PROLOGUE
Anne
I hate Bran Erickson. I hate Bran Erickson. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head as I stared at my room…well the room that was mine while I carried Bran’s baby.
The most beautiful, colorful flower arrangements decorated the room and filled the air with a sweet scent. The walk-in closet door was open and from the entryway to my room I could see it was filled with clothes that I didn’t bring with me when I agreed to the ludicrous idea of being his surrogate.
I made my way to the closet and gasped at the beautiful designer clothes. Gowns and dresses. Lovely silk shirts and slacks.
I prepared to lambast him for buying a pregnant woman clothes she couldn’t wear until I checked closer and saw that all of them were maternity clothes.
Damn him.
I hate Bran Erickson. I hate Bran Erickson.
I stepped out of the closet, shutting the door.
An item on my dresser caught the sunlight and refracted all over the room.
I didn’t know much about jewelry. Only a few items I inherited from my mother. I was lucky to have them, considering my father hated my guts. They were the only thing of value I had since my father disowned and disinherited me.
He’d have done it when I was a child, except it would have made him look bad. Once I turned twenty-one and graduated college, he cut off the money.
On the dresser, in a violet felt box, sat a diamond necklace. It had a large teardrop diamond along with smaller cut diamonds. Matching teardrop earrings were included. They were exquisite.
If I sold them, I could probably live pretty well for a year. Two years if I continued my life of frugality.
I sighed as I scanned the room again. What was Bran doing?
My eye caught an envelope on the bed. Ah ha. All this was probably a bribe. The envelope had some new legal arrangement he wanted to implement. Probably a tracker implanted in me or one of those electronic ankle cuffs criminals wear.
I picked up the envelope, opening it and pulling out a check. Twenty-five million dollars to Anne Francis.
For a moment, I was sure I was dreaming.
Since my family cut me off, all I’d wanted was to have the security and safety that came from having money. Some people, including Bran, thought I was a gold digger.
Maybe I was.
But I was a woman born of wealth who wanted to live in the same world she grew up in. I’d thought I’d achieve it with Dane MacLeod, whose mother liked me despite my father’s attitude toward me.
But he fell for his much-younger employee and now they were married with twins.
I had an idea for a business, but no one would give me money because I was broke and/or my father blacklisted me. That’s how I ended up in this situation of agreeing to have a child for a man I hated…or at least I had.
Overwhelmed, I sank down onto the bed.
This check was my door to freedom.
I could get a home in a nicer, safer location. I could start my business. I could stop feeling like trash my father tossed out. I had everything I wanted. So why did I feel like shit?
“What do you think?”
I startled at Bran’s voice. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with his hands in his pockets. Like always, he looked like he was the master of his domain in his tailored suit that didn’t hide his broad shoulders and chest.
His tie brought out the soft pale blue of his eyes, making him seem benign when I knew he could be lethal. How could someone so infuriating be so sinfully sexy?
I hate Bran Erickson. I hate Bran Erickson.