Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia, Emma, and Sam Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, James Spaulding, and Daisy and Frank Cooper and are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera and Bianca Montgomery belong to ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jordan and Lexie Montgomery-Kundera, Jennifer, Tracy, Jacob and Dylan Jackson-Morgan, Attorney Danika, Kováč, Judge Bennett Thomas, and Jake and Preston Morgan are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
All errors are the sole responsibility of this author, as this update has not been edited.
Rating: This section of Chapter 14 is rated R for colorful language and sexual references.
I had originally planned to update just before the Thanksgiving holiday began, but this section took an unexpected turn. At any rate, here it is, for your entertainment pleasure. More coming very soon. I hope those of you who do celebrate Thanksgiving had a wonderful day/weekend with your loved ones. And as we enter this Holiday Season, no matter what Holiday(s) you celebrate, may you all be blessed with peace, joy, love, and abundance.
I hope y'all continue to enjoy!
Kimberly
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
— Unknown
Chapter 14.25 – Trials and Tribulations:
Friday, June 19, 2009… Morgan Financial Corporate Offices—5:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Still reeling from the events that had just taken place, Preston ambled toward the wet bar in the far corner of the opulent boardroom. The accouterment was hand-carved from the same rich cherry wood that produced the large conference room table and matching chairs, its smooth wooden surface protected by a thick pane of glass. His cufflinks clinked against the surface, as he reached toward one of a dozen Waterford® Crystal decanters that held some of the finest liqueur in the world.
Grousing under his breath as he grasped a matching crystal tumbler, he recalled the scene that unfolded just shortly after his company had been stolen out from beneath him, by those self-serving bitches.
Fifteen minutes earlier…
Having completed their business, making certain that Preston understood he was finished at Morgan Financial, without ever causing a scene, Olivia stepped back from the podium, nodding casually toward the security guards that waited in the doorway. Lena had signaled for them from her cell phone while Olivia was doing the wrap-up.
The guards, dressed impeccably in their pressed navy pants and light blue uniform shirts, guns holstered beneath one arm, walked quickly and quietly into the room. The room fell silent then, as Olivia, Lena, and the board members wordlessly gathered their belongings, and filed out, leaving the officers to the extraction process. None of them envied the officers, and in fact, most pitied them. Morgan could be a real piss-ant when crossed.
Out in the hallway, the few board members who were also fulltime employees of Morgan Financial quickly said their goodbyes to the others, and buzzed their way through the security checkpoint, heading down the long hall toward their offices. Olivia and Lena made conversation with the remaining members of the board, as they escorted them through the reception area toward the elevator.
Whisper quiet, the shiny gold elevator door opened upon reaching the fifteenth floor of the opulent high-rise building where Morgan Financial was housed. Stepping forward, Olivia and Lena shook hands with each board member, exchanging pleasantries and bidding them goodbye. Once the door closed again, they turned toward a set of heavy glass doors on the west side of the reception area, each breathing a deep sigh of relief.
Reaching out, Olivia swiped her newly acquired access card through the reader that perched to the right of the doors. There was a high-pitched beep, and then a quiet "snick," indicating that access to the secured areas of the building had been granted. Reaching for the handle, Lena opened the right-side door, holding it for Olivia. Stepping through, they moved quickly down the hall toward the executive offices. They were running just slightly behind schedule, and there were still a few things to cover before they could head back to the farmhouse. Understandably, they wanted to finish as quickly as possible. Olivia's first order of business would be to call Natalia, just to let her know they wouldn't be home are early as anticipated.
Meanwhile, back in the boardroom, approaching their former boss, the older of the two officers spoke softly, politely requesting that Morgan accompany them to the front door. Immediately, Morgan flew into another tirade, his voice bellowing out into the hallway, its reach far beyond any reasonable distance as he carried on. There was no reasoning with him, of course, and so they shifted to more extreme means.
When they attempted to persuade him by taking him firmly by the biceps, determinedly urging him toward the door, he struggled with them physically, using his considerable bulk as a weapon. And before the tussle was over, Preston held one of the officer's firearms in his own hand.
Breaking free from them, he waved the gun about like a lunatic, the shiny metal reflecting off the bright florescent lighting, as he paced back and forth like a caged animal, hurling threats that seemed entirely too real, even for men with guns. With every step he took, they took one too—in the opposite direction, fearful of what he might do to them, to their families, their lives, given the newly-gained knowledge of his ties to a far more dangerous world. And slowly, they backed off, exiting through the heavy double doors, pulling them closed behind them.
From Morgan's perspective, however, he had done no wrong, and no one had any right to make him leave. Those ballsy bitches had dared to try having him thrown from his own office. But he had the last laugh, he thought, as he jerked away from the rent-a-cop security buffoons who tried to remove him from the premises, when he haughtily announced that they had no right to ban him—he owned the entire fucking building! In his mind, that was the clincher. Not the thinly-veiled threats against their lives, and the lives of their wives and children. No, no one could ever prove that he'd said a word about any of that.
Terrified, the security guards left Morgan to his own devices, and swiftly reported to their new bosses his adamant refusal to leave the premises—and the fact that he had one of their guns. Thankful for the report, Olivia immediately alerted the police, only to be told that there was nothing they could do because Morgan owned the building. When she demanded to speak with Frank, she was met with fierce resistance. Apparently Chief Cooper was too busy being in charge to deal with any actual police work.
Frustrated and slightly annoyed, she cursed under her breath as she slammed down the desk phone. Taking a breath, she lifted the handset again, and dialed Frank's personal cell number.
Frank picked up his cell on the first ring, sounding official and rather pleased about it. Immediately thereafter, his tone changed. "What the fuck do you want?" he barked upon realizing who was calling.
"I don't have time to explain the situation, Frank," Olivia said, sounding slightly panicked. "But I'm in the executive offices at Morgan Financial. Old man Morgan is here, pissed off, and wielding a gun. Would you please come see what you can do?"
"What the fuck, Olivia, am I your own personal 911 now?" he snarled into the phone.
Olivia groaned out her frustration, but bit her tongue. "No, but your officers refused to even listen to me."
"It's his building," Frank said, sounding annoyed. "And it's not illegal to have a gun."
"It is if that gun belongs to one of the security guards!" Olivia snapped.
"What did you do to piss him off?" Frank asked, as he shrugged into his suit jacket. Despite himself, he already knew he was going to her rescue.
"I took over the old bastard's company," Olivia admitted forthrightly.
"Christ, Olivia," Frank muttered. He grabbed his keys from his desk, and headed toward the door. Stepping out into the squad room, he motioned silently toward several of his officers, indicating for them to follow.
"He went after Jen and Tracy's kids, Frank," Olivia reminded. "You don't mess with my people and think there won't be consequences."
The mention of Jen and Tracy softened Frank's resolve even further. "Fine," he sighed wearily. He was still pissed at her for taking Natalia away from him, but he would never wish any harm to come to her. "Where is he, exactly?"
"Boardroom, fifteenth floor," Olivia answered.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Frank said. "Get the hell out of that building, if you can."
"Thank you, Frank," Olivia said quietly. Breathing a sigh of relief, she set the phone back into the cradle.
As Olivia spoke with Frank, Lena quickly made arrangements for the codes to the electronic access points to be changed, effectively banning Morgan from getting to any crucial documentation—or getting to any of the employees who had voted against him in the board meeting. And then she sought out those who were still in the building, alerting them to the situation, before making a series of phone calls to the board members who had already left. They might not be able to forcibly remove him from the premises—at least not without a court order—but they were damned sure not going to allow him to topple all the work they had put into acquiring his company. Nor would they allow him to hurt anyone.
Finishing her final call, Lena looked toward Olivia, unspoken questions lingering in her eyes.
"Frank's on his way," Olivia answered. Swiftly, she closed her briefcase. Glancing toward the bank of monitors at the abandoned security station just outside the executive offices, she noted Morgan contemplating the gun in his hand, as he drowned his sorrows.
Lena's gaze swiftly followed. "We should get out of here while he's still preoccupied," she said. It wasn't a suggestion.
"Agreed," Olivia replied. "Is everyone else gone?"
"Yes," Lena reassured. "And I called for a car from the Beacon. It should be waiting for us."
"Thanks," Olivia sighed gratefully. And then the corner of her mouth curled into a slight grin. "Guess we poked a stick at the bees nest, huh?"
"That's not funny, Spence," Lena said. Despite herself, she laughed, as she collected her belongings.
Together, they exited Morgan's former office, locking the door behind them. Moving quietly, they made their way down the hall in the opposite direction of the boardroom where Morgan had taken up residence. Thankfully, he was on the other side of the security checkpoint, and bullet-proof glass stood between them. Regardless of the perceived safety, Olivia promptly led the way toward the private elevator that would quietly transport them down to street level, where Lawrence awaited their arrival.
Preening in his perceived victory, Morgan poured a double of the world's finest scotch into the crystal tumbler, and replaced the cap on the matching decanter. If he was going out, goddammit, he was going out in style! Tipping the glass to his lips, he swiftly downed the smooth amber liquid.
Pouring a second glass, this time he didn't bother capping the decanter. There was plenty left, and he intended to savor every last drop. Taking his time, he passed the glass beneath his nose, his olfactory nerve exploding with excitement as he savored the sharp aromatic essence. He took a sip, savoring the heavy, smoky flavor, as he moved it around in his mouth. It warmed his throat as he swallowed, and he took another slow sip.
It wasn't long before the decanter was empty, and Morgan was inebriated. His anger rose infinitely, and he grasped the decanter, hurling it across the room. As it careened through the air, he grabbed the gun from the wet bar where he had deposited it earlier, and began his tirade again; railing to no one of the injustices he had suffered at the hands of those who had betrayed him.
The decanter crashed against one of the large tinted windows that lined the outer wall of the board room, smashing into jagged shards, strewn across the thick carpeting. And as he watched it shatter, his face adopted an evil grin. He eyed the shiny Glock—22 then, vowing with renewed vehemence to make them all pay.
Every last fucking one of them.
Outside, from the shadows of the parking garage, obsidian eyes watched with keen interest as a dark SUV swiftly carried two women away from the building, stealing them away like a thief in the night, despite the brightness of the early evening. And then came the shrieking of sirens, followed quickly by the squalling of tires as a parade of squad cars came to a screeching halt in the space the SUV had just abandoned.
A bulky man in a cheap suit climbed out of the first car to arrive. His lackluster brown hair was disheveled, and the slight evening breeze wasn't helping its case. He reached for his gun, pulling it from the shoulder harness that lay hidden beneath his suit jacket. Checking his weapon, he appeared to be satisfied. He held it firmly in his right hand, as the uniformed officers who had arrived in the other squad cars, joined him. He spoke a few words to them, and then together they rushed toward the thick glass doors, entering the building. They were clearing wearing bulletproof vests, and both wielded semi-automatic weapons in addition to their regular service weapons.
Interesting.
Settling into the padded leather seats of yet another dark SUV, the lone occupant waited. Some things just couldn't be rushed.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—6:00 p.m. Central Standard Time
"You sure you don't mind?" Doris asked, as she smoothed out imaginary wrinkles along the front placket of her crisp navy shirt. After spending the past two hours tearing up the sheets with Bennett, reluctantly, she had finally dragged herself from the bed, showered, and dressed for dinner at the farmhouse.
She felt an uncharacteristic tinge of excitement about her evening plans. The idea of spending time with new friends was appealing to her in a way she had never previously imagined possible. Being with Olivia and Natalia was becoming much more comfortable. And now she had Lena, Bianca, Jen, and Tracy, as well. They had all made quite an impression upon her when they met, and she was looking forward to spending an evening in their company. Still, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that Bennett couldn't join them.
"Of course not, Darling," Bennett assured.
A gentle hand swiped across Doris's upper back, and then she felt the soft warmth of bare breasts against her arm, as Bennett leaned in, brushing a light kiss against her temple. The sensation made her want to abandon her plans, but Bennett continued, "You go. Enjoy the evening with your friends."
"We've barely had any time together, and already, I'm leaving you," Doris practically whined.
Bennett smiled into Doris's eyes in the mirror's reflection, as her fingers made quick work of threading a navy and silver belt through the loops of Doris's soft, gray chinos. As much as she appreciated the way Doris looked in one of her power suits, she loved this more relaxed side of her equally as well. The woman looked sexy in absolutely anything, and Bennett's eyes drank her in with pleasure. "You are not abandoning me," she said firmly. "Besides, our time will come soon enough," she assured. "And then I can join you and get to know them all."
Even as she said the words, meaning every single cadence as they fell from her lips, her heart ached at the thought of being parted from this woman, even for a few hours. But it never occurred to her to ask Doris to stay. Experience had taught her that letting go was the most prudent way of holding on to things that were meant to be. And this was definitely meant to be. Never had she been more certain of anything in her life.
Pivoting on the ball of her bare right foot, Doris pressed her body firmly against Bennett's, and kissed her mouth greedily. Bennett groaned at the contact, the fabric of Doris's shirt abrading the sharp points of already aroused nipples in the most delicious way. Instinctively, she pressed harder against her lover's body.
When finally Doris released her, they were both breathing heavily, their bodies primed for another round. "I'm looking forward to telling the whole world you're mine."
"Feeling a bit possessive of me, are you?" Bennett teased, as Doris turned back toward the reflection in the mirror. Pulling Doris back against her, she held her more tightly than necessary. It took everything in her not to grind her hot, wet center against Doris's firm ass as she fastened the buckle on the decorative belt. "Because I'm feeling very possessive of you right now," she admitted.
"A little, I suppose," Doris said noncommittally, as she slipped her feet into a pair of designer sandals. And then she turned toward Bennett again, meeting that familiar dark gaze. "I just can't wait to show you off."
"Oh, like a show pony, huh?" Bennett grinned.
Doris's blue eyes turned a smoky gray. "I'd say more like a prized Stallion, after that last fuck," she said in a low, sultry tone against Bennett's ear.
It was enough to cause Bennett's belly to summersault with renewed arousal. She groaned, and thrust her hips against Doris's body, as she felt her clitoris harden once again.
"I swear to God, I think you might've gotten me pregnant," Doris crooned. She could still feel the remnants of her last orgasm, rippling deep within her body.
Bennett laughed heartily. She couldn't argue the intensity of their encounter; but she could certainly argue other things. "Even if I were that good, I think we're both just a little too old for babies at this point," she asserted.
"Olivia and Natalia are having a baby," Doris responded spontaneously. She wasn't certain whether her comment was more informational or argumentative.
"And I'm very happy for them," Bennett said with a gentle, yet dismissive pat against Doris's chest. "I'm also quite certain they're both a bit younger than us."
"Not that much younger," Doris said offhandedly. And then she waved her hand airily. "But that's neither here nor there," she reasoned. "My point is…" She punctuated a pause in her speech with a light nibble of Bennett's lower lip, "You rocked my world this afternoon, Judge Thomas."
"Your entire world, huh?" Bennett grinned playfully.
"Mountains, valleys, caverns, and everything in between," Doris replied. Casually, she draped her arms around Bennett's neck, her fingers tangling lightly in dark locks. "And I can't wait to get home to return the favor."
"Home?" Bennett's tone posed the question neither had found the courage to ask.
"Let's not overanalyze it, okay?" Doris suggested, as she covered Bennett's mouth with her own. She had swung by her own place each night after work, gathering what she would need for the next morning, and nothing else. They hadn't discussed living arrangements, per se, and at the moment, Doris was satisfied with the status quo. She wondered silently, if Bennett was in agreement. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long for an answer.
"I don't care where it is, or what we call it," Bennett murmured into their kiss. "As long as it means I get to sleep with you in my arms, and wake up with you every morning."
"You read my mind," Doris sighed breathily. And then their tongues were tangling, and clothing quickly rumpled, as she pressed her body firmly against Bennett's one last time, the sweet ache of lingering arousal creating the desired expectation for her return, before making her way out the door.
Friday, June 19, 2009… the Farmhouse of Love—6:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Wiping her hands on her apron, Natalia reached for the doorknob, opening the front door. Her face lit up when Jacob and Dylan barreled through the door, leaving Jen and Tracy standing in their wake—together.
Jen yelled after the boys in the same moment Tracy apologized for their nearly running Natalia over. Laughing, Natalia brushed it off with the wave of a hand. "Never mind that," she said casually. "Does this mean what I think it means?" she queried, as she welcomed them inside, leaving the door wide open for others when they arrived.
"All charges dropped," Tracy announced with joy and relief in her tone.
"Oh, Sweetie, that's wonderful," Natalia declared, as she wrapped Tracy in a warm hug.
"We certainly think so," Jen readily agreed. She hugged Natalia in turn, and then draped a possessive arm around Tracy's waist. In her heart, she renewed her vow that no one would ever separate them again.
"Where's Danika?" As if just realizing someone was missing, Natalia glanced around as if she expected her to appear. Tracy had called earlier to let her know of the invitation she had extended.
"She's on her way," Tracy reported. "I texted the directions."
"Perfect," Natalia said.
"I hope it wasn't too much of an imposition that I invited her," Tracy added, almost sheepishly.
"Oh, nonsense," Natalia guffawed. "The more the merrier. Doris should be here any minute, as well."
No sooner had she spoken the words, and she heard the familiar sound of footsteps on the worn wooden porch. "Speak of the Devil," she said without thinking. Immediately, her eyes grew wide, and her face flushed nearly crimson. She clasped a hand over her mouth, as Doris peered through the screen door, meeting her gaze squarely.
And then a slow smile crept across Doris's face. "Did I hear my name being bandied about?" she playfully queried. "Or was it more my reputation?"
"I am so sorry, Doris," Natalia said sheepishly. The screen door creaked as she opened if for the Mayor, welcoming her inside. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
Doris dismissed the comment with a swift brush of the hand. "Believe me, I've been called far worse… and my a lot less credible accusers."
Natalia just grinned and shook her head. Doris was definitely growing on her. She gave the Mayor a quick hug, and pointed her toward the kitchen. "We're out back tonight," she directed. "Go on out if you'd like," she said to as much to Jen and Tracy as to Doris, as the two of them exchanged greetings with the Mayor. "There's fresh iced tea and lemonade on the table closest to the door," she explained. "And a cooler with beer and soda underneath. Oh, and there's coffee in the kitchen, as usual, if you'd prefer, Doris."
Touched by Natalia's thoughtfulness and obvious attention to her habits, Doris offered a warm smile, as she brushed a hand along Natalia's forearm. "Thank you."
A soft smile graced Natalia's lips, and she nodded at the Mayor. "Anytime."
"Thanks, Natalia," Jen said appreciatively. "Can I get you anything, Honey?" she asked of Tracy, as she followed Doris through the living room.
"No, thanks," Tracy answered. "I'll grab something on my way out." And then she turned toward Natalia. "Anything I can do to help?" she offered as they moved toward the kitchen together.
"No," Natalia answered lightly. "But thanks for the offer. I think we have it under control. Bianca helped me with the cooking, and Lena and Olivia took care of the setup out back when they got home. We should be ready to eat just as soon as Rafe gets back."
Casually looping her arm through Natalia's, Tracy bumped her shoulder. "And where has the birthday boy run off to?" she asked, as they leisurely made their way out the back door.
Three steps down, and they found themselves in the backyard Natalia never dared dream of owning—and now it was theirs for the enjoyment, and she was beyond grateful. The sounds of summertime surrounded them—crickets chirping, the rustle of leaves as the wind gently blew through the tree branches, their children playing in the field, frogs croaking near the pond, the melodious timbre of the meadowlark's song serenading them from the treetops, and in the distance, the refreshing reverberation of a babbling brook.
They heard Jordan squeal, that high-pitched sound that she made when something grossed her out. And then there was the answer peal of Emma's laugh. Tracy and Natalia wondered in unison if one of the boys—probably Dylan—hadn't snatched a frog from the edge of the pond, tormenting Jordan just to conjure that squeal from her. Ah, the sights and sounds, they all came together in perfect harmony.
And that harmony didn't end with the natural beauty of the farmhouse and surrounding grounds. Another fact for which Natalia was grateful—while simultaneously working on Emma's treehouse, Josh had also managed to design and orchestrate a gorgeous patio area that enhanced the natural essence of the old farmhouse he had once called home. A stone retaining wall, about three-and-a-half feet high, edged one side where it extended off of the original structure of the home, and a matching retaining wall stood opposite, encasing but not confining the sprawling flagstone patio.
The opening on the far side allowed for easy addition of a flagstone path that would eventually lead to an in-ground swimming pool, hot tubs, and a cabana—accessories Olivia had insisted upon when Natalia balked at the expense. The pool contractor would be starting work the following week, but the cabana would have to wait until Josh and his crew finished Rafe's garage apartment.
Courtyard tables with elegant gray-toned umbrellas and matching Adirondack chairs were disbursed throughout, and old-fashioned gas-light lanterns lined the edges of the patio, adding to the ambiance of the old farmhouse. Interspersed amongst the light posts were bushes and shrubs, and flowering shrubberies, all of Olivia's choosing, that brought the sweet scent of summertime when they blossomed. She had known exactly what to have planted, and the horticulturalists had done a wonderful job of transplanting the foliage, allowing Natalia to have little pieces of the Beacon gardens right in their own backyard.
The inlay of the retaining wall housed a built-in gas grill on one side, and a matching built-in charcoal grill on the other, and the focal-point of the creation was the huge stone fireplace that could be used as both a source of heat—and a place to fire-bake a pizza when Natalia was craving Chicago's best. And rounding out the functional side of the patio, long slabs of stone separated the grills and the fireplace, providing ample space for food preparation and service.
Overall, the patio area was a patchwork of stunning grays in every imaginable hue, from heather to charcoal, and Natalia could not have been more pleased with the way it turned out. It had quickly become an evening oasis for them as the summer moved into full swing.
Tonight, those slabs were lined with silver chafing dishes that housed the scrumptious meal Natalia and Bianca had prepared for Rafe's birthday celebration. And helium-filled balloons in every color of the rainbow danced in the warm summer breeze, announcing the festivities with panache. She saw them, and her thoughts immediately returned to Tracy's question.
"I sent him down to the convenience store to get a few extra bags of ice," Natalia replied, as they stepped into the midst of the evening in full swing. Immediately, there were surrounded by woman and children who had somehow become family, despite the lack of any blood-relations. Each of them felt the pull of their hearts, though for very different reasons. "He should be back any minute."
"You should've texted us," Tracy said. "We could've stopped on our way."
Natalia offered a wobbly smile. "Thanks," she said, truly meaning it. "But I think Rafe needed an excuse to get away for a few minutes. His friends hadn't arrived yet, and he seemed to be getting antsy with all the new faces."
"You think it's too much for him, having all of us here?" Tracy sounded concerned.
"He'll be fine," Natalia said with more certainty than she felt, as she gently patted Tracy's hand. "Ashlee seems to have a calming effect on him."
Tracy laughed softly at the paradox. "Seems rather counterintuitive, given how anxious she usually is." She truly liked Ashlee, but she couldn't deny the jittery undercurrent of excitability that always flowed from the young woman.
"Doesn't it?" Natalia chuckled. Glancing across the way, she spotted Doris chatting with Olivia. Not wanting to cause any discord between Olivia and her friend, she tilted her head, her temple touching Tracy's as she said, "Okay, we have to behave now, or we'll both be in trouble with the Mayor."
"Yes, Boss," Tracy replied, her tone one of amusement. Disentangling her arm from Natalia's, she casually announced that she needed to go find her fiancée, and wrangle their boys before one of them terrorized Lexie with a frog… or worse, adding, "But let me know if you need any help."
"Will do," Natalia said appreciatively.
Taking a quick detour, Tracy snatched up a cold bottle of Guinness®, popped the top, tossing it into the open trash barrel with expert precision. She took a long swallow as she sauntered across the patio. The cool, dark liquid brandished its natural bite as it slid down her throat, and she savored the bittersweet balance of hops and roasted barley in the foreign extra stout brew.
As Tracy made her way across the patio toward Jen, who was chatting animatedly with Bianca, Natalia took another moment to take in the sights. Emma and Jordan were running full-speed up the hill from the pond, with Jacob and Dylan fast on their heels. As suspected, Dylan had a fat, wet frog clutched in his hands. Smiling, she shook her head, and glanced toward the far end of the patio where Ashlee sat on the edge of the retaining wall, laughing with Daisy and James. And Doris was occupied on the opposite side of the patio, chatting with Lena, who skillfully corralled Lexie in her lap at one of the small, square stone tables.
Moments later, Olivia found Natalia, drawing her from her musings. Wrapping her arms around Natalia from behind, she nuzzled against her ear. "You look positively ravishing tonight," she murmured softly.
Natalia snorted. "I think you need glasses, my love," she said dryly. "My hair is a mess," she pointed out, referring to the mop of unruly curls she had hastily tied back with a dark blue ribbon. "I'm lucky I had time for a shower."
"Oh, nonsense. My eyesight is just fine," Olivia countered mildly. She skimmed her mouth against the soft skin beneath Natalia's ear, and lightly nipped at the lobe. "And I think you're beautiful."
"Have I ever told you how great you are for my ego?" Natalia asked with a playful lilt. Turning her head, she kissed the corner of Olivia's mouth.
"Me?" Olivia queried innocently. "Nah, I'm just waging my bets."
"For what, dare I ask?" Natalia questioned wryly.
Olivia bit the tender spot where Natalia's neck met her shoulder, drawing a groan of appreciation from her. "Just making sure I get laid tonight."
Laughing, Natalia turned in Olivia's arms. Meeting those teasing jade eyes, she draped her arms over Olivia's shoulders, loosely clasping her fingertips behind Olivia's neck. She didn't believe Olivia for a moment. "Oh, Honey, you don't have to wage any bets for that," she said, her tone as smooth as warm butter, as she pressed her body into Olivia's as best she could with their baby between them. "You've already got a sure thing."
"I do, huh?" Olivia's hands fell instinctively to Natalia's waist, as she arched that eyebrow in that way that made Natalia's insides quiver.
"Absolutely," Natalia confirmed. "But just so we're clear…," she added, her tone firm, yet somehow, oddly playful, "if I actually believed a word you said about waging bets, you wouldn't be getting laid again for at least a month."
Olivia laughed heartily. "Duly noted."
"Good," Natalia declared. "Now kiss me," she demanded. "Kiss me like you mean it."
A roguish grin on her lips, Olivia curled her fingertips through the belt loops on Natalia's soft, faded jeans, and tugging her close, she covered Natalia's mouth with her own. The kiss was long, and slow. Deliberate. And Olivia's mouth was soft, and warm, the light caress of her tongue, enticing beyond words, as it teased along the inner edges of Natalia's lips, swiftly moving beyond.
A low groan slipped from Natalia's lips, tumbling into the warm recesses of Olivia's mouth, as her fingertips tangled in Olivia's chestnut locks. And by the time Olivia lifted her mouth from Natalia's, there wasn't a doubt in Natalia's mind that she'd meant it.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Morgan Financial Corporate Offices—6:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Upon entrance to the building, Frank obtained a copy of the floor plan, having called ahead to speak with Jack Dempsey, the head of security, before their arrival. Knowing the guards under Dempsey's command to be well-trained, he had instructed the man to have his people clear the building, leaving only the fifteenth floor to him and his officers. They had complied, and Dempsey assured him that the only person left in the building was Preston Morgan.
Five minutes later, Frank and his officers entered the corporate offices of Morgan Financial, and quietly made their way down the hall toward the boardroom, where old man Morgan had last been spotted. He had elected to bring only two officers with him as he approached the boardroom, because he honestly didn't perceive the man to be a threat—especially given that Olivia had texted him just a few minutes after their call to say that she and Lena were out of the building, and on their way to the farmhouse. Still, he had insisted that all of his officers be fully armed and protected.
Approaching the room on feet far stealthier than one might imagine, Frank and his men slowly crept toward the heavy wooden doors. To his surprise, one of the doors was ajar. Coming in from the side, he glanced through the opening to find Morgan perched in the thickly padded leather chair at the head of the boardroom table, a tumbler full of liquor in one hand, and a smoking cigar in the other. The gun lay on the table in front of him.
The old man muttered under his breath, still cursing, as he contemplated his revenge. Swallowing another mouthful of the robust amber liquid, he puffed on the cigar, as if drawing life from its poisonous innards. The clock on the wall ticked methodically, mocking him, as he held the smoke inside until his lungs burned. And then slowly, he exhaled a thick cloud of malodorous smoke.
Suddenly sensing that he wasn't alone, Morgan muttered some more. He was still busily contemplating his counterattack, and didn't appreciate the disruption. "What the fuck more do you want from me?"
Frank pushed the door open with one hand, while gripping his service weapon in the other. "Push away from the table, Mr. Morgan," he firmly directed.
Morgan's head shot up. Upon seeing the gun pointed toward him, his gaze vacillated from Frank to the gun that lay mere inches from his fingertips. He reached for it, but Frank issued an ultimatum.
"Don't even think about it. I'll drop you where you sit," Frank barked. "Now push away from the table."
He stared at Frank, unflinching. "Have you ever had the only thing that meant anything to you, stolen away?"
"Yes," Frank answered, nodding. His heart ached at the admission. "More than once."
Morgan grunted an acknowledgment, as Frank moved closer. "It was bad enough when I lost my son," he admitted. "Now those bitches have taken my company. I don't have anything left… So I have nothing left to lose."
Frank glanced at the two young officers who flanked the inside of the conference room door. "Leave us," he instructed. It wasn't a suggestion.
"Chief—"
Holding up a hand, Frank halted the objection. "Leave us."
"Yes, Sir," the men said in unison. Stepping outside the boardroom, the quietly closed the doors. But they did not venture far. Instead, they stood guard just outside.
"What about your grandsons?" Frank asked calmly, moving closer still.
"They're being raised by a couple of dykes," Morgan snapped. "They'll probably grow up to be pussies."
Mentally, Frank shook his head. The man hadn't a clue as to how great his grandsons had it in life. Jen and Tracy were both wonderful women, and fantastic mothers. Just like Natalia.
Natalia…
Momentarily sidetracked, Frank had to force his thoughts away from her, lest he lose his concentration. "Well, then they need you around to show them how to be men," he said, purposefully stroking the old man's ego.
An irreverent grin spread across Morgan's face. This fool thinks I'm going to kill myself. He had to force himself not to laugh.
"May I?" Frank asked, gesturing toward the table where Morgan sat.
"Do I have a choice?" Morgan countered sarcastically.
"Actually, you do," Frank answered, nodding his head. "I could just arrest you right now."
"On what grounds?" Morgan snarled.
"Unlawful possession of a weapon, for starters," Frank answered. Pulling a chair out, he settled in adjacent to the disgruntled financier. When Morgan opened his mouth to argue, Frank quickly shut him down. "We both know it doesn't belong to you."
"No, it doesn't," Morgan readily agreed. "But this building, this company, does. And I swear to God, I won't let that bitch Olivia Spencer, and her little sidekick, steal it away from me," he vowed.
Frank laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Olivia Spencer has a habit of taking things that don't belong to her," he commented.
"Oh?" Morgan's interest was piqued. His face was expressionless, but inside, he wore a lecherous smirk. This could be good for his cause. "What did she steal from you?"
"The woman I love," Frank answered solemnly. "And our unborn child."
Morgan raised an eyebrow in keen interest. "Let me pour you a drink, Chief Cooper." He rose from his seat, and moved toward the wet bar. Purposefully, he left the gun behind—a show of trust. "What's your poison?"
"Bourbon. Neat," Frank answered, holstering his own gun, and leaving the other gun where it lay. That, too, was a show of trust, in a game that was riddled with uncertainty.
Pouring the drink, Morgan recapped the decanter, and turned toward Frank again. "Perhaps, Chief Cooper," he said carefully, as he handed Frank the tumbler, "we can make a deal."
Frank regarded the financier with interest. "What did you have in mind?"
TBC in Chapter 14.26…