Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series

  Father and Son

  Book Two of the Jensen Family Series

  By Michelle Day

  Text copyright © 2014

  Michelle Y Day

  All Rights Reserved

  Disclaimer: This book contains sexually explicit material and profanity. Please do not read further if these things offend you.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intentional.

  In layman’s terms, if you think you see yourself in this book, you don’t.

  To Yana and Stephen.

  My life, my heart, my inspiration.

  Cover courtesy of: Fiona Hillman and tweaked by Kerry Heavens

  With thanks to:

  Everyone who has encouraged me and has loved my characters as much as I do. There are too many to mention by name. You know who you are.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  There are many things I hope to achieve with my life and some that I have already accomplished. I own my own business; I have fathered a child, I am successful in my own right but I have yet to capture the woman of my dreams, I will get her, mark my words.

  I have accepted that I am not ready to settle down at this particular moment in time just as I have come to terms with the fact that I will never and I do mean absolutely, positively, never achieve anything which would cause my Father to tell me he is proud of me, I can live with that. I sometimes feel it would be nice to be acknowledged as his son but those moments are very few and far between.

  My aim right now? To retire by the time I am thirty. Yeah, right, as if I could leave the running of anything I own to another for any length of time, it just isn’t going to happen. Perhaps I should lower my expectations and say instead that I plan to be a millionaire by the time I hit twenty five, that’s certainly achievable, I am well on my way although I do keep my finances a closely guarded secret.

  I am beginning to find that I like the finer things in life. I like my cars fast and my women faster, the faster the better as it means they don’t stick around too long. I like made to measure clothes and revel in the fact that at this point in my life, I can afford pretty much anything that takes my fancy. I take great pleasure in treating my Mother, the woman who gave me life and continues to support me in all of my endeavours. From trinkets to holidays, whenever I feel the urge to splurge, she is at the forefront of my thoughts and that first purchase will always be something for her.

  I work hard, play harder and I try to be a good father, I am a terrible boyfriend by my own and everyone else’s admission. Women are my weakness; they have been for a very long time and probably will be for a long time to come.

  I take pride in my success even though it sometimes makes me sacrifice time with my child. I have worked hard, sweated, bled and cried for every penny I have earned. It’s added another layer to my personality and has got me noticed. Yes, I do still play up to the media, I freely admit that I love the attention but I’m building an empire here and empire’s need a paparazzi boost every now and then, I recognised that fact at an early age and use it to my full advantage at every available opportunity.

  I am your tall, dark and handsome guide of Prodigal Son, this is the continuing story of my life and those who come and go through it, from the good times and the bad as I try to become something that resembles a decent human being, a good parent and role model as I go about my daily business making sure everything is as it should be and laying the foundations to my future fortune.

  I am a young man on the precipice of greatness. I intend to fulfil the goals I have set for myself and I’m aware I will have to tread on a few toes, stab a few backs and break a few hearts to get there.

  I am Paul Jensen

  Chapter One

  Deep, regular breathing interrupted by movement as he turned over. A noise, persistent and loud was cutting through his slumber. He kicked at the sheet tangled around his legs as he turned again. Nearly awake now as the noise irritated him, he rubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair away as he moved the cover from over his head and slowly opened his eyes.

  Although the sky outside the window was dark, his room was lit by the hall light beaming through his open bedroom door which explained why he could hear the phone ringing, the noise that had woken him.

  Raising his head from the pillow, he listened to the still ringing instrument, annoyed that someone hadn’t picked it up yet, sighing, he heaved his weary body into a sitting position and reached for his jeans, still the ringing persisted “Someone get the phone!” he shouted and within seconds the ringing stopped. Leaving his room en route to the bathroom, the ringing started again; he paused on the landing, waiting to see if one of his siblings would answer.

  Realising that answering the annoying ringing was down to him, he glanced towards his father’s study, the only phone upstairs was in there but getting caught in that room without permission was a fate worse than death, deciding against invoking the wrath of the older man, he sprinted down the stairs, goose bumps rising on his naked torso as he approached the telephone stand in the unheated hallway.

  “Hello?”

  “About bloody time you picked up the phone Paul Jensen, why the hell aren’t you here?”

  “Helen? Is everything alright?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, don’t pretend you don’t know, I called hours ago to let you know, you could easily have been here by now.” Helen Novak hissed down the phone.

  “Carmen’s in labour?” He asked.

  “Was, not anymore, congratulations, you’re a Dad.” She answered her voice thick with sarcasm.

  “I didn’t know, shit, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He stammered, “Is Carmen ok?”

  “She’s tired and very sore but she’ll be fine, the baby is also doing well.”

  “Good, please tell her I’m on my way, I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “I spoke to your mother, she said you were sleeping, I though perhaps the birth of your child might have been important enough for her to wake you up.”

  “Yeah, you’d think so.” His anger was clear from the tone of his voice, “Helen, you haven’t
said what the baby is.”

  “It’s a boy Paul, you have a son.”

  Hanging up, Paul stared at the phone for a while, repeating the conversation in his head, Helen had told Monica who in turn had chosen not to tell him. No longer feeling the cold as his anger warmed his body, he slammed into the kitchen door making it quake on its hinges fully expecting to find his Mother at some domestic chore, he was disappointed when he found the kitchen empty.

  Heading to the front of the house, he opened the living room door on his way to the front door and looked in, this room was also empty. Stopping at the front door, he peered through the glass in the top quarter of it, the driveway was empty, confirming his suspicions that no one was home. Turning on his heel, he headed for the stairs.

  Halfway up, he stopped. His anger, generally a short lived thing was beginning to dissipate and it vanished completely as the enormity of his situation overwhelmed him. Clutching the banister, he took a deep breath, taking stock, he was sixteen years old and his twenty five year old girlfriend had just given birth to his son, if he thought the past nine months had been a troublesome mess he knew more of the same would surely follow, things were going to get much worse before they got better.

  He saw the note on the bedside table as he entered his room. Flicking on the light, he recognised Monica’s neat hand writing, the note explained that she had tried to wake him on several occasions to no avail; it touched on Carmen’s labour and informed him that the entire family, with the exception of his father, could be found at his grandparent’s house.

  Throwing caution to the wind, he used the phone in his fathers’ study to call his mother, explaining that he needed to get to Gloucester quickly; she agreed to drive him there and told him to start packing a bag, she would arrange for them to stay in a hotel for a few days while he got to know his son.

  Monica, being no slouch behind the wheel at the best of times, got them to the hospital with ten minutes to go before the end of visiting. During the drive she had repeatedly apologised to Paul for not trying harder to wake him and although he had been initially annoyed at her for letting him sleep through the birth of his child, he fully understood that her maternal instinct had made her efforts a little half hearted, she had wanted him to sleep and unbeknown to him, had even arranged for him to have time off from Jensen Incorporated for the sole purpose of allowing him to rest and recoup.

  Walking down the centre of the ward, guided by a nurse, Paul couldn’t help but notice the looks he was getting from the women in their beds, he had the un-nerving feeling that each and every one of them knew who he was and therefore they would be well aware of his involvement with Carmen and the scandal it had caused.

  Helen rose from her chair as the nurse ushered Paul around the partly closed curtain, she wanted to berate him again for not being there for her friend but she could see for herself the dark circles that persisted under his eyes and he didn’t look nearly as healthy as he had the last time she had seen him.

  “I’ll give you a moment.” She murmured squeezing past him.

  “Hi” Paul lent in to kiss Carmen, he withdrew when she turned her face away from him “Carmen, I didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t want to know more like.” She hissed.

  “I was sleeping, Mum tried to wake me but I was completely out of it. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll bet she tried really hard to wake you, you should have been here.”

  “I know; I’m here now. How are you?” He glanced around the bed, for the life of him he couldn’t see the baby.

  “I’m tired and really sore, I tore badly.” She started to explain but stopped when she saw his puzzled expression “You did read the books I gave you? You understand that sometimes it is necessary for the woman to be cut down there to allow the baby’s head out?” She stopped as comprehension dawned on his handsome features. “Well, I tore, the head came out quicker than expected, I’ve torn all the way around, I can’t remember how many stitches I have but I know it’s a mind numbing number. It looks like mince meat down there.”

  Paul shuddered at her description. “How long will that take to heal?”

  “Who knows?” She shrugged.

  “Er Carmen? Where’s the baby?”

  “In the nursery, I can’t get out of bed to lift him out of his cot so he is being kept there and brought to me when he needs feeding.”

  “Oh, ok. The ward thing is horrible, does anyone talk to you or is it as it seems and everyone knows who you are and what went on between us?” He asked referring to their well publicised teacher/student relationship that the world and his wife seemed to know about.

  “I’ve been called a pervert and paedophile.” She confirmed “I shouldn’t think your presence here is helping one little bit but I am so glad you came. Do you want to see the baby?” He nodded and smiled as he got to his feet and leant over her again, carefully wrapping his arms around her and feeling her lips brush his neck as he held her.

  “We’ll have to think of a name for him.” He said, returning to his seat.

  “His name is Gavin.” She replied.

  “Gavin? Why Gavin? Can’t I make some suggestions?”

  “It was my Dad’s name and no, it’s not open for further suggestions.”

  “I like it but it would have been nice to be consulted.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t remember if we had agreed anything but I’m not going to change my mind. I’ll ask a nurse to take you to the nursery.”

  “Ok, I’ll see about getting you a single room while I’m here.”

  In the corridor, Helen hesitated when she laid eyes on Paul’s mother, she had been beginning to wonder if Carmen’s take on the woman wasn’t somewhat correct, she did indeed seem to have Paul wrapped around her little finger. Her considered quick exit into the waiting room was stalled when Monica looked her way and raised an eyebrow before smiling at her and stepping forward, hand outstretched.

  “Ah Helen?” Monica asked.

  “It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Jensen.” Helen grasped her hand.

  “Please call me Monica.” She answered “I’ve heard a lot about you and your son is he with you?”

  “No, Luke is staying with one of his friends from play group, he’s a good boy but I’m afraid these long straight hallways would be too much for him and he’d turn into a screaming hooligan while he knocked nurses and patients flying so it’s best that he stays with his friend.” She explained.

  Monica chuckled “Paul was quite taken with him, as was my brother; he sounds like a little bit of a handful.”

  “He is, quite a bit of a handful actually,” Helen admitted “Strong willed but he already has so much character, it’s difficult to stay cross with him, I dread to think what he will be like as a teenager.” She shuddered.

  “You’d best grab some experience while Paul is around, he’ll most certainly give you a run for your money.” Monica replied ruefully.

  Helen regarded the elegant dark haired woman beside her, she could certainly see where Paul’s dark features came from as his eyes were the almost identical shade of brown as Monica’s and his olive skin was just as flawless. Despite having three children, Monica had maintained her figure and was only slightly fuller in the hips than she had been in her youth, in middle age she was still incredibly beautiful and her movements were measured and graceful, something else she had noticed in Paul. She sensed a fierceness to Monica which was present when she referred to her son but otherwise she was softly spoken and genteel. But gave off the general air that she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly and was not to be messed with.

  “I was surprised when Paul wasn’t here for the birth.” Helen ventured into dangerous territory.

  “I did try to wake him but I failed. Perhaps part of me thought that a sixteen year old shouldn’t be in a delivery room watching the birth of a child whether it is his or not.”

  “Surely that was his decision to make?” Helen asked.

  “Possibly.” Monica agreed “But
I was doing what I thought was best for my son, I was trying to protect him. As the mother of a son, and a very good mother from what Paul tells me, surely you understand that?”

  Helen smiled, she had been put firmly on the spot. “Of course I understand, and I do think it was right to keep him from being in the delivery room but I also think that he should have been the one to decide that and he could at least have been here waiting for when it was all over.”

  Monica studied the painfully thin blond woman beside her and considered her words. “Yes, I do believe that would have been a happy medium.” She paused slightly, thinking that she now regretted not letting Paul make his own choice. “How is Carmen?”

  “She’s in quite a bit of pain, once the baby decided it was time to be born it was all hands on deck, he shot out like an Exocet missile, I’m only surprised that the midwife wasn’t standing at the end of the bed wearing a catcher’s mitt. He was born so quickly that Carmen’s body didn’t get the chance to adjust and she has excessive tearing, you know, down there?” Helen glanced to her own lower body just to make sure Monica understood. “She’s going to take a while to heal.”

  “Poor thing.” Monica’s sympathy was genuine, although her only natural birth had been with Tessa; the pain from the caesarean she had the twins by had caused her no end of sleepless nights.

  “The baby is in the nursery as Carmen is bed ridden right now. I expect someone will take you and Paul to see him soon.”

  Paul actually took a step back when the nurse held out the sleeping bundle to him, he looked towards Monica who reached out for the baby and took him in her arms as she frowned at her son.

  “What is wrong with you?” She asked, unused to this uncharacteristic behaviour.

  “I....I don’t know what to do, how to hold him.” He admitted, frustrated, he thrust his hands into his pockets.

  Monica tutted. “Sit down.” She ordered, not surprised when he did as he was told. Bending over her son, she gave him instructions on how to hold his child and slowly eased the tiny body from her arms to his, fussing over them until Paul looked a little less like he had a board up his back and relaxed back into the chair.