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Three

CHAPTER THREE

Bran

My lawyer was looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Should I be offended that you clearly don’t see me as father material?” I’d asked him to meet with him to help me set up the legal logistics for hiring a surrogate and getting full custody of the child when it was born.

He shook his head. “Where did this come from?”

I sat back in my chair, hoping I looked relaxed when, in fact, I was annoyed.

Sure, I might be a bit high-strung, but I was capable of love and caring. Hadn’t I raised Harper from the time she was fifteen? Wasn’t I still looking out for her?

“I want a child. Is that so strange?”

“But you don’t want a wife? That’s how these things usually work.”

I’d considered briefly finding a suitable wife, but there was so much that could go wrong.

What if she got too attached? What if she wasn’t attached enough?

She could try to take my child away. She could use the child to extort money.

No. It was easier to hire a surrogate and have full legal custody of the child.

“I don’t want a wife.”

He continued to stare at me, dumbfounded. It irked me to no end.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked. “Is it because Harper is giving you the cold shoulder? She’ll come around, eventually.”

“This isn’t about Harper.”

Of course, it was a lie. It was partly about Harper. I might be a tight ass, but family was important to me. After my parents died, only Harper and I were left.

While my parents' marriage might have been unstable, their love for me and Harper was solid. We felt it as sure as I felt the floor under my feet. Losing that left a void.

The world seemed lonelier.

“Is it because you’re lonely? Why not get a dog?”

Anger boiled up. “It doesn’t matter why. You’re my lawyer. Are you going to draw up the paperwork or do I need to hire someone else?”

Normally he did what I asked with very little question. Why was he busting my balls now?

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll draw up the paperwork. But I’ve been with you for a long time, Bran. I was your father’s lawyer before you. I see it as my duty to help you understand the ramifications of your decisions. Who’s going to take care of this child while you are working sixteen hours a day?”

“I’ll hire a nanny, of course.”

I had a nanny. So did Harper until we were about ten. “When will you see the child? Kids need love and attention.” My jaw tightened. “I’m capable of that.”

That was the point of all this. “I could quit running the business tomorrow and still have enough money to support my heirs for generations. Time for a child won’t be a problem.”

“Is that what you’re planning? To work less?”

“My plans don’t involve you. Only the legal documents to hire a surrogate concern you now.”

He sighed. “Okay. When do you need them?” “ASAP.”

I’d reached out to an organization that helped connect parents to surrogates and expected a list of possible women shortly.

He stood. “I’ll get right on it.” “Good.”

When the door closed behind him, the phone on my desk beeped. “Mr. Erikson. Your appointment at Chez Monceaux is in an hour.” “Thank you.”

Another annoyance.

I had more important things to worry about than the bullshit my publicist needed me for. But I’d hired her at Harper’s urging, not for my image but for the company’s.

But somehow, the publicist got the idea that me and the company were one and the same, so I was often having to do interviews or show off my home or some other bullshit.

Why the fuck did people care how I lived and how did that convert to business success?

“You’re an A-1 Scrooge, Bran,” Harper had told me. “The publicist is to help prevent you from pissing people off and tanking the business.”

I wasn’t in business to win a popularity contest, but I knew that Harper’s beauty and charm had helped me get a few deals, so likability had something to do with success.

So, with reluctance, I left my office and headed to the upscale boutique to buy a new suit to wear for an upcoming photoshoot for a financial magazine.

“Mr. Erickson, welcome back. Henri will be right out to help you,” a woman who worked there greeted me. I wasn’t sure if she was a manager or owner. “Can I get you a drink? We have that scotch you like.”

I shook my head. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Of course. Henri will be just a moment.”

I nodded and looked around the boutique. My scan stopped when I saw Anne appear from a back room. She saw me, narrowed her eyes, and made a beeline for the door.

Feeling contrary, I stepped into her path. “You’re not running away on my account, are you?”

She looked at me with wary eyes when I’d expected an angry glare. Her gaze shifted to the woman who greeted me. The woman pursed her lips at Anne. It wasn’t a positive exchange.

Anne held up an envelope. “I’ve come to get my last paycheck.”

My first thought was to make fun of her having to work in retail and then getting fired.

But something in her expression stopped me. It made me almost feel sorry for her.

Instead, I seized on the opportunity to find out how Harper was doing. “How is Harper?”

She studied me. “Fine, now that you’re out of her life.”

Her words were like a stab to the heart. I rethought my nasty retort about her job and getting fired.

“I want you to give her a message,” I said instead.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t work for the postal service.”

“Maybe that should be your next stop since you clearly are unemployed, and Daddy isn’t bankrolling you anymore.”

She flinched, and her glare turned lethal.

I slipped my hand into my pocket. “Is that what it will take? Do I need to pay you to give Harper a message?”

I made a point to flip through hundred-dollar bills.

She stared at the money for a long moment, and I began to think she might take me up on it. It was then I noticed that she seemed thinner than usual. She was still stunning with long blonde hair that a man could sink his fingers into and round gray eyes that gave her an ethereal appearance. Why she didn’t try modeling, I didn’t know. Especially since she seemed to be struggling financially.

She looked up from the wad of money with an expression of disdain. “Not interested.”

She pushed around me and headed for the door.

I considered following her, but stopped myself when I realized my interest wasn’t in convincing her to take a message to Harper, but instead to spar with her.

I hated how much I enjoyed that. I liked it nearly as much as I liked watching her ass sway away from me. God, if only she wasn’t so prickly.

Unfortunately for me, my dick didn’t care that she hated me, or that despised her. It wanted to get up and close and personal with her.

An image of Anne, round with child, flashed in my head.

Jesus fuck. Not her.

Yes, she needed money. Yes, she was intelligent and witty, coming from a wealthy family. But asking her to be my surrogate would only lead to misery.

Lifelong misery, if she accepted the offer.

I shook the image out of my head and turned my attention to getting a new suit. Normally, I liked them tailor made, but I didn’t have time before the shoot, so I tried on several, picking the one I liked the best and then Henri set about tailoring it to me. Once he had all the measurements, I headed back to the office.

As I drove along the congested roads, Anne popped into my head again. I supposed I was glad that Harper had a fiercely loyal friend in Anne, even if she was the bane of my existence. At least Harper wasn’t alone.

And I wouldn’t be either, once I found a qualified woman to have my child.

Again, Anne flashed in my head. She really was a top-notch choice for a surrogate. She had good genes. She was beautiful and intelligent. She needed money, but I knew she wanted more than just enough to get by. She craved returning to the world of the wealthy. I wondered what price she’d pay to achieve it.

Would she have a baby for me?

My dick perked up at that idea. “Down boy. There’s no way I’m fucking her. We’ll use a clinic.”

My dick didn’t like that. To be honest, the idea of heating up the sheets with feisty Anne Francis had an appeal. But no. She was too much trouble to get that intimate with.

But a business deal? Maybe her as my surrogate wasn’t so crazy after all.

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