The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

“I came for the baby.”

“She’s not yours.”

“I’m willing to negotiate. Your sister always said you were gonna be rich.”

Jackson moved his face closer, disgusted by the stench of cheap liquor. “I came from nothing, just like you. I know how to fight dirty, and I swear to you I will. I will make you regret the day you ever thought about my daughter, or looked at my wife. I keep what’s mine. Don’t you forget that. So get your sorry ass away from my family.” Jackson pinned him harder against the wall, not seeing the man anymore, only the threat.

“Jackson.” Hannah’s soft voice broke through his rage. He clenched his teeth and looked over at her, took in the pallor of her face, the trembling of her chin. And all the words she’d ever spoken to him about her childhood rang through his mind, all the violence she’d had to face. He glanced down at Emily—asleep, angelic, innocent. And then he stared at the lowlife in front of him, and Jackson thought of his and Louise’s father, and he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t raise his fists in anger in front of Hannah or Emily. Not ever.

“Stay the hell away from my family,” Jackson said in a low voice, before releasing him and backing away.

The man clutched his throat, trying to take deep breaths and staring at Jackson with so much hatred that Jackson knew in his gut this wasn’t over.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to Hannah, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to be composed. He needed to be her rock. Jackson grabbed her hand and the stroller, ushering them toward the entrance. The doorman opened the doors for them and they were swallowed into the luxurious marble lobby. He turned around to look out the windows as they waited for the elevator. His eyes scanned the crowds of people, but the man was gone.

…

Hannah didn’t say a word. She couldn’t look over at Jackson. She followed him into the apartment and just stood in the entryway, vaguely aware of Jackson taking Emily out of her stroller and walking out of the room. She stood there, coat still on, listening to the sounds she’d allowed herself to get accustomed to.

When Jackson returned, his face was haggard, his eyes filled with pain. “She didn’t wake up,” he said, his voice strained. He threw his keys and coat on the leather chair at the entry. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Jackson walked over to her. “I, uh, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Hannah shook her head, looking up at him. He hadn’t scared her. He’d made her feel safe. He’d fought for her. In so many ways they came from the same place.

“He said he’s her father.”

Jackson nodded slowly, his lips narrowing.

Why had she let herself get her hopes up? Why did she think that things would be different this time? This was just like all the times she’d get pulled out of a good home. Someone would come to the door and tell them it was time for Hannah to leave. It was always too soon. In the good homes it was always too soon. And now it was happening to Emily. No one had loved Hannah enough to adopt her, but they loved Emily. That should be enough. This couldn’t be happening. Hannah shook her head, she couldn’t look at Jackson, couldn’t wrap her arms around him, the shock of it all immobilizing her.

Her vision blurred as she felt Jackson’s chest tuck against her, his strong arms encircling her. She felt his pain in the words that neither of them were capable of speaking. She didn’t want to turn around to face him. She shivered back the sobs that threatened as he pressed his lips against her neck. This was it—she had failed. She couldn’t save Emily. Their family was going to be ripped to shreds. They couldn’t compete against her father.

“No one can take her away from us.” She could hear the raw emotion in his voice as he whispered in her ear. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. His jaw was set, his dark eyes glittering. Hannah shook her head as his warm, strong hands cupped her face.

“You don’t understand. Her father will win…you’re just an uncle…there’s a process. We will lose against her father.”

“I’m swearing to you right now, no one is going to take Em away from us. I promise you—”

“You can’t promise, no one can. I knew this would happen. I failed her,” Hannah said clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“No you didn’t,” he whispered against her hair. “We haven’t lost yet.”

Hannah felt the kisses along her hair straight to her heart. After tonight, there would be no point in the two of them pretending to be married anymore. Her hands ran up the smooth cotton of his shirt, feeling the taught muscles clench. She tightened her hold on him. He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her with a wanting and yearning that she understood and matched kiss for kiss.

“Make it go away, Jackson, make the pain go away.” He groaned and looked down at her, restrained desire etched in his face. He reached down to cup her bottom, lifting her so that she straddled him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her mouth not leaving his. Wild and filled with a pain that was doubled because of his, they loved each other, clothes falling away, until there was nothing left between them.

Hannah reached up, tilting his head to within an inch of hers. “Now” she whispered, her words cut off as he captured her mouth in a frantic kiss and he entered her with barely restrained passion.

She felt the hard length of him. He filled her completely, filling the void, the loneliness. Until all that was left for her to do was surrender—surrender to the bliss that Jackson offered. And seconds after her world exploded, she felt him join her.

…

Jackson woke to the sound of coffee percolating and the smell of lemon cranberry muffins. He smiled faintly. In spite of everything that happened last night, the thought of Hannah still made him smile. She had spent much of the night pacing and holding Emily, and the one time when she’d been awake lying next to him, he’d made love to her slowly and sweetly until both of them forgot the pain and surrendered to the love that neither would admit out loud.

Hannah wasn’t singing that song about the five ducks this morning. He hadn’t realized how much he liked that song until now. He shrugged on a pair of jeans and walked barefoot towards the kitchen, thanking God for Hannah. They would get through this together, they would fight for Emily.

Jackson stopped cold. Her bags were piled neatly in the hallway. The holly and berry bag was stuffed with books.

“Hannah?” he called out, walking into the kitchen. She stood with her back to him. When she slowly turned around he saw streaks down her face where she’d obviously been crying. She held up her hand and those glorious green eyes filled up with tears.

“I’m leaving.”

“Why?” he felt anger and fear jog through him.

“Nicholas just called. How long have you known about Emily’s father?”

…

Hannah tried to speak past the tears.

She had picked up the phone on the first ring when she’d seen it was their lawyer, and when Nicholas had mentioned his conversation about Emily’s biological father with Jackson, she’d felt the burn of his betrayal.

Hannah wiped the tears away with trembling hands, hating standing here, like this, in the room that twenty-four hours ago had been filled with a babbling baby and a smiling Jackson. She stared at his tense face, hating how even now that he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever known.

He cringed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t want you to panic—”

“You lied to me. How long have you known this?”

He looked away for a moment. “The night of our wedding.”

Hannah put her hands over her face. This was a mess. He had lied. Emily’s father was back. And she was…

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Emily is going,” she whispered, her voice shaking. He walked up to her and held her shoulders, the power in his hands reminding her of last night. The gentleness, the passion…

“No,” he said slowly. “Stop thinking like we’ve lost. Paternity results aren’t in.”

Hannah shook her head, his words not registering. “If he’s her father, he will gain custody. No matter how good Nicholas Wright is, we won’t be able to adopt her.”

“You know I will never let them take her. Think about this rationally. He’s an addict, he’s after money, not a baby. Emily is ours and we’ll never lose her. I’m a fighter and so are you.” He pulled her against him. She resisted for the briefest of seconds, not wanting to share her pain, not wanting to be comforted. But she couldn’t resist the shelter he offered and she buried her face against his chest, crying for Emily, crying for them, crying for herself. Her kingdom of dreams belonged in her books, in her fantasies. He’d broken down her walls, and she’d been seduced by his kindness, his touch, his vulnerabilities. And now she was going to lose everything.