How to Have Your Boss' Baby

by Layla Valentine

  I huff out a soft laugh. “Something only an artist would say.”

  “And an artist I am,” she says archly. “Is that a problem?”

  Suddenly my fatigue hits me and my eyelids become heavy, and though I want to say it’s because of all the fucking we’ve just done, something deep inside me in—in a place I’ve never even attempted to explore—tells me otherwise.

  This isn’t the fatigue of too much sex. This is the deep satisfaction of being someplace safe. Someplace where I feel I belong.

  I flip her over and tug her against me, adjusting both of us until my cock is resting between her legs, still aching with need for her. I wrap my arms around her and settle them under her breasts, then plant a kiss on her shoulder.

  “I have absolutely no problem with that,” I breathe in a sleepy sigh. “In fact, I can’t think of a single place I would rather be right now. Or a single person I’d rather be sharing this with.”

  Yes, it’s a dangerous thing to say. It’s a dangerous thing to even think, given our situation. This is a short-term contract, and I only get to keep her until we fulfill the terms of that contract. I’m not supposed to be letting my heart get involved.

  But right now, in this moment, I don’t think I can help it. And I don’t want to try.

  Chapter 30

  Joey

  A few minutes later, and he’s asleep. I can tell by the deep, regular breathing, and the subtle relaxation of his muscles. Limbs that were at least a bit stiff drop down, and the tension I’ve felt radiating through his body suddenly disappears.

  I mean his cock is still hard, and every so often he adjusts himself, sliding it forward against the wetness between my legs and sending my senses reeling. But he’s definitely asleep.

  Which leaves me by myself in the dark, my mind and my heart racing. Those things he said, right before he fell asleep…

  They’re the same things I was thinking. The same way I’m feeling. And that means I’ve absolutely, completely failed at keeping myself removed from this.

  I’ve gone ahead and fallen in love with him.

  And that is bad, bad news for my heart.

  Chapter 31

  Joey

  Two Weeks Later

  I walk out of the bathroom, biting my lip and telling myself that I have to be patient, that I have to wait the full amount of time, and go straight to the coffee maker. Coffee. That’s what I need. Liquid courage. Something hot and strong and mind-numbing.

  Something that doesn’t have anything to do with Reid Billington. Unless he somehow has coffee interests that I don’t know about. Secretly the owner of some up-and-coming roastery, the purveyor of fine brews for the discerning palate?

  Honestly, I wouldn’t even be surprised.

  At the thought, the sip of coffee I’ve just taken turns sour in my mouth. I fight to swallow it anyhow—because who wastes good coffee by spitting it out?—and then set down the mug and add more chocolate syrup. Chocolate is good for you, right? It increases the brain’s production of endorphins, makes you feel happier. Fills the holes left behind by things that haven’t gone the way you’ve wanted them to.

  I glance at the clock and see that time is actually crawling. It’s only been one minute since I came out here, and according to the instructions I have to wait a full three. Terrific. Two more minutes to live in suspense, to wonder if this is all going to be over soon or if I have to keep going.

  Two more minutes to think about the man who’s suddenly become an even bigger part of my life—and how he might soon be leaving it entirely.

  Reid and I have been tiptoeing around each other at the office for the last week… and then spending our nights locked in embraces that defy the word “passion” and go right to “fire.” I never would have expected it, but the man is an absolute animal in bed, all teeth and nails and fervor. And he’s activated a response to match in my own body. I’ve never felt so alive as I do when I’m with him. I’ve never felt so needed. So treasured.

  So loved.

  I slam the mug of coffee down on the counter, furious with myself for even thinking the word. Because this was never about love. This was always a business transaction, always just a means to an end.

  And the sooner we can get it over with, the sooner it can go back to being just business. The sooner I can get my heart out of the middle of things.

  Another glance at the clock tells me that the three minutes is up, and I rush back into the bathroom, not yet sure which result I want. When I pick up the pregnancy test and glance down at the windows, I see… a plus sign.

  A plus sign. The third positive in the string of tests I’ve taken this morning, and I know what that means. I’m pregnant.

  My God, how did it happen so quickly?

  I sink down onto the toilet, my brain in a whirl, and stare at the stick in front of me. Two weeks, that was all it took. Sure, two weeks of sleeping together every night, and having sex multiple times every night, but still.

  Two weeks. And now it’s over. And until the day I have to hand my baby over to him, that means the end of my time with Reid Billington. I’m off the hook. Free.

  If only I knew whether that was what I really wanted or not.

  Chapter 32

  Reid

  I put the phone down, too shocked to say anything else. Then I stand up, walk to the door of my office, and close it quietly.

  I wasn’t expecting a phone call from her this morning. In fact, I never expect calls from her when I’m at the office. Hell, she barely even looks at me when we’re at work—though she’s made up for that every night in the past two weeks, giving me every last ounce of her attention, and then some. And I’ve been happier than I ever thought possible. More fulfilled than I ever thought possible. But I haven’t been looking at it too closely, have been going out of my way not to examine it. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, not to ruin the moment with too many doubts.

  We set a “no words” expectation that first night, and we’ve stuck to it. Unfortunately, that means we’ve gotten here without discussing our next steps.

  Pregnant. Already. Which means that the dates, the dinners, the movies, the long, passionate nights in my bed, are all at an end.

  I sit back down at my desk and drop my head into my hands, my teeth grinding together in frustration.

  Why, why, why didn’t we discuss what we were going to do when that happened? Why didn’t I consider the fact that at some point it would, and that it would be the end to this non-relationship we’ve built?

  This whole thing was my idea, dammit! Why wasn’t I more prepared?

  My thoughts scatter when the buzzer on my phone sounds.

  “Mr. Billington?” my secretary asks, her voice bright and professional.

  I almost hiss at her, but stop myself at the last moment. It isn’t her fault she’s buzzing me at the worst possible moment. I haven’t exactly put a “Do not disturb, I’m trying to figure out how the hell I fell in love with the woman I asked to give me an heir” sign on my door.

  I press my nails into the palms of my hands and try to keep my voice steady. “Yes, Lidia?”

  “We’ve just received an email from Josephine Evans, sir. She’s quitting immediately. Says it’s something to do with a family issue, and that she’s very sorry for the short notice.”

  Well, she’s not wasting any time. Then again, I can’t blame her for that. Not having to work is one of the prime points in our contract. And she probably doesn’t want to see my anymore, now that she doesn’t have to.

  In fact, I wonder if she’s going to outright avoid me from here on out.

  The idea makes something in my chest crack, and I can almost hear the sound of that crack running through my entire body, breaking me clean in two.

  “Well, that’s really too bad,” I say neutrally. “But if she’s got family issues, those certainly have to come first. Please send her our standard severance package.”

  There’s a pause, in which I can practically hear L
idia frowning. Employees who quit like that don’t get the severance package.

  “But sir…” she says.

  “Lidia,” I interrupt. “She gets the severance package. I’m sure she has a very good reason for quitting on such abrupt terms.”

  Yeah. A good reason like not wanting to run into me.

  That crack through my heart widens, and when Lidia asks if I’m free for a business trip to Canada, effective immediately, I say yes too quickly. Getting out of town sounds like exactly the thing I need to do right now.

  Maybe I can locate my self-discipline while I’m in the Great White North, and remember how to keep my emotions out of my business contracts.

  Chapter 33

  Joey

  A Week Later

  I stare up at the riot of colors in front of me, trying to see through the tears in my eyes, but it’s no use. Yes, I’m using impressionist technique for this painting. And yes, that technique—if you believe the rumors—was born from Monet’s partial blindness.

  But that doesn’t mean I can paint while I’m crying. I’m going to end up ruining the entire piece if I keep trying. And the canvas itself is too valuable to risk that.

  It’s the biggest canvas I’ve ever tried—disgruntled neighbors be damned; I’ll be out of here before the end of the month—and I’m trying to recreate the play of the candlelight on the colors in that dining room in San Francisco. Trying to bring out the feel that the place gave me—fire and embers and passion, the light bouncing off the bright reds and corals of the decor. It’s how I’ve been feeling lately, full of reds and oranges, and it was the first thing that came to mind when I quit Billington Enterprises and put on my new mask as a full-time artist.

  Taking on the biggest project I’ve ever done had absolutely nothing to do with trying to keep my mind and heart occupied, and off the man who owns the company I just quit. The man I haven’t seen in over a week, and who I’ve refused to even talk to.

  Yes, he’s called. Numerous times. Probably to check in and see how I’m doing. Probably, I tell myself firmly, to make sure I’ve been to the doctor and received confirmation about the pregnancy. He probably wants to see some sort of report on the pregnancy, and whether it’s moving along as it should.

  Of course, if I did talk to him, I’d have to tell him that none of that sort of information is available yet. I doubt I’ve been pregnant for more than two weeks. The fact that I already know is nothing more than a fluke, born of me testing almost immediately, just to see what sort of progress we were making.

  I’ve been to see my OB and the best she could tell me was that yes, I was indeed pregnant, and that I should come back in two weeks, when she can start running some tests on whether my hormones are reacting the way they’re supposed to, and whether the baby is developing as it should.

  Oh God, a baby. At the thought, I drop my head into my hands and start sobbing again. This is in insane. Absolutely, certifiably crazy.

  How did I think this would be okay? How did I think I was going to be able to make this all business, no emotions, when there was actually going to be something growing inside me?

  I’ve been a mess since the moment I took that last test. It feels like my entire body has changed. It’s not just me anymore; there’s someone else involved as well, and that someone is a part of me. Literally.

  I’m not going to be able to do this. I’m not going to be able to give this baby up. I already know it.

  And that’s not all, that snarky voice in my head warns me. You know you’re not going to be able to give the father up, either.

  I don’t answer her. She’s been saying the same thing for the last week, and I’ve been shutting her out. Refusing to argue. Because I know she’s right. Reid and I have created something so far beyond ourselves, and between that and the way my heart has been crying out to see him again, I’m quickly coming to the realization that none of this is going to go the way I thought it would.

  My belief that I could keep my heart out of this is looking more and more faulty with every passing minute.

  Suddenly my phone buzzes, and I jump, sniffling and putting a hand to my wet face in an attempt to make myself presentable. Then I realize that it’s stupid to even try. No one has come to my door. Someone is calling me, and unless I’m sloppy and accidentally hit the video call option, I don’t have to look presentable to be on the phone.

  I hit “accept” and hold the phone up to my ear, stifling the sobs.

  “Hello?”

  “Joey, it’s Hannah,” my sister says, her voice intense and rushed. “The baby’s coming, fast! Will’s driving me to the hospital now. Promise you’ll meet me there.”

  I don’t even hesitate. No matter what I’m going through right now, my sister having her baby is more important.

  “I’m on my way,” I say, getting up and heading for my room and clean clothes. “What hospital?”

  She gives me the details and I shove them into my brain, knowing it’ll keep track of them for me. Then I hang up and dive into my closet for clothes.

  Reid and my feelings about him and the baby can wait. Right now, there are more important things to take care of.

  Chapter 34

  Joey

  My sister’s labor is impressively quick—which doesn’t surprise me, actually. Hannah has always been that sort of person. She knows exactly what she wants and who she is, and she doesn’t allow for much nonsense in her life. When we were kids, she was always the one in control of our play. I was the one who was too busy daydreaming to sort out things like rules or boundaries. Besides, why should I, when I knew she was going to do it for me?

  So it’s no shock that she dictates the rules of her labor as well. Five hours later, and with barely any screaming, Hannah’s beaming up at me with a new baby in her arms.

  And though my sister might not have done much screaming, the voice inside my head is making up for it, screeching right through the fog of happiness at being an aunt and telling me two things: 1. That I have to figure out exactly how I feel about becoming a mother, and 2. That I have to take action on it.

  I stare down at the tiny, scrunched-up face of my new niece, and reach out to take her from Hannah, who’s in the midst of a discussion with the nurse about her next meal.

  “Amy,” I breathe, reaching one finger up to gently touch the tiny, perfect nose. I can already see that she looks more like my sister than my brother-in-law, Will, and that she’s going to have my mom’s dark hair. She’s an absolutely gorgeous little girl, despite the lopsided appearance of having recently made her way into the world.

  And in nine months, I’ll have one exactly like her. In nine months, if I follow that contract, I’ll be handing over my baby, never to see it again. I’ll be looking up at the man I’ve fallen for, and knowing that he’s going to take our baby and disappear into the crowds of Manhattan, and they’ll both be lost to me.

  At that moment, I start to panic. I can’t do it. I can’t give them up. Either of them. I can’t go through with this. None of it will work. None of it is worth it—it’s not worth the money, it’s not worth the safety, it’s not even worth the life as an artist.

  I need more. I want more. And before I start breathing again, I’m already planning how I’m going to get it.

  Chapter 35

  Reid

  Three Days Later

  I sink into the hospital’s version of an easy chair, my legs no longer able to support me, and stare at the bed in front of me. My mother lies there, paler than I’ve ever seen her, her blond hair—barely streaked with gray, though she’s old enough to have a son who owns his own company—spread out on the pillow behind her. The electrodes have been removed from her skin, and she’s no longer wearing any scary equipment.

  Nothing to indicate that she’s just had a small heart attack. Nothing to show that if I hadn’t happened to be at her house when it happened, to dial 911, it might have been the end of her life.

  She’s asleep now, and I’m starting to
come down from three hours of sheer panic—from seeing her collapse to the 911 call to the two hours of pacing in the waiting room of the ER before they finally allowed me through to see her and told me that, with appropriate rest and care, she will be okay.

  My mother’s heart will recover. I can’t say the same for my own.

  I glance down at the phone in my hand, the thought bringing Josephine immediately to my mind. Three more calls from her today, plus two texts, and I still haven’t responded to her. She’s been calling and texting several times a day for the last three days, and as desperate as I was to talk to her before, I still haven’t responded.

  I know exactly why I’m stalling. Her first message, “Reid, we need to talk about this contract,” didn’t exactly make me think she has good news for me. And now, for the first time in my entire life, I’m hiding from reality. Hiding from what I’m afraid she’s going to say.

  “You’re looking at that phone like it’s just told you the next acquisition isn’t happening, and it’s your fault,” I hear from the direction of the bed.

  I look up to see that my mother’s eyes are now open—and bright, as they turn from my face down to the phone in my hands. Figures. I never could keep anything from her. She didn’t spend much time at home when I was a kid, but whenever she was there, she was somehow able to see right through me.

  I shrug. “A business deal that’s not going well,” I say vaguely. “I have a feeling they’re about to give me bad news.”