In His Arms

Chapter 2

"So, you're Janetta Summers," Alexander Holt comments, sitting behind my desk in my office. "I hope your papers are alright."

"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. "The papers are fine...sorry for running away from you so fast, I hope I didn't offend you in any way."

"Lucifer said you like children," he continues as if I hadn't said anything, his tone is cold and emotionless like the way I imagine someone of his status would speak. "And you took care of his kid whenever Elaine asked him to bring Theo to work."

"Yes," I hesitantly return, forcing myself to meet his gaze which I instantly regret when his cold grey eyes stare right back at my own, increasing my nervousness by tenfold. How do I always get roped into things that I should have nothing to do with?

"I understand that Lucifer recommended you without your knowledge," he adds, looking at me curiously through his overall demeanour doesn't change. "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 baby? How strange... "I'm fine with that. Mr King did at least mention that part before you came into his office," I offer, nodding my head as I speak. "I was looking to move out of my current living space anyways."

"The pay is fairly high cornering around twenty thousand dollars per month," He mentions, looking at me as if waiting for a reaction and when I give none he adds. "Juggling between your regular jon and taking care of it, I'd like to know how it will work out, and if there is anything I can do to help."

It?! "If I can suggest something, it would be better if you didn't refer to your baby as an 'it' or 'the child'? I just feel it's a little...um...appalling?...As your baby's father, I mean to be calling he or her something so...emotionless?"

Squeezing my hands together, I look into his eyes, "Not that, I'm saying your parenting ways are bad...it's just not...advisable?"

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. This feeling cannot be good.

"I don't need you to tell me how to be a father," he speaks cooly, his tone the total opposite of the death glare he's sending my way. "I just need you to take care of it."

Wincing at his harshness to my suggestion, I attempt to correct myself by quickly apologising, "I'm sorry...I didn't mea—"

"You know what," Mr Holt states calmly, standing up. "I don't think you're the one for the job. I just need someone who just does their job."

Pressing my lips together, I muster what little courage I have to 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 and as a person, I should be able to give suggestions which are open to being negotiated."

"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 sharply cut him off by opening my arm towards the door, "If you'll excuse me, unlike you who can give away twenty thousand dollars by the month, I have minimum wage work for."

If it wasn't for the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I could have sworn that as he leaves my office the corners of his lips are slightly raised in amusement adding to my embarrassment that I had actually spoken to someone like that, sinking into my chair that smell faintly of something expensive, my limbs and hands shake visibly as I try to calm my nerves.

I have honestly never met a man quite like him...and I do not want to meet someone like him ever again.

*****

"Hey, Etta," Mr King greets me as I clock out for the day, his fingers hook his suit jacket over his shoulder giving him the look of a very accomplished man. "Do I want to know why—"

I shake my head with my lips pressed tightly together, knowing he's referring to the meeting between Alexander Holt and me. If Mr King is the man I've known for almost two years then he would have been listening against the thin walls that separate our offices.

"That bad?" He asks, clocking out after me, scanning his card for an elevator before I could even take my security card out. "I thought that you two would hit it off..."

Shaking my head in exasperation, I ignore his last sentence by replying to his 'That bad' remark, "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, referring to the time a potential author got snapped out of my reach by our rival company, 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 child an 'it', warped describes him better.

"Even if he is...there is no need to call an innocent child 'it'," I respond coldly, not taking his excuse for his friend. "A child is a child, they were born into this world to be loved, not to be objectified with an empty subject pronoun."

The elevator arrives, taking us down to the lobby level where only the night security guards patrol, going out to the street where Mr King had parked his car by the parking meter, I climb into the passenger seat as Mr King rounds the hood of the car to get to the driver's seat.

"Well, if you put it that way, I can't say anything against you, it's your belief," Mr King says, starting the engine. "Just remember that he was married three months ago if I were him I'd also refer to Leo as an empty subject pronoun as he is a reminder of the woman I loved."

Taking off before I can respond, I bite my lip to keep myself from starting an argument with him. In all honesty, the only reason I'm with him in his car right now is that of a routine between us when we get off work late, sending me home in his car is his way of saying 'thanks for staying with me till the early hours of the morning'.

Trying to occupy my overly active mind, I fish out my blackberry from my bag, checking the grocery list I had compiled earlier in the day. Eggs, bacon, bread, flour, margarine, jam, and strawberries...right...

Telling Mr King to drop me off outside the 24-hour supermarket next to the apartment complex I stay at, getting off the car and thanking him for the ride. I go into the supermarket, grabbing a basket as the automatic chines sound my arrival, I quickly grab all that I need and just when I am considering buying some cereal, I hear the most peculiar sound.

Wailing? No, crying...

Moving around the aisles, I look into every one of them, trying to locate the distressed filled sound. Briskly walking towards the last aisle that shelves baby products, I finally pinpoint a small blue stroller with the cover pulled over in the middle of the walkway, the sharp wailing sound from earlier emits from the stroller, the heart-wrenching sound echoes through the empty supermarket.

Placing my basket by the pram, I look inside to see the most adorable, chubby-cheeked, grey-eyed, chocolate brown-haired baby wearing a blue and red onesie. Noting that he is alone, I find myself picking him up cradling him to my body, gently rocking him to and fro, soothing him. As expected his loud, drawn-out wails turn into soft gurgles and baby love noises.

What irresponsible parents leave a baby on its own in the supermarket? Deciding that I should go to the cashier to announce the lost child, I have just turned around when an arm with a white shirts sleeve rolled up to the owner's elbow, grasps me by my shoulder. Turning right back around to face the person, a scream reaches my lips but I swallow it down when I realise that I recognise the owner of the hand. 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 speaks coldly, his body tensing as he stares at the baby in my arms. "I see you've met my son."

Hold on, back up...This adorable baby...is HIS?!