Race Against Time

And so one year followed another and then another, when one day, to her horror, after one of their vacation trips to his Mexican villa, she found herself pregnant.

* * *

Star missed her period. The shock and the implications were staggering. Women in Anton’s houses were not allowed to keep babies. Abortions were SOP—standard operating procedure. While the thought of being tied to him for life by the birth of his child was abhorrent, the idea of aborting her own baby was worse, and she kept silent, still waiting for a way to make a break. And then a week later, the nausea began. She hid it for a while by waiting to get up until after he had left their bed. Then one morning he came back to get his watch and heard her throwing up.

When he rushed into the bathroom, she was on her knees in front of the commode, trembling in every muscle, praying that was the last wave of nausea when he walked in.

“Star! What’s happening?”

Startled by the sound of his voice, she rocked back on her heels and started to cry.

He pulled her to her feet, then got a wet cloth and began wiping her face.

“You are sick. I will call a doctor.”

If he did, he would know the truth, and someone else would be telling him. If she stood a chance at all, it had to come from her.

“I’m not sick. I’m pregnant. I don’t know how it happened. I take my birth control pills as you request. I never miss. I never forget. But...remember the night I got food poisoning when we were in Mexico? I threw up all night and most of the next day. I took my pill as always, but it must have come up before it had time to get into my system.”

She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs.

“Please forgive me, Anton. I would never mean to displease you. I live to make you happy.”

Anton was in shock. The idea of becoming a father had never entered his mind. But this girl he’d taken from an auction block had turned into a woman over the past five years, and in doing so had become entrenched in his life.

He put a hand on the top of her head and then lifted her to her feet.

Star was in desperation mode, and the only thing she could think to do was feed his ego. Make him believe she adored him as much as she pretended to do.

“Please don’t make me kill our baby. Please, Anton, don’t make me kill a part of you.”

Anton believed what she’d said. She worshipped him. She was a beautiful woman who was carrying his child. What if it was a boy? In two years he would be fifty. What would happen to his fortune of flesh when he died? Maybe it was time to think about an heir.

“Don’t cry, my shining Star. We will keep this baby. You will give me a son. I will have an heir.”

She shuddered.

“What if it’s a girl?”

He frowned.

“I do not sire girls. It will be a boy.”

He helped her up, had his secretary make an appointment for her at an obstetrician’s office and then had the chef bring her something to calm her stomach.

Every day afterward, he did not leave their bedroom until she’d had weak tea and toast in bed, until she was able to get up without nausea.

Eight months later, Samuel Anton Baba was laid in his mother’s arms, with Anton standing beside her. But it wasn’t love he felt for the child, only pride.

* * *

Star went home to a nursery someone else decorated and a nanny who took the baby out of her arms. Anton gave Star a week, and then she was back on the job, satisfying his sexual appetite with her wits and her hands until her body had time to heal.

The months passed, and while Anton found that he enjoyed watching Sammy grow and witnessing the milestones that came to each baby’s life...first words, first steps, he also realized he had become jaded with Star. She had gone from sexy siren to a mother figure, and he no longer desired her in that way. Just after Sammy’s second birthday, Anton fired their personal chef and hired a new one—a woman named Lacey, who’d come highly recommended by a friend. Lacey was in her early thirties, short and stocky with black hair she wore combed into a Mohawk, and was as good in the kitchen as Star was in the bedroom. The only thing Anton didn’t know about her was that she was an undercover Fed.

Anton Baba had long been suspected of being behind a large ring of human trafficking, but the Feds had never been able to prove it. Sending their agent in undercover was risky, but her skills in cooking gave her the edge she needed to get into his personal space.

It didn’t take long for Lacey to learn Anton did not conduct business from his home. The only armed men on the premises were the guards who worked for him. During the two months she’d been there, she had learned nothing that would aid in building a case. Her superiors were considering pulling her out when Lacey picked up on some gossip among the staff. If what they were saying was true, she might have found a weak link in Baba’s business—Star Davis, who was the mother of his child.

* * *

Star was in the nursery rocking Sammy to sleep for his afternoon nap. She loved this time with him, watching his long dark lashes as they fluttered against his cheeks while he fought to stay awake, and then the peaceful perfection of his little face after he finally fell asleep. She was about to put him to bed when she heard Anton’s voice. She thought he was upstairs looking for her but didn’t want to call out and wake up Sammy. But when she realized he was on the phone, she relaxed.

It wasn’t until she heard her name and how he was describing her that she realized he only considered her a product to sell.

Her life as she’d known it was about to explode. Learning that he wanted his son but he no longer wanted her was a death sentence. She would rather die than live a life somewhere else knowing her baby was growing up without her.

Anton’s voice faded as he walked away, but what she’d overheard had been the warning she needed. As soon as she put Sammy to bed she grabbed his diaper bag and began packing it for a getaway, then left it inside his closet.

The hardest thing she’d ever done was pretend nothing was wrong as she went downstairs to the kitchen. Lacey, the chef, had been preparing vegetables for Sammy and then pureeing them for her, but she wouldn’t be able to take food like this, and began gathering up jars of baby food from the pantry.

Lacey saw the tears on Star’s face as she entered the kitchen, and when Star went to the pantry without speaking, she followed.

“Good afternoon, Miss Star. Can I help you in any way?”

Star shook her head and kept sorting through the jars.

“I’ll be happy to make something fresh for Sammy,” Lacey offered.

Star couldn’t talk for fear she’d burst into tears, and just shook her head as she set aside little jars of fruit and vegetables, and a box of teething crackers.

“Looks like we’re packing for another trip. Want me to get a small box?” she asked.

Star panicked.

“No, please. I just need...” Star took a deep breath, trying to control the spreading panic, and started over. “I just need to—”

A jar of applesauce slipped from her fingers and shattered on the pantry floor.

Horrified, Star burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No problem, Miss Star. It’ll clean right up!” Lacey said. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and quickly mopped it up.

But Star was beyond help. Once she’d started crying, she couldn’t stop, and that’s when Lacey knew something more was going on.

“Come sit with me,” she urged.