Billionaire Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  “How did you know? Are you a- a mind reader?” he hiccupped.

  “Maybe I am,” I replied with a cheeky grin. “Or, maybe it has something to do with the beer you just showed me.”

  “Smart and beautiful,” he slurred. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Obviously, he had no idea I was in Hawaii. “Where are you, that doesn't l-look like your apartment?”

  “Now who’s the smart one? I'm at a friend's place.”

  “Ohhh. A, uh, a boy friend or a girl friend, huh?” He looked at me with squinted, curious eyes.

  “Girl friend, from college. Say, your beer looks empty. Why don't you get another one? I've got a drink here, we can drink together.”

  “Well, why don't I just come p-pick you up, instead? Then we can g-go to my place and d-drink together in p-person.”

  “Not just yet, but maybe later. Let's do this first, then I'll think about coming to your place.”

  He smiled, “Okay.”

  He put his phone down and I heard him stumbling off, presumably to get another drink. While he was gone, I used the opportunity to set my laptop's camera up in a position so I could record the conversation more clearly.

  “There we go, w-where's yours?” he asked when he returned.

  I held up my cocktail and smiled. “Right here. So, what's new?” I asked, taking a sip of my drink.

  “Oh, not m-much. Just some b-boring business stuff. What about with Lilah?”

  “Oh, things are great! Work is outstanding. Our new campaign at Sinclair is just killing it!” I knew I had to rub our success from the nearly devastating tweet debacle in his face to get the information I needed from him, so I continued.

  “We are kicking ass and taking names. Of course, I wasn’t so sure that was gonna be the case. That little act of sabotage someone tried to pull—it almost sank the company. Almost.” I watched his eyes light up immediately.

  “Wait, it did?” he asked, suddenly very interested.

  “Yeah. I have to admit, whoever leaked the tweet, and then contacted that blogger . . . It was kind of genius. The way he waited while we thought the hype had died down before he delivered the last blow, making the whole thing go viral. Absolutely brilliant, that plan was.

  “Hell, it must have been some sort of James Bond mastermind. Oh my God, James Bond turns me on. Seriously, I'm getting hot just thinking about it. I wish I knew the guy. I have a thing for brilliant men.” I winked seductively and took a swig from my cocktail.

  “All it took was a little bribe,” he spit out with a smug grin. “A little bribe to Asher's secretary. Hell, if he wasn't such a stingy bastard, maybe that bitch wouldn't have taken the $20,000 I gave her to leak the tweet. And the blogger, well, that sap cost way less than that. She's an angry, bitter little woman . . . or man, whatever she calls herself. Himself. I don't know. But that one, it only cost me less than $1,000, can you believe it?

  “And, of course, the break-in . . . Well, I did f-feel like James Bond when I did that. Yeah, or maybe more like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. Or Jason Bourne,” he eyed me with what I’m sure he meant to be a seductive stare. It was not. “Bet that turns you on, Lilah? Doesn’t it?”

  My facial expression hardened, and my voice became cool as ice.

  “Are you telling me that you are the one who broke into the Sinclair Agency?” I asked, wanting a point blank confession.

  He nodded his head and his smile widened. “Yep. I am. You like that, d-don’t you? You’re a naughty girl!” he exclaimed with a grin.

  “No, actually I don’t like it, Brendan. What I do like is that you just confessed your crimes. Oh, and did I mention, I recorded it all? Yeah. I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Savage.”

  His face became red with wrath.

  “You bitch! I'll kill you, I'll—”

  “Oh, and you can now add threats to the list. Goodbye, Brendan,” I said coldly, and with that I cut off the call and immediately blocked his number. I checked the video recording to make sure it had recorded what I needed and smiled when I realized I’d gotten it all.

  This was big—no, this was huge. Asher needed to know right away.

  With trembling fingers, I dialed his number and told him that I needed to see him right away. He didn’t even question why, said he’d be over as soon as he could.

  He arrived at my cottage half an hour later, and I could see that he had been in a rush. My heart fired up when I saw him, especially knowing he’d rushed over without question. The scent of whiskey was fairly heavy on his breath, so it was likely he’d dropped what he was doing.

  “Hey,” I said, keeping things as simple as I could.

  “Hi. Is everything okay? You sounded like it was an emergency on the phone.”

  “Well, actually, everything is fantastic. I’m sorry if you were worried. You didn’t really give me a chance to explain on the phone. But I appreciate that you hurried over.”

  “Of course. But, if everything’s okay, what was the big need for me to come over right away?” he asked.

  “I’m glad you asked. I have something you need to see. Something that is going to change everything.” I said, smiling what I knew likely appeared to be a little on the unusual side.

  “Ooooookay. Let’s see it, then.”

  I stepped over to my laptop and swiveled it around so that Asher had a full view of the screen. I pressed play and watched his expression as he watched the video. At first, annoyance spread over his face. Clearly the sight of me flirting with Savage irritated him, which made me smile to myself. He even cut his eyes at me once as if he was questioning why I was showing him the video in the first place.

  But when Brendan started spilling his guts, Asher’s smile lit up like a Christmas tree. A light of triumph burned brightly in his eyes.

  “Yes,” he whispered, almost to himself. Without warning, he just began laughing loudly, and then he swept me off my feet and twirled me around.

  “We've got him! We've totally got him!” he shouted, mad with joy. “All thanks to you! All thanks to you, you brilliant, beautiful woman!”

  He ended the spinning and placed me back on the floor, still laughing with elation. The moment my feet were steady, his hands were cupped on each side of my face and he kissed my forehead with a joyful, solid pressing of his lips. All at once, my head was swimming and heat was rushing through my body. That’s when our eyes locked.

  “I didn't do it for the company,” I suddenly said.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “I did it for you.”

  I stared into his eyes, and saw a depth of emotion looking back at me I’d never before seen in any other person's eyes—even Jacob's in the days when we'd been in love. It was an intense, soul-piercing gaze.

  Asher never said a word. I peered into his dark, mysterious eyes as his hands gently slid around the small of my back. He drew me to him with no resistance from me, tilting my head to accept the eager brush of his lips against mine.

  When the kiss was finished, he released me and I thought that was the end of it. Honestly, it had been spontaneous, romantic and—I thought—almost sweet enough to give me the closure I needed to put my personal feelings away and step back into the realm of keeping things strictly business. I thought wrong.

  My heart pounded as his strong, tender fingertips traced over my forearms and I shivered with delight. I’d never felt a sensation so vivid or appealing. I trembled under his soft touch. He slid the same fingertips over, beneath my shoulder and around until he cupped a breast in each hand, leaving his hands there long enough for the transfer of heat to exchange from his fiery palm to my already fevered flesh.

  Every inch of my body ached to have him take me right there. Yet, there was something tantalizing about being in the moment, focusing on the sensation of his touch. The time for speaking was over.

  Asher slid his hands from my breasts, running them down along my sides to gently caress the soft swell of my hips before slipping around to gently cup my trembling r
ump. As with my breasts, he was not interested in kneading or squeezing, pinching, or poking—only warmly caressing, heightening the sensation all the more.

  The softer his caresses and the gentler his stroking fingers, the more I trembled and ached beneath his touch. He needed only to touch me and I was putty in his hands. Despite the temperature-controlled room, I began to swelter from desire. He waited patiently until my entire body was aglow with perspiration before gently easing his right hand away from my ass, across my hipbone, and down to gently run the same fingertips through the field of dampness he had created.

  That precise touch brought a gasp to my lips and a pulse to my loins. The moment the gasp escaped my mouth, his lips covered mine feverishly. In an instant, his hands were all over me and my clothes were in a pile on the floor. I gripped his shirt with both hands and simply ripped with all my strength. I had to have him. I had to have all of him. Every memory of our times together came flooding back.

  I slid a hand down his sculpted torso, tracing my fingers over the smooth skin of his rippling muscles and guiding my hand further down until I felt it. It was waiting there for me, radiant with heat, throbbing, and rock hard. I made quick work of removing his belt and undoing the button that was keeping me from what I wanted most.

  I took a few steps back until my calves met with the plush sofa behind me. I pulled him onto me, guided him inside, and gasped as I felt him fill me. He eased the length of his hardness into me. I gripped his chiseled ass and began to force him to move—faster, deeper, and harder as I gasped louder with every pulse of pleasure that each thrust sent pulsing through my body.

  There was no time for drawn-out lovemaking sessions; this was catharsis, this was forgiveness, this was the release of bottled-up emotions, of raw desire held barely at bay over too many weeks.

  And now—now it was time to finally release all of that.

  Every last drop of it.

  ***

  I stretched and rolled over. For the fourth day in a row, I woke up next to Asher. It was hard not to marvel at the man lying next to me, even at such an early hour of the morning. As we had every night of the vacation, we'd spent most of the previous evening making love rather than sleeping. Now that we'd come to the end of the trip and it was time to return to the real world, I wasn’t so sure I was ready to go back.

  Going back meant facing my fears. It meant that I was going to have to trust that Asher wasn’t going to show me special treatment at work. It meant I was going to have to let my guard down.

  I caressed his cheek softly as he slept, and then glanced at the clock. We’d barely been asleep three hours, but I woke up thirsty. So, I quietly got up to head to the kitchen for a glass of water. That’s when it hit me: a wave nausea. I hurried to the bathroom furthest from the bedroom and threw up violently. I almost collapsed when I was done.

  This had been the second morning of being sick. Yesterday, we'd chalked it up to a combination of something I'd eaten the night before and too much sun. But with it happening again, I started to do the math in my head.

  My period was overdue—like nearly three weeks overdue. I'd chalked it up to stress and being overworked because that had delayed things in the past. But I’d never been sick.

  Now, however, I was having my doubts.

  There was only one way to find out. I crept back into the room, grabbed some clothes, and got dressed in the living room. I called for a driver to take me into town. If the last few days were any indication, I had another three hours before Asher woke up.

  Once in town, I went to a drug store and picked up a pregnancy test. Burning with anxiety and worry, I went to the first public restroom I came across. I had to know, and I couldn't wait a moment longer than necessary to get this done.

  I waited in suspense to see what the test would indicate, nearly holding my breath the whole time. When I saw it, I almost passed out right there in the stall. Was it wrong? Could this thing have made a mistake? It was rated as 98% accurate. Those were some pretty intense odds. Still, there was that 2% chance that an error could have been made.

  I googled a suitable clinic in town. When I found one, I headed there immediately. Luckily, there wasn't much of a wait, but 30 minutes still seemed like hours. I did everything in my power to keep myself calm while I sat in the small, white room waiting for the doctor to return with my results.

  “Well, Miss Maxwell,” he said as he reentered the room with a smile, “it seems congratulations are in order. You're going to be a mother. If my calculations are right, according to the timeframe you supplied, I’d say you’re around seven weeks along.”

  I didn't know what to say or how to react. All I could do was to simply nod as he went through the rest of his spiel. When he was done, I wasn’t even sure what I had said in return to him. I simply thanked him quietly, took the paper he handed me and the prescription for vitamins, and left. What else was there to do?

  I walked a little further down the block and called the driver to take me back to the resort. During the twenty-minute drive, I tried to make sense of what I had just learned and figure out what to do next.

  I was going to be a mom, and Asher was the father. There was no doubt about that. He was the only man I'd been with in over a year.

  That’s when our conversation on the plane ride started swirling in my head. Asher didn’t want to be a father. He didn’t want children. He’d said so himself. Knowing what I knew about his family, I wasn’t so sure I wanted that influence on my child either. Asher had always been on his best behavior around me. With the one exception of the time Savage brought me flowers, I couldn’t say I’d ever seen him in a situation to get angry. There was no way to know he wouldn’t be like his father. After all, Asher had never had a serious relationship. In 30 years, that suddenly seemed a little odd to me.

  I got out my phone and went to google image search and typed in Asher's father's name. I had to see what he looked like. Google immediately brought up press photographs and mugshots of his arrest. I clicked on the first clear shot that came up and almost dropped my phone. Asher was the spitting image of his father, so much so that they could have been twins.

  It hit me like a ton of bricks.

  It had all been nothing more than a fairytale, this whole thing between Asher and I. Only, the thing was, there was no way that this fairytale could have a happy ending. It was true to form in my life, just another Grimm fairytale waiting to happen.

  “Driver,” I said softly, “please wait for me when we get back. I'm just going to get my suitcases, and then could you please take me straight to the airport?”

  “Sure thing,” he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Don't forget your plane ticket, miss.”

  “I won't.”

  And with that, I went online and bought a ticket home.

  Three hours later, I was looking at Hawaii from a window seat.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lilah

  Nobody knew I was pregnant aside from Eddie and Meg, even though I was eleven weeks along. It had been over a month since Hawaii and I'd managed to conceal my growing bump by wearing the right clothes. Since I'd been curvy anyway, it hadn't been too difficult to hide. Pencil skirts and flowy tops became my new best friends. Still, I was aware that, eventually, it would reach a point that I would no longer be able to conceal it. Before that day came, I had some big decisions to make.

  I'd already started searching for a new job—in a new city.

  I had a tentative offer on the table, all the way across the continent. They were impressed with my desire to complete the campaign I was working on and not leave my company in limbo, and so they'd given me a month to think about it before negotiations regarding the position would begin.

  Thinking about it was exactly what I'd been doing. It would take me away from my beloved brother and my best friend Meg. But also far from Asher, and I honestly believed that was what I needed.

  Walking away from him after the amazing week spent in Hawaii had
been one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do in my life, but I knew for the sake of my unborn child, I'd had to. Asher’s words played on a loop in my head. He didn’t want children.

  Then there were the images of his psychotic father's mugshots that kept popping into my dreams—or nightmares, rather. It was just too much of a risk to take. How could I be sure that he wouldn't treat me like his father had treated his mistress who he had forced to get an abortion? I already knew this child would become the center of my life, my world. I simply wasn't prepared to take any risks that might put my child in harm's way.

  With my heart ripping itself to shreds every time I'd seen him, I had cut Asher out of my life romantically. I'd put on my facade of cold indifference, and had played it cooler than I ever had before. I told him that Hawaii had been nothing more than a vacation fling.

  In the first few days after returning from Hawaii, he’d pleaded with me to at least talk to him, but I'd remained resolute and determined to not let him back in—even though my heart was breaking and my soul was crying out for him.

  I endured the pain in silence and forced myself to do what had to be done.

  He had finally seemed to have accepted how things were. From time to time, I caught brief glimpses of that same longing, that same desire I'd seen in his eyes when he made love to me in Hawaii, but mostly he kept things professional between us and communicated with me only when he had to.

  I'd nailed campaign after campaign. When it came to work, I was on fire. Asher had given me another raise, and word around the office was that I'd get another promotion soon, too. My career had never been better or more successful.

  And yet it felt as if it didn't matter. In fact, nothing felt as if it mattered much any more aside from the life growing inside me. There were only the memories of the times Asher and I had shared haunting me like restless ghosts.

  As I sat at my desk, lost in a daze of memories, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I took it out to see Meg’s happy smile plastered on my phone.