CEO's Expectant Secretary Read online

  “But the baby,” her mother said, pulling back, her eyes searching Elle’s face. “What are you going to do about the baby?”

  “I’m strong,” Elle said. “I can take care of myself and my little one.” She lifted her hand to her mother’s cheek. “You should know. You helped make me strong.”

  Her mother sighed, her gaze filled with worry. “But, Elle, the man asked you to marry him. Do you know what I would have given for your father to ask me to marry him?”

  Elle’s stomach clenched. “Brock didn’t ask. He issued an order, the same way he would in the office.” She shook her head, knowing that everything between her and Brock had changed before he’d walked through her front door. He clearly knew she’d been giving away the company’s secrets. He would never forgive her, never trust her. She refused to bring her baby into a marriage of distrust and anger.

  Taking a deep breath, she patted her mom’s hand. “Come on, now. You and I have more important things to focus on. Like your health, the baby and—” she forced her lips into a determined smile “—blueberry pancakes.”

  Brock gunned his black Porsche down the freeway. At the speed he was driving, he should have gotten a ticket. His heart wouldn’t stop hammering in his chest. He’d been so ready to slice her to shreds. If he hadn’t been intimate with Elle, he would have pursued her legally. She had betrayed him.

  He sucked in a sharp, shallow breath. He still couldn’t believe he’d trusted her. He still couldn’t believe he’d given in to his urge to take her and claim her. She’d been so passionate in his bed. Making love with her had been addictive, had taken him to a totally different level than he’d ever experienced before. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone but himself. He needed to go somewhere quiet, somewhere where he could figure out his next step. He was going to be a father.

  On impulse, Brock took an exit and drove toward Muir Woods. The huge, mysterious-looking Redwoods called to him. The trees were almost as old as time. What advice would they offer? Not many knew he had a spiritual side, but deep down he did. Too often he’d pushed that element of his being aside because he was the one who’d been left in charge of Maddox Communications. Regardless of the odds, regardless of his adversaries, he was the one who had to keep it alive.

  Brock pulled off the road and got out of his car. The shade of the trees surrounded him with a quiet he longed to feel inside. He took a deep breath, trying to inhale the peace, but his mind was racing at a breakneck speed. Every morning since his father had died, Brock had woken up in warrior mode. Except for a few stolen mornings with Elle. Being with her had provided a secret relief from his everyday pressures. She’d known what he was going through with the company and hadn’t questioned the need to keep their affair secret. She’d welcomed him with warmth and passion, and she’d been the only person in his life who hadn’t made demands on him. Now he knew why, he thought, bitterness burning through him like acid.

  Until now, Brock’s priority had been the company’s success. Now his world had shifted. Soon enough, he would need to protect a child. In the meantime, he would protect his child’s mother, Elle—the woman who had betrayed him and his company.

  Brock knew, however, who was behind this. Athos Koteas. His lip curled in distaste. The man would stop at nothing to bring down Maddox Communications. And he had gone too far this time. Athos, the owner of Golden Gate Productions, Maddox Communications’ biggest rival, was known as pure poison and would play dirty to get his way.

  The peaceful solitude around Brock did nothing to calm his anger, which was only escalating. The time had come for him to confront Athos in person.

  Returning to his Porsche, he started the engine and drove to the Koteas house, determined to bring the battle between Golden Gate and Maddox into the open. Ironically, Athos lived in Nob Hill, not far from Brock’s own family home. Brock pulled in front of the large Edwardian mansion with lush cascades of bougainvillea, but the beauty was lost on him.

  Climbing the steps to the front door, he stabbed the door chime. A moment later, a woman dressed in a black suit answered the door. “Hello. May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Koteas,” Brock said.

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “He’ll see me,” Brock said. “My name is Brock Maddox.”

  The woman looked him over, then guided him to a formal sitting area. But Brock wasn’t at all inclined to sit. His anger still burning inside him, he paced the carpet. He heard footsteps and glanced around to see Athos walking toward him. The short, stocky man still had a full head of silver-and-white hair, and a sharp glint in his gaze.

  “Good morning, Brock,” Athos said, lifting a dark eyebrow. “An unexpected pleasure.”

  Brock clenched one of his hands into a fist and released it. “Perhaps not. I know you’ve been trying to destroy Maddox Communications. I recognize that you have very little honor, but I never dreamed you would use your own granddaughter to do your dirty work.”

  Athos acted confused yet his face tightened. “Granddaughter? What granddaughter?”

  “You can forget the pretense,” Brock said. “Elle Linton is your granddaughter. But you wouldn’t want to make that public, would you? She’s illegitimate because your son abandoned her mother.”

  “It’s not unusual for children to disappoint their parents,” he said, shrugging. “Elle shows promise. She’s intelligent.”

  “Crafty, like you,” Brock said, the knot in his gut pulling tighter. “You don’t mind getting anyone dirty as long as you get your way.”

  “I didn’t become a success by avoiding a fight,” Athos said, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. “You’re a successful man, too. You and I are more alike than you think.”

  Brock felt his blood pressure go through the roof. He clenched his fist again, willing himself not to knock Athos off his almighty perch of pride. “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t force my grandchild to wallow in the mud for me.”

  “I didn’t force—”

  “And her pregnancy, was that part of your plan, too?” Brock goaded the man.

  Athos’s hard veneer slipped. “Pregnancy?” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Elle,” Brock said. “She’s pregnant with my child.”

  Athos turned pale as he shook his head. “No, she wasn’t supposed to—” He continued to shake his head, his skin color changing from white to gray as he began to fall.

  Brock watched in disbelief, rushing toward the man, catching him as he collapsed. Stunned at the limp body of his adversary, he shook his head. “Call an ambulance!” he yelled. “Mr. Koteas is ill.”

  Elle rushed through the doors of the emergency room, her heart in her throat. The only other time she could remember being this upset was when she’d learned her mother had cancer. Although Athos had never been affectionate toward her, Elle still felt a debt to him for his financial support of her mother and her.

  Brock stepped in front of her as she headed straight for the information desk and she faltered. Her breath hitched at the sight of him, so tall, so strong. Then she remembered what Athos’s housekeeper had told her. Brock had been with her grandfather when he’d collapsed.

  Brock reached for her and she shrank from him. “You,” she said, every cell in her body accusing him. “You’re the one who caused this. You caused my grandfather to have a heart attack.”

  Brock shook his head. “I never would have dreamed he was so fragile.” He gently took her arm. “I won’t let you handle this alone. I don’t want you upset.”

  “Not upset?” she retorted, pulling her arm away from him. “How could I not be? Do you realize what you’ve done? I’ll never forgive you for this. Never,” she said, pushing away from him.

  Her stomach in knots, she approached the information desk. “Athos Koteas,” she said over the terrible lump in her throat. “Is he—” She broke off, unable to form the words. “How is he?” she whispered.

  The nurse gave her a look of sympathy. “Your name?” s
he asked.

  “Elle. Elle Linton,” she said, holding her breath.

  “Come this way. Mr. Koteas has been asking for you.”

  Her heart filled with dread, she followed the nurse to the last room on the hallway. Elle looked inside and saw her grandfather hooked up to monitors and tubes. He’d always seemed so strong, so much larger than life when she was a child.

  The nurse nodded. “You can go in.”

  Elle tentatively stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. Her grandfather’s face was pale with strain, his usually neat hair mussed, his eyes closed. The green gown emphasized his ashen complexion. “Athos,” she said, because she’d been instructed long ago not to call him grandfather. For a long time, she and her mother had only served to remind Athos of his disappointment in his son.

  Her grandfather opened his eyes. “Elle,” he said, lifting his hand.

  She immediately wrapped both her hands around his. “I’m so sorry about Brock,” she said, unable to hide her desperation. “When he called to tell me you were in the hospital, I was horrified that he would go to your house and accuse you.” She shook her head. “It’s his fault that you had a heart—”

  “No, no,” Athos said, shaking his head. His eyes were weary. “Brock Maddox is not responsible for my heart problems.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she insisted. “If he hadn’t shown up at your house—”

  Athos gave her hands a feeble squeeze and shrugged. “It would have happened sometime,” he said. “It has happened before,” he told her, meeting her gaze. “It will happen again.”

  Confusion and fear trickled through her, the combination burning like acid. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? You’ve always been strong and healthy.”

  Athos sighed. “My doctor has told me I don’t have much time. I may have been able to fool people that I’m strong, but my heart is very weak.”

  “Well, surely there’s something that can be done. You should get a second opinion.”

  “Elle,” he said in a chiding tone. “I’ve received only the best care. There’s nothing that can be done. The reason I asked you to spy on Maddox is because I wanted to make Golden Gate Promotions solid before…”

  Elle’s throat clenched and she shook her head. “You’re not going to die,” she said. “You just need to get your strength back.”

  Athos’s mouth lifted in a sad smile. “I’ve faced this. You must face it, too,” he said as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for getting you involved in my scheme. Brock was right. I shouldn’t have asked you to take care of my dirty work.”

  “Excuse me,” the nurse said from behind her. “We’ll be moving Mr. Koteas to the Cardiac Care Unit. We need you to return to the waiting room.”

  Elle quickly kissed her grandfather’s cheek and walked to the waiting room. Brock was standing across the room. She was surprised he was still there. A rush of contradictory feelings surged through her. He had become so many things to her—boss, lover, enemy. Father of her child.

  Her mind raced back to what her grandfather had told her. He was going to die soon, and her mother’s future was uncertain. Was she going to lose the two most important people in her life? Sheer panic squeezed the breath from her lungs. She tried to force herself to breathe, but she couldn’t. Her head suddenly felt light and Brock’s image swam before her eyes.

  “Elle,” he said, moving toward her, his face tight with concern. “Elle,” he said again and everything went black.

  Two

  Alarm slammed through Brock as he caught Elle. “Elle,” he said, and swore under his breath.

  Her eyelids fluttered and she moved her head as if she were trying to shake off her weakness. “Brock,” she murmured and shook her head.

  “I’m taking you home with me,” he said firmly.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head again. “I shouldn’t. I—”

  “I won’t take no for an answer. You’ve been hit with too much today. You need to rest without interruption. My home is the best place for that.”

  Elle sighed and bit her lip, her eyes darkening with flashes of different emotions. “Okay,” she said, reluctance in her voice.

  Brock tucked Elle into his car and drove to his family home in Nob Hill. He ushered her up the steps to the home of his youth. He spent most of his time in the apartment he’d built at Maddox Communications, but that didn’t seem like the right place for Elle, especially in her fragile state.

  “You never brought me here before,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I wanted things to stay private with you.”

  She stopped. “And now?”

  He lifted his hand to push a strand of hair from her face. “Now it’s different.”

  “Because of the baby,” she said.

  “More responsibility is required when a child is involved,” he told her. “We can talk more later. Come on in. You need to rest.”

  He pushed open the door and Anna, his head housekeeper, quickly rushed to the foyer. “Mr. Maddox. How can I help you?”

  “Anna, this is Elle Linton. She’s had a difficult day. I’d like her to have a chance to rest,” he said.

  “The blue bedroom?” she suggested. “It’s on this floor.”

  He nodded. “Perfect. Is Mrs. Maddox here today?”

  Anna shook her head. “No, sir. I believe your mother is in Paris at the moment.”

  Thank God, he thought. He wished she would stay there, although he knew she wouldn’t. He’d learned long ago that his mother was a heartless woman who’d married his father for money and given him two sons because it was expected of her. Since his father had died, she’d tried to find ways to extract money from Brock and his brother Flynn.

  He guided Elle toward the blue bedroom at the back of the house. “I think you’ll be comfortable here,” he said as Anna drew the shades and pulled down the covers.

  “You know I can’t stay,” she said, sinking onto the bed. “I’m only here because it’s been such a difficult, crazy day.”

  “I know,” he said, but his intentions were entirely different. “Anna, can you please get Miss Linton some water? Perhaps juice,” he added.

  Elle shook her head. “Water will be just fine.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them again as if she were fighting her weariness.

  “Kick off your shoes and rest,” he said after Anna left. “It will be best for you and the baby.”

  She took off her shoes and lay down on the mattress. “This is just for a little while,” she warned him, her eyelids growing heavier with each second.

  “Put your feet under the covers,” he told her. “Your water will be on the nightstand. You need to rest, Elle. Close your eyes.”

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Just for a little while,” she said.

  He watched her and within seconds, her breathing slid into a regular rhythm. Unable to force his gaze from her, he stared. The sight of her in his home did something crazy to his insides. He’d thought his heart was dead after his fiancée left him. He’d planned to keep things low-key with Elle. Knowing she was expecting his child, though, changed everything, even his resentment toward her because she’d betrayed him.

  He needed to move quickly. Brock had never been more certain of the right thing to do in his life. Taking in the sight of her lovely face, her parted lips inhaling even, measured breaths, he felt his resolve solidify.

  Forcing himself to look away from her, he left the room and called his publicist.

  Hours later, Elle awakened to a semidark room. The bed and furnishings were unfamiliar. Uncertainty rushed through her as she rose to her elbows, trying to shake off her grogginess. Then she saw Brock seated across the room with an electronic book reader in his hands.

  He glanced up at her. “Okay?”

  Everything came back to her—the terrible scene in the kitchen with Brock, her grandfather’s heart attack. Panic raced through her. She threw off the covers
and swung her feet to the floor. “I need to check on my mother and grandfather.”

  Brock was beside her in seconds, putting his hands gently on her shoulders as if to steady her. “Already done. Your mother is making an early night of it. She said you should do the same. You’ve been too stressed lately. Athos is resting comfortably in the CCU. If he continues to improve, he’ll be moved to a regular room on the cardiac floor tomorrow.”

  Despite all the tension between her and Brock, she couldn’t deny her relief at his touch and the reassurance of his confident voice. “You’re sure?” she asked. “You’re sure they’re okay.”

  “I’m sure,” he said, then glanced at the clock. “It’s late, but you’re probably hungry.”

  Elle gasped when she saw the time. “Oh, my goodness, it’s nine-thirty. I can’t believe I slept that long. I need to get home.”

  “Not tonight,” he said firmly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I agree with your mother. You’ve been too stressed lately. You need to rest. This is the best place for you to relax.”

  “Oh, this is insane. I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s why you fainted in the E.R.,” he said, his gaze holding hers in silent challenge.

  It was hard to argue his point, she thought, sighing. Just as it had been hard for her to fight her attraction to him from the day she’d met him.

  “Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” he said, pushing aside a stray strand of her hair. “An empty stomach is an invitation to faint again.”

  Her pulse raced at his fleeting touch, making her feel lightheaded. Heaven help her, she couldn’t pass out again. “Maybe some toast,” she conceded.

  “That’s all? You can have anything you want. Steak, chicken,” he said, guiding her toward the door.

  The thought of a heavy meal made her feel queasy. “Just toast, please. I can fix it myself.”