In His Arms

A young woman with long, dark brown hair, deep hazel eyes and skin as pale as winter snow sits by the fogged windows in the restaurant, dressed in a checkered white shirt the front tucked into a pair of well-worn black jeans, a pair of brown rectangular glasses perched on her nose.

Polly Nichols, a Whitechapel whore, was profoundly grateful to gin. ~Gin helped her. It cured her. It took away her hunger and chased the chill from her joints. It stilled the aching in her rotten teeth and numbed the slicing pains she got every time she took a piss. It made her feel better than any man ever had. It calmed her. It soothed her.

She picks up a mug from the table in front of her, her eyes continue to read the thick papers on her lap, raising the steaming liquid to her soft, pink lips, she cautiously takes a small sip.

Swaying drunkenly in the darkness of an alley, she raised a bottle to her lips and drained it. The alcohol burned like fire. She coughed, lost her grip on the bottle, and swore as it smashed.

In the distance, the clock at Christ Church struck two, its resonant chime muffled in the thickening fog. Polly dipped her hand into her coat pocket and felt for the coins there.

A sudden ringing from her blackberry on the table causes her to jump, and her papers fly everywhere, cursing at her clumsiness, she gets on her knees and begins to gather her papers.

This clumsy wrapped up in her own world person is me.

My name is Janetta Summers. I am the main editor at Blueburg Publishing House where I had interned when I was in university. I am twenty years old, single, a clutz with two left feet, a church mouse and a terrible bookworm.

Scrambling to get the papers from the tiled floor, I manage to locate most of the manuscript I had been reading but I can"t seem to find the last pages.

Getting up, I push my long hair behind my ear and look around the coffee house. Where are those pages?

"Excuse me," a deep manly voice asks, a long slender finger taps me on my shoulder."I believe these are yours?"

Whirling around, I see a man in a dark blue business suit, the jacket in his arm and the missing papers of the manuscript in his other.

His rich chocolate hair that had tousled griminess which promised finesse. He had strong arched brows and his eyes a deep and catastrophic, stormy grey.

Looking down at my feet, I avoid eye contact with the stranger and take the paper out of his hand, mumbling a quick thank you, I walk back to my table, gather my stuff, pay for the tea and leave the coffee house as quick as I can, my cheeks flushed, answering my phone on the way.

"Hello?" I mumble into the phone, dodging the people on their lunch break. "Summers speaking."

"Hey, Etta," My boss, Lucifer King, sings from the other line. "What"s my favourite editor doing?"

Smiling at the sound of my boss"s voice, I stride into a ten story office building, with Blueburg Publishing House written discreetly over the glass front doors.

I walk into the enormous – and still intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby. Walking over to the bank of elevators past two security men.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the ninth floor. The doors slide open,"I"m at the office."

"Wonderful," he cheers down the line. "I have someone coming in to meet me and I want you to be there."

Hanging up, I enter the office, weaving through the workstations, passing by my assistant editors who are all sitting around, chatting with each other all on lunch break.

Dumping my bag in my office, I head for my boss"s office wich is next door, not bothering to knock on the door, I go in.

"There she is!" he exclaims as I enter, looking at him in surprise. "How did you know I was going to ask you to cut your lunch short?"

I give a small laugh and proclaim teasingly.,"Every time you call me during lunch or at five in the morning, you tell me to come to the office."

"Right," he drones, like his only realising it now, and I give him a small smile. "Anyways, I got you a part-time job!"

"Huh?" I tilt my head sideways in confusion. " A what?"

"Remember, I went to see my bud from university last week?" He asks, placing his chin on his palm in an innocent gesture."He"s been looking for a nanny recently cause his kid is young and he has to work."

"He hasn"t been too successful lately in finding one so I recommended you," he chirps, innocently, his eyes shining with pride at what he has done.

"What?" I squeak, my eyes widening. The thought of working for someone unknown terrifying me. "Mr King...I...I"

"No. No," he flaps his hands at me. "It comes with full accommodation, the pay is by the week and he"s single. There will be no need to thank me."

I gulp nervously, looking at my boss. If this is one of his, I"m-going-to-find-this-girl-a-boyfriend-before-I-turn-thirty-even-if-it"s-the-last-thing-I-do plans, I"d rather die than participate.

I still remember the god awful dentist he set me up with last month. Jeez, the guy kept glancing at my teeth throughout dinner. I shudder at the memory.

"Mr King, I..."

"Lucifer," the deep manly voice from the coffee house comes from the office door which swings open. "I need that girl you were talking about now. Where is she?"

Mr King smiles excitedly and points to me, I feeling like I"ve just received a death sentence, I slowly turn around, coming face to face with the man who had picked up my papers for me, his eyes are solely trained on mine causing me to blush and turn away immediately. Oh no.

So, this is how I met him. Alexander Holt. CEO of Haven & Holts Incorporated and my boss"s latest "set up my editor with a guy" plan.

"So, you"re Janetta Summers," the man from the coffee house who introduced himself as Alexander Holt sits behind my desk in my office.

"You can call me Jane if you"d like," I mumble, looking at my entwined fingers on my lap, still embarrassed about the way I acted towards him at the coffee house.

"Lucifer said you like children," he states, emotionlessly. "And you took care of his kid whenever Elaine asked him to bring Theo to work."

"Yes," I murmur, looking up. Jeez, Mr King had to mention his kid?

"I understand that Lucifer recommended you without your knowledge," he proclaims the obvious.

"The job requires you to live in my house so you can take care of the child full-time."

The child? Is that what he calls his kid? How strange... "Um...can that term be negotiated?"

"No," he objects."I need round the clock care for it."

It?! "Sir, I feel that the need for me to be there around the clock to be...um...atrocious..."

Squeezing my hands together, I look into his eyes," Your baby does need you...you know as your his father and all..."

His eyes darken at this, and I feel a chill go down my spine like I"m being buried six feet under by his gaze alone.

"I don"t need you to tell me how to be a father," he snarls. "I just need you to take care of it."

I wince at his harshness. "I"m sorry...I didn"t mea-"

"You know what," he huffs, standing up. "I don"t think you"re the one for the job. I need someone who just does their job."

I stand, mustering what little courage I have, I snap at him," The person you"re looking for isn"t human that"s a dog. I never asked for this job, I was volunteered."

"You don"t want me for the damn job, fine. I have no qualms about it, I"d feel sorry for the dog you employ to look after "the child"."

He is about to snap something else at me but I cut him off.

"If you"ll excuse me," I gesture to the door. "Unlike you, I have a living to work for."

Once he leaves my office, I slump into my chair, my limbs and hands shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

He is an imbecile!

*****

"Hey, Etta," Mr King calls after me as I clock out for the day. "Do I want to know why-"

I shake my head, knowing he"s referring to Alexander Holt when he had stormed out of the office building.

"That bad?" He asks, clocking out after me.

I nod,"It"d be better if you asked him why I threw him out of my office."

"I haven"t seen you this upset since you know when," Mr King murmurs, as we leave the building. "I know he"s an ass but he"s just broken."

Broken...that is not the word I"d use to describe a man who would call his own child an "it", warped describes him better.

"Even if he is...that is no need to call an innocent child "it"."

Reaching his car, I climb into the passenger seat and Mr King takes off, a routine for us when we get off work late, his way of saying "thanks for staying with me till the early hours of the morning".

Fishing out my blackberry, I check the grocery list I had compiled earlier in the morning.

Eggs, bacon, bread, flour, margarine, jam, and strawberries.

Stopping outside the 24-hour supermarket next to the apartment complex I call home.

I get off the car, thank him for the ride and go in, grabbing a basket, I quickly get all that I need when I hear the most peculiar sound. Wailing? No, crying...

Moving around the aisles, I look into each and every one of them. Trying to locate the sound.

Looking down the baby"s aisle, I see a small blue stroller with the cover pulled over in the middle of the walkway, a sharp wailing sound emits from the stroller echoing through the empty supermarket.

Placing my basket by the pram, I look inside to see the most adorable, chubby cheeked, grey-eyed, brown haired baby wearing a blue and red onesie.

Picking him up, I cradle him to my body, rocking him gently, his loud, drawn out wails turn into soft gurgles and baby love noises, rocking him to and fro, I soon realise he has not only a wet diaper but also a growling stomach.

What idiot leaves a baby on its own in the supermarket, hungry and with a wet diaper?!

"Looks like someone needs a changie and a yum yum," I coo in the motherly voice I seem to take on every time I deal with a child. "Now, let"s see..."

I look over the shelves upon shelves of baby diapers, food, wipes, oils, formulas, powders, and soaps.

Locating my n.o 1 and most reliable brand of diapers, I grab a three for the price of one Baby Johnsons wipes, assuming that the baby in my arms is around five to ten months, I go on my tip toes to get the milk formula on the top most shelf.

"All...most...there...just a little bit more..." I mutter, my fingertips brushing against the metal tin. "Come on..."

The little baby giggles at the faces I"m making to get the formula.

"Okay...okay...I know I look silly but it"s rude to laugh at someone who is at least trying to help you."

Suddenly an arm with a white shirts sleeve rolled up to the owner"s elbow, reaches up for the tin I couldn"t reach. Smiling triumphantly, I turn to thank the stranger when my heart stops.

Holding the baby formula in his hands, looking like he"s examining a new specimen, with his white office shirt loose and untucked, matched with a pair of black jeans, at one o"clock in the morning... is Alexander Holt.

"Good morning," he murmurs tiredly, passing me the formula. "I see you"ve met my son."

My jaw hits the ground with a thump. This adorable baby...is HIS?!

Dedicated to @graciousamisha for following me and voting on the story and ShannonQuick for adding my story to her reading list. Thanks soooo much for reading!!!

This is not how I imagined spending the rest of my Friday evening...to be honest, I was just thinking of crashing into bed and sleep the weekend away but as usual, nothing ever goes to my plan.

Holding the now, fed and sleepy baby in my arms, I use my free hand to unlock the door to the apartment, pushing the door open with my elbow, I reveal the cosy, warm two bedroom apartment.

Checking for signs of my roommate from college, when I see no indication of her being home, I step aside and let him in.

"If you want..." I mumble, setting the baby in the cot I always had in the corner of the living room. "I can teach you to take care of him..."

Looking up at him, I am surprised when I see him give me a short nod. Crossing over to the kitchen, I grab some of the baby products I"ve been keeping since I took care of Mr King"s baby.

Placing them on the kitchen counter, I spread them out well, including the things I just bought. Diapers, formula milk, baby bottles, pacifiers, teething gel, Baby Johnson"s shampoo and body wash. This should be the basics...

"Okay, these here are the basic necessities," I begin, looking over to Mr Holt but finding him nowhere to be seen. "Mr Holt?"

Going back out to the living room, I find the man snoring softly on the couch, his mouth slightly open, one of his shoes still on and his long frame taking up the entire couch.

Swallowing the sudden lump that formed in my throat, I go into my bedroom to retrieve the spare blankets I keep. I wrap one of my hand knitted blankets around him, careful to not touch him.

A high pitched wail sounds from the cot and Mr Hot stirs, rushing over to the baby, I pick him up and begin to calm him down.

The baby gurgles as I bounce him on my hip, sleepness clouding his eyes as they begin to droop once more, grabbing a bottle and placing it in the desensitiser for just in case reasons, I go to my bedroom and set the baby next to me and go to sleep.

*****

"JANE!! QUICK GET OVER HERE!" Olivia screams from the living room, a loud thump is heard and a groan. Groggily getting out of bed, my work clothes from yesterday crumpled and messy, I clutch the sleeping baby in my arms, I stumble to the living room.

"My cousin is on the couch!" She screeches, one hand holding an umbrella and with the other, she points at Mr Holt who is lying face down on the floor. "What the HELL is he DOING here?!"

Yawning and not making sense of her words, I help Mr Holt up with the arm I"m not holding on to the baby,"Olivia, Alexander Holt. Mr Holt, Olivia Greys."

"I know who he is," Olivia grumbles, gripping the umbrella. "I want to know why he"s here."

Mr Holt"s lips run into a thin line," Still aggressive as ever I see."

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Olivia yells at him, ignoring his comment, raising the umbrella. "It"s been almost three months from your divorce and now then you show up?"

Not catching the flow of the conversation, I yawn and go to the kitchen to make the baby a new bottle of milk. I lost count of the number of time he had woken me up last night either to change his diaper or feed him.

I nearly fall asleep as I shake the milk powder into the warm water, waking up, the baby looks to me with his big brown orbs, opening his mouth as I place the nipple of the bottle at his lips.

"You have the job," Mr Holt decides, announcing his presence. "When can you move in?"

"Mr Holt," I state, staring at him through my sleepy state. "I was glad to help. I don"t want the job..."

"I request, no, I demand you take up the job," he cuts me off. "Lucifer recommended you and I trust his judgement."

Yawning, I close my eyes and lean on the counter for a moment as I recall what he said to me in my office yesterday. "Didn"t you say you think I"m not the one for the job?"

"Don"t tell me how to be a father," he states as a matter of factly. "And I won"t say you are unsuitable for the job."

Taking a moment to let this sink in, I give in for I am not the kind of person to turn down someone in need. I nod.

"I need you to move in by tonight," he continues, not missing a beat. "I"ll have a car come pick you up and send you and your belongings to my apartment at five."

Why do I feel that his conversation is very one sided?

"I need to go to work," he adds as an afterthought. "I"ll leave the child in your care. See you tonight."

WHAT?! "Wait...Mr Holt..."

Too late, he"s already walking out of the kitchen, sliding on his shoes and before I can catch up, moving as fast as I can without hurting the baby, he"s gone.

My jaw drops, How am I supposed to pack with a baby to take care of at the same time?

Olivia... a small voice sings in my head and I look to the fuming redhead in the living room. Yup, I"ll just explain everything and...Hold on...what did she say when I came here...

"My cousin is on the couch!"

"It"s been almost three months from your divorce and now then you show up?"

My eyes widen as realisation dawns...they"re...RELATED?!