Be My Babygirl: A Billionaire Romance

by Jane Henry

  I chuckle to myself. Excellent. Even Katie’s texts to me are grammatically perfect. We have a strong case.

  On the way to the airport, I pull up one of my contacts at the local news station.

  “Mr. Morrow?”

  “I need to give a statement.”

  “Regarding the recent exposé, sir?”

  “Yes, among other things.” I tell all. Combined with Katie’s details from her publisher and the timestamps on emails and manuscript editions. My personal investigator’s on the case as well, matching Katie’s email styles to the email sent from her when she was back at Gran’s.

  “And I’d like to give a public statement of apology as well,” I say. “Are you ready to record?”

  And in the parking lot right by the runway before my plane takes off, I face the camera. And I do what I haven’t done publicly ever. I speak from my heart.

  “Excellent, Mr. Morrow. Thank you, sir. This will air on this morning’s news.”

  Chapter 19

  Katie

  He knows the truth, that I did not, nor would I, share his personal pain with the world. He’s sorry. He misses me.

  And he wants me back.

  Elation wells in my chest, making it hard to breathe. The grin on my face stretches so wide, my cheeks are sore.

  He loves me.

  There’s a knock on my apartment door. I swivel my head around and stare at the door. That can’t be him this soon! I mean, I know the man’s a billionaire, but even he can’t buy time travel.

  Maybe he actually called me from his penthouse, and not Georgia like he said, wanting to surprise me. Maybe he is here, just on the other side of that door. I rush over grabbing the handle and flinging it open wide. “Darius you-”

  My words catch in my throat. It’s Miranda, not Darius, who stands in my doorframe. She’s got a messy bun on the top of her head, matching my own, and her porcelain skin is free of makeup.

  She’s dressed even more casually than when I last saw her, as she saved me from the hotel, wearing black leggings and spotless running shoes. Burgundy letters stretch across the chest of her oversized gray sweatshirt, proudly stating the word Harvard. An Ivy Leaguer? So, she’s as educated as she is beautiful. I’d expect no less from such a powerhouse businesswoman.

  When she smiles, a shallow dimple appears on her left cheek, making her look younger than her age.

  There’s no trace of her intimidating boss lady, hear me roar facade surrounding her now. She’s just Miranda—a girl who made her way in the world. She gives me a funny look. “Katie. Can I come in?”

  I startle, realizing I’ve been standing there speechless, staring at her since she arrived. “Oh! Yes, sorry. Please come in.”

  “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve brought some friends.” She reaches behind her, beckoning an entourage that was hidden from my sight. Who could it be?

  They step out from behind the corner of the building and I recognize them immediately, the crew that Darius sometimes hires to get me ready for special occasions.

  I’m happy to see them, but who can blame me for hoping that knock was my Prince Charming? I give what I hope is a welcoming grin. “Hi there. What are you all doing here?”

  Miranda returns my smile with one that’s clouded with an air of mystery. She waggles her perfectly arched brows. “All in good time.”

  I let them in. Wanting to play hostess as best I can, I brew a huge pot of coffee, digging up some of those little creamer cups I have in the back of my cupboards. Hovering at the counter, we make small talk. The conversation moves from the weather to the latest celeb gossip—present company’s own personal drama tastefully excluded from the conversation—to our favorite Vegas restaurants, mine, of course, being Opulence.

  While we chat, the topic of the purpose of their visit does not come up, even though the crew sets up a makeshift hair and makeup station on my kitchen table.

  This is getting weird. I retwist my bun on the top of my head, fidgeting until I can take no more. “Um... Miranda. It’s not that I’m unhappy to be seeing you all. I love company, in fact, it's just that... I’m not entirely sure what you all are doing here.”

  One hand goes to her slim hip, the other lifts in the air. With her eyes avoiding me, she looks down at her watch, suddenly intent on the time. “Goody. It’s time! Let’s hit the living room.” Grabbing my hand, she tugs me over to the sofa, pulling us down onto the cushions.

  The crew gathers around us, standing behind the couch.

  What the heck is going on here? I’m pretty sure they didn’t come to doll themselves up and borrow my cable. Miranda picks up the remote, her brow knitting at its many buttons. She hands me the remote. “Run a million-dollar company, sure. Run a remote control? Not on your life. Turn this puppy on to channel twelve.” She tosses it to me, and I catch it midair.

  Channel twelve? The local news. A block of ice forms in the pit of my stomach. Lately I’ve seen enough breaking news reports to last me a lifetime.

  Sensing my unease, she pats my hand. “It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

  Settling back into the cushion, my muscles instantly tense as the reporter appears on the screen. Just relax, Katie. Miranda wouldn’t be here, so happy that she’s showing you her dimple, if it was bad news.

  The female reporter gives the camera a hard stare. “Good afternoon, Vegas. Have we got a story for you. First up, the weather.” A man with steel gray hair and a red tie enthusiastically waves his hand before a map of the country. His words barely register in my mind as I wait for the reason I’m really here.

  What story does she have for me? And why do I have the feeling it's going to change my life?

  The camera swerves.

  It’s him.

  He’s wearing a light gray suit; the top button of his crisp white shirt is undone. His face looks tired, but when his gaze meets the lens, his eyes are light, excited.

  Happy.

  “Thank you for the introduction, Ms. Carmichael.” The corners of his mouth turn up, and instantly, I know that the perfect smile that rests on his face is meant for me.

  Whispered words leave my lips. “What is he doing?” Miranda shoots me a knowing smile.

  “I’m Darius Morrow. You all may have seen my face, as my life has been splashed around the news lately. Owner of multiple venues in Vegas, most notably Vegas, Baby, where recent media coverage unearthed a scandal. Some of you know I recently hired an escort, and thanks to interference from others, you now know the more intimate details of my life as well. The tragedy surrounding the death of my parents and younger brother. And yes, thanks to more recent explicit coverage, you now know I hired an escort.”

  The reporter tries to remain composed, but her eyes widen as she holds the mic out for him. He takes it from her hand, stepping closer to the camera. Now, he’s the only one in the frame. His eyes lock on mine with an intensity I can feel through the television.

  “Though I have the utmost respect for Vegas powerhouse Miranda Montague, I’d never before taken her up on her offer to be matched with one of her stunning escorts. You see, those who care about me have been trying to fix me up for decades, finding me quite unfix-up-able.”

  There’s laughter and murmurs of agreement from the guests that stand behind me.

  “Then, one night while checking in on an event in my hotel ballroom, I spied a woman that didn’t quite fit in with the others. Later, I came to find out she’d slipped in, no idea what she was getting herself into. She was borrowing from a buffet dinner, and with that meal she took, she instantly stole my heart. I knew I had to meet her, and so I called Miranda.”

  Miranda gives my arm a squeeze, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

  “It turns out that Katie wasn’t an escort at all, but a writer of romance, a bit down on her luck and searching my casino for a little inspiration for her next book.”

  Miranda laughs. “And a free hot dinner.”

  I think back to my writer's block noodle days. I nod
my head. “I was hungry that night.” Hungry for a story. For food. For love I didn’t even know I was missing.

  Darius continues. “I made an arrangement with Miranda to meet this young woman, to spend some time with her. And after our first night together, I knew all was lost. My life would never be the same.”

  Tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I press the corners of my eyes with my fingertips, hoping to hold them back. “I felt the very same way.”

  “Unfortunately, love doesn’t always come easy, and we’ve had some bumps in the road. As every good romance author knows, sometimes, love is hard won. And thanks to misunderstandings, and a jealous ex trying to sabotage us, we almost missed out on our own fairytale ending.” He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping from the camera for a beat. His voice goes quiet, husky with emotion. “Am I a beast? I’ll leave that up to you to decide after you read Katie’s book. But there will be no question in your mind if you ever get the privilege of meeting her in person, Katie is most definitely a beauty, inside and out. She’s kind and funny. Thoughtful, and warm. And a gifted author.”

  My hand goes to cover my gaping mouth, the tears running freely down my face.

  “And if she is willing to take this beast for her own—”

  I can’t breathe. I can’t think. The man is getting down on one knee. On the tarmac. In front of the whole wide world. “Katie, please make me the happiest beast this world has ever seen and do me the honor of marrying me.”

  Miranda hands me a phone. I take it in my shaking fingers, bring it up to my ear. As I do, the camera pans to the reporter.

  She’s holding a cell in her hand, too.

  I hear her voice come over the television as well as the speaker by my ear. “Hello, Katie? This is Ms. Carmichael, correspondent for Your Info Today. We’re live, here in Georgia on the tarmac of Mr. Morrow’s private jet. This story is on every local news channel from the East Coast to the West Coast. Awfully brave of this man, isn’t it, to propose in front of so many?”

  My answer is a choked laugh.

  She smiles at the camera. “So what will it be, Katie? Do you accept his proposal?”

  I’m nodding my head frantically, but the words don’t come. Miranda gives me a sharp poke in the ribs, whispering, “Say something, Katie. They can’t see you nodding your head.”

  “Yes! Yes! Oh, Darius. Yes.”

  Like a loon, I hold the phone to my lips, kissing the screen.

  Elation fills his face, the lines disappear. He rises from the ground, true joy in his smile. From his pocket he takes out a familiar red box, flipping open the lid.

  It’s my ring.

  The very one I’d sent back to his house in the package with every other thing he’d ever given me. I thought I’d never see it again.

  He stares into the camera. “Katie, please meet me at Opulence, tonight, and let me put this ring back on your finger, where it belongs.”

  A squeal bursts forth from my lips, Ms. Carmichael holds the phone as far away from her as she can, wincing at my outburst. “You heard it here first, folks. It looks like Vegas, Baby is going to have a queen to match its king. Mr. Morrow and future Mrs. Morrow, we wish you all the luck in the world with your fairytale happy ending.”

  The screen cuts to commercial.

  Miranda picks up the remote flipping the television off. “That’s the one button I can work.”

  I want to grab her, to hug her and twirl, and jump up and down, screaming for all the world to hear. I’m engaged! Like, for real.

  But Miranda’s no-nonsense business mode kicks into full gear. Hands on her hips, she looks me up and down. “Congrats. Now, let’s get to work.”

  After the breakup I went through, they have their work cut out for them. They wax every unwanted hair from my body, moisturize my skin, detangle and straighten my hair. Blush my cheeks and give me lashes and pretty nails. Then dress me in the most gorgeous pale pink gown.

  My favorite color. He loves me in this color.

  He loves me.

  After a dozen reassuring compliments from my team, and a million thank yous from me to them, I’m ready to go.

  I get into the waiting limo.

  And head back home to him.

  Chapter 20

  Darius

  I pace the entryway to Opulence, aware that I have a team of bodyguards and security keeping reporters at bay. Maybe it was a strategic error announcing for all the world to hear where I wanted my Katie to meet me, but I wanted to make it better. I wanted to make this right.

  I’m not usually a nervous guy, but this time… this time, my palms are sweaty and my heart trips a crazy beat in my chest.

  What happens next?

  And then she’s there. Standing in the doorway, her hair done up but a little crazy, like a gust of wind hit her on the way in, giving her a winsome, fetching look. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes wide with wonder. She wears a pale pink gown that hugs her petite frame, and delicate silver flats.

  “You look like a princess,” I say, my voice choked with emotion. I can’t move. I want to gather her in my arms and hold her to me. I want to kiss the flush on her cheeks and those pretty, full lips of hers. I want to weave my fingers through those masses of curls and tug her head back, claiming every inch of her.

  Instead, I swallow, and beckon to her. “C’mere, baby.”

  She trembles a little as she approaches me. I meet her halfway. And when she’s within arm’s reach, I pull her to me, hugging her to my chest as I’ve wanted. She smells like warmed vanilla and cinnamon, the comforts of home.

  “You came back,” I whisper in her ear.

  “I’m so sorry I ever left,” she whispers back.

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  “You were upset—”

  We talk over each other like we did before, until we both laugh, and I hold her tightly.

  “Hush,” I say. “It’s time to put this behind us.”

  She nods into my chest. “I like the sound of that.”

  I take her by the hand and lead her to our table. Pull out the chair for her, and she folds herself into the chair with grace.

  “I feel like a princess,” she says with that smile that makes my heart beat faster.

  “You look like a queen,” I reply, bending to kiss her temple.

  I take my own seat across from her. I feel lighter than I have in years. Hopeful.

  At peace.

  I gesture for the waiter to bring us champagne, and when our glasses are full of the golden, bubbly liquid, I take the small velvet box out of my pocket.

  “Your hand, please.”

  She trembles as she puts her hand out. I’ve already proposed. Now we seal the deal.

  I slide the ring onto her finger.

  “It looks beautiful,” I say, clasping her hand. “Like you.”

  A powerful sense of ownership flares within me, and I almost want to skip dinner, toss her over my shoulder, and pound my chest as I take her to the penthouse to claim her.

  “It is,” she says with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Move in with me, Katie.”

  She quirks a brow at me as she sips from her flute. “Is that an order?”

  I grin at her. “You bet your ass it is.”

  She grins back. “Yes, daddy. I would love that. Could I have a desk overlooking the pools and lights below?”

  “Baby, you can have anything you want.”

  And I mean it.

  We eat the house salad with mixed greens, candied pecans, and thinly sliced pears, followed by the main course of filet mignon, wilted spinach, and creamy mushroom risotto. I order flourless chocolate cake and house made vanilla ice cream with ripe berries for her dessert.

  “That dinner was perfection,” Katie says, patting her lips appreciatively with the cloth napkin.

  “It was,” I say. “But I hope it didn’t make you sleepy.” I lean across the table. “I have so many more plans for you tonight.”

  She flushes
pink and takes my hand.

  We make our way out of the restaurant, thankfully away from the flashes of cameras and intrusive questions. After what we’ve gone through, this feels like a dream come true.

  Though dinner passed in a blur, my levels of excitement are unparalleled now that she’s wearing my ring and she’s home, I can’t wait to get her alone again.

  “Missed you, daddy,” she says softly, just before the elevator doors open to our floor.

  “And I missed you, babygirl.” I bend and capture her lips for a brief kiss. My heart surges in my chest when we meet, as if I haven’t breathed fully with her gone, and I can now draw a deep breath again. She turns to me, right in the middle of the hallway, and wraps her arms around my neck.

  I lift her straight up into my arms, gown and all, and carry her to the penthouse. My need to take her, to make her mine again, to heal the divide between us, consumes all. I open the door, and she’s still tucked up against my chest. Our lips still joined, I bring her to the bedroom and lay her gently on the bed.

  “Time to get these clothes off,” I rasp in her ear. “Let daddy undress you.”

  She watches me in wide-eyed wonder, her rapt attention on me as I slowly undress her. First, the shoes, then her silky gown. Her undergarments meet her dress in a pile as I slowly strip them off, relishing every detail. Her sigh when I unfasten her bra. The way she pants a little when I slide her panties down her legs. The way she arches into me when I bend and nip one stiff, hardened nipple.

  I undress quickly, my clothes joining hers, before I kneel next to her on the bed. I take her wrists and capture them between my fingers.

  “How I missed you, Katie.”

  Her eyes are wide and troubled. “Darius?”

  I’m kissing down the column of her neck, relishing her sweet taste. “Mmm?”

  “I… how do I… I’m not sure how to say it.”

  “Out with it.” I tweak her nipple, as if emphasizing my instruction to her.

  “Do you forgive me?” she says, all in one breath.