Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
Several short, to-the-point conversations later, and we were sitting in our places again. Puppets on strings.
Hopper cleared his throat and said, “The jury is still out. We will reconvene in two days. The child, Alessandro, cannot be seen by James during this waiting period. Becca, you will continue to care for the child during this waiting period.”
Becca’s eyes widened in fear, but she nodded. James hung his head, no doubt predicting the worst.
From my perspective, Becca was fine. But James? This could be a very bad sign, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit hung up on it. Good thing I didn’t drink all the wine last night.
Allegra.
“You can’t be serious,” my agent, Kimberly, said to me as we sat in a little cafe in Rome overlooking the Colosseum. She sipped a cappuccino and stared over the top of the tiny little cup at me with wide, incredulous eyes.
“You didn’t think I’d stay out of work forever,” I scoffed, sipping my own cappuccino. “I’m a model. I model. That’s what I do. That’s how I make money.”
“I thought assassins made pretty good money?” Kimberly snarled. It was one of the many reasons I disliked her.
But, she was the best agent in the business, and she’d actually agreed to take the meeting, so I couldn’t really complain. “I’m not an assassin.”
“The U.S. Government begs to differ,” Kimberly said.
“The U.S. Government can sit on it and spin,” I grumbled. “I was trained as an assassin, yes, but I don’t WORK as one. I WORK as a model.”
“Not in the United States, you don’t,” Kimberly replied. “You’ve been barred from using that as your home base, and word of mouth is the government is sniffing around anyone and everyone who ever had anything to do with you. You’re practically blackballed in the industry.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Shit. “Okay, I wasn’t really planning to do a lot of work in the United States anyway.”
“Where were you planning on working?” Kimberly asked.
I gestured around us. “Here. Rome. Europe. But based here in Rome.”
Kimberly nodded slowly. “Money won’t be quite as good, but I can make it happen. I also want another five percent for hazard pay.”
“Hazard pay?!” I cried. “What do you mean hazard pay? I’m not taking you into the Congo to hunt militants, I just need you to make some phone calls to associates you already work with!”
“They all know, Allegra. I’m going to get so much flak and have to wade through so much bullshit for you just to get you working again,” Kimberly sniffed. “I deserve a raise in pay.”
I thought it over, my teeth grinding in frustration. “Two percent.”
“Three,” Kimberly said.
“Done.” I was hardly surprised when Kimberly opened her briefcase and took out a new agent’s agreement for me to look over and sign.
After I did so, she took the papers and snapped her briefcase shut. “It’s been lovely doing business with you again, Allegra. Expect a call from me soon.”
Kimberly downed the rest of her cappuccino in one gulp and walked away.
I shook my head. God, but I hated that money-grubbing bitch. But if there was anyone who could restore a small sliver of my career, it would be her. I didn’t have much of a choice.
I held my cappuccino under my nose without drinking any of it. The scent was lovely and brought me back to a date I’d taken Layla on back in New Zealand.
She’d been so nervous and beautiful in an understated blue dress. I’d wanted to skip dinner altogether and take her to a hotel, but that just wasn’t the way one courted Layla.
She deserved flowers and violins and a hundred doves released at the very moment of “I do.” That was the kind of girl Layla was.
I had no idea what I’d done in this life or a previous one to deserve someone as sweet and gentle—not to mention smoking hot—as Layla.
Finally, I sipped my cooling cappuccino and stared at the sunset. I’d been a little perturbed when she’d chosen to stay with Becca rather than get whisked away by me, but I understood she had a connection to those kids.
I did, too, but I no longer had any right to go beating down James’s and Becca’s door, bringing trouble.
Something I’d brought a lot of upon myself, clearly. Shoving aside my thoughts of Kimberly and her ridiculous notion of ‘hazard pay’, I took another sip of my cappuccino. All was going to be well now. I could be with Layla.
I’d emphasized Rome, for the most part, even if I wouldn’t get as much money. That wasn’t everything when love was involved, after all. Look at Layla and her nannying. She had so much passion in that job, which was why she was not with me.
Yet.
But that was all about to change. We would live in a little cottage with some woods behind us. I would build a few bird boxes so she could have the wildlife she loved so much up close and personal.
We’d exchange so many kisses of passion, and I would give her all the pleasure, and more, that she deserved. I licked my lips, imagining my tongue exploring her mouth for a moment. Warmth flowed through me as I sighed, slowly closing my eyes.
I needed to make this work so we could have that wonderful life. So Layla could lay next to me on cold nights, with a cup of hot chocolate or a glass of wine, wrapped in a blanket and resting in my arms.
So I could see her in hundreds more sexy dresses, witness her cheeks flush as I whispered sweet nothings in her ear. I imagined pinning her down, wanting to cause so many delicious whimpers to spill from her lips.
Romantic, sexy, all of that and more, she was going to be with me, and I couldn’t wait. I took another sip, the annoyance over Kimberly and her money-grubbing bullshit dissipating into the night as the sun vanished under the horizon.
My hopes and dreams were hanging on this. If I had a proper income, even if less than I was used to, I could make this work. Sometimes circus handlers needed to rely on their tigers, after all.
Eventually, I finished my drink and tossed it into the garbage, standing quickly and approaching my car. There was something weighing on my mind. I really wanted to give her that necklace I got for her.
It was the same necklace I’d gone back to get in New Zealand when I’d been kidnapped. I’d kept it hidden from the kidnappers the entire time. In Scarsdale, I hadn’t had a chance to return it to her, but I was determined to do so soon. Layla would eventually end up back in Rome, so I’d be able to present it to her then, preferably after a long, tender kiss.
That kidnapping business had been horrible, with several heaps of unpleasantness I didn’t want to focus on too much. Still, I’d gotten that necklace right before it all went down, and I intended on getting it to its rightful owner.
Anyway, I ran over my plans in my head. We would get a nice cottage here in Rome, something that would definitely work out regardless of what James and Becca did. Yes, Layla had an attachment to the kids, but they weren’t hers.
She eventually would need to move on. Bonus points for when James inevitably moved back to Italy with Becca anyway. Layla wouldn’t have to be torn between me and them. Hopefully, they would move close to Rome. I didn’t see why that wouldn’t be the case. Florence was close enough.
Layla had expressed to me her desire to live in Italy anyway. She wasn’t the biggest fan of the United States, which was great, given that I wasn’t allowed to work as a model here anyway. The more she was stuck here, the more my heart clenched.
No, she would come back here and live out her dreams with me. I told myself this over and over as I approached my car, leaving the establishment and heading to my apartment.
The night life was bustling, with pedestrians wandering down the streets illuminated by soft light. I smiled to myself, imagining my arm linked with Layla as we wandered to the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma.
We’d watch some heart-wrenching shows and have deep discussions about the meaning of them. I’d lean in and steal a kiss from her during only the most romantic of moments, possibly teasing under her shirt at the same time.
We’d get dirty looks, but we’d ignore them. The world would be ours. I would bring in plenty of money for us. It didn’t matter that it’d be less than before. None of it did. I’d be with Layla.
I pulled into the apartment garage, letting out a sigh. After parking my car, I walked along the concrete to the elevator system. Then, I entered it, pressing on a button and waiting to be taken to my floor.
This complex has good people, like the one I had at one point in Miami. Though I ended up resenting that country, I had to admit being near the beach was lovely. Not all of my memories there were rotten.
I entered the apartment, placing the keys on the counter and striding in with confidence. Things were complicated right now, but they would work out. Love would come through. I knew Layla reciprocated my feelings, she expressed her deep love whenever we were able to speak.
Swallowing, I entered my bathroom, little sandy-colored rugs in a beach-like set up, much like the rest of the apartment. Shell and other oceanic decorations were my preference in this large apartment, it provided comfort. Would Layla like this place like I did?
