ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (160 page)

''Hello sweetie,'' Slava said. ''Do you know what time it is here? It's...''

''Slava I've got some very bad news,'' she said stopping him in his tracks. ''I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm pregnant.''

Slava wasn't quite sure he'd heard correctly. ''You're what?''

''Pregnant,'' she sobbed.

''That's great, no it's more than great, it's the best thing ever.''

Octavia was surprised. She'd thought he would be angry and afraid of what it might do to his future. ''Are you sure you're okay with it.''

''Okay? That's a useless word to use under these circumstances. If I weren't thousands of miles away, I'd crack open a bottle of champagne. Oh, Octavia, this is fantastic news.''

''I'm amazed you are so happy. I thought you would be angry and worried about the future.''

''Why? There is nothing I want more than to have you as the mother of my children. You will be a perfect mother. Just one thing, though. We should keep it secret from my father.''

''Okay. But what are we going to do? I'm the President's daughter; I can't be pregnant and unmarried. It simply isn't an option.''

''Sod it. You're not happy at Harvard, and I'm not happy in Moscow without you. I have dreamed about doing this with you. Let's take my boat and sail away. I have more money than we'll ever be able to use in our lives and a great place to live. My yacht. You can write books while I sail us around. I can design yachts and sell the designs via the web. What do you say?''

Slava looked at his computer screen as Octavia fell silent. After two minutes, she responded. ''There will be hell to pay. If I elope with you, my father will be crucified by the press, and he will suffer in the opinion polls. He will send the FBI, and lord only knows who else to find me.''

''Octavia, you are a grown woman living in a free world. Nobody can drag you back to the US against your will. We won't be committing a crime. It's not eighteen hundred.''

*****

''Yes what is it?'' the Ambassador barked as a small fat man entered his office. The Ambassador's office was not as large as he believed his position deserved. His desk was covered in photos of him in various posts he'd been sent to over the years, and there was a Russian flag standing on a pole to the right of his desk.

''Ambassador, it's your son. I have just received notice from the Federal Security Service that he was seen leaving St Petersberg in his boat two days ago.''

''Where was he going?''

''Nobody knows.''

''And I suppose the buffoons don't know where he is now, either?''

''That is correct sir. There is one more piece of information. He was with a woman.''

''What woman, he doesn't have a girlfriend as far as I know. He's too busy trying to finish his studies.''

''The girl's name is Octavia Wahlberg.''

''What? That black girl that calls herself the President's daughter?''

''Yes sir.''

''Get me General Toporov now.''

The man nodded and left the office. Five minutes later the Ambassador's phone rang. It was General Vladimir Topov, head of the Russian Security Service.

''You wanted to speak to me, Ambassador?''

''Yes General. I want you to find my son and bring him back to finish his studies, and then I want you to deal with the woman he has seemingly gone off with. Eliminate her if you have to. Do you understand? There is no way my son will marry an American, let alone a Black American. I don't want her having his children. She' behaves like a prostitute. I hate prostitutes; they are dirty. ''

''Ambassador, the woman to whom you refer, is the President's daughter. We can't do anything about her and your son being together. It's a free world, and they are both consenting adults.''

''Have you forgotten what happened in Moscow in 1991? If you have, then perhaps I should get it put in the newspapers so everybody can read what an unpleasant character you are. Don't you remember those poor girls? They were just innocent students having a good time. When you'd finished raping them, they couldn't walk anymore. Now, what do you say to my request?''

''I will do what I can,'' the General said.

When his phone rang again, the Ambassador swore. This time, it was the President, Daniel Wahlberg.

''Ambassador, my daughter has given her security agent the slip and has been picked up by your son in a boat in Tallinn, Estonia. I will hold you personally responsible for anything that happens to her. I want you to contact your son and tell him to let her come home. Se has her studies to think of.''

''Mr. President, I have no contact with my son. At the moment, I have no idea where he is.'' The Ambassador sighed as if he was already bored with the news. ''No doubt your daughter has led him astray. Much has been written about her, and not much of it good. She likes to, how shall I say it, put herself about a bit.''

''If you are suggesting my daughter had anything to do with this, you are sorely mistaken. Now get her back here or I will call your President and have you sent back to Moscow.''

''Mr. President, nobody threatens me. Even the so called most powerful man in the world. Be careful what you say. As I understand it, you daughter is in a very vulnerable situation at the moment.''

*****

Slava looked out of the bridge window, as he maneuvered his boat out of the harbor in Tallinn. He looked at Octavia and knew he would love her forever. He would tell her when they reached London.

His boat was a sixty-five feet luxury yacht called Serene. It had five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a siting room and a dining room. When servants were on board, they brought the food from the galley to the dining room in the elevator. The bridge where Slava and Octavia were sitting was full of all the latest gadgets.

''So tell me all about what happened?'' he asked.

''It was quite surreal actually. I told my bodyguard I was going to spend the night with a friend. The security team has waited outside friend's houses before while I've stayed the night, and, this time, was no exception,'' Octavia took great pleasure in relating the story of her escape and Slava could see it in her face. ''All I did was go into my friend's house and get out via a toilet window. I got a taxi to the airport, and flew here.''

''No questions asked?''

''No, a few people recognized me, but no body of any importance who could have stopped me.''

''Have I told you, how beautiful you are?''

''Lots of times. But make the most of it. I'll soon have an enormous belly and you won't want to come near me.''

''You're wrong there. You'll be so sexy; I won't be able to keep my hands off you.''

''Where are we going first? I mean we have the whole world to go at,'' Octavia asked.

''I have a surprise for my budding writer. All I'm saying is that we're going to London.''

''Not England, it rains all the time. Can't you take me somewhere warm.''

''Just, believe me, you'll enjoy yourself there.''

''Alright, I'll bow to your superior knowledge. Now can the Captain's assistant get a kiss?''

''And who will you write your first novel about?''

''About a man who is good looking and charming and who any woman could love without fear.''

''Me?''

''Of course, someone like you,'' she laughed.

When the boat pulled into the Thames Estuary, Slava was weary. Octavia had gone to bed some three hours earlier, but he was determined to make it to Milby Marina in London, before dawn. In the dark, one of the busiest rivers in the world is a tricky place to navigate, and despite fatigue, Slava kept his concentration.

Two hours later, the Yacht was safely tied to the dock in London's most exclusive harbor. Slava climbed out of the captain's chair and went on deck to get some fresh air. He was disappointed to see that his yacht wasn't the biggest there. He consoled himself with the feeling it was, at least, the third biggest in one of the world’s richest cities.

The fresh air did him good and he was soon ready to sleep. He hadn't had much time to think about what he and Octavia had done, but he was convinced they had done the right thing. In the bedroom, he quickly undressed. When he slipped into bed, he cuddled up to Octavia, who let out a little hello and promptly fell asleep again. When Slava put his hand on her swollen belly, he knew everything was going to be alright, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

''So, here we are in London, Octavia said, as she poured herself a coffee. What have you got planned for me?'' she asked eager to know what secret Slava had been keeping from her.

''It's twelve o'clock, let me get a shower and then we'll be on our way.''

''Okay, I'm coming to watch you in the shower. Will you,...you know......?''

''If you want me to,'' he said, eagerly.

*****

''Slava, please tell me where we are going. We've been driving for hours.''

The man from the luxury limousine hire company had told Slava he would send his finest limo and driver. It seemed he had kept his promise. They were sitting in a top of the range Mercedes with leather seats, a TV, and mini bar. As Slava sipped his iced water, Octavia eye's drank in the English countryside.

''It's very green isn't it? Quite beautiful. Unlike anything I've seen back in the States.''

''Or in Russia. I suppose it's all the water that falls from the sky. Look at that green field there, it really is bright green,'' Slava replied.

After two hours, they arrived at their destination. Octavia was extremely puzzled; they were in what seemed like a village, in the middle of nowhere. The driver pulled up, got out and opened the door at Octavia's side.

''Slava, if you don't tell me where we are, I'm going to divorce you.'' It just slipped out. A joke, but, nonetheless, Slava heard it and took it as a hint of what their status really should be.

''We've come to look at a museum.''

''You dragged me all the way here, to some stuffy old museum,'' she complained.

'No. Not some stuffy old museum. Here read the sign.''

''Jane Austen Museum,'' Octavia read out loud. Then she suddenly realized. The home of one of the greatest writers of romantic fiction ever to have lived. ''Oh Slava, thank you. How thoughtful of you. I'm ashamed of myself for being so grumpy.'' When she began to weep with joy, Slava took her in his arms and held her tightly.

''For you my dear. May you become the Jane Austen of our time. Come on let's go and see what we can learn.''

They learned that they were in the village of Chawton in the County of Hampshire. They also found out that Jane Austen had spent the last eight years of her life in the house and had written three novels. They spent two hours reading everything they could and soaking in the atmosphere. Slava observed Octavia as she looked around the tiny rooms. It was as if she were in a trance, lost in a world she dreamed of. He only hoped he could provide her with a lifestyle where she could relax, be calm and have the clarity of thought to do what she wanted to, write.

''That was fantastic,'' she exclaimed as they got back into the limousine.

''Yes, we've got a lot of history in this country. Next time you should go to Stratford upon Avon, the home of William Shakespeare,'' the driver said.

''Oh, that would be lovely,'' she said still entranced by the world of Jane Austen.

Slava didn't like the look of the man lurking next to Serene when they arrived back at Milby Marina. He put a protective arm around Octavia and hurried her into the boat.

''I'll be back in a minute,'' he said. He walked back down the gang plank and up to the man.

''Who are you,'' he asked directly in Russian.

''I'm Vasiliev Moltov. I have a message from your father.''

''How the hell did you find us here?''

''It's not difficult these days to track a boat of this nature, '' he said pointing at Serene. '' All the signals it transmits, you were really easy to find.''

''And what do you want?''

''I work for a man called General Topov head of the State Security Service of Russia. I'm the bureau chief in London.''

''You mean you're a spy.''

''Whatever you want to call it. I work on behalf of the Russian people to ensure a fair world and the safety of our nation.''

Brainwashed was the word that came into Slava's mind. ''So answer my question, what do you want?''

''Your father is worried about you.''

''Then tell him I am fine and leave me alone.''

''It's not quite that simple. Your father has asked me to take the woman you are with, and send her back to the US.''

Slava laughed. ''You are certainly going to have to kill me before you can do that. She is in a delicate state, and if you so much as put one hand on her I will rip you into pieces, here and now.''

''Please calm yourself,'' Moltov said, slightly worried that Slava looked more than a match for him. ''What do they say in English? Ah yes, don't shoot the messenger. Your father has asked me to return the President's daughter back to the US. If you don't comply, I will relay that back to your father, and I will await further instructions.'' His eyes narrowed as he thought carefully about what he was going to say next. ''But your father is very disappointed that you have chosen to run off with an American, and especially one of such note. Your father has little regard for American's as indeed have I. They are trashy, loud and lack sophistication. Given that, it's no surprise that she is pregnant out of wedlock.''