Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
“My father, at least, was never stupid enough to play Russian roulette on his boat,” I sniffed.
Carter scowled. “Fair point, well done.” Carter reached into his jacket and pulled out a packet of papers. “Everything is filled out. All you need to do is sign them.”
I took the packet and looked inside. It was full of the necessary paperwork to remove any claims I might have on Alessandro and to bar me from seeing him until he was eighteen.
“Is this really necessary?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s necessary,” Carter said. “You grasping, money-grubbing whore. I won’t have you influencing MY grandson.”
I shook my head and stalked away, tossing a middle-finger gesture behind me as I did so. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Don’t take too long,” Carter called back. “This arrangement only works if you keep up your end!”
I marched out to the valet and got in my new BMW. Someday, soon, I’d trade up for more luxurious, more expensive vehicles, but this would do for now.
A loft apartment in Greenwich Village greeted me, and I promised myself a penthouse in Manhattan as soon as all this was said and done.
I pulled a bottle of Merlot out of the fridge once I was inside my little safe haven, and tossed the manila envelope down on the kitchen table.
I got a large wine glass and poured myself a generous amount, not bothering to put the bottle back in the fridge. I would be drinking more soon enough.
For the longest time, I stared at the envelope. Inside were papers, much like those Tally had drawn up, that would keep me away from my grandson. My only family.
If I signed them, I would be totally and utterly alone.
If I didn’t sign them, I was going back to prison.
I sat down at the table and set my wine glass aside, pulling the papers out and reading them thoroughly. The Cartwrights hadn’t left anything to chance. I could have consulted my own attorney, but I, for one, couldn’t see any loopholes.
“This is not the way it was supposed to be,” I lamented, wiping a tear from my eye. I was supposed to be with James. We were supposed to live a fabulous life.
Tally was supposed to have married well and brought my grandchildren home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we would summer together on Long Island. We would have been a family.
Then there was Becca. God, how I wanted to strangle that interloper. She’d destroyed everything. Everything, including my Tally.
“I am going to kill you, Becca,” I whispered, slamming my fist down on the table and causing some of my wine to spill, making it look as though I were signing the documents in blood. “I don’t care how long it takes, how much it costs. You are going to DIE.”
I thought back to all the luncheons, events, and shopping I’d done with my Tally. How we’d been two peas in a pod. James had been stingy with me, and Tally understood that, graciously using her own allowance to keep me afloat.
Then Becca turned her against me. I wasn’t allowed to see my grandson. I was cut out of any ability to raise him. I was left penniless without even James’s shoulder to cry on.
Yes, that bitch had to go.
“I’m sorry, Tally,” I slurred after the sun got lower in the sky and I’d nearly finished the whole bottle of Merlot. “I’m sorry they destroyed us. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from that. Couldn’t save us from that. I tried so hard.”
I looked at the wine-stained documents again, then stood and walked around the apartment. It was impossible to see the stars from where I was, but I still looked out at the dark horizon and imagined maybe my Tally was looking down at me right now.
“You really wanted me to raise him, didn’t you?” I said to the windows. “You wanted me to raise him, but your father said he’d cut you off if you put me as a guardian. I understand, baby. I see it now. I see how they destroyed us.”
A tear rolled down my cheek.
“I don’t think I get to raise him, Tally,” I whispered. “We would have made such a great team, raising him together. And seeing how great we were as a family would have brought your father back to me, and everything would have been alright. If it weren’t for that harlot!”
I threw my glass against the brick wall, and it shattered. “Tally, I’m going to end her. For you. For me. For Alessandro. I’m going to make it so she can’t hurt anyone else. And then I’ll get your father back. I won’t be destitute, honey. I know you worried about that, but I still have my looks. I’ll get by.”
How long I would need to get by and with whom, I had no idea. But what I did know was that I had time. Plenty of time to plan my revenge.
“You’d be so proud, Tally. So proud of me. I’ve got all our best interests at heart, you know that, right? Your father needs ME, not HER. Alessandro needs ME, not HER. And if it comes down to it, I will even raise that little bastard of theirs. I have a generous spirit,” I rattled on.
I looked down at my chipped nails and sighed, deciding I was going to need another manicure. The botox in my face was wearing off as well. I could do with another breast lift, and my lips had lost their youthful plumpness. All of this, I would remedy with the Cartwrights’ money. Then, I would find a man who would keep me in the style I deserved while I plotted Becca’s death.
It was that thought, and that thought alone that got me through sitting down at the table, taking up a pen, and signing away my rights as Alessandro’s family to see, speak to, or hold until he was eighteen.
But when he was eighteen, he would be mine. And he would take care of his grandmother with the Cartwrights’ money.
And Becca would be dead.
Becca.
I set Dahlia next to Alessandro in the crib after she stopped fussing, then looked at James. “This is truly the most incredible surprise. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I’d do anything for you, Becca,” James said fiercely, wrapping me in his arms.
“Alright.” I licked my lips and stared at his. “Make love to me?”
James chuckled. “As if you’d ever need to ask.”
He was about to scoop me up in his arms, when his phone rang. Groaning, James motioned for me to follow him out of the room so the ringing didn’t wake the babies.
“Yes?” James asked in a clipped tone once the nursery door was closed.
Frantic Italian was spoken on the other end. Even if I understood Italian, it would have been indecipherable to me.
“He what?” James growled, which caused me to take a step back. “Of course, he would, that a**hole.”
‘What?’ I mouthed, but James just held up a finger.
“He’s going to have a hell of a time proving that,” James snorted. “Don’t worry, Tony. You’ve still got this.”
With a long sigh, James ended the call and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“James?” I asked, touching his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing too terrible. Nothing unexpected, anyway. Ronaldo is trying to pin my uncle’s murder on me,” James said.
“What?” I gaped. “How would that… even be possible? The witnesses…”
“The witnesses can be bought or threatened. And Ronaldo and I do look an awful lot alike,” James pointed out.
I scowled. “It’s not bad enough he killed your uncle, now he’s trying to frame you?”
“He’s a real peach.” James shook his head and took my hand. “I think we were talking about making love?”
“But—” I started.
