Drug Lord: A Bad Boy Baby Romance (12 page)

I
woke
up when we landed on Emilio’s estate. Out of the window, all I could see was green.

“We’re here,” he announced.

The pilots helped the plane come to a smooth stop. Emilio came over as I was unbuckling my seatbelt.

The two of us went out the doors.

“What about our luggage?”

“Someone will bring it later. My top priority is to keep you safe.”

There was a small golf cart waiting right there.

I knew that Emilio was a little more relaxed now that we were on his own land. He helped me into the cart before getting in himself. Our golf cart driver was wearing some sort of gray security uniform, and I could see a couple more guys with the same gray uniform scattered around the estate. It was as safe as Emilio could make it.

We went straight to the house, which was completely lit up. If I didn’t already know that Emilio was very wealthy, the house would’ve convinced me. It looked like the kind of house that was featured in a magazine.

The golf cart came to a stop right in front of the house. Emilio thanked the driver before pulling me up the steps and into the house.

“Sofia!” he bellowed. “Where’s Sofia?”

“Miyo?” I heard a little voice call.

Through the slats of the balcony on the second floor, I could see a little girl. She didn’t look too steady on her feet. I was worried about her falling.

I ran up the stairs faster than Emilio.

“Hey there, sweetie.” I reached for her, but she just backed away. My heart was beating fast — I didn’t know if it was from my sprint up the stairs or from how close she was to the edge of the balcony.

“Miyo!” she said with a little more urgency.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Emilio said, scooping her into his arms.

The three of us walked into what must have been her nursery. It was as if the Easter Bunny had set off a pastel bomb in there. Everything was pastel pink.

“It’s past somebody’s bedtime,” Emilio said, looking at his watch.

She obediently closed her eyes, her little arms around Emilio’s neck. He sat in the corner in a rocking chair, gently patting her back.

E
milio had just gotten
Sofia to fall asleep when the nursery door opened with a bang. It crashed into the wall.

“Where’s Naelle?” my father shouted.

“Shh,” I told him. “You’ll scare the baby.”

With a wail, the baby started to freak out.

Emilio jiggled the baby, trying to make her stop crying. It seemed as if she wanted to go for the Guinness World Record for loudest screams.

I went to the door and saw men with guns and full gear in the hallway, as if this were some sort of raid.

“I think that there’s been a misunderstanding,” I apologized.

Two of the guys were stoic and must’ve been fathers or something, because they were completely fine with hearing a baby scream bloody murder.

The youngest team member looked like he wanted to cover his ears.

“I think that you won’t be needed today.”

My dad was behind me, still in the doorway and staring at Emilio with Alejandro’s daughter.

“Dismissed,” he told the guys.

They looked at each other for a moment before hightailing it out of there. They must’ve sensed that it was family drama.

When they were gone, my father shook his head and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Good Lord,” he said. “What a mess.” He took his hand away from his eyes and looked straight at me.

“You’re happy here? You weren’t kidnapped? You’re here of your own free will?”

“Yes…to everything.”

He took a look at the baby in Emilio’s arms, who had finally stopped crying and was staring at my dad with big eyes.

“Baby,” I cooed, “do you want to meet my daddy, huh?”

I picked her up and kissed her little forehead.

I put her in my dad’s arms. Her big eyes stared into his.

And then she smiled.

In that moment, I saw all of his defenses melt away.

“Hey there, pumpkin.” He smiled at her.

“That’s my name,” I mock-protested.

The three of us laughed, which made Sofia let out a little gurgle.

“I think she likes you,” I said as I watched her little hand pat his cheek.

“I think I like her,” my dad said, jiggling her a little in his arms. He put his nose right in her little bit of fine baby hair.

“She’s ours unless Alejandro shows up,” I said. “She’s your adoptive granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter, huh?”

“And she’s going to be joined by a grandson.” I touched my stomach.

“You’re having a baby?”

“Yup.”

A strange smile came to his face — it sat there strangely, as if he weren’t sure that he should be smiling.

“I’ll look forward to meeting him,” he said finally.

I went to look at Emilio, love in my eyes. He met my eyes. I saw a whole lot of love reflected back at me.

“
E
rnesto
, stop that!”

My little troublemaker just giggled and took another chunk of his birthday cake. When he jammed it into his mouth, he got sweet frosting all over his chubby cheeks.

“We’re supposed to save that for your second birthday party, Ernesto!” My parents were coming. My dad had retired as soon as I married Emilio, though only my mom came to my wedding. It had taken a while for my dad to really warm up to Emilio, but Ernesto had definitely helped. Emilio leaving the drug business had helped, too; he didn’t want any of his family members being killed by the Omegas. Now, we were one of the major exporters of quinoa to the United States; it was grown in the same fields by the same farmers, and it helped that it was aboveboard and a little easier to transport and distribute. We didn’t have to worry about the government flying crop-duster planes with chemicals that would ruin the crop. We’d cleaned the house from top to bottom to prepare for them, but Ernesto had ruined his birthday cake before the party even started.

Emilio walked into the kitchen carrying Sofia, who looked precious in her sparkly pink dress. I had put her hair in a French braid that morning. It was already falling apart, but she was just cute as ever. She may have been my niece, but we treated her like our own daughter. Despite Emilio’s efforts to find him, Alejandro hadn’t shown up, and he was most likely dead. Sofia was our little ray of sunshine, our precious angel who looked more like Alejandro every day.

He saw the destroyed cake and the red-handed cake thief.

“Don’t worry, cari,” he told me. “We’ll get another cake.”

I just shook my head as he put his free arm around me. I leaned into his strong body.

“Honestly — if this is what Ernesto is like now, I can’t imagine what he’ll be like as a teenager.”

“We’ll handle it.” He kissed my cheek.

“Together, we can do anything.”

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C
opyright © 2016
Alyse Zaftig

All rights reserved worldwide

Cover design by
Silverheart

Editing by Heatwave Books

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This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places, and incident either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older and who are not blood related.