Billionaire's Single Mom

"I can't do this all by myself, dammit." I muttered as I stirred the meat in the pan and warmed tortillas. "I need help."

Half an hour later, I called Riley to the table for supper, and she came in, dragging Mama behind her.

"Where's my drink?" she muttered as she pulled up a chair and sat down. "I want my drink!"

I shoved a glass of tea at her and watched as she drank it down without stopping. I refilled the glass and put a plate in front of her. She definitely looked and acted more sensible than she had when I'd arrived home, so I thought I'd take a chance.

"Mama, Patrick asked us to come to Mass," I said trying to sound like this was an everyday occurrence.

"Who?" she replied as she wrinkled her nose and picked at the food on her plate.

"Patrick," I repeated. "Father Patrick, your son?"

"I don't have a son," she said in a flat voice. "I had two daughters, but one ran off with a good for nothing loser and left me with you. And why the hell would I want to go to church? What good would it do me?"

"Patrick is your son. He went into the seminary," I said trying to jog her memory. I knew that the alcohol had wreaked havoc on her brain, but part of me wondered if she wasn't just being stubborn. "He's a priest over at Queen of Peace Parish. You used to love going to Mass when we were growing up. You were proud of Patrick when he joined the priesthood, Mama."

"I don't have a son," she said stubbornly before shoving her mouth full of burrito and chewing loudly. I shrugged and shook my head as she added, "And I definitely don't need a damn church telling me what to do."

Mama ate little more than a few bites of food, and halfway through the meal, she fell asleep, leaning on the wall next to the table. I shook her gently, but she was out.

"How did you get her up?" I asked.

"I told her that there was vodka at the table," Riley said grimly. "She got right up and headed in."

"This has to stop," I said, shaking my head as I stood up. I put my mother's arm over my shoulder and, with Riley's help, manage

d to get her on her feet and back to the bedroom.

Later, after all the dishes had been washed and I'd packed lunches for the next day, I laid down on own my bed and tried to summon up the courage to face my mother and force her to get the help she needed. But all that kept popping up was the feeling of Jack's strong arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me to his chest, and the brief whisper of a kiss that we'd shared.

I felt the ache of longing running from my head to between my legs and surrendered to the fantasy for a brief time before finally falling into a deep sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

Jack

"What do you think you're doing?" Lincoln asked as he burst into the office and found Sloan and me discussing our plans for renovation.

"Good afternoon, brother," I said without smiling. It had been several days since we'd seen each other, and I resented the fact that he'd dumped the stipulations of the will on me and disappeared. "What brings you to this part of town? Slumming, are you?"

"Dammit, Jack, this is bullshit, and you know it!" he said in a voice that barely contained his fury. "You cannot spend millions of dollars to renovate this damn place when you're supposed to be turning a profit!"

"Sloan and I are working on that, dear brother," I said. "You remember, Sloan, don't you?"

Lincoln shot me a murderous look as he nodded at Sloan and said, "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," she said giving him the once-over before turning back to the project spread out on the big conference table. Sloan had always despised Lincoln. She'd thought he was an arrogant know-it-all who believed women were inferior. I wasn't sure if he thought women were inferior or if he was just afraid of how powerful they actually were. Either way, Sloan was right about him being a know-it-all.

"Sloan and I have been discussing the renovation that would allow Baby Steps to increase warehouse capacity," I said. "We believe we've found the most cost efficient way of doing it."

"This is bullshit, and you two know it!" Lincoln protested. "You cannot sink more money into this company without a bank loan, and I won't allow it!"

"Oh, well if that's what you're worried about, then rest easy, brother," I said. "I've shifted a portion of the profits from Baby Steps' diaper business into a renovation fund, and we're using that to pay for the project."

"You can't do that!" he shouted. "You didn't get approval!"

"I hate to remind you of the fact that I'm the CEO of this company, and I have the final say in how profits are reinvested," I said as I gave my brother a smile that didn't reach my eyes. I was happy that I was going to stick it to him.