Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (29 page)

Simon left the car first and lingered by the door until Andre emerged. They headed for the stairs leading up to the airplane and Andre found himself praying for a favorable outcome with Tasha.

He wasn’t looking forward to trying his brother Julian’s method for finding a wife. Granted, it’d turned out well for Julian, but Andre didn’t see much chance of that happening for him. No matter what happened, somebody was going to get hurt. Thanks to Edouard Renault’s will, not just Andre’s inheritance depended upon his getting married.

Fifteen minutes later, Andre was fastened in his seat belt, eagerly awaiting take-off. When the airplane finally started moving, he leaned back into the plush, oversized chair and closed his eyes.

Hours from now, his troubles would either be solved, or just beginning.

Q
ueasy sensations in Tasha Gordon’s belly were quickly turning into an overwhelming need to gag. If she had to deliver one more plate of fried eggs, sunny-side-up, she’d lose the bagel she’d had for breakfast.

Just her luck, Electric Avenue was packed with locals and tourists on this Saturday morning. She was glad she didn’t have any auditions, bit parts, or commercials lined up for today, because all she wanted to do was go home and fall into bed.

Hurrying toward the double doors leading into the kitchen, she glanced at her watch. 10:58 am. Another hour before she was free to go home and…well, to be honest, hugging the toilet seemed far more likely than hitting the bed.

Pushing her way through the doors, the smell of bacon, onion, and burnt toast wrapped around her in a thick, suffocating vapor. That queasy feeling she’d been experiencing rose into her throat.

Oh, God….
She made a beeline for the employees’ bathroom in the back.

Moments later, with shaky hands she splashed cold water onto her face and then looked up into the mirror, startled but not surprised at her pale reflection.

The rosy scented air freshener overwhelming the restroom threatened to start the process all over again. She held her breath while dabbing her face and hands with a paper towel before leaving the small, confined space.

Thanks to her weak stomach, Tasha was forced to leave work early. The sad part was that she didn’t even care about the lost tips from the customers she would’ve waited on in that last hour.

Truth was, she’d been feeling nauseous for several days now. Normally that wouldn’t cause her a whole lot of alarm—except that her period was three weeks late.

Finally, Tasha accepted that she’d better stop by the drugstore.

T
asha entered the apartment and tossed her keys into the jade-green bowl on the table in the entryway. She glanced at the small brown paper bag in her hand and gave it a moment’s pause before setting it on the table next to the bowl.

God, it’s hot in here
. She headed for the bedroom, shedding clothes as she went. A cool shower. That’s what she needed. Maybe it’d help her feel better. She cranked the water on, tested the temperature and waited until it felt just right before stepping inside and closing the door.

She lifted her head to the spray and let the water pelt her face. As individual streams cascaded down over her body, she secretly hoped it’d wash away the yucky feeling that’d taken up residence in her belly and was now trying to move up into her throat.

Tasha lingered in the shower longer than usual. Anything to put off the inevitable. But when the water started to turn cold, and stayed that way after turning the hot all the way up, she twisted the faucet into the off position. She grabbed the towel hanging over the shower door and wrapped it around her body, then opened the door and raked her wet hair behind her ear before stepping out onto the bathroom rug.

A cold bite rushed over her and she draped the towel tighter. Stepping up to the sink, she wiped the moisture off the mirror with her wrist and peered through the distortion.

Tasha swabbed her body dry and tousled some of the dampness out of her hair. Once the chill left her, she dropped the towel to the floor, turned sideways and peered at her belly in the mirror.

There were no telltale signs to help her guess what the outcome of the test might be. Her tummy was as flat as it had always been. But her boobs, now those had acquired a noticeable swell, not to mention soreness, in the last couple of weeks.

She felt the moan rising up into her throat, and it threatened to bring with it the nausea.

Tasha slipped her arms into the silk camisole that Andre had given her. She secured the belt as she made her way into the hall. Cutting through the living room, she glanced briefly to the brown paper bag on the table in the entryway. Tasha dismissed it and continued into the kitchen.

If she made herself some soup or something—it had to be something light for her queasy stomach—she could put off the unavoidable a little while longer.

Searching through the pantry, she found a can of Minestrone and a can of Chicken and Stars. Camille had always laughed at her for eating
kids’ soup
. But Tasha didn’t care. She liked it better than that chunky stuff.

She contemplated the Minestrone, for about a second, and then opted to go with the Chicken and Stars instead, figuring it’d settle on her stomach easier. While heating it up in the microwave would’ve been quicker, she decided on the more traditional route, stovetop, because it would take longer. Right now, for Tasha, it was all about postponing the inescapable.

While the soup heated, Tasha grabbed a bowl, some crackers, and a spoon. After crumbling a handful of crackers up in her bowl, she checked the soup’s temperature. Perfect. She ladled a scoop into the bowl and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Tasha was about to take a bite when the thought entered her head that it might be a good idea to have a glass of milk. Once she had the nutritious drink in hand, she returned to the table and took her sweet time eating.

When she was done, she let out a soft sigh and pushed herself up from the table. There was no sense putting it off any longer. Besides, she couldn’t think of anything else to do, other than take a nap. But that’d just turn out badly. She’d probably have dreams about taking pregnancy tests.

No matter how much she wanted to put it off a little longer, she lumbered into the living room and on to the table in the entryway. She snatched up the paper bag and headed to the bathroom.

Having made up her mind that it was time, Tasha sat down on the toilet and opened the box. She ripped the wrapper off the test, uncapped it and then waited until she could go.

Some moments later, she looked at the test.

Pregnant
. The damned stick said she was pregnant.

Still sitting on the toilet, Tasha held the test with one hand and dropped her forehead into the other. Oh, God. How was she going to tell Andre—a man she had a casual relationship with, at best—that he’d knocked her up?

Andre was coming for a visit in a day or two. What was she supposed to say to him? She wasn’t even sure how she felt about being pregnant.

Can you abort Andre’s baby?
A little voice in Tasha’s head—or maybe it was her heart—posed the question.

Moisture in her eyes blurred her vision, but she managed to the get the cap on the stick and put it on the tank behind her.

Finishing up her business, she left the stick on the back on the toilet and went to the sink to wash her hands. Drying them on the towel hanging near the sink, she sucked in a deep breath but it did nothing to calm the chaotic storm brewing inside.

A baby. Oh, God…was she ready for this? Not alone. But she wasn’t prepared to abort Andre’s child either.

Tears spilled over from Tasha’s eyes.

Heading into the living room, she plucked a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table and dropped down onto the couch.

She tucked her feet beneath her and prepared to let the waterworks flow when a knock echoed through the door.

Tasha dried her eyes and swabbed her nose. Heading for the door, she raked her chin-length bangs back behind her ear.

Who the hell is this…?
Ran through her mind as she opened the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TASHA’S NATURALLY CHEERY BLUE EYES were sad and red and wet. That wiped the smile off Andre’s lips. “Mon trésor…?” He lifted a hand to brush away her tears.

“Andre…” She sucked in a deep breath and offered him a meager smile while running a hand over her long, blonde hair that she’d pulled back into a ponytail.

Seeing her fight her tears made him forget about his problems. “Tasha, what’s the matter?”

She shook her head. “I was just watching some dumb, sappy movie on TV.” She reached out and latched on to his wrist. “You’re early,” she said, pulling him inside. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to see you.” He dropped it at that and let her lead him into the living room. There was plenty of time to tell her about his troubles—like tomorrow. Today, he needed to find out what was troubling her so. He didn’t accept her story about a movie.

They cozied up together on the couch. “I’m glad you’re here.” She laid her head on his chest.

“Me, too.” Andre draped his arms around her and managed to keep his voice on a nonchalant level. “How’s work?” Maybe that was the problem. He knew her tips had been diminishing lately, ever since their pictures had started appearing in the American papers.

“Same shit. Different day.” She shrugged it off. “More and more people have been recognizing me as the constant companion of the French playboy Andre de Laurent.” Her soft laughter lingered on the air.

“You know that I’m more than willing to supplement your income.” He put it out there again, even though he knew what she’d say.

She crooked her head up to look at him. “You know money’s not what I want from you.”

“Yes, I do know that.” And so did Papa. Maybe that’s why Maurice de Laurent had
taken a shine
to her
—as Tasha would say. “But I’m directly responsible for your loss of income.”

“If only my connection to you could influence Hollywood as much as it does my customers.” She laughed again, with bite this time, and then laid her head back on his chest.

“Hollywood just needs a little nudge. They need to be shown what a great actress you are.” And if Andre’s inheritance came through, he could do that for her. Not only were his brother and sister’s legacies dependent upon him, now it seemed he was Tasha’s best chance at landing that big break.

It was something he had to do for her, even if it meant he’d lose her. He got the feeling that offering to make Tasha a star in exchange for marrying him so he could get his inheritance would ultimately lead to his losing her.

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d tell her about his quandary. He’d word it just right so she’d see that she could help herself and his family, which now included Camille. If he reminded her that helping Julian also meant she’d be helping Camille—that just might tip the scales in Andre’s favor.

But tonight, tonight he just wanted to spend one last perfect night with her because tomorrow would change everything.

“Say, are you hungry?” Tasha raised her head and looked at Andre.

“Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“No. If it’s all the same with you, I’d just like to hang out here for a quiet evening.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Andre said. “But let’s order some takeout. What are you in the mood for?”

Nothing
. Food was the last thing Tasha wanted, considering her queasy stomach. But now that she had confirmation that she had a baby growing inside her, she supposed she should eat something. “Maybe some Chinese. What do you think?”

She fully expected Andre to agree since Chinese was one of his favorites, and she wasn’t surprised when he nodded, and said, “Sounds perfect.”

She grabbed the phone off the coffee table, hit number three on the speed dial for China Gardens, a little restaurant right around the corner, and ordered their favorites: Kung Pau Chicken, General Chicken and vegetable fried rice. Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Wong’s grandson was knocking on the door to deliver the goods.

They ate—well, Andre ate and Tasha did a good job of pretending to eat by stirring her food around on the plate and picking at a bite every now and then.

Once Andre pushed his plate aside, she did the same. He followed her to the couch where she leaned back and gave her tummy a gentle rub. “I’m stuffed.”

“You hardly ate anything at all.” Andre chuckled and draped his arms around her.

“I had some soup before you got here.”

Andre nodded. “That explains it.”

“How’s Camille?”

“She’s doing well. Papa is pestering them to have a baby.” Andre rolled his eyes and a slight snort escaped him.

A bad feeling twisted with the nausea in Tasha’s gut. It wouldn’t do for Julian to find out about her condition. In fact, it would annoy him to know that baby brother had fathered the first grandchild.

“I wish I could go see her,” Tasha said.

“Just say the word.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. We could be there by morning.”

Her lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “I have to stay here. Rent’s coming due soon.”

“We could also settle that before we leave.”

As tempting as that sounded, Tasha said, “No, Andre. That’s not why I’m with you.”

But why couldn’t she say yes? All things considered, it was no longer wrong of her to take money from Andre. She was carrying his kid. He should help out.

In light of that, couldn’t she agree to let him pay her rent for next month and head on over to France to see Camille? Sure, but what about when she got back? How long did she expect Marsha, Electric Avenue’s manager, to hold her job for her? While she did believe it was Andre’s responsibility to help her take care of the baby, she didn’t expect him to take care of both of them while she did nothing but spend his money.

There was a name for women like that. Wife or mistress. Tasha was neither.

“Nobody’s questioning
why
you’re with me. Least of all
me
.” Andre pressed his lips to hers and Tasha’s thoughts spun as she opened her mouth.