Heir!”

Steven was silent for a moment, biting back all the insults and curses that came to his mind before shouting back, “She can’t! What can I do, huh? What?”

His father fell quiet and stood next to him; now the both of them were looking at the city that sprawled behind the mansion’s gardens. Jonathan hid his hands in the pockets of his black coat and took a deep breath. “The things are not good, son. The people think that you can’t and that throws your whole business empire into fire. We are a large family… We are the gossip of the decade, for God’s sake.”

“I have presumed that would happen,” Steven said in his most calm voice while a storm was raging inside his body.

“You see everything and yet you do nothing about it! Do you know what the Pratts told me?” After receiving silence as a reply from Steven, he continued, “They told me what I do is for nothing! That I am useless! After all the things I’ve done for those filthy cockroaches… After all those years I turned out to be the one who will destroy what my fathers have built before me .”

“Do you understand, father, I can do nothing about it!? This is the woman you chose! Right there at the table! Look at her!”

“Don’t dare use that language on your father, Steven! I may be on your territory now, but you have no idea what I am capable of,” Jonathan shouted, his voice booming from the walls of the mansion.

For a moment, Steven thought that he heard a clatter coming from the kitchen. He ignored it and turned his back to his father, his fingers curling around the balcony railing. He gripped the iron hard, his head boiling with fury. “If you’ve come to teach me lessons, then leave right away. I’ve had enough of all of this!”

“Find a woman, Steven! Find a woman and plant our seed in her!” Jonathan roared.

“GO!” Steven shouted this time from the top of his lungs.

“I am doing this for you and no one else. I will die a king, but you… Oh, you will die a peasant!”

Steven could hear his father’s fast footsteps on the marble and the creaking of the chairs as someone stood up. His shoulders twitched at the loud bang of the front door and he sighed, closing his eyes. His temples were throbbing with every heartbeat and he thought that if anyone poked him, he would pop like a balloon. Why was all that happening to him? Why couldn’t his parents at least pick a woman who could bear an heir? It seemed to him, more than ever, that he was intended to go through life the hard way.

And speaking of hard ways, his ears picked up the opening of the door to the balcony. He turned his head to see Elizabeth coming next to him.

“What happened?” Her tone was peaceful as she put her hand above his.

“You surely heard. We had a fight and that’s it. End of story.” It seemed that the rage didn’t abandon him still. “It’s my fault and I am the one to deal with it. They’ll accept it and we’ll all continue our small miserable lives.”

“I love you, Stevie,” she said and leaned in to kiss him. He slightly moved his head and her lips closed on his cheek as gently as butterfly’s wings. Wrapping her arms around him, he felt her warm breath on his neck and a sharp pain pierced through his heart. Why couldn’t he say it in return?

“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered in his ear and led him inside.

Steven knew that the morning had come when the sun hit his face and Elizabeth stirred next to him, pulling the sheets over her body. His phone was screaming from alarms and reminders and messages when he jumped from the bed, hastily grabbing it. Seven missed calls from Victor Brown. Nine messages from his secretary. Three Facebook notifications. Something was truly up.

He quickly showered and dressed in the first suit he saw. Leaving the room tip-toeing, he spotted Alicia replacing the dry flowers with fresh ones and chuckled briefly remembering the scene in the bedroom from the previous day. The girl’s petrified face at the sight of his naked torso just couldn’t escape his mind.

“Morning, Alicia,” he spoke to her and smiled. She was the only one in the house capable of making him smile.

“Morning, sir. Anything I can do for you?” Her cheeks were blushing, he saw.

“Nothing. Just be yourself, will you?” He tapped her on the back and felt her jerk beneath his touch. The both of them laughed as he headed down the stairs and left the mansion.

He groped for his car keys in the pocket of his jacket and once he found them, he raised the door of the garage revealing a black Audi. The smell of leather hit him when he sat in it and turned on the engine. Then with a honk to the guard he left the lane. There was an unwritten rule in his car that whenever he drove, there had to be some music playing. This morning it was a great 80’s rock song and as he turned the volume up, he said, “Oh, that’s my jam, brother!”

*****

Nothing like Nora Roberts on a rainy day, Alicia thought to herself staring at the drops pattering on the pane of the kitchen window. With Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt out of the house and with all the rooms already cleaned, she allowed herself some time off and locked herself into her small room. She sprawled herself on the bed, the wood creaking beneath her weight and snatched the book lying on her nightstand.