Knocked Up By My Billionaire Boss: A Billionaire's Baby Romance

by Ella Brooke

  She jumped as her phone buzzed with a text message. It was Dr. Cartwright. Had she forgotten something he’d asked her to do?

  Are you coming by this evening? was all the message said.

  Hazel blinked a few times, trying to remember what she’d promised. She couldn’t. Though it would be just like her to have agreed to come to the office after her test. She dialed his number.

  “Dr. Cartwright? Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t remember promising to come in after my exam. What was I supposed to do for you?” There was a slight keen of pleading in her voice, but Hazel ignored it. It wouldn’t be helped. Not with this headache.

  “Hazel, it’s not a big deal. I asked you yesterday if you’d like to skip work today and instead come by my penthouse for a relaxed chat about how you’ve been doing. You don’t have to come.”

  His voice was so warm. He seemed so generous at the moment. But there was no way she was going to turn down time with her professor. She just wasn’t built that way.

  “Do I have your address?” she asked.

  “I can email it to you.”

  And with that, she was on her way to her boss and teacher’s home to talk about her career, not having slept in more than roughly forty-eight hours. She managed to find the proper building and a parking space and made her way inside, trying not to look drunk due to how exhausted she was.

  The doorman sent her to a small elevator behind the stairs, which he opened with a key on his belt, and she leaned against the cool metal of the wall as the lights flickered from floor to floor. She was going to see Cartwright soon. That thought made her giddy for some reason. Was it just because she was tired? No… she was always happy to see him, especially lately. She felt impossibly lighter, knowing that she could forget school for a few hours and maybe just listen to Ian telling her things in that deep, velvety British voice of his.

  When the elevator reached the top, it stopped and chimed. The doors remained closed for a moment, while Hazel blinked sleepily. They opened to an expansive apartment that must have encompassed the entire floor. A gray and white sofa that could have seated ten people stretched across the middle of the floor and sat on a snow white, triangle-shaped rug. Hazel stepped out and looked around in awe. She’d never seen an apartment that looked so much like a mansion before. Well, not outside of a movie.

  There was a lighting fixture floating over the staircase that looked like fourteen tiny suns hovering in the air, with dozens of glittering stars around them. She moved toward it slowly, transfixed like a moth to a flame.

  “You like it?”

  Hazel jumped so hard that Dr. Cartwright had to take a step back. She’d nearly dropped her bag. “God, sorry. I guess I didn’t realize the elevator would go all the way up to your apartment, uh, mansion floor.”

  “Penthouse.” Cartwright laughed.

  He was dressed down, for him. Instead of the ever-present suit, he wore a sleek, fitted sweater that clung to the shape of his muscles, offering a view of him that was at once sexy and relaxed. Below that was a sight that Hazel had never imagined she’d witness in her lifetime.

  Jeans.

  Granted, they looked to be expensive jeans, but they were still jeans. Dr. Cartwright, lounging around his house in jeans. And socks. He wasn’t even wearing shoes.

  “Noticed that, did you?” Cartwright said, looking down at his feet as well. “I try to keep outside dirt to a minimum. It’s hell on the white carpet and chairs, and my maid Marta does work hard enough cleaning the place already.” Cartwright held out his hand. “I could take your bag? And your jacket? And would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Um, sure. Do you want me to take off my shoes, too?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” Cartwright set her things on a shelf by the door and kept walking. To the far left was an open kitchen area with a small island in the middle, and a wine rack next to the black refrigerator. All the appliances in the kitchen were black, a distinct contrast to the white of the rest of the apartment.

  Hazel kicked off her shoes and put them beside the shelf by the elevator. She understood now that the doorman had opened up the private elevator for her. No one else could’ve gotten up here without Cartwright’s express request. She went into the kitchen where he was opening up a bottle of wine.

  “Do you like red?”

  “Yeah. I prefer it.”

  “Excellent.” With a twist of his wrist, he uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. “I don’t mean to presume. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. It’s simply that when I was in university, we’d always have a few after finishing exams.”

  “No, I think that tradition definitely translates across the pond.” Hazel took the offered glass and raised it. “To being a quarter of the way done! The end is near!”

  “Cheers.” Cartwright clinked his glass against hers and sipped. “Mm. A quarter of the way?”

  “It’s my senior year. So I’m halfway done with the semester, one-fourth of the way done with my last year.” Hazel sighed and leaned back against the island. “You might be right about getting a job after I graduate. I could always go back to grad school.”

  “True enough. And with the right employer, they might support you in that endeavor.”

  Hazel took a long sip of the wine then closed her eyes. It was strange to be drinking with her professor, but if she ever went to grad school, that might be the case. Relationships changed when you were all professionals at different points in your career.

  “This is good. What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s a wine from Argentina. 2007 Nosotros.” Cartwright swirled the deep red liquid around in his glass. “Only $100 a bottle, but I have no regrets.”

  “Only $100?” Hazel chuckled. “Okay.”

  “There are wines out there that run for thousands a bottle,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, and I heard there’s taco made of Kobe beef, lobster, caviar, and actual flakes of gold that goes for $25,000, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to buy it even if I had the dosh.”

  “Ugh. No, neither would I. I’ve heard of that, and it sounds terrible.” Cartwright pressed his back against the counter to face her. “I don’t mind to spend money on quality, but there does come a point when things are just ridiculous.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” Hazel set her glass on the island, then pushed herself up to sit on it and dangled her legs. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Hm? Oh. I really did just want to see you. This isn’t a meeting.”

  Hazel tilted her head to the side. Somehow that hadn’t penetrated when he’d said he wanted to check on her before. “Right. Well, I’m fine. Exhausted.”

  She drained the last of her glass, and Cartwright picked up the bottle to give her a refill, which she gratefully accepted.

  “Are you finished? Everything in?”

  “For now. Have you ever had that feeling where your shoulders were so tense that you could barely breathe, but then suddenly, the weight of all that stress disappeared, and you feel like you’re floating?”

  Cartwright smiled. “Yes, I know that feeling.”

  “Good. I don’t think I could trust someone who walked through life without experiencing that.”

  Hazel took another sip of her wine and let her eyes drift over Cartwright’s casual wear. He was gorgeous. Had she known before now that he was gorgeous? She must have. She’d noticed other girls getting flirty and silly around him. And she’d always been a little nervous—until they’d begun working together practically every day. It was like the wine had unlocked a little piece of her brain that was stubbornly holding onto the idea that she couldn’t find her professor attractive.

  “Hazel?” Cartwright said a bit forcefully.

  “Hm?”

  “I asked when was the last time you’d eaten something?”

  “Hm.” Hazel pinched her mouth to the side. “Probably… Um. Some Pop-Tarts. Before my exam.”

  Cartwright dragged the tip of his tongue over his
lower lips slowly as he fixed her with a disapproving glare. “Are Pop-Tarts even vegan?”

  “The brown sugar ones are.”

  “Well, they aren’t a meal.” Cartwright set his wine down and opened up his refrigerator. “Let me make you something.”

  Hazel waved her hand at him. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’m certainly not going to be taking you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.” He glowered at the contents of his refrigerator. “I don’t know that I have anything you can eat.”

  “Do you just stock your fridge with meat?”

  Cartwright turned and set down a container of hummus and a plate of chopped carrots.

  “That’ll work.” Hazel picked up a carrot and dipped it in the hummus.

  “That’s an appetizer.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m ordering some food.”

  “I gotta tell you, this job has some wicked perks,” Hazel teased. “Fancy wine, takeout, hanging out with your exes, getting to see you in your tight jeans…”

  Cartwright raised a brow but did not respond. Instead, he said, “Yes, this is Ian Cartwright. I’d like to make an order, for delivery, but I need to know what dishes you make that are vegan or could be made vegan. My companion for the evening has dietary restrictions.”

  Hazel laughed into her hand. He sounded so serious about it. After he’d ordered the food, he moved to take her glass of wine.

  “Oh, hey! No fair. You poured me the second glass!”

  “I didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten all day,” he protested.

  “Oh, nooo…” Hazel leaned back on the island. “Dr. Cartwright is gonna scold me!”

  “Maybe I ought to let you keep drinking. Yet another side of Hazel I get to see. I rather like this one.” He crossed his arms. “Anyway, if you’re to spend the evening here, which you are, if you’re going to be this drunk, you ought to call me Ian.”

  “Okay. Ian.” Hazel tested the word in her mouth. “Ian. Ian Ian Ian—”

  “Oh, God.” Ian fetched his own glass and threw his other hand in the air.

  “No, no, I’m sorry. Ian’s a beautiful name, and it totally really sounds like a name.”

  “This is why I’ve never seen you drink at any of our lunches, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s because I don’t drink in the middle of the day.” Hazel crossed her legs under her.

  Ian shrugged his head to the side. She finished her glass and sighed dramatically.

  “I’ll give you more after we’ve had dinner. Now come on down from there, and we can relax on the sofa.” Ian reached out to her, and she tentatively took his arm.

  As he helped her down, her heart began drumming out a thunderous beat. It felt like her skin was on fire, and then the throbbing began between her legs. She shuddered, almost fell, and clung to him as he smiled down at her. She wanted more than anything in the world to kiss him, but he was just helping her to the sofa. There, he curled up next to her, petting her hair and asking her details about her day.

  With one more glass of wine, she would have crawled into his lap and kissed him. But he would give her no more wine, and she was getting sleepy, so she snuggled up close to him, enjoying his scent and his warmth.

  Chapter Seven

  “Thank you for coming out,” Ian said quietly. He glanced back at Hazel’s sleeping form on the sofa and pulled out some cash to tip the delivery man. “Here’s something for your trouble. I know Bread and Butterfly don’t normally deliver.”

  “Nah, man.” The young man shrugged. “The manager said you paid a huge extra fee to get the delivery.”

  “Take it. I know that you’re missing out on tips during the time you took to bring this to us.” Ian pressed the bill into the man’s hand. “Have a good evening.”

  “Looks like you’ve already started your good evening,” the young man joked.

  Ian grinned. “Maybe so.”

  He turned, bags in hand, and began to head toward the kitchen. Then he spotted Hazel, awake and blinking sleepily at him from where she’d draped herself over the arm of the sofa.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of Uber Eats?”

  “In theory, yes, in practice, no.” Ian continued to the kitchen. “Stay there and don’t fall on your face. I’ll bring you a plate.”

  “Did I pass out?”

  “I don’t think you can pass out from two glasses of wine. I think the term you’re looking for is ‘fell asleep.’” Ian pulled out two plates and took out the containers. He’d ordered every side that came without meat: crudité, carrot and pine nut salad, sautéed mushrooms, and pomme frites with aioli.

  Hazel’s eyes followed him as he brought the plates around. “That looks amazing.”

  “They do have a good chef. Granted, I’ve had Vicki looking into vegan restaurants in the area, and I think they could do better. It’ll have to do for now though.” Ian sat next to her and handed her a plate.

  “Aw. You’re trying vegan food for me? That’s the sweetest thing ever. Not even my twin will eat at a vegan restaurant with me.” Hazel folded her legs underneath her and tried a mushroom. “Mmmm.”

  “I’m not sure I see why it’s a problem,” Ian said. “I mean, I wouldn’t become vegan for you, but one meal… vegan food is essentially vegetables. I need those to live.”

  “You’d think.”

  “What made you choose to go vegan? Is it because of the environmental impact of factory farming?”

  Hazel smiled so widely that Ian wondered if he’d accidentally said: “I love you.”

  “That’s part of it. It’s also that I’m mildly allergic to eggs and dairy, so going vegetarian is basically going all the way.” Hazel tried the crudité. “If I weren’t allergic, I wouldn’t be banning eggs and cheese. I have a hard time getting protein. Thank God I’m not allergic to legumes. I’d die.”

  “That explains it.” Ian picked at the salad as he watched Hazel eat. The more he discovered about her, the more he felt her sliding into a permanent place in his life. In spite of having been married twice, he wasn’t accustomed to this feeling. His compatibility with Meryl had always been interests first, chemistry second. That may have been the problem.

  He got on with her before he liked her, and he had liked her less and less over time. With Hazel… he’d liked her almost immediately upon meeting her. Hell, he’d liked her a little bit from her application. She was a tremendous woman. He wanted her in his life, no matter what happened at the end of this semester.

  “Tell me.” Ian rose once Hazel had eaten most of her food and returned with the wine and takeout cartons so he could put more food on her plate. “Have you thought any more about Meryl’s plans? I haven’t decided yet how deeply I want us to be involved with her.”

  “Well…” Hazel held up a hand to halt the shower of pomme frites on her plate. “I mean… How deeply do you want to be involved with her?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. We can work together professionally. We have before and after our marriage.”

  “Not professionally. Personally.”

  “She’s married to Lester. The man’s a friend.”

  “Okay. And that’s weird. But…” Hazel’s eyes were wide as she watched him. “Do you want to get back together with her? Is that what this whole philanthropy gig is all about?”

  “What? Of course I don’t want to get back together with her.“ Ian grimaced. “We were a terrible couple. That isn’t what I want at all.”

  Hazel set her plate down and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Why would you think that?” Ian asked.

  Hazel shrugged. “I haven’t known you that long, but whenever I talk about philanthropy and giving back and community service, you fight me tooth and nail about whether it’s even important. You act like it’s a total waste of time! But she comes one morning, and you want to create a whole new arm of your business.”

  Ian tented his brows. To be fair, he had given her an awfully hard time about this. “It isn’t a waste th
at you have values, Hazel. I simply see a tremendous amount of potential in you. That’s all. And I’m considering Meryl’s offer so strongly because I thought that, perhaps, if Cartwright & Benton had something to offer you… you would stay with us.”

  He paused, looking into the deep blue-gray of her eyes. “I wouldn’t have to let you go.”

  “You…”

  Hazel stared at him in confusion. Was she still buzzed? He couldn’t tell. She seemed frozen, and she was squeezing her hands so tightly. Ian reached for his wine and took a drink before putting his hand on her knee.

  “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and you’re just starting out. I think the world will be shaken to its core when you show us what you’re truly capable of.” Slowly, he moved his hand towards hers and pried one trembling hand into his own.

  She squeezed his hand and sucked on her lower lip as she stared back at him. “I don’t think… anyone has ever believed in me as much as you do.”

  As weary as Hazel looked, Ian was still entranced by her. Here in his home, such a hard worker, with such big dreams. Even so, she was his student. She was his employee…

  She was taking the wine out of his hand and downing it in one motion. She was cupping his face in her hands. Ian couldn’t help himself—with her hands on him, openly inviting his advances? He cupped the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her. Firmly possessing her lips with his own, his other hand moved over her thigh. He squeezed, so eager to have her touch. He couldn’t be near enough to her.

  Their lips met over and over. Ian’s world narrowed to the gentle scent of lavender mingled with the aroma of wine and pomme frites. Her skin was so smooth, her thighs surprisingly strong. He felt the press of her soft breasts against his pecs, and his hand moved down the small of her back and caressed her plump backside. She let out a soft moan and arched her back sharply.

  Hazel was on his lap before Ian could gather his wits. Her fingers twined through his hair, and his sweet, complex, kind Hazel rolled her hips toward him, making the kind of mewling noise he might have invented in one of his fantasies.