Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7)

by Layla Valentine

  “Something’s wrong,” I said.

  Dad nodded slowly. “Something’s been wrong for a very long time,” he said.

  Now I was curious. What he’d said didn’t make a bit of sense if he was talking about Chloe.

  “And what might that be?” I asked.

  Dad opened his mouth to speak but closed it without saying a word. He rose from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back, as he turned toward the enormous arched window that overlooked the property.

  “There was a reason that I went to New York, and it wasn’t only to catch up with an old friend of mine.”

  I said nothing, instead listening patiently.

  “You’re familiar with Conrad Walker?” he asked.

  “Sure am,” I said. “Old friend of yours, CEO of…Anodyne Analytics?”

  “Surprised you remember,” said Dad. “And if you remember the name, you surely remember how successful he’s been on the East Coast.”

  “Yeah, one of the biggest software companies out there. Pulling in billions a year.”

  “Very good,” said Dad. “I met with him last night for dinner. As we talked, I let him know that I had a son who was in desperate need of a job.”

  Oh no. I didn’t like where this was going—not one bit.

  “He was quite curious. After all, the last time he saw you, you weren’t even old enough to drive. But I reminded him that you’re a brilliant young man, lost in the world, taking more time than usual to find your way.”

  “You didn’t—”

  Dad raised his hand, making it clear that it wasn’t my time to speak.

  “Conrad picked up on what I was saying right away. He told me that if I was looking for a position for you, that he could find one whenever I wanted. And I told him that was what I was hoping he’d say. So, he made a few phone calls and told me that they were looking to bring on a few interns for their junior management training program.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, not able to hold back any longer. “An internship?”

  A wry smile formed on my dad’s face.

  “I had a similar reaction to yours. I thought that with your name you ought to start off with something more prestigious. But then it occurred to me that starting from the bottom, knowing what it’s like to have to earn your own way to the top, was exactly what you needed.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No way I’m taking an internship. It’s…menial. It’s degrading. It’s…beneath me!”

  My voice raised, but Dad wasn’t perturbed in the slightest.

  “This reaction you’re having right now is precisely how I know I’ve made the right call. Jordan, I grew up with very little. Everything I have, everything you have, I had to earn with my own two hands. And I’ve known enough wealthy little scions to know that simply handing over everything I’ve earned to a young man that hasn’t worked a day in his life is an easy way for it all to get flushed down the damn toilet.”

  “I won’t do that,” I said. “I won’t lose what you’ve earned.”

  “You’re damned right about that,” he said. “Because here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave for New York tomorrow. You’re going to start this internship, and you’re going to do the job I know you can do.”

  My blood boiled. I couldn’t believe my dad was doing this to me—and on such short notice.

  “The internship pays a modest salary, but I know how expensive things are in New York. To that end, I’ll be providing you with a small stipend and half of your rent until you can start earning your own money. Once you’re on your way, I’ll expect you to provide for yourself.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” I said, shooting out of my chair. “You’re cutting me off?”

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked. “I’m giving you a very generous leg-up. Plenty of men your age would kill for an in at a company like Anodyne and money to get started in New York.”

  “That’s what you want for your son?” I asked. “A twenty-thousand-a-year internship and a cheap studio apartment in Brooklyn?”

  Far from being moved by my words, Dad simply shook his head.

  “You’re only proving my point, Jordan,” he went on. “I’ve been too soft on you, too indulgent. And now look at you—spending your prime years zipping around town in sports cars, chasing girls, and wasting hours at clubs. And all on my dime. No. Starting today, you’re going to be a man who makes his own way in the world.”

  “This is unbelievable,” I said, falling back into my chair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

  “It’s done,” he said. “The job’s lined up, the lease for the apartment will be signed by the end of the day, and your plane ticket is booked. You leave tomorrow.”

  I was mad. I was frustrated. I wanted to scream. But I knew that there was nothing I could do. It was either do what Dad said, or, what, leave? Run away from home like a pissed-off teen?

  “If I were you I’d spend the day getting what you want from your penthouse. Consider your belongings there a going-away present. Let me know what you’d like shipped over, and I’ll have it done. Just keep in mind that your new studio’s going to be…cozier than what you’re used to.”

  I was beside myself with anger.

  “Anything else you want to drop on me?” I asked. “Did you sign me up to volunteer at a damn soup kitchen on the weekends?”

  Dad sighed and shook his head again.

  “Jordan, you’re thinking of this as a punishment, but it’s actually the exact opposite. I’m pushing you into the deep end like this not to make you miserable, but to give you the opportunity to be a man, to be a force for good in the world. I know you have it in you. And now you only have to prove it to me.”

  “That all?” I spat.

  “That’s all,” said Dad, his voice as cool and calm as ever. “Happy packing.”

  I didn’t want to look at my dad for even one more second. I turned on my heels and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me. Once back behind the wheel of my car, I tore down the road away from the house, heading back to the city.

  Twenty minutes later, I was back at my penthouse. The renovations had just been completed, and the place was looking incredible. It was a loft apartment, four bedrooms and as big as a house. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city, and the entire floor was surrounded by a spacious balcony. Rooftop access for any time I wanted to throw a party.

  And it was all gone.

  I took stock of my possessions, trying to figure out what was the most important to take with me, what would fit in a cramped, New York City studio. I paced the floor of the living room, the news of what my father had told me still sinking in. This was it—my days as a carefree playboy were over. Starting next week, I was going to be a working schlub, waiting for my paycheck and budgeting my money until the next paycheck.

  Part of me wanted to go back to the house, to make some case to my father as to why this was unfair, to see what I could do to change his mind. But I knew my father. Once he made a decision—that was it. And throwing a tantrum likely wouldn’t make him think any more highly of my maturity level.

  I was about to set to going through my things when something else occurred to me. Or, I should say, someone else.

  Chloe.

  The conversation with my father had been so jarring that I’d almost completely forgotten about my night with her. My heart warmed as she appeared in my thoughts. I recalled how gorgeous she looked in that dress, her mask setting off her brilliant green eyes. I thought about how beautiful her face looked in the blissful agony of orgasm, and how stunning her naked body was.

  Just like everything else in my life, I was going to be leaving her behind. I was torn at first, thinking that I should forget about her. Really, what was she to me other than another pretty girl in a long line of pretty girls that I’d been with?

  It was a one-night thing, after all. What we had wasn’t anything special, a fling like any other. And she had t
o know that, too. She’d get over me leaving; she seemed like a tough girl.

  A week or so down the road she’ll be over it, and so will I.

  Right?

  Chapter 11

  Chloe

  The drive to work the next Monday was difficult, to say the least. During the entire trip from my apartment to the King’s, all I could think about was my night with Jordan. Specifically, the end of it.

  Scenes from our lovemaking played over and over in my mind. I thought about how amazing Jordan’s body looked nude from the waist-up, how gorgeous and thick he was, and how good he felt inside of me. I knew I shouldn’t have been obsessing, but I couldn’t help it. Jordan had made love to me like no other man had before, and all I wanted was to do it again.

  I knew he was a playboy, and I knew I should’ve had my guard up. But even though I understood that I was likely just one girl among many, I couldn’t shake the idea that there was something special between us, something that neither of us had ever experienced before.

  Things were likely to be tense between the two of us, but I was certain that it wasn’t anything we couldn’t work through. Maybe our one night of passion would eventually turn to something more. Either way, I was excited to find out.

  I pulled into my usual spot in the estate and headed in, my stomach tingling with anticipation. I didn’t know if Jordan was going to be there. The renovations to his apartment might very well have been finished over the weekend—but something told me that I was going to be seeing him sooner than later.

  During my walk across the mansion grounds, more thoughts of romance popped into my mind. I imagined Jordan being home alone again, maybe even coming into the kitchen while I was in the middle of preparing him something delicious. I pictured him, that cocky smirk of his on his face, coming up behind me and placing his hands on my hips, kissing me softly on the neck. Then he’d slowly undo my apron, slip down my pants, and—

  “There you are!” Luz called out, arriving at the same time I was.

  I shook my head, snapping back to reality.

  “Hey, Luz,” I said, still feeling like I was in the middle of a dream. I blurted out my next words, almost out of my control. “Do you know if Jordan’s still here?”

  I wanted to smack myself for being so obvious. Luz narrowed her eyes at me in a look of playful suspicion.

  “Not sure,” she said. “I’d have to go actually go into the house to find that one out.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “I was wondering, because, um, I don’t know how many people are going to be here tonight, and if Jordan’s going to be here, then, um, I’ll have to think about that when figuring out how much food to cook. Because, well, he’s got a big appetite, and he always wants seconds.”

  I stopped myself realizing too late that my attempts at making myself look less suspicious were having the opposite effect.

  “Why don’t we head on in?” asked Luz as she and I stood in front of the side entrance. “I’m sure all of your questions will be answered inside.”

  I could only hope so.

  The two of us stepped into the house. It was extremely quiet, so quiet that I could hear my heart beat in anticipation of seeing Jordan again. A few members of the cleaning crew moved here and there, and my eyes searched eagerly for any sign of Jordan.

  “What’re you thinking of making tonight?” asked Luz as the two of us proceeded down one of the enormous hallways.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure,” I said. “I mean, I’ll have to see if Jordan’s here, find out if there’s anything special that he wants.”

  I had to pinch my arm to shut myself up.

  “Well, have a good shift,” said Luz, flashing me one more skeptical smile. “Sounds like Jordan’s going to be eating well tonight.”

  I smiled as I stepped into the kitchen. He would if I had anything to say about it.

  Once in the kitchen, I caught sight of Alfred out on the patio. Though he was some distance away, I spotted a curious expression on his face, as though he was thinking about something important.

  I decided to head out to say hi, maybe to see if there was anything in particular he was craving that night. And possibly see what Jordan was up to.

  “Evening, Alfred,” I said. “How was the trip?”

  Alfred turned his eyes to me, looking for a moment as though I’d interrupted him in the middle of something. But his expression quickly turned friendly when he realized that it was me.

  “Oh, good evening, Chloe,” he said. “It was fine. But it was cut short, actually.”

  “That right?” I asked. “I hope everything went well.”

  He glanced aside for a moment, appearing to try to decide whether or not it did.

  “About as well as I was hoping,” he said finally.

  “Oh,” I said, taken aback by his tone. “Well, good. Glad to hear it. I wanted to see if there was anything special you wanted for dinner tonight. And, um, if Jordan was going to be joining us. I know his penthouse renovations are probably done by now, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to still be coming.”

  Alfred sighed. He was acting strangely—curt and frustrated. He wasn’t at all being the warm man that I’d come to know.

  “Jordan’s not going to be joining us tonight,” he said. “Or any other night, for that matter.”

  “What?” I blurted out. “Did something happen?”

  “No, nothing like what you might be thinking,” he said. “Jordan is gone. He’s moved to New York.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Wait, he moved to New York over the weekend?”

  “That’s right,” said Alfred. “And about damn time, too.”

  “Why did he go?” I asked, trying to hold back the emotion in my voice.

  “For a job,” said Alfred. “Kid’s been bumming around for too long, decided to go to the East Coast and maybe make something of himself. And the timing couldn’t be better. A man his age shouldn’t be living off his parent’s dime.”

  “I see,” I said.

  I sensed there was much, much more to the story than Alfred was letting on. But I knew better than to pry in business that didn’t involve me.

  Alfred put his hand to his forehead to a moment, shaking his head. Then he turned and looked at me, his expression much softer.

  “Sorry, Chloe,” he said. “I don’t mean to be short with you. It’s that Jordan and I had something of a busy weekend. Just a lot going on. But to answer your question…how about some lasagna tonight? I could go for some comfort food.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  With that, I hurried back into the kitchen. Once there, I leaned back against the counter, taking several slow, deep breaths, the walls of the kitchen seeming to spin around me.

  I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. Jordan had up and left, leaving his life here in San Bravado behind. After our night together, after what I thought we’d shared, he was gone. And he’d left without saying a word.

  Hot tears formed my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away and composed myself.

  “Lasagna,” I said out loud. “Time to make some freaking lasagna.”

  I opened the fridge, grabbing most of the ingredients, along with some vegetables for a side dish. I set everything on the counter, arranging it perfectly for the preparation.

  Once the vegetables were in front of me on the cutting board, a second rush of emotions hit me. I was frustrated and furious and shocked all at once. Channeling my emotions, I began chopping the vegetables furiously, dicing them so fast that I forced myself to slow down.

  I set the knife aside and stared off into space, thinking about what Alfred had told me, what I’d learned. I’d been stupid, I realized. It was a stupid mistake to think that a man like Jordan, a carefree playboy, would treat me like anything other than a momentary diversion.

  No. I understood now that the gentlemanly, dashing man that he’d put forward was nothing more than an act. I shook my head as I thought about how many girls
he’d likely pulled that same routine with, all dashing and romantic and attentive until he got what he wanted. Then as soon as he had his new notch on the bedpost, that was it.

  And it wasn’t like he was just ignoring me. He’d flown to the other side of the country.

  I turned my attention back to the meal, prepping the ragù and assembling the layers of pasta and sauce. As I did, I vowed never to let my guard down like that again. Never would I let myself be swept away by some good-looking man with killer eyes and a charming smile. I was going to be tough—I was going to be smart.

  Once the lasagna was in the oven, a wave of sadness hit me. This wasn’t going to be easy to move past, but I vowed that I would.

  I’d never get burned again.

  Chapter 12

  Chloe

  Six weeks later, the day before Christmas Eve, and I was at the mall.

  “I still can’t believe you waited until the last minute to do all this shopping,” I said, my eyes on the list in my hand.

  “I know, I know,” said Isabella. “I tell myself every damn year that this is going to be the last time that I put all of this off. And then the season flies by, you know?”

  Isabella Boni, my former boss at the Westchester, and I weaved through the mall, the place a total circus of last-minute shoppers like us. Isabella was a tall, statuesque brunette, as good of a chef as she was a leader in the kitchen. And we’d stayed friends even after I switched jobs to work for the Kings.

  “Okay,” she asked. “What’s next on the list?”

  “We doing my stuff or yours?”

  “Both, if we can manage it,” she said. “My nephew wants this video game, um, Blood Master Six?”

  She stopped in her tracks and looked at me.

  “Does that sound like something a nine-year-old should be playing?”

  “Beats me,” I said. “You know I’m the last person to talk to about anything to do with kids.”

  “Please,” said Isabella, the two of us starting walking again. “I bet you’re better with them than you think.”