Baby Daddy (Forever Daddies Book 1)

by Victoria Snow

  Baby Daddy

  Victoria Snow

  Copyright © 2019 by Victoria Snow

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Description

  1. Michael

  2. Anabelle

  3. Michael

  4. Anabelle

  5. Anabelle

  6. Michael

  7. Anabelle

  8. Michael

  9. Anabelle

  10. Anabelle

  11. Michael

  12. Anabelle

  13. Michael

  14. Anabelle

  15. Michael

  16. Anabelle

  17. Anabelle

  18. Michael

  19. Anabelle

  20. Michael

  Epilogue: Five Years Later

  Pregnant by Mistake (Excerpt)

  Also by Victoria Snow

  Description

  That one night changed everything!

  I let my gorgeous, ripped, and filthy rich boss take my innocence.

  This was supposed to be just fun – a no strings attached, one night stand.

  And this was definitely not supposed to get me pregnant!

  Yep, the test result is positive,

  And I can’t let my baby daddy know about it.

  He’s ten years older than me,

  And well…let’s say, it’s complicated.

  So, I run away from his life,

  Carrying my little secret with me.

  Until…four years later, I meet him again…at a charity auction.

  He looks just as yummy as ever,

  Same green eyes as my (our) son’s,

  The same heated desire as our first night together.

  Someone get me a manual with clear instructions on how to deal with a second one night stand with the same person,

  Oh…and how to hide this HUGE secret !

  1

  Michael

  There were sounds of laughter, playful arguing and general revelry all around me. It all clashed together in my ears, making a headache grow between my temples and my already sour mood turn foul. I usually held a fondness for parties, which was why I had a penchant for throwing them so often.

  But usually was the keyword there.

  As the head of my own company, I found that shindigs and events were much more useful than most people gave them credit for. There was the networking, and not to mention that lips loosened by free booze often let tightly guarded secrets slip. There was also the fact that ladies would often dress up, and by that I meant dress down, and I did like watching lovely women dance and have a good time all because of me. Aside from all the business benefits, I just enjoyed spending time with my employees. I didn’t consider myself some lofty founder who was above their heads, so I would go out of my way to get to know those who helped my company move like a well-oiled machine. The only reason I was as successful as I was, was because of them. I wasn’t so arrogant to think that I could have done all of it on my own.

  At that moment, however, I was less than thrilled to be at one of my own events. My heart just wasn’t in it, and I was worried that my mood might affect those around me, which I certainly didn’t want. While I wanted my employees to know that I appreciated them, and looked out for them, I didn’t want them to think that I was weak. And considering everything that had happened in the previous weeks, I certainly didn’t feel very strong.

  No, I was utterly exhausted, and the cacophony all around me was just wearing at the thin bit of resolve I had left.

  The past month had been Hell. My father had passed away after a pulmonary embolism so suddenly that it felt like my head was still spinning. I still wasn’t over the loss. One moment I had a Dad, a man who supported me my whole life and gave me the seed money to start my business. A man who I could go to when I had difficult questions or just reassurance. My father was such a prominent point of support for me as I grew up, much different than a lot of my friends, who’s own dads had been busy with money, affairs or anything but them. I knew I was lucky. I’d always valued and cherished the time we had together, but… then poof. It was all over. The thought that he was no longer with me to celebrate my victories hurt. Hurt didn’t even really cover it. It felt like someone had delved a dagger so deep inside of me that no one else could see it, and every day it twisted a little more, and a little more, until I would be dead myself.

  I shook my head. It wouldn’t do to think that way. I wasn’t going to die. Plenty of people had been through worse and I would get through it. It was just… more difficult than I had imagined.

  It didn’t help that earlier, the papers for the disbursement of my father's estate came in. I had actually been looking forward to the party I had planned for my employees before I opened that letter. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that I was cursed with bad luck.

  No, I knew it wasn’t bad luck. It was just life.

  Life that gave me a father and mother who loved me dearly and supported me through everything. I needed to be grateful for what I had, not lovesick over what I lost. But still… those words were easier thought than followed through.

  I raked a hand through my coarse dark hair. I was standing off to the side of the large room where the main focus of the party was. I had rented out a ballroom at a hotel and of course hired a couple of bartender to handle the drinks at the very open bar. There were a handful of servers as well and a cleaning crew that would come when everything was over. Normally I would be in the thick of it, but I just wanted space for a moment. To think and sip at my whisky neat and not have to perform.

  But too long in one spot made me restless, thoughts I didn’t want to entertain creeping up in my mind and winding around my ears in insistent little whispers. I hated it, but I knew that if I kept lurking in the shadows, that they would just continue growing until I was too sour to be fit for even the slightest of human company.

  With a sigh, I wandered throughout the room and let others come up to me. I would speak to them like normal, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to keep the conversation alive. Maybe just one lap would get those whispers to die down and I could sulk off to some corner again without anyone noticing.

  But as I passed through the crowd, stopping to talk and answer questions, I couldn’t help but catch drunken whispers spoken a little too loudly by inebriated lips.

  “God, he’s so hot.”

  “Yeah, but I hear he’s totally gay.”

  “Do you ever think what it must be like to have so much money but be so alone?”

  “Shh! Didn’t you read the news? His father just passed.”

  “I hear he’s engaged to some actress. What was her name?”

  “He looks sad. Did he just go through a break up?”

  “Awful glum for a guy who’s about to hitch his wagon to a hollywood darling.”

  It grew to be too much too quickly and I made my breakaway for the edge of the room again. Comments about my father weren’t easy, but the constant rumors about Alyssa made what little patience I had crumble.

  She was a beautiful woman, without a doubt, but we weren’t anywhere near engaged. We had gone on a couple of casual dates, just getting to know each other, but the paparazzi had gone absolutely ham and decided that we were in love - which we were not. Although we enjoyed each other's company, and there wasn’t anything off putting about her, it had always been casual encounters. Neither of us had any int
erest in a serious relationship, let alone engagement. We just weren’t in the right places in our lives, and I was also pretty sure that she was in love with her co-star and in serious denial about it. Not that I blamed her. Rachel Danvers was also beautiful and the two ladies had incredible on screen chemistry, even if Alyssa wasn’t quite ready to come out of the closet yet.

  At least the paparazzi decided to leave my work event alone. For both my employee’s and my own sake, it was quite the relief. Although some of the folks who worked under me had starry eyed dreams of fame, most of them just wanted to work hard then go home to their private lives and have them stay private.

  I lingered again, finishing off my drink and just holding the empty glass. Once more, when I stayed still for too long, thoughts I didn’t want to think began to creep in, layered with memories that were still too bittersweet to touch. I was getting ready to try another no doubt ill-faded walk across the floor when I heard a loud shriek and a commotion.

  I scanned the room, looking for the source of the sound. It took a moment, but I found it, my gaze landing on the bar.

  There was a woman I didn’t know, she had long blonde hair that hung well past her shoulders. She wore a simple yet elegant dress that hugged every curve of her generous body, swept dramatically back as she stood over a man who was laid out on his back. The man clutched at his nose and I could hear the pained groans that escaped past his lips even from where I was. There were some swears in there too, and I drew closer.

  The woman had her hands clenched into fists and I could see blood on her right fist. Her arms seemed to tremble, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or outrage. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down.”

  “You fuckin’ bitch!” The man roared as he got to his feet. He still had a hand on his nose, blood seeping between his fingers, and tried to swing at the blonde.

  That did not go well for him.

  The blonde, straight-faced, kicked her thick leg out and nailed the man right between his legs with her wedge-clad foot.

  I twitched in sympathy as the man fell back to the floor with a howl of pain. With a steady stride, I made my way over to separate the two. I didn’t know the context of the altercation and it was my duty as everyone’s boss to see what happened.

  People moved out of the way for me as I drew near the bar. I could feel their stares but continued onward without missing a beat.

  “What is going on here?” My voice was gruff as I eyed the man and woman.

  My gaze was torn from the two when a young lady spoke up. She wasn’t the blond or the man, but she still looked quite shaken, her young eyes red-rimmed and her face pale. She had to be in her early twenties, barely even legal enough to drink. I could also tell she was an intern by the badge she had pinned to her front.

  “Mr. Bishop, sir, um it was my fault.”

  “How so?” My brows shot up toward my hairline. The girl was a tiny thing, like a runway model who had been shrunken down several inches and terrified out of her mind. I very much doubted that she would have started any sort of fight.

  “W-well, the man, he asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no, I’m not twenty-one yet. I’m part of the c-college program you put together. I just, I uh, I didn’t want to be rude, but he kept pressuring me and I didn’t know what to say, and then he, he…” she lowered her gaze and flushed red. “He grabbed my butt, and then this lady came over and told him to get his hands off me.” Her eyes lifted from the floor to look at the larger woman gratefully. “Thank you,” she breathed, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry for causing a ruckus.”

  Now that wouldn’t do at all. It was a mess, but messes were always bound to happen when alcohol was involved.

  “I don’t see how any of this is your fault.” I gave the frightened intern a soft smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She heaved a shaky sigh of relief and I turned my gaze to the intern’s savior. The blond had stayed in one spot but still had her guard up, her eyes locked on the man who was swaying slightly.

  “Miss, are you alright?”

  Her head perked up and she looked up at me with unbelievably dark eyes. They were depthless, such a deep, opaque umber that they looked black, pulling me in like a void. Our gazes locked for a moment, hers intense and evaluating, mine curious.

  But then she blinked, and seemed to snap out of whatever attack mode she had been in. Suddenly the intense, stalwart woman shifted into a typical worker and began to sputter an apology. “I’m so sorry sir! I really didn’t think before I reacted - I just… I don’t do well with bullies and he was just being such a jackas-”

  “It’s alright, Miss.” As I watched her, I realized that I did, in fact, recognize her. I didn’t personally know her, but I had seen her around the office before. She certainly looked different, however. If I recalled right, she was the lover of baggy sweaters that went almost to her knees, vests and loose palazzo pants. I also didn’t think I’d ever seen her hair out of a messy bun or make up on her face. It was a crime that she hid her amazing, voluptuous figure so.

  But her stunning body wasn’t the matter at hand, and I wasn’t like the creep who was currently trying to blurt out his side of the story to me. Looking past him, I waved my hand at one of the bouncers at the door, and in less than a minute a group of security officers came and escorted the man out. I would be sure that he wouldn’t come into work on Monday. I had a strict no-harassment policy and there would be no exceptions.

  Once the man was taken out of the room I turned to the blonde and offered her a smile. She was blushing furiously, the apples of her cheeks vibrant, but that just made her that much more fetching.

  There was so much beauty to be found in women, and I liked a broad, broad range of that spectrum, but what I gravitated towards was big, bountiful women who’s cup overflowed in all the right ways. Society would say I was wrong, but I didn’t care. There were few things better than gripping soft, soft flesh underlaid by even softer layer. Of fingers sinking into thick thighs, or teeth into round bellies. And when you slid inside of a fat-

  “I guess I should head home,” the blond said. “I’ve had enough party for tonight. Do you need me to walk you to a cab, Daisy?”

  The intern started. “U-uh, no. I’m fine. I think. I actually want to stay, especially if he’s gone.”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t really say why, I didn’t want the blond to go. It wasn’t every day I got to witness one of my employees completely lay out a man. Maybe it was just that she was a distraction, maybe it was because a novelty, but either way, I wasn’t ready to part.

  “Would you let me look at your hand?” I asked, setting my empty glass down and offering her my own hand.

  “Oh, uh, you don’t have to.” She sputtered, and -I didn’t think it was possible- but she grew even redder. “It’s fine.”

  “I insist, as the host. I wouldn’t want it to get infected for anything. And,” I paused as I looked down at her right knuckles, “it’s bleeding.”

  “Oh...” She chuckled and rubbed the back of her head with her left hand, “I didn’t even notice. Whoops. I guess what they say about adrenaline is true.”

  I offered her my hand again and this time she took it, “Follow me, I know where a first aid kit is.”

  She looked uncertain for several moments, and I realized it was probably strange to her to trust a man to help her when she had just decked another man for being overly friendly, but eventually, she hesitantly placed her hand in mine and followed me out of the ballroom. There was a family restroom that I asked the hotel staff to always keep a fully stocked first aid kit in. Something always seemed to happen at these parties, from broken toenails from a too tight heel, a busted lip from tripping while dancing, or even burns (I hadn’t figured that one out) so I made sure we always had a couple on sight.

  I opened the family restroom door and motioned for the woman to follow me in.

  “By the way,” I spoke as the door shut behind me, “I never actually got your name.”


  “Anabelle MacIntyre, sir.”

  “Michael Bishop, but you know that.”

  Ana nodded with a weak smile.

  “So Anabelle. That’s quite the mouthful, isn’t it? Almost seems regal.”

  She chuckled somewhat nervously. “No one really calls me that.”

  “Oh, what do they call you?”

  “Belle.”

  I blinked at her a moment. “Belle? Does that make me a beast then?”

  She finally let out a genuine laugh. “Not unless you’ve got a castle and a rose in your pocket you didn’t tell me about.”

  “Nothing of the sort, I’m afraid. Although my penthouse is pretty nice, if I do say so myself. Now let me look over your hand.” She held it up and I clicked my tongue. There was quite a bit of blood. “You’ll want to wash it first. I can’t tell if it’s your blood or his.”

  She nodded, then wordlessly washed her hands while I grabbed the med kit. I pulled down the baby changing station to have more space to lay things out, making sure that if I removed anything that I set it on paper towels and not the bare plastic of the station.

  By the time I was satisfied with my layout, the blond was done washing. Turning back to me, she held up her injured knuckles. I looked it over and I found that the blood was almost entirely the man’s. Her knuckles were swelling, and one of them looked like it might bruise, but there were only two scrapes where the skin had split and they were already scabbed.

  “You’re quite lucky,” I mentioned with a grin. “You’re not gonna die.”

  Belle laughed and shook her head with a smile, “What’s the sitch doc? Will I ever be able to use my hand again, or have I lost it to the battle?”