Pregnant by the Rival CEO(31)

She served their salads and took the seat next to him. How could he have gone his whole life not celebrating his birthday? Her heart felt unusually heavy—birthdays had always been a big event in the Langford household. Always. She wanted him to have that, to have everything she’d had.

“Maybe today can be the start of a new birthday tradition.”

He offered her the faintest of smiles. “That’s a nice idea.”



The start of a new tradition. Did Anna really mean that? Did she see a future for them? Because as incredible as it was to be with her, it felt as if the universe was conspiring against them. It was only a matter of time before the War Chest takeover surfaced.

He ate his salad, listening to Anna talk about her day, feeling more guilty with every bite. Hours before, the War Chest had staged their coup against him—ousting him from the group for daring to push them so hard, vowing to continue with their hostile takeover of LangTel. They’d done to him what he’d once hoped they could do to Adam. Being on the receiving end of vengeance wasn’t fun. These people were dangerous, all deep pockets and determination. Experience told him that it didn’t take much else to be successful. Not even luck.

Anna served the pasta, which might’ve been one of the most delicious things he’d ever tasted—ziti with Italian sausage, white wine, saffron and arugula. She’d found the recipe online after having taken note of how much he loved those particular ingredients—so thoughtful of her, and yet he couldn’t truly enjoy a single bite. Watching her, the sweet smile on her face, thinking about the effort she’d gone to. She’d planned this incredible evening for him, and he’d planned to destroy the company her father had built. What kind of a monster was he? Had getting back at Adam really been that damn important? Had his father messed him up so badly that his so-called business brilliance was capable of ruining lives?

He had to find a way to stop it—sell every asset he had, pull together a new group of investors to help him. Something. There had to be a way. Because the truth was that he was absolutely falling in love with Anna. He’d known it for weeks now. Hell, he was fairly sure he’d fallen for her during the motorcycle ride. But he couldn’t confess his true feelings for her until the takeover was squashed. That was no way to start a life together, with a secret of epic proportions lurking in the shadows, about to reveal itself at any time.

After they finished Anna’s meal, she brought in a cake and serenaded him with “Happy Birthday” in her slightly off-tune voice. It was corny and adorable and not at all the sort of attention he’d ever had before he’d met Anna—sweet, genuine and thoughtful. Then she gave him his gift—a gorgeous pair of perfect-fitting black leather gloves.

“They’re handmade,” she said, watching with excitement as he tried them on. “I called a motorcycle shop out in Queens and talked to the owner, so I knew what kind to get.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” His heart ached, so overwhelmed with this show of generosity from Anna.

“You forgot the card.” She flipped over the gift box and removed a small envelope taped to the lid.

His eyes couldn’t be torn from her as he opened it. Where had she come from? Was this all a dream?

For Jacob,

There’s no one I’d rather be on a motorcycle with. I’ll be the one holding on tight.

Love, Anna

He nodded, struggling to manage the emotions welling inside him. Love, Anna. He loved her. She was so warm and giving, so beautiful, inside and out. He wasn’t even sure he deserved to be in the same room with her, let alone ever have a place in her heart or her life. “Thank you so much, for everything.” He set the gloves aside and took her hand. “Truly. I am so thankful for this evening. It’s been wonderful.” The card was sitting right there. He wasn’t much for sentimentality, but he would cherish it forever, even if things didn’t work out, even if the horrible things he’d done came to light. “The gloves are absolutely perfect and the card is just...” He nodded, swallowing back everything he wanted to tell her. I love you. “It’s perfect, too. You have such a way with words.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I have a fair amount of experience with writing you notes and letters.”

“I don’t ever remember you writing to me.”

She downed the last of the wine in her glass and refilled it, topping off his as well. “After that Christmas you stayed with my family, I had a hard time. Writing to you was my outlet.”

“A hard time?” What in the world was she talking about?