Keeping the Boss's Baby: A Secret Baby Romance

by Ava Storm

  I wasn’t sure, but determination and optimism were filling me. I’d nearly let a man take over my life once. I wasn’t going to give up an ounce of control to Ford. He wasn’t going to dictate where I lived or, God forbid, try to share custody of this baby. I would do it on my own.

  I had to.

  Two Years Later

  I stood in the middle of my narrow galley kitchen and shoved a hand towel against my mouth, trying to muffle my sobs. Madelyn was playing with her Duplos in the living room, waiting for me to come back with a snack. I had maybe five minutes before the impatient toddler came after me, wanting to know what the hell was taking so long with her veggie straws.

  It was the fifth of the month, and I had just pulled the last dollar from my savings in order to make rent. I’d lost my job three months ago--the day after Madelyn’s first birthday. Nothing I’d done wrong, they assured me. The company was just downsizing, and I was the most junior employee. They’d given me a golden recommendation, but despite months of searching, I still hadn’t found anything. There had been promising leads, but I’d had to cancel and rearrange interviews, trying to find a time when Shelly or Amanda could watch Mads for a few hours. It hadn’t looked good.

  I was going to have to go back to Branville.

  No, I couldn’t go back to Branville. When Alex had found out I was pregnant, nothing could convince him that Madelyn wasn’t his. The DNA results had shocked him into silence for a few weeks, but then he’d rebounded. Madelyn didn’t have to be his biologically. She was mine, and therefore his by extension. He’d driven me to whatever stupid mistake had led to Madelyn’s existence. He would take care of us.

  “I’m taking care of us just fine,” I had informed him smugly. It had been true at the time. I’d gotten a raise at work in my first three months. It allowed me to afford the one bedroom in River North. A Christmas bonus had bought my second-hand nursery furniture. Shelly and Amanda had helped me turn the 700-foot space into a home. When Madelyn was born, they took turns coming over after work every evening for a month. I had been exhausted, miserable at times, but I had been proud of myself. I was making it work.

  Now it had all fallen apart. I pushed the thick cotton harder against my mouth. I loved living in Chicago again. I loved my life with Madelyn. I would do anything to keep it.

  “Honey, you know what you have to do,” Amanda had said on the phone that afternoon.

  I knew. Shelly had started in on me months ago about it. It was why I was crying now. It was the second-to-last thing I wanted to do, but it was the only way. All other roads lead back to Branville and Alex.

  In the living room, I could hear Madelyn beginning to get impatient. She was banging the Duplos on the coffee table, calling, “Mamama mamama,” over and over again, the syllables running together. To my irritation, her first clear syllables had been dadada.

  Shelly had looked it up. “It’s just easier for them to say,” she said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  I took it personally anyway. Madelyn didn’t need a dadada. Mamama was taking care of everything just fine.

  But then, maybe Madelyn had known something I didn’t.

  6

  Ford

  I had to fire my personal assistant. It wasn’t that Melanie Greenwell wasn’t perfectly competent; she did anything I asked. The problem was that I had to ask. Every. Fucking. Time. It was like re-coding a program every single morning.

  “Melanie,” I’d say. “I need the morning report on my desk by eight am. If I get here after eight am and I don’t have the morning report, it’s going to be a bad day. Get it?”

  “Got it,” she said every time.

  And once in a while I had the report on my desk.

  It was the same with every other aspect of my job. I had let it go on far too long. It had been Kai who finally said, “Why don’t you just get rid of her?”

  “I don’t have time to interview anyone,” I snapped. “I’m too busy pulling my own reports.”

  “Don’t you know how this works?” Kai asked. “You aren’t finding someone off the street. HR is vetting people and sending you the top candidate.”

  “Yeah, they did a real bang up job on the last one,” I growled.

  I had let Melanie go with three months’ severance. I half expected her to be back at her desk the next day and dreaded having to re-fire her, but she’d finally taken a hint.

  In the meantime, though, I didn’t have a personal assistant. I glanced at the resume HR had put on my desk. I needed someone who could knock it out of the park this time. Someone who hadn’t gotten the job because Griffin had thought they were hot, or Kai was trading favors with their uncle. Blip Inc. was expanding so quickly that I could barely keep up some days. I didn’t have time to look up from the work and figure out what was next. I needed someone to have done that for me. Someone with initiative, or at least more than a few brain cells.

  This resume looked first rate, and the woman came highly recommended by people I trusted. I sent a quick email to HR asking them to bring her in the next morning for a final interview.

  This one would do fine.

  7

  Paige

  I had no idea what to wear. What was an appropriate outfit to tell a man he was a father? I wanted to look mature, professional. It was a business arrangement we were going to discuss after all. I needed a loan to keep a roof over his child’s head until I found a job. It wasn’t child support because I’d pay it back. I’d never say a word to Georgia.

  I couldn’t find anything in my own closet. I had nice work clothes, but most had been purchased throughout various points in my pregnancy and didn’t fit me quite right now that I’d lost the baby weight.

  “You look like you’re going to sue him,” Shelly observed when I tried on one of Amanda’s power suits. She was holding Madelyn on her lap, and she raised my daughter’s arm. “You’ve been served!”

  Unamused, Madelyn wriggled out of Shelly’s grip.

  “You look like you’re going to seduce him,” Amanda said when I tried on one of Shelly’s dresses.

  “Even with the blazer?” I asked.

  “Especially with the blazer.”

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed the black sheath dress I’d found in the back of Shelly’s closet. I tried it on next while the sounds of cupboards opening and slamming shut reached us from the kitchen.

  “Please be someone breaking in and not Madelyn taking out all our Tupperware again,” Amanda said, and went to investigate.

  I pulled the dress down over my hips and stepped into my own black heels. I looked at Shelly, expecting another head shake, but instead I got a slow, approving nod. “This is a good look for you, Paige. You should dress up more often.”

  “I dress up,” I said, turning to the mirror.

  “You have the same pants in five different colors and ten different black shirts.”

  “And heels,” I said, but I did like what was in the mirror. I looked like an adult. God knew I’d felt like an adult ever since Madelyn came along, expecting me to be one, but I knew I didn’t always look the part. Bartenders still frowned suspiciously at my ID, and the other mothers at the park assumed I was a nanny when I wore my usual uniform of t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers.

  I smiled a little, and Shelly smiled, too.

  “You look good. Smart. Classy.”

  Of course Shelly knew exactly what I was going for. She probably knew how pathetic I felt going to Ford for money, too, though I had tried to hide it. I’d pictured seeing him again a hundred times, but in my imaginative renderings, he always spotted me from across a room. The setting changed. Sometimes it was a bar, sometimes a conference room, sometimes it was the park, but the point was, he always approached me. I always looked fantastic for some reason. We had a casual conversation with a smoldering undertone. And then…

  Well, the fantasy ended there. I didn’t know what to do with the and then. Another night together was out of the question unless I conjured up an imaginary ni
ght nurse. We couldn’t date or even be friends because he couldn’t find out about Madelyn. But I went back to the dream time and time again because it wasn’t about what came next. It was just about seeing him again.

  And now I would, but it would be nothing like I imagined. Real life never was.

  Nerves attacked, catching me by the throat. “Maybe I should just go back to Branville,” I whispered.

  “Sure, and spend the rest of your life picking gum off the bottom of desks and telling kids they can’t go to the bathroom twice in one period.” Shelly nodded. “Great idea, I’ll help you pack. I bet Mads is going to love Daddy Alex.”

  “Daddy who?” Amanda asked, coming back to the room with Madelyn. In her surprisingly adept little hands, Madelyn clutched several pieces of Tupperware.

  “Nothing,” I said. I stepped out of the heels and pulled the dress off. “Thanks, Shelly. I’ll bring this back to you.”

  “Keep it,” Shelly waved her hand negligently. “I forgot I even had it.”

  I changed back into my own clothes and gathered up Madelyn’s things. Then there was a hellacious fight over a fancy silicone stretch lid from Shelly’s zero-waste reusable container collection.

  “Just let her have it,” Amanda said. She was on the couch now, trying to finish up a brief, and the screaming wasn’t helping her concentrate.

  “No,” Shelly said. “It’s a set.”

  Madelyn shrieked as her small fingers were pried off the edges and Shelly reclaimed it.

  “Listen, kid. This is your future on this planet I’m trying to protect.” Shelly told her.

  I rolled my eyes, but I was grateful for the chaos. I couldn’t focus on my fear when I had to carry a screaming, thrashing toddler down two flights of stairs.

  The fear was waiting for me in the morning though. It tasted like copper and bile. I could barely stomach my coffee as I packed Madelyn’s diaper bag. I hadn’t been able to get an appointment with Ford. It seemed nearly impossible, so I was just going to show up at his office and hope for the best.

  I went by Amanda and Shelly’s apartment first to drop off Madelyn. Amanda had managed to wrangle permission to work from home in the morning. I knew she’d have to work extra late to make up for it, and it made my stomach twist into another knot. If Ford wasn’t in his office this morning, I’d probably have to bring Madelyn with me next time.

  “You look great,” Amanda said when she opened the door. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” I handed her Madelyn’s backpack. “And thanks for doing this. Really.”

  Tired of formalities, Madelyn pushed the door further open and wiggled past Amanda’s legs, making a beeline for the small kitchen.

  “Is Shelly home?” I asked, eyeing the small, determined figure. Someone had clearly dreamed about reclaiming that Tupperware lid.

  “Nope,” Amanda drew out the word with satisfaction. “It’s all hers.”

  I laughed and left. I thought that the ride downtown without Madelyn would give me a chance to calm my nerves, but they just intensified the closer the car got to the Blip Inc. offices. I knotted up the hem of the dress in a sweaty hand for the first half, then spent the second half trying to smooth it out. What if he didn’t believe me? What if he did and he wanted custody? What if...what if…

  With enormous effort, I clamped down hard on my spiraling thoughts. It didn’t matter how he reacted. All that mattered was that I could prove he was Madelyn’s father, which I could, and that he loaned me the money I needed, which he had to. Didn’t he?

  When I reached the building, I took the elevator up to the Blip Inc. offices and tried not to think about the elevator ride I’d taken with Ford. On the eighteenth floor, a formidable reception desk manned by a kind-faced woman waited for me.

  I swallowed. The first test. I tried to smile as I approached the half-circle of what looked like granite with a polished marble top. “Good morning. I’m here to see Ford Cavanaugh.”

  “Good morning,” the grey-haired woman said pleasantly. “You must be his nine am appointment.”

  I blinked. Well, that was easy. “Ah, yes,” I said a split-second before it would have been too late. “I am.”

  The woman smiled and said conspiratorially, “It was smart of you to be early. He’ll like that. Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here, Miss Collins.”

  Miss Collins. I ran the name around in my head over and over. I was Miss Collins. And I was early. I snuck a look at my watch. It was eight-forty am. My heart sped up in my chest. What if the real Miss Collins really did come early?

  For the next five minutes, every time the elevator dinged, I had to swallow to get my heart back in my chest. My nerves were so tightly wound that when the woman behind the desk called, “Miss Collins, he’s ready for you,” I sprung out of my seat like a released coil.

  “Energetic,” the woman said approvingly. “Good. You’ll need it for this job.”

  She led me through a sleek, open concept office. One entire wall was windows overlooking Chicago. I tried not to think of the last time I had been next to a wall of windows with Ford. I was so nervous by the time we reached the entrance to his office that everything stopped seeming real and I wanted to giggle. This was a joke. It had to be. I had not had a one-night stand with a billionaire, and I had definitely not had his baby. I was probably married to Alex in real life, and any minute now, I would wake up disappointed.

  “Go on in,” the receptionist said kindly. “He’s expecting you.”

  I had the wild impulse to beg the woman not to leave, but she was already halfway across the office. I swallowed one last time and pushed the door open.

  8

  Ford

  I had a scowl on my face when my door opened. I wasn’t pissed about anything in particular at that moment, it was just a habit after the week I’d had. I considered trying to mask it, but I decided that my future executive assistant would need to get used to it.

  Then I got a good look at her, and shock wiped it away. It was the woman from the Cherington lounge. Paige whose last name I’d never gotten. Paige Collins. Jesus Christ.

  I stood, noting that her face registered no surprise. She must have known. She did look nervous though. Her right hand was wrapped so tightly around the strap of her purse that her knuckles were white. “Hi,” she said, just as she had that night in the bar.

  “Hi,” I responded automatically. “I didn’t know you were an executive assistant.”

  She gave me a strange look. Shit, had she told me she was?

  “Sit down,” I said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  Paige sat. I sat. We stared at each other for a second.

  Shit, I thought again. This was not what I needed. An executive assistant was supposed to uncomplicate my life, not make it even messier. I’d have to tell HR to find someone else. But I had to at least go through the motions of interviewing her so as not to be accused of discrimination or personal bias.

  “I know this is strange, me showing up here,” Paige started.

  “No, it’s fine. It’s only strange if we make it strange,” I said brusquely. “We’re both adults.”

  “Right,” Paige said. “But—”

  “It says here you worked as a personal assistant for Stan Martin for three years,” I interrupted, glancing down at her resume. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about that night. Seeing her had already conjured up memories I’d put out of my mind. Memories that weren’t appropriate for nine am. “He has great things to say about you.”

  “Stan,” Paige echoed. “Umm. Listen, Ford—”

  “I think you’ll find the job very similar,” I rolled on. “And the salary commensurate. We also pay for your health insurance and of course you’d have use of the on-site workout facilities.”

  I wondered what the hell my mouth was doing. Was I offering her the job? Last thing we need, my brain reminded my dick. I could see he
r again without hiring her if that was the issue. Not that I had any time to see her if I didn’t hire her. Every spare minute was consumed with the London deal. Sealing it had just been the first step. Now the work had started, and dammit, I really needed an executive assistant. If she was as good as Stan said, maybe I could get more than five hours of sleep at night.

  “Salary?” Paige said, interest flickering in her eyes.

  “We pay our executive assistants ten thousand more than Stan,” I said, trying to read her face. She looked like she was struggling with something. Probably whether she could take the job or not without it being awkward as hell. If I was going to hire her, and dammit it seemed like I was, we’d have to get over what happened two years ago.

  “I’d like to offer you the job,” I said bluntly, “but I want you to know that I don’t have personal relationships with employees. Does that work for you?”

  Wry amusement flashed in her eyes for a moment. “That would work for me,” she said slowly. “But Ford—”

  “Great,” I cut her off. “I’ll call you Miss Collins. You call me Mr. Cavanaugh. It’ll create the necessary professional distance.” I slid the welcome letter across the desk. HR would set her up with the official offer, but it spelled out the expectations of the job as well as the salary and benefits.

  Paige took it and glanced down with mild interest. Then her eyes widened fractionally, and she looked back up at me. “Is this the salary?”

  “It is,” I confirmed. “If you’d like to negotiate, that’s a conversation for HR.”

  She looked back down at it, chewing her lower lip. I looked away. I didn’t need to be looking at her lips.

  “Ford—Mr. Cavanaugh,” she corrected. “I want to take this job, but there’s just one thing.”

  I waited.

  She seemed to be deliberating.