Page 7 of Almost Paradise

“Do I look like the type of guy who would drive a jalopy?” He pins me to the car and puts his arms on either side of me, boxing me in.

“I guess not. You have prep school and Harvard written all over you.”

“Dartmouth, not Harvard,” he says. “Then Stanford.”

I get on my toes and wrap my arms around him. I nibble the side of his neck, and he sighs. He always caves when I do that, and this time is no different. My hands slide down his back and cup his ass.

“I don’t think so. You’re going to drive.”

“How about if we fuck in the back seat instead? I know you want to.” I reach for his dick, but he moves away, walks to the driver’s door, opens it, and gestures for me to get in.

The loud banging on my front door pulls me out of my daydream. I clear my throat and will my nipples to return to normal. We did fuck in the back seat of that car like I wanted. It was after he made me drive it, but like always, it was glorious.

This cannot be happening. I don’t make any moves to open the door. There’s no way. What is he doing here right now after all these years? After all his rejections. Even though I had a feeling of foreboding since Kyle’s party, I never could have predicted this. I stand there frozen and unsure of what to do. When I decide it’s best to pretend I’m not home, he pounds on the door again.

You know he won’t go away. Do it now while you still have some time before anyone gets home.

“Nia, I swear to God, I’ll break this door down. I know you’re in there.”

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, ready to call the police. It would be great to see him taken away in handcuffs. I’ll record the entire thing and post it on social media. I’d love to see the Paradise Heir get humiliated just like he humiliated me.

In the end, I don’t do that. I don’t want any nosy neighbors figuring out our history. Besides, I’ve never been a coward, and I’m not going to start now. And I sure as hell am not going to cower to a man of such weak moral character that he would turn his back on his son. As he’s pounding on the door for the fourth time, I swing it open, and our eyes collide.

I’m almost transported back in time to the day we met. Almost, but not quite. I should have known then that he was full of shit. The heir to the country’s largest construction conglomerate would never see me as anything more than a convenient plaything. To him, I’m a good-time girl, and that’s it.

I look away, and he barges in without an invitation. I close the door behind him. I take it a step further and close the blinds to ensure no one sees anything, but I know the old lady across the street will be asking about the Mercedes in the driveway as soon as he leaves.

I refuse to speak first. I cross my arms and wait for him to state his business. I look away, unable to look into his face without smacking him. He looks past me and walks to the wall. He’s looking at a baby picture of Carter. It was taken for his first birthday and he’s in a blue suit and white bow tie that my mother got him. She also scheduled the elaborate photo shoot. He’s holding a big number one and smiling for the camera. He only has four teeth in this picture. Two on the top and two on the bottom. My heart swells with love and pride for the son I carried and birthed without any support from his father.

“How could you?” he asks.

My head rolls back. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m not in the mood to play games. Rich people think they can waste your time with their bullshit.

“How couldyou?”I ask. I guess I am in the mood to play. I wave him off and return to my office. I close the door behind me, but he barges in before I can lock it. “I’m not in the mood for whatever this is, Paradise. Tell me why you’re here or get out of my damn face.”

I start to type my login, but the laptop is pulled out from in front of me. He tosses it across the room, and it shatters against the wall. Stunned, I stand and put a hand to my chest. I finally look at him, and I take a step back. He looks deranged. His hair is sticking out and his eyes dart from side to side. His breathing is shallow. Despite the frigid weather outside, he’s not wearing a coat. His suit jacket and shirt are both wrinkled. The Drake Paradise I knew all those years ago was always well put together. He smiles, but it’s cold and calculating and doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not here to play games with you, Nia. I’m here to find out when in the hell you were going to tell me that I have a son,” he practically thunders.

The question shocks me so much that I lose my ability to speak. I’m usually ready with a quick or witty response. I don’t take shit from anyone, billionaire or not, but today, the words get stuck in my throat.

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” he asks, condescension oozing out of his mouth.

I look into his eyes and blink three times. This can’t be happening. After four years, this man comes slithering uninvited into my house to spout utter garbage.

“What do I have to say for myself? Who the hell do you think you are?” I decide that I don’t care why he’s here. “Get out of my house before I call the police.” I pick up my phone from my desk, but he snatches it from me.

“I said when the hell were you going to tell me that I have a son?” When I continue to look into his eyes with utter disbelief, he says, “I know, Nia. I saw you two at the arcade two weeks ago.”

“You saw us?” Drake hates video games. He hates crowds and he hates children. If I cared, I’d ask him why he was at an arcade.

“Stop asking stupid questions and answer me,” he says.

I stare at him again, doing my best to determine if he’s playing some kind of prank. That’s got to be it. Nothing else makes sense. When all he does is stare at me, I let out a soft chuckle. That soon turns into a full-blown belly laugh. I throw my head back and laugh as if this is the funniest joke on earth. I laugh so hard that I have to hold my stomach as tears roll down my cheeks.

He pounds a fist on the wall, but not even that is enough to make me stop laughing. He moves in closer to me, crowding my space. I laugh harder at his pathetic attempts at intimidation. I lean against my desk, making sure that our bodies don’t touch. If they do, I might not be able to stop my knee from hitting his groin at full impact. My laughs finally turn into guffaws until they die down.

“Thanks for that, Paradise. I needed that laugh. You can slither out the same way you slithered in.” I point in the direction of the front door. “Bye.”

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