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  BABY I’M YOURS

  Spinsters & Casanovas Series: Clarice & Hunter, Book 2

  Rosie Praks

  Rosie Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Other Books in the Spinsters and Casanovas Series

  Also by Rosie Praks

  About the Author

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  Copyright © 2017 by Rosie Praks

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book was self-published by the author Rosie Praks. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without agreement and written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  The author can be reached at: www.rosiepraks.com.

  For Alexia & Chloe,

  SUPPORTERS, MOTIVATORS, & SISTERS

  Thanks guys for your support and motivation.

  Chapter 1

  “Owwww!” Hunter whined in pain, then glared at his friend. “Would you be careful, Fern?”

  “I’m sorry,” Fern said as she applied less pressure on Hunter’s head with the icepack. “How did you get a bump on your head anyway? I thought you only got slapped in the fight?”

  “I tripped and fell when I was chasing Clarice.”

  “Does it hurt?” Fern asked worriedly, which prompted a scold on Anton’s face, who was busy surveying the pair interacting with one another.

  “You bet.”

  “Did Clarice get away?”

  “Yeah,” Hunter grumbled sadly.

  It wasn’t supposed to come out that way. He just panicked when he thought she might confess to Anton, and now his whole secret with Clarice had been exposed. He didn’t really care about himself, because his name had always been linked to the media, but for Clarice, it was a different story. She was so innocent. He bet the only time she was ever linked to any media would be her accomplishments in dentistry.

  Now what was he going to do?

  “And what are you going to do?” his cousin asked, as if he could read his thoughts.

  Anton wasn’t very happy as he continued to sit nursing his bruised cheeks, staring at the image of Fern doctoring his cousin. They were very close, way too close for his liking. Inside his heart, he felt a little seed of jealousy begin to sprout. After all he went through, even receiving a few slaps from Caroline and Fern herself, he didn’t even receive any icepack treatment on his cheeks, let alone a thank you from Fern.

  Anton snorted, turning away from the image in front of him, grumbling silently to himself. It was fine by him anyway. He could manage by himself. He didn’t need or want her help. He was just being a perfect gentleman.

  Except he was lying to himself. Of course he wanted her help. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sitting here grumbling to himself like an idiot.

  When did this feeling of needing someone by his side take shape? He knew Fern was always in his peripheral, but he didn’t realize his feelings could accelerate so quickly, to the point of being jealous of his own cousin.

  Anton didn’t want to feel this way, causing a defect in his cool façade, but now that it did happen, he realized he couldn’t deny it any longer. He liked Fern. But those feelings got pushed aside for now because at that moment, he had to act like the responsible older cousin.

  But what the hell was Hunter thinking anyway, spouting a line like that in front of all the paparazzi? And Clarice. He couldn’t imagine Clarice being the one to facilitate their relationship. She just seemed so innocent in this whole affair. It must be his goddamn cousin. He must be the one who enticed Clarice into his wolf’s den. He wondered when Hunter had slept with her, or even began to like her anyway. A little corner inside him hurt a little. Once again, Hunter had brought shame on their family name and to the woman Anton had planned to court too. When would he stop his ridiculous wild ways?

  “I don’t know.” Hunter turned his sad face to his cousin then.

  “Seriously, Hunter. What a perfect way to confess,” Anton shouted in fury, not just over the issue regarding Clarice, but also because of his jealousy with Fern too.

  Anton was sick of it. He was sick of babysitting his cousin, sick of being the one who had to deal with every single messed-up piece of his cousin’s life. For once, he craved to be his own man, to not be related to Hunter, to not be overshadowed by all their wealth. But looking at his cousin’s sad face now, he didn’t have the heart to break their alliance. “When and where did you sleep with her? I didn’t even know you liked Clarice that much, the way you were always calling her avocado and giving her such a hard time.”

  Hunter didn’t know what to say so he just let Anton lash out and reprimand him, taking it in like a good little boy who knew he’d done wrong. But thank God that was all Anton mentioned. If his cousin knew Clarice was also pregnant as a result of his mistaken one-night stand with her, he would never hear the end of it.

  “I have to go to Clarice. I have to apologize to her on your behalf. It’s my responsibility,” Anton said once he’d finished his lecturing. Then he got up and walked towards the door.

  “What?” Hunter stood too and approached Anton hastily, gripping his cousin by the shoulder to turn him around to face him, his face a prominent dark mask. “Clarice is my problem.” He spoke seriously, without his usual trace of amusement. “Don’t even talk to her or apologize to her on my behalf. I did this to Clarice, and I’m the only one who will fix it.”

  “Are you saying you’ll take responsibility?” Anton asked, his eyes seeing a ray of light shining shyly on his cousin’s head, a symbol of hope that his cousin was slowly changing. “The world now knows that Clarice is your next girl. What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’m going to fix it.” Hunter glared at his cousin. “And I’m taking full responsibility.”

  “You damn right should take full responsibility.” Clinton Silverton came in, his booming laughter echoing around Anton’s office, licking the last of the icing from his face. Betty came in after him, shaking her head in disapproval at her husband’s lack of restraint with those white cupcakes.

  Apparently, when Clarice ran away with Hunter in hot pursuit, Anton had announced to everyone that the ball had concluded, so everyone went home early. And what happened to Clinton? He went straight back to cupcakes and indulged himself for a good twenty minutes until Winton informed him of his son’s news being all over the internet. And now here he was, laughing away at the happy events, because Clinton did ask for such an event to take place. Here his son had used the R-word, and Hunter had never used the R-word before.

  “Your news is all over the internet, son,” Clinton said as he came over. “So you better do a good job of that responsibility you’ve claimed you’re going to take. And, um… son, who’s this girl anyway? She’s quite cute. What does she do?”

  Hunter didn’t reply to his father’s question. He was too busy thinki
ng about Clarice, about kissing her, about her welfare. He couldn’t believe he was so consumed with Clarice’s presence that even under the eyes of the paparazzi, he’d forgotten his whereabouts. He didn’t know how many shots they took. But he knew one thing for sure. News like this was fish bait in a river full of piranhas. Of course they’re going to snap up the juicy flesh, swallow it whole, and exaggerate everything about their story.

  Hunter snatched Winton’s tablet from the poor’s man hands and read the article, his eyes skimming through the headlines. He was pleased to know they didn’t say anything about Clarice’s pregnancy. Although after he finished reading it, he couldn’t stop several profanities from escaping his lips.

  God, he felt sick. He could feel this churning, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and his tongue tasted like he’d eaten something bitter. He knew these symptoms were the byproduct of his stress and concern for Clarice.

  He had tainted her—her reputation, her body, her mind, and her soul. He could feel his heart beating a thunderous cadence for her, feeling a sudden ominous sadness descending upon him. Then he looked upwards to the bright chandelier in Anton’s office, his hands fisted tightly by his sides and a sharp determined glint in his eyes.

  It’s time to grow up, Hunter. He spoke silently to himself. It’s time to take full responsibility for your own actions.

  “Aaahhh,” Caroline screamed. The sound of her voice was like a ghost wailing. She threw the newspaper across the room, which now lay scattered on the floor, its two headlines in big bold letters.

  Heir to Silverton Enterprises Beds Another Cat Fight! Caroline Bass, Heir of Bass Enterprises, Needs to Up Her Meds if She Wants Young Silverton

  “How dare they?” she screeched again. “How dare they write stuff about me like that? Hunter is mine. No one else will have him.”

  When she’d heard Hunter’s confession, she couldn’t take it. Hunter was hers. She loved him. She couldn’t imagine anyone else loving Hunter more than her. Her father was rich. Of course she could have any man she wanted, but Hunter was the one for her. She’d planned it many years ago. And now when she thought he would be hers, this old hag made Hunter confess that he wanted to sleep with her… again. No, she must do something. She must get rid of that hag. Caroline crushed her hands together. Whatever it took, she must get rid of her.

  Chapter 2

  Whitney almost had an epileptic fit when she came to work early the next morning, bearing two cups of coffee because her damn personal assistant, Sara, had resigned yet again, saying Whitney was the mother of all tyrants and she would never understand how her underlings worked so hard for the company.

  Working hard for the company? She couldn’t believe her ears. That lazy cow! It was great that her ex-PA had resigned in time or else she’d fire the hell out of her.

  What’s with the chatting online with those boyfriends—plural—of hers during working hours anyway? She’d also caught her selling XXX. It was damn unacceptable. And when she confronted the woman, all she said was she wanted to impress those damn brutes and earn some extra cash because the pay here was too low.

  Too low her cupcakes! If she would pick up her slack, then she might get a raise, or better yet, she could have saved up a good amount already, since the woman had been working for the company for over five years now. Whitney hadn’t even been here as long. But no, that ex-PA of hers had to spend money on those damn brutes. Those damn high heels and designer clothes she wore cost thousands. That’s why she complained about having no money left. Served her right.

  Sheesh. Women these days, dominated by all men, dressing themselves like peacocks with bright colorful feathers, wanting to attract the males’ attention. And for what? Just so those filthy men could look at them? That’s why she insisted on covering herself like a gothic maiden.

  There were numerous rumors that she was called “The Witch” in the company because of those outfits and the behavior she exuded, but she didn’t care. She was happy with her style. She wasn’t going to be forced to wear those skimpy short skirts that displayed her long legs just because she was judged wrongly. In fact, “The Witch” was the perfect name to call her. That was how Max always referred to her, and she admitted she liked it.

  As she was walking towards her office, she could hear the many murmurs among her staff, quietly whispering into each other’s ears about The Witch, her news of arriving in the company so bright and early this morning spreading faster than wildfire. Her witch-like persona took effect right away as they shivered in their heels, their eyes downcast, saluting her with their usual morning greeting of, “Good morning, ma’am.”

  Typical, Whitney thought. But this didn’t faze her one bit. Instead, she just twisted her mouth and smiled a wicked smile, greeting them with her usual stoic, “Hello.” Then, just to stir the pot, she asked, “Were you talking about something? Dare to elaborate?”

  Her questions only made them shiver even more, until one of them had the guts to look her in the eyes and with a shaky voice dare to lie that she looked very beautiful today.

  Typical again. Gossiping behind her back and then pretending to be nice to her face. She couldn’t wait until someone dared to ridicule her to her face. She’d whack the hell out of anyone who dared take that step. This would show them firsthand what a witch’s behavior is really like.

  Good riddance. Whitney fumed, dropping her persona when she arrived in her office, shutting the door. Next time she’d just hire a male secretary and an all-male staff. At least they would listen to her and not make snarky remarks like those women. And if they’re not happy about anything, they can at least have the guts to say it to her face.

  Whitney was still seething, thinking now they’d have to put in another ad for another secretarial position. She was pissed off even more when her two cups of coffee decided at that moment to slip out of her hands and spill onto her morning newspaper, The Auckland Daily Times, which she liked to read before working.

  “Cupcakes and fudge pie,” she cursed, sitting herself down in her plush office chair. She mustn’t let the staff rattle her.

  Suddenly, her eyes landed on the headlines. Now she didn’t just simmer silently. No, she actually exploded and went into a mini epileptic seizure, her hands fidgeting and her mouth gaping like a fish out of water, her brain trying to make sense of those words crawling across the headline.

  “Cla… Cla-rice…” She couldn’t even say her friend’s name properly, dribbling out the word in single syllables instead. “What in the chocolate fudge cake happened last night?”

  So she was on auto speed dial to Elise right away.

  “Hello,” Elise answered.

  “It’s me.”

  “Yes,” Elise said calmly. “You don’t usually call this early? What’s the emergency this time?”

  “It’s not just any emergency, E,” Whitney shouted into the phone. “Did you see the paper? Did you go online this morning?”

  “No, I’m busy with my flowers. What’s the gossip this time?”

  “It’s Clarice.” A note of panic and sheer surprise was evident in her voice.

  “Clarice?” Whitney heard a smash followed by many colorful curses before heavy breathing came on again.

  “What the cupcake just happened?” she asked her friend.

  “Sorry, I dropped my vase, but no matter. What happened to Clarice? Did she receive another award for her contribution to the community?”

  “No. The ba-by,” Whitney stressed.

  “The baby?”

  Whitney could imagine her friend’s scrunched-up face as she asked this.

  “Yes, the baby,” Whitney emphasized again, wanting to explain the situation, but nothing else would come out of her mouth.

  “What about the baby?” Elise’s calming voice asked again. Then Whitney heard flowers snipping in the background.

  “The baby isn’t Anton’s. It’s this Hunter guy’s instead.” There, she finally said it. And damn, she heard another smash of someth
ing in the background, followed by more colorful profanities. Must be another vase.

  “Whitney, tell me you’re lying, right? You mean to say Clarice didn’t sleep with Anton, but slept with some stranger instead?”

  “Not just some stranger, E. He’s the actual heir of Silverton Enterprises,” she explained as she read the wet newspaper.

  “You’re jesting with me, right? Tell me this is a joke.”

  “I’m not lying. Go online now,” Whitney instructed.

  After a few minutes of silence, her friend came back on.

  “We have to go to Clarice’s house right now,” Elise said in a panic.

  “Hell yes,” Whitney said, wedging her glasses back up her nose. Then she rushed off to her car again, her heels clip-clopping down the hallway like a witch making her departure from her lair.

  Max was busy cooking on his billy with a sausage in his mouth when one of his friends came over, exclaiming that his cousin, Clarice, was all over the internet.

  “You’re kidding,” he said, laughing at his friend, not believing a single word. But when he saw the image of Clarice kissing Hunter, he almost flipped and was on the phone right away, but Clarice wouldn’t pick up. So he called Elise instead, who by this time had already received the news from Whitney. Since Max was stuck here on campus and wouldn’t be able to leave for a few days, he decided to call his cousin constantly. That would be the only way he could redeem himself.

  As for Whitney and Elise, they both marched directly to Clarice’s house, only to find the door locked. Luckily, both had spare keys so they let themselves in and stalked to the second floor and banged on Clarice’s bedroom door.

  “Clarice, open this door right now,” Whitney shouted, her voice so loud even the dead would be awakened. “I know you’re in there, so open up. Time for some questioning.”