Zoya Hart has been eluding her gold-digging stepmother for the last few years. Knowing that this woman will do anything to gain control of her and her late father's company, Zoya finds herself hiding out on a farm. Now, with a PI on her trail, Zoya'...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Someone pounded on Roman's bedroom door and he woke with a start. Jumping to his feet, he jerked on his boxers and grabbed his pistol. Zoya sat up straight and pulled her knees to her chest, then covered herself with the sheet.
"Roman! Wake up," Flynn yelled.
Roman yanked open the door, staring Flynn down like he was a raving lunatic. "What the hell? You're about to get your ass shot."
Flynn pushed past him and paced back and forth babbling a mile a minute. "I have a son. Can you believe it? I'm a dad." He looked at Zoya, not really registering anything. "You knew about Tommy, didn't you? That's why you said not to give up."
Roman looked at her, confused, still standing in the doorway. "Who the hell is Tommy?"
Flynn didn't give her a chance to answer, bouncing on his heels like a make-a-wish kid at Disney who had just snorted pure sugar. "He's my kid! I haven't met him yet, but I will in a few hours. Mariana says he looks like me."
Roman threw his hands up, the pistol still gripped in one. His thoughts felt too sluggish for this rapid-fire flux of information. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up. You have a kid with Mariana? What the fuck?" He faced Zoya again. "Is he right?"
She nodded.
"Damn." He raked a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. "Why didn't you say something?"
"She asked me not too. But I encouraged her to tell Flynn. Every man should know his children."
Roman reached out and grabbed his brother. "Stop the damn pacing. You're wearing out my new carpet."
"Sorry. I can't help it." He slumped onto the end of the bed. "Me. A dad. Shit. I want to buy him something." He twisted to face Zoya again. "What does he like? What would be a good gift? Wait." He ran his hand over his face. "I don't have a job. How the hell am I going to provide for them, much less spring for a present?"
"I can loan you some money."
Roman glanced at her, jaw ticking. Old habits die hard. "That won't be necessary. I'll give him some."
Flynn stood and looked at Zoya again. "What should I get him?"
"What happened to your job?"
"The job goes with Céline but that doesn't matter. What about the gift?" He almost started pacing again. His mind wasn't really settling, all revolving around his son.
"He wants a pony." Zoya shrugged, and Roman glanced at her, exasperated. As if a pony were a toy truck you could buy for a five dollar mark down at the store.
"A real pony?" Flynn posited. He always thought that's what little girls wanted, along with being General Organa and prima ballerinas. But this was Louisiana, and Tommy was probably too young for an alternator.
