Billionaire Romance: MAXIMILIAN (An Alpha Bad Boy Contemporary Mystery Romance) (Mysterious Billionaires Book 3, Anthologies & Collections) (39 page)

He knocked and within seconds Angelique answered the door.  “Hi, Caleb.  Come inside.”  Angelique wasn’t smiling.  She showed Caleb into her living room, which was decorated in a modern décor.  Caleb folded his hands and leaned forward. 

“Angelique, I’ve been calling you all weekend.  What’s wrong?  Why haven’t you returned my calls?”  He couldn’t imagine what could have happened to have made her so distant.  She ran her hands through her hair and then sighed. 

“I’m pregnant, Caleb.”  Angelique’s almond shaped eyes filled with tears.  Caleb stood up from his chair and immediately came to her side. 

“Are you serious?”  He was stunned, and an overwhelming sensation filled his heart. 

“Yes.  I found out on Friday.  I wanted to call you yesterday, but I was just too shocked and upset.  I’m so confused.”  Angelique shook her head and began to cry.  Caleb wrapped his arms around her and then stood up.  He bit his lip and then looked out the window.  She was pregnant.  They were going to have a baby.  He couldn’t quite believe it. 

“This is…not what I expected.  I’m shocked, too.”  Caleb walked around the room a few times, trying to sort out his emotions.  “But, Angelique.”  He knelt by her side and then held her hand.  “I think it will be okay.  It will work out.”  He smiled and suddenly his heart filled with joy.  A baby.  He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Caleb, I’m scheduled with Ford to travel to Greece.  It’s the biggest shoot of the season, and we’re supposed to be there all month.  I don’t know how I’m going to do it being six weeks pregnant.  I’m wondering if I should just back out.”  Angelique shook her head.  “And me and you, I mean…”  She looked away and started to cry again. “We haven’t known each other that long.  We aren’t married.”  She shook her head and then sighed.

“Angelique.  What would you say if I told you that I wanted to marry you?  What would you think if I told that as soon as I laid eyes on you at Salvio’s that I knew you would be my wife?”  Caleb had never been so serious in all his life.  He knew that he loved her, and now was the time to tell her.  “Angelique, I love you.  I want you to marry me.”  He kissed her on the lips and she threw her arms around his neck.

“Caleb, I love you, too!”  Angelique cried out and nestled her head deep in Caleb’s chest.  She did love him, but it was all so scary and so quick.  She didn’t know if it was supposed to have happened with such intensity, but it had, and there was no going back now.  She took a deep breath and then stood back and collected herself.

The two held each other until Caleb stood back and smiled.  “We’re going to be parents.”  He laughed and then shook his head.  Angelique smiled and then wrapped her hands around Caleb’s waist.  They both held each other and stared out of Angelique’s large bay window.  They kissed each other once more and then looked deep into each other’s eyes.  Love had found its way, and there was no turning back now.

THE END

Chapter One: Memories

Norway, 799 B.C.

Eight-year-old Aila Forsberg sat in the corner with her paper, pretending to color. Truth be told, she was listening to her parents. They were talking about something important, that much she knew. She wished they’d pick her up and include her, but that rarely happened. They were always saying things like, “You’re too young,” or, “Go play.” Her wishes never weighed into it.

Bored and wanting someone to entertain her, Aila went in search of other kids to play with. She left her house and ran to the top of the nearby hill to marvel at the crystal-clear waters of the Norwegian Sea. Surrounded by beautiful mountains, her home was nestled in Stavanger and had been for as long as she could remember.

“Hey,” Dagmar Stalson said, stepping up next to her. “What are you doing?” For a boy of ten Dagmar wasn’t so bad. Most of the time he was nice, unless he had something on his mind. Then he was like a mountain, totally immovable.

“I’m looking at the sea,” Aila replied. “Don’t you ever wonder what’s out there, if there’s other lands, other people?”

“Sometimes,” Dagmar said.

“The elders are talking about something serious.”

Dagmar said, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Don’t know for sure. I heard something about boats and a land that’s not far away. I don’t know what they’re planning exactly, but whatever it is, I want in on it.”

“Me too,” Dagmar agreed. “You keep an ear out, Aila, and I will too. If you hear anything about when they’re leaving, you tell me. I’ll do the same for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed. She didn’t reach out and touch his fiery red hair, even though she often wondered if it’d burn like fire if she did. Turning, she ran back into her home, eager to hear more information. She once more took up her paper and her seat in the corner, and began listening.

“We must leave,” Danga said, glancing at Aila.

“We can’t. Not until we know more about these Romans,” said Strad, Dagmar’s father.

“Who are the Romans to us?” Briddick asked. “We are stronger than any that would come against us. The land is ours for the taking, why shouldn’t we have a piece of it?”

“Fine,” Strad said, clearly outvoted. “I’ll send what I can with you, but I’ll not risk my family on such a journey.”

“That’s all we can ask,” Briddick accepted. “Thank you.”

Aila, knowing now that they would leave, ran out to find Dagmar. Sighting his red hair blowing in the wind, Aila waved and ran toward him. At full speed, Aila tripped over a stone in the field and went tumbling right into Dagmar, knocking him down. When she looked up it was into laughing blue eyes that nearly took her breath away. They probably would have if she hadn’t been breathing so hard from running.

“We’re leaving!” she squealed, her laughter bubbling out.

“When?”

“I don’t know yet, but your father isn’t going. He was angry at my parents. He said he wouldn’t risk his family.”

“I’m going,” Dagmar said, those once-laughing eyes now stone cold serious. “You have to tell me as soon as you know when your parents are leaving. I’m coming with you.”

“Okay,” Aila said, a grin creasing her lips. Most girls didn’t like Dagmar because he was so intensely serious, especially for a boy of ten. But she liked him specifically for that reason. He would protect what was his with a fierceness that none of the other boys their age seemed to possess. One day she had no doubt that he would rule their people; it was in his blood to do so.

Pictland, 819 B.C.

Aila pulled her line out of the water, smiling when she saw fish after wriggling fish hanging from it. Her people would have dinner tonight, no thanks to Dagmar. Grabbing the fish and quickly gutting them, she took them to the older woman in her camp.

“Is this enough, Dragna?”

“Ah, yes Aila. Thank you. Our people will eat well tonight.”

“Good.” She patted the older woman’s cheek and smiled before she went out to find Dagmar.

Searching everywhere, Aila was about to give up when she caught site of his tunic blowing in the wind. Odd that he wasn’t wearing it. Aila picked it up and looked around for him. Hearing his voice, she followed it to a small and secluded clearing she often used to meditate when the world became too loud. She didn’t realize until it was too late that Dagmar Stalson wasn’t alone.

“Who is that?” asked a young woman in a state of undress. Aila tried to run, but Dagmar was much faster, and too strong for her to resist.

“Aila? What are you doing here?” Looking up into icy, serious blue eyes, Aila ground her teeth.

“I came to tell you that my people will have dinner tonight because I saw fit to catch some fish from the sea. I can see, though,” Aila said, looking around his body at the woman who sat on the ground, “that it isn’t a concern to you whether our people eat or starve.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Dagmar said, his blue eyes holding that edge of iciness. “I gave Dragna a whole half of a boar just this afternoon.”

“Terrific. And how far do you think half a boar is going to go when feeding our people?”             

Irritation raced over his face, turning his eyes to shards that pointed right at her. “Our people will eat tonight, Aila. All you need to concern yourself with is keeping a man’s bed warm.”

The slap to his face was so easy. Her hand reached out and stung against the rough texture of his two-day beard.

“You’re an asshole,” Aila spat.

“And you’re a prying bitch,” Dagmar spewed. “Concern yourself with womanly tasks, Aila, and leave the fate of our people to me.”

The moment ruined, Dagmar tossed the woman her clothes and walked away. Frustration drove him after Aila before he could stop himself, straight into her quarters. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“That’s easy. I’m the rightful ruler of our people, not that you’ll ever admit it.”

“You’re right about that. I don’t care if you’re a Forsberg, we both know that our people need a leader. No offense Aila, but you’re not a leader. Not by a long shot.”

“Why? Because I don’t scratch myself in public and beat my chest like an idiot?”

“No, because leading sometimes takes coldhearted calculations, something you’ve never been good at.”

“You’re a pompous prick,” Aila said, planting a smirk on his face.

“How long has it been for you, Aila?”

“How long has what been?”

“How long has it been since a man’s had his hands on you? By my estimation, it’s been too long. You could use a good romping, if you ask me.”

“No one’s asking you.”

“Come on, Aila. We’re friends. We’ve been friends since before your parents brought us here. Why is it that we have to be at each other this way?”

“Because I am the rightful ruler of our people, Dagmar.” Aila said, her eyes turning opaque as power surged through her. Sighing she added. “I understand that you want to lead, but my parents settled this land and I am their only heir.”

Dagmar couldn’t keep the grin off his face. The first time he’d witnessed Aila’s powers was right after her parent’s deaths. New to them and their effects, she’d grown a tree instantly from a sapling, only to twist and deform it in her grief. He was probably the only one who understood that they weren’t just a part of her, they were as much of her as her heart and soul. “And I’m standing here telling you that you don’t have what it takes to lead our people.”

“And who are you to say so?”

“The only other person who can.”

Dagmar watched Aila as she paced around her quarters. She had grown up nicely during the time they’d been in Pictland. Her parents had led the way in the siege of the region from the Romans. He could see why she felt she should lead. Just as he could see that she wasn’t built to lead, at least not alone.

“Aila, you’re a beautiful, capable woman. Why is it that no man has claimed you?”

“Because I’m not a cow to be bought. I don’t have any interest in being some man’s idea of the perfect little wife. If I ever marry, it’ll be because the man and I know that we are equals.”

“Well, good luck to the man that captures your heart. He’ll need it.”

Before he said more, Dagmar turned and stepped out into the sunshine. Bright and beautiful, the sun was high in the sky though still the temperatures were more than adequate to chill a man to the bone, especially if he wasn’t involved in rigorous activity.

“Dragna, when will supper be ready?”

“Four hours, Dagmar. We’ll eat well thanks to you and Aila.”

Grunting his displeasure, Dagmar wondered if he’d ever go a day without hearing Aila’s name. Probably not, especially when everyone knew it was the fortitude of her parentage that had seen them claim this land as their own.

                                                                                    ***

Aila wondered now how she and Dagmar could have ever considered each other friends. Remembering him as a young man brought a grin to her face. They had ridden in the underbelly of the boat halfway to Pictland before anyone noticed them. Her parents would have whipped her for certain if Dagmar hadn’t taken the blame for her. It had been as much her idea as his, but he’d stepped up and taken her punishment as his own.

So how had they gone from that, to this bickering all the time? Stepping out of her room and looking at the sun, she realized she was going to be late for supper if she didn’t hurry. The sun was already dipping low in the sky and, as the interim leaders, both she and Dagmar were expected to gather everyone together before the last meal of the day.

“You ready?” he asked, clearly impatient.

“Yes,” she replied, choosing not to justify her tardiness with an excuse. “We need to talk afterward.”

“Understood,” he said, cutting off any further comment.

Some time later, Aila stepped out of the supper tent and breathed deep of the cool, crisp night air. Stars were just starting to twinkle in the sky and Aila felt free until Dagmar approached. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes. We need to find a more permanent solution to our little problem.”

“That’s easy enough to do. Concede the throne to me and we can get on with living.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Certainly you don’t expect me to concede do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Aila said. “I’m thinking more along the lines of split ownership, if you will. You rule your people and I’ll rule mine all under the Pictland name. Or I can rule for spring and summer and give you winter and autumn.”

“Give me the harder months to see if I can hack it? That’s extremely clever of you Aila. Not that I expect anything less,” Dagmar scoffed. “How about you rule by my side. I’ll leave you rightfully in charge when I take out hunting parties. And, if luck has it that I die out there, you’ll have your rule and reign with no one to challenge you.”

“Absolutely not,” she groaned. “I won’t be second to you, Dagmar.”

“What really bothers you? The fact that I would be a better ruler than you? Or maybe it’s that you don’t know nearly as much as you think you do, and it grates on your nerves knowing you’d have to ask for help, especially from the likes of me.”

Without so much as lifting a finger, Aila had not only called thunder to crash through the sky with a vengeance, she’d also managed to make it rain, soaking through the fabric of only Dagmar’s tent, not that it made her feel any better. “I always knew you were full of yourself. I just didn’t know until now that you were also full of shit. Curse you, Dagmar.”

Aila was so frustrated; she didn’t even see the hunting parties off the next morning. She assumed that everyone would forgive her, and while Dagmar was away on his first long hunt, he just might have time to see how right she was. It was one thing to have your people wonder exactly who was making the decisions. It was another to undermine the rightful ruler just because you had a craw in your ass. If Dagmar didn’t get his attitude right and let her become the official ruler of the Pict people, she’d have to leave.

                                                                                    ***

Dagmar watched a herd of red deer pass by and took aim at a beautiful stag. If this trip was successful, they’d have enough meat to last the winter through. But right now, he just wanted this one kill. Taking a steady breath, he pulled his arrow back to his cheek, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. As if sensing his presence, the stag stopped moving, his head lifting to sniff the air. Dagmar let his arrow fly, watching it sail through the air and sink into the large deer, just beyond the left shoulder. The stag bucked wildly, stumbling as it tried to run.

Similar arrows flew, and as the herd cleared twenty deer lay dead, waiting to be processed. Dagmar delegated men to strip the deer of their pelts and clean and wrap them. Dragna and the other women would break them down into boots, mittens, tunics and other clothing the group needed. The meat was quickly quartered and wrapped as well. Everything was packed and they were off after the next quarry.

Four days later, the men returned from their very successful trip.

“About time you brought home something besides a lady,” one man joked, slapping Dagmar on the back.