CEO's Expectant Secretary (2 page)

“I didn’t become a success by avoiding a fight,” Athos said, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. “You’re a successful man, too. You and I are more alike than you think.”

Brock felt his blood pressure go through the roof. He clenched his fist again, willing himself not to knock Athos off his almighty perch of pride. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t force my grandchild to wallow in the mud for me.”

“I didn’t force—”

“And her pregnancy, was that part of your plan, too?” Brock goaded the man.

Athos’s hard veneer slipped. “Pregnancy?” he said. “What are you talking about?”

“Elle,” Brock said. “She’s pregnant with my child.”

Athos turned pale as he shook his head. “No, she wasn’t supposed to—” He continued to shake his head, his skin color changing from white to gray as he began to fall.

Brock watched in disbelief, rushing toward the man, catching him as he collapsed. Stunned at the limp body of his adversary, he shook his head. “Call an ambulance!” he yelled. “Mr. Koteas is ill.”

Elle rushed through the doors of the emergency room, her heart in her throat. The only other time she could remember being this upset was when she’d learned her mother had cancer. Although Athos had never been affectionate toward her, Elle still felt a debt to him for his financial support of her mother and her.

Brock stepped in front of her as she headed straight for the information desk and she faltered. Her breath hitched at the sight of him, so tall, so strong. Then she remembered what Athos’s housekeeper had told her. Brock had been with her grandfather when he’d collapsed.

Brock reached for her and she shrank from him. “You,” she said, every cell in her body accusing him. “You’re the one who caused this. You caused my grandfather to have a heart attack.”

Brock shook his head. “I never would have dreamed he was so fragile.” He gently took her arm. “I won’t let you handle this alone. I don’t want you upset.”

“Not upset?” she retorted, pulling her arm away from him. “How could I not be? Do you realize what you’ve done? I’ll never forgive you for this. Never,” she said, pushing away from him.

Her stomach in knots, she approached the information desk. “Athos Koteas,” she said over the terrible lump in her throat. “Is he—” She broke off, unable to form the words. “How is he?” she whispered.

The nurse gave her a look of sympathy. “Your name?” she asked.

“Elle. Elle Linton,” she said, holding her breath.

“Come this way. Mr. Koteas has been asking for you.”

Her heart filled with dread, she followed the nurse to the last room on the hallway. Elle looked inside and saw her grandfather hooked up to monitors and tubes. He’d always seemed so strong, so much larger than life when she was a child.

The nurse nodded. “You can go in.”

Elle tentatively stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. Her grandfather’s face was pale with strain, his usually neat hair mussed, his eyes closed. The green gown emphasized his ashen complexion. “Athos,” she said, because she’d been instructed long ago not to call him grandfather. For a long time, she and her mother
had only served to remind Athos of his disappointment in his son.

Her grandfather opened his eyes. “Elle,” he said, lifting his hand.

She immediately wrapped both her hands around his. “I’m so sorry about Brock,” she said, unable to hide her desperation. “When he called to tell me you were in the hospital, I was horrified that he would go to your house and accuse you.” She shook her head. “It’s his fault that you had a heart—”

“No, no,” Athos said, shaking his head. His eyes were weary. “Brock Maddox is not responsible for my heart problems.”

“I don’t believe that,” she insisted. “If he hadn’t shown up at your house—”

Athos gave her hands a feeble squeeze and shrugged. “It would have happened sometime,” he said. “It has happened before,” he told her, meeting her gaze. “It will happen again.”

Confusion and fear trickled through her, the combination burning like acid. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? You’ve always been strong and healthy.”

Athos sighed. “My doctor has told me I don’t have much time. I may have been able to fool people that I’m strong, but my heart is very weak.”

“Well, surely there’s something that can be done. You should get a second opinion.”

“Elle,” he said in a chiding tone. “I’ve received only the best care. There’s nothing that can be done. The reason I asked you to spy on Maddox is because I wanted to make Golden Gate Promotions solid before…”

Elle’s throat clenched and she shook her head. “You’re not going to die,” she said. “You just need to get your strength back.”

Athos’s mouth lifted in a sad smile. “I’ve faced this. You must face it, too,” he said as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for getting you involved in my scheme. Brock was right. I shouldn’t have asked you to take care of my dirty work.”

“Excuse me,” the nurse said from behind her. “We’ll be moving Mr. Koteas to the Cardiac Care Unit. We need you to return to the waiting room.”

Elle quickly kissed her grandfather’s cheek and walked to the waiting room. Brock was standing across the room. She was surprised he was still there. A rush of contradictory feelings surged through her. He had become so many things to her—boss, lover, enemy. Father of her child.

Her mind raced back to what her grandfather had told her. He was going to die soon, and her mother’s future was uncertain. Was she going to lose the two most important people in her life? Sheer panic squeezed the breath from her lungs. She tried to force herself to breathe, but she couldn’t. Her head suddenly felt light and Brock’s image swam before her eyes.

“Elle,” he said, moving toward her, his face tight with concern. “Elle,” he said again and everything went black.

A
larm slammed through Brock as he caught Elle. “Elle,” he said, and swore under his breath.

Her eyelids fluttered and she moved her head as if she were trying to shake off her weakness. “Brock,” she murmured and shook her head.

“I’m taking you home with me,” he said firmly.

“No,” she said, shaking her head again. “I shouldn’t. I—”

“I won’t take no for an answer. You’ve been hit with too much today. You need to rest without interruption. My home is the best place for that.”

Elle sighed and bit her lip, her eyes darkening with flashes of different emotions. “Okay,” she said, reluctance in her voice.

Brock tucked Elle into his car and drove to his family home in Nob Hill. He ushered her up the steps to the
home of his youth. He spent most of his time in the apartment he’d built at Maddox Communications, but that didn’t seem like the right place for Elle, especially in her fragile state.

“You never brought me here before,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted things to stay private with you.”

She stopped. “And now?”

He lifted his hand to push a strand of hair from her face. “Now it’s different.”

“Because of the baby,” she said.

“More responsibility is required when a child is involved,” he told her. “We can talk more later. Come on in. You need to rest.”

He pushed open the door and Anna, his head housekeeper, quickly rushed to the foyer. “Mr. Maddox. How can I help you?”

“Anna, this is Elle Linton. She’s had a difficult day. I’d like her to have a chance to rest,” he said.

“The blue bedroom?” she suggested. “It’s on this floor.”

He nodded. “Perfect. Is Mrs. Maddox here today?”

Anna shook her head. “No, sir. I believe your mother is in Paris at the moment.”

Thank God,
he thought. He wished she would stay there, although he knew she wouldn’t. He’d learned long ago that his mother was a heartless woman who’d married his father for money and given him two sons because it was expected of her. Since his father had died, she’d tried to find ways to extract money from Brock and his brother Flynn.

He guided Elle toward the blue bedroom at the back
of the house. “I think you’ll be comfortable here,” he said as Anna drew the shades and pulled down the covers.

“You know I can’t stay,” she said, sinking onto the bed. “I’m only here because it’s been such a difficult, crazy day.”

“I know,” he said, but his intentions were entirely different. “Anna, can you please get Miss Linton some water? Perhaps juice,” he added.

Elle shook her head. “Water will be just fine.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again as if she were fighting her weariness.

“Kick off your shoes and rest,” he said after Anna left. “It will be best for you and the baby.”

She took off her shoes and lay down on the mattress. “This is just for a little while,” she warned him, her eyelids growing heavier with each second.

“Put your feet under the covers,” he told her. “Your water will be on the nightstand. You need to rest, Elle. Close your eyes.”

Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Just for a little while,” she said.

He watched her and within seconds, her breathing slid into a regular rhythm. Unable to force his gaze from her, he stared. The sight of her in his home did something crazy to his insides. He’d thought his heart was dead after his fiancée left him. He’d planned to keep things low-key with Elle. Knowing she was expecting his child, though, changed everything, even his resentment toward her because she’d betrayed him.

He needed to move quickly. Brock had never been more certain of the right thing to do in his life. Taking
in the sight of her lovely face, her parted lips inhaling even, measured breaths, he felt his resolve solidify.

Forcing himself to look away from her, he left the room and called his publicist.

Hours later, Elle awakened to a semidark room. The bed and furnishings were unfamiliar. Uncertainty rushed through her as she rose to her elbows, trying to shake off her grogginess. Then she saw Brock seated across the room with an electronic book reader in his hands.

He glanced up at her. “Okay?”

Everything came back to her—the terrible scene in the kitchen with Brock, her grandfather’s heart attack. Panic raced through her. She threw off the covers and swung her feet to the floor. “I need to check on my mother and grandfather.”

Brock was beside her in seconds, putting his hands gently on her shoulders as if to steady her. “Already done. Your mother is making an early night of it. She said you should do the same. You’ve been too stressed lately. Athos is resting comfortably in the CCU. If he continues to improve, he’ll be moved to a regular room on the cardiac floor tomorrow.”

Despite all the tension between her and Brock, she couldn’t deny her relief at his touch and the reassurance of his confident voice. “You’re sure?” she asked. “You’re sure they’re okay.”

“I’m sure,” he said, then glanced at the clock. “It’s late, but you’re probably hungry.”

Elle gasped when she saw the time. “Oh, my good
ness, it’s nine-thirty. I can’t believe I slept that long. I need to get home.”

“Not tonight,” he said firmly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I agree with your mother. You’ve been too stressed lately. You need to rest. This is the best place for you to relax.”

“Oh, this is insane. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. That’s why you fainted in the E.R.,” he said, his gaze holding hers in silent challenge.

It was hard to argue his point, she thought, sighing. Just as it had been hard for her to fight her attraction to him from the day she’d met him.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” he said, pushing aside a stray strand of her hair. “An empty stomach is an invitation to faint again.”

Her pulse raced at his fleeting touch, making her feel lightheaded. Heaven help her, she couldn’t pass out again. “Maybe some toast,” she conceded.

“That’s all? You can have anything you want. Steak, chicken,” he said, guiding her toward the door.

The thought of a heavy meal made her feel queasy. “Just toast, please. I can fix it myself.”

“No,” he said. “Anna’s been waiting to fix something for you since you walked in the door. She said you looked terribly pale.”

“There’s no need to fuss,” she said as she walked down the hallway beside him. She’d been too upset to notice much about Brock’s house. Now that she was more composed, she took in the décor. Beautiful antiques stood on top of luxurious rugs. Heavy draperies
lined the windows. Brass framed mirrors reflected over-the-top chandeliers.

“This is amazing. It must be like living in a palace,” she said. “The antiques are—”

“—my mother’s,” he said with an edge of weariness in his voice. “As you know, I don’t stay here very often. I feel more at ease in the apartment at the office.”

“Oh,” she said. “It’s beautiful, but I can see why it might be hard to relax here. I’d be afraid I’d bump into something and break a million-dollar lamp.”

He chuckled. “That would be one way to clear out some of this junk. Anna,” he said as the housekeeper approached them. “Miss Linton says she would like toast.”

Anna nodded, trying to hide her disapproval. “With beef tips, or turkey and mashed potatoes? Or perhaps crab?”

Elle shook her head. “Just butter and maybe jelly on the side.”

Anna sighed. “If you’re certain, Miss Linton. Would you like some wine?”

“Orange juice with ice and water,” Elle said.

Anna nodded again. “I’ll have it for you in the dining room in just a couple moments.”

After Anna left, Elle turned to Brock. “I’m not really going to eat toast in a formal dining room, am I?”

He chuckled. “There’s a breakfast table in the sunroom.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said and followed him into a sunroom with a skylight that revealed the stars of the San Francisco night sky. Blinds were at perfect half-mast to showcase a courtyard with trees draped in
white lights. She sank onto an overstuffed chair next to a glass table with a fresh flower arrangement. She looked around the room and breathed a sigh of relief. “I like this room.”

“My father did, too,” Brock said, sitting beside her. “He liked this room best. Got up before sunrise and read two newspapers here before going into work every day. Carol wanted to redecorate, but I refused. She has changed several rooms in the house, but not this one.”

“Why do you call your mother Carol?” she asked.

“That’s her name,” he said.

“Still, most men call the woman who gave birth to them ‘Mother’ or ‘Mom.’”

His gaze grew shuttered. “She’s always been more Carol than Mother. Breeding was compulsory.”

Elle gasped. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

He glanced toward the entry. “Here comes your toast. Thanks, Anna.”

Elle also thanked Anna and began to nibble the hot buttered bread. Anna had brought several different kinds. Any other time, she would have chosen wheat. Today she went straight for the sourdough. South Beach diet be damned. All she’d wanted since getting pregnant were carbs, carbs and more carbs. Thank goodness for prenatal vitamins.

Feeling Brock’s gaze on her, she took a sip of orange juice. Something about him made her nervous in an exciting, forbidden way. Still. Even after that terrible scene this morning. She glanced away, frowning to herself.

“Jelly?” he asked.

She shook her head and took another bite of toast. “This is perfect.”

His mouth lifted in a half-grin. Just as quickly, his smile fell. “How long have you known you were pregnant?”

Her throat closed around the bite of toast and she coughed, trying to swallow. She took another sip of juice. “Well, I haven’t been regular lately.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

She gnawed on her upper lip with her bottom teeth. “I suspected about six weeks ago.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Six weeks?”

“I’ve been nauseous since then. At first, I thought it might be an intestinal virus.” She shrugged. “Or stress. I avoided taking a home pregnancy test, but I made sure I was taking good vitamins. I was in denial,” she confessed. She just couldn’t believe she’d gotten pregnant by Brock, and she sure as heck had no clue what to do once her pregnancy was verified.

“So, how far along?” he asked.

“Three and a half months,” she said. “I saw the doctor two weeks ago. He said the nausea should pass soon. I’m still waiting,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t figure out how. I kept rehearsing all these different ways and none of them seemed right.” Her stomach clenched and she dropped her piece of toast onto her plate. “I’ve had enough.”

“You’ve hardly eaten anything,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“But what about your health? What about the baby?” he demanded.

“I’m doing the best I can, and I’m taking prenatal vitamins. I have to believe that babies born with less food than I’m consuming have turned out fine, so I hope mine will, too.” She pushed the plate away and stood. “I should go home.”

Brock got to his feet, looming over her. “No. Stay here tonight.”

She shook her head, but he gently put his hands on either side of her face and pushed her hair behind her ears. “You need rest. When you wake up in the morning, you’ll feel better. Trust me.”

Elle looked into his eyes and felt her heart twist and tug with opposing feelings. She trusted him, but at the same time, she didn’t. She’d spent the last several months watching this man eat his competitors alive during the day and making her melt in his arms at night. He was passionate about the company. She’d never believed he could be equally passionate about her, yet when they’d been together, both of them had seemed to combust every time. She’d tried to tell herself it was just physical, but she’d known she was lying. She was falling for Brock. She
had
fallen for Brock.

Even though she’d slept for over five hours, she still felt exhausted. She couldn’t fight her weariness and Brock at the same time. “Okay, but I’m leaving in the morning.”

His gaze flickered with something indiscernible and she wished she could read him. She knew he could be a dangerous man.

“You’re wise to give yourself a break, Elle. Let me walk you back to your room.”

With his hand at her waist, she couldn’t help breathing
a sigh of relief. It was temporary, the same way their relationship had been. Still, he’d been a respite for her as she had been for him. It was a shame the whole thing had blown up in their faces, but she’d always known there’d never been any other possible ending for their relationship.

Brock opened the door to the blue bedroom. “Anna refilled your water. Call if you need anything. Sweet sleep,” he said and brushed his lips over her forehead.

Elle awakened the following morning when a sliver of the sun peeked through the curtains in the room. She savored the perfect cushiony firmness of the mattress and the cuddly cotton sheets. Even the pillow offered her head the perfect elevation. She sighed in contentment, inhaling the faintest whiff of eucalyptus and lavender.

Easing into consciousness, she thought about her mother. She should check on her. Three seconds passed and she thought of her grandfather. Frowning, she opened her eyes and realization hit her. She needed to check on him, too.

Sitting up, she remembered she was in Brock’s Nob Hill home, and she definitely should be leaving. Sliding from the bed, she felt the padded carpet beneath her feet and rushed to the bathroom to shower and get on her way. By the end of bathing, though, she was fighting nausea.

Crap.

Taking deep, even breaths, she pulled on her clothes and walked down the hallway. She followed the sound of voices and found two people talking in the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said.

Anna and a man she hadn’t met yet turned to look at her. “Miss Linton?” Anna said. “May I get you some breakfast? Eggs, potatoes, bacon?”

Elle felt another roll of nausea. “Herbal tea and toast, please. Can you tell me where Mr. Maddox is?”