THE BILLIONAIRE'S BABY (A Secret Baby Romance)

by Mia Carson

  I watched, fascinated, as the hand strayed nervously to her neck, smoothing across it as if straightening a necklace or a chain. It stopped, poised and still, once it realized nothing hung there. It was a subtle movement, like a nervous tick, and I recognized an instinctive habit, something to distract herself from situations or emotions, like a kind of lucky charm that offered comfort. Except that right now, it wasn’t there, and I sensed her loss.

  Her hand fell in her lap, and she looked down, her cheeks flushed, her lips still parted. Instantly, I knew I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I wanted her here, beside me, forever. I wanted to own her. The outrageous thought—one, which flared to life of its own volition—left me ashamed of myself. Below the surge of guilt, I realized with a jolt that this unknown girl whom I had literally met for the first time in my life had achieved the impossible. I respected her.

  “So you know how this works? We’re here just as friends. We met at, um. . .” I trailed off, trying to think of something and, at the same time, distracted by her long, smooth arms.

  “A Basquiat exhibition in New York,” she finished. I looked at her with a mixture of confusion and admiration. “On your profile, in your favorite quotation, it said, 'I don't listen to what art critics say. I don’t know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is.' It’s one of my favorite quotes by Basquiat as well,” she finished, her eyes still downcast.

  Okay, so she had brains. I would be lying if I didn’t say it was an additional turn-on. “Yeah. Okay. There was one at the Brooklyn Museum last month.” I hastened to keep up the conversation before my pants began to feel tight and uncomfortable again. “And we’re here just as friends,” I added in a stern tone, which made her look up from her lap and directly at me. Her eyes were hazel and almond-shaped, her lashes long. I stopped speaking.

  “I know, of course,” she said politely. “Anything else?”

  “No, not really. I think we’re good.”

  Todd held the door open as she got out of the car, then I followed.

  My parents’ home is a huge estate of a house. A long, winding driveway leads to the front entrance. The house itself is big enough to hide anything completely from view for a long distance, and behind it, there are acres and acres of gardens. Like most of their events, tonight’s was hosted here. The front of the house was lit up but empty.

  I walked cautiously, a step behind Tia. Who was this girl, and what had she done to me after barely half an hour? I watched her feet trace delicate steps along the stone path, fascinated by the graceful movement of her legs under the red silk dress. I averted my eyes to look at everything around me—anything, really—but could not keep my gaze averted from her for more than a few seconds.

  She turned around to look at me, her eyes questioning: we had reached the front of the house. The way to the back lawns led around both sides of the house, but I wanted her to walk through the house with me. I cleared my throat and opened the front door for her. As I held it open, her eyes conveyed a mixture of confusion and mistrust, but she walked in. We walked through the splendid front entrance and down the hallway that ran the length of the house, turning once. The walls on either side were adorned with large paintings, photographs of our ancestors, and a valuable collection of art. I detected a longing in her eyes, as if she wanted to stop and take her time perusing each painting individually, but she continued walking.

  A babble of voices, lights, and artificial laughter hit us as soon as we walked through the doors to the back lawns. At my side, Tia stopped for a second and took a deep breath. I spotted my mother waving at me from a crowd of overdressed women. I smiled politely as the women around her turned to look at us.

  My father emerged from nowhere and hugged me. “Neal, my boy!” he boomed in my ear. “It’s good to have you back!”

  When he released me, I introduced him to Tia. “Tia, this is my father, Brian Callaway. Dad, Tia.”

  My father looked like he wanted to say something, but he refrained; instead, he took a long swig of the champagne in his hand. That allowed just enough time for my mother to swoop down on us. As I introduced her to Tia, I registered someone hovering behind her.

  The girl who emerged from behind my mother had long, strawberry-blonde hair, a heart-shaped face and was of medium height, which she had compensated for with impossibly high heels. She had big doe eyes plastered with heavy eyeshadow. The dress she wore was hardly even there but somehow managed to portray a fair bit of class at the same time. She hugged me, both she and my mom cooing “Surprise!” at the same time. Alisha Banks.

  I stared at her, a little shell shocked by her unexpected reappearance in my world. Alisha had been my only serious girlfriend through college. I can’t say that I loved her, but we had a good time together. Until I found out that her father was a close friend of my dad’s and that she had slept with two of my friends—while we were dating—and broke things off with her.

  Now, five years later, here she was, curvier than before, her hair longer and her smile wider. A sudden image of a wolf baring its teeth before springing on its prey flashed into my mind.

  “Alisha, this is Tia. She is my date tonight.” I remembered I was supposed to introduce her as my friend as soon as the words left my mouth, but, perversely, I did not regret making the change in the slightest.

  “Ooh, I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t have one.” She grinned again, not caring how rude her comment was.

  I took Tia’s hand in mine. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I do.”

  Tia waited for an instant before taking her hand out of mine and extending it to shake Alisha’s. “It’s very nice to meet you, Alisha,” she said softly.

  “Very nice to meet you, too,” Alisha replied with a smile that was more of a sneer than anything else. She returned her eyes to mine. “I had hoped the two of us could rekindle our friendship, Neal. It’s been so long.”

  “Yes, it has, and for a reason. Excuse us,” I interjected before Alisha could respond. “There are a few people we need to say hello to.”

  Tia and I spent the next half an hour walking around the lawn and meeting different people—friends, acquaintances, donors, and relatives. However, after half an hour, I found myself at a table with some of my dad’s old friends; Tia had been swept away to a table with my mother, Alisha, and a gaggle of other women.

  I watched her from a distance as she made polite conversation with women she seemed to have nothing in common with. She said something which made most of the women around the table laugh out loud, though she responded with a gentle smile. That soft expression was beginning to etch itself into my brain.

  As I watched, Alisha cut her off mid-sentence, and the attention of the group diverted from Tia to Alisha. It was rude, and Tia looked down—another habit I was becoming familiar with. The women laughed and looked at Tia; whatever Alisha had said had been directed at Tia. I saw her cheeks color rapidly and felt my blood pressure rise in response.

  In a flash, I was out of my chair and at the table. Working hard to control my temper and trying my best to sound polite, I interrupted their vulgar laughter. “Ladies, I hope you won’t mind if I borrow my date for a while.”

  Tia looked up at me, and I couldn’t decipher the expression in her eyes. She stood up, and after excusing herself politely, she followed me back to the house.

  Once inside, I shut the door and turned towards her. “What did Alisha say?” I demanded. My question surprised her.

  “What? Nothing.” She blushed hotly.

  I looked at her flaming face, curtained by her beautiful, straight hair, and felt a pull deep inside me like nothing I had ever experienced before. Before I realized what I was doing, I leaned in and kissed her again. Her lips responded to mine as if she had simply reacted, not thought about what she was doing.

  Her lips tasted like cherries. I took the upper one between both of mine and sucked. Unexpectedly, a low moan built up in her throat, and as I slid my tongue into her mouth, Tia locke
d her fingers at the back of my neck and pulled me close.

  Flames shot up through my entire body as I felt her nipples harden under her silk dress again, tight against my chest. I pushed her back up against the wall and put my hand on one of her small, tender breasts.

  Out of nowhere, Tia pulled back. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. “I should go,” she gasped.

  “Listen—” Before I could say anything, she turned and walked, almost ran, ahead of me.

  It took me a moment to pull myself together before I followed her. We reached the front of the house, and she hurried down the front steps without looking back. “Tia…” I began again.

  She turned around to face me. “Please,” she said, her eyes pleading, and I stopped in my tracks. “I have to go.”

  She walked towards the gate while I remained standing in the front of the house, watching her leave. She was walking away from me. This girl I had met less than two hours ago, who had taken my breath away from the moment I had first looked at her. Whom I had kissed twice in less than those two hours of knowing her… She was walking away from me. Not just that, I thought as I watched her tall, slender figure move further and further away, but this was the only girl who had made me feel like there was more to life, something of value outside of my own self-focused existence. In that moment, I felt that I had been asleep my whole life and was suddenly wide awake, looking all around me, absorbing everything for the first time. She was the first person to ever jolt me awake.

  And I was pretty sure she would be the last.

  Tia

  “Nooooo,” I screamed as I took off the single bangle around my wrist and hurled it at the wall. “No,” I sobbed and sat down with my head in my hands. It was not supposed to happen like this! This was not supposed to happen.

  I had told myself over and over again to maintain a safe distance at all times. I’d repeatedly gone over all the possible scenarios in my head and prepared myself for them. What I had not prepared myself for was the way I had reacted to his touch.

  As I thought about it, I could feel my insides melting again. “Get a hold of yourself!” I yelled at myself like a schizophrenic, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

  What had happened? The last two hours were a blur in my head. I had walked out of the Callaway house and waited outside for a cab for fifteen minutes. He had not followed me.

  He had not followed me.

  The thought made me want to chuck something at the wall again. I had to pull myself together. I was all over the place.

  I pulled back my hair and tied it into a ponytail. I walked over to Ella’s room and grabbed a small pack of makeup wipes from her dressing table, knowing she wouldn't mind. Standing in front of her mirror, I cleaned my face of all remnants of makeup and tears.

  After my face was clean, I went back to my room and turned the shower on cold. I slipped out of my dress and stood under the chilled water for a long time. When I emerged, I was trembling with cold but squeaky clean.

  My mom used to do yoga to pull herself together. I remembered the peace she always seemed to find, so I sat down on the rug with my legs crossed and took a few deep breaths. Neal Callaway’s face swam in front of my eyes, and once again, the thought hammered at my brain: why hadn’t he followed me?

  Because he is playboy and probably doesn’t care enough to follow if you don’t put out. I told myself that a few times, but it didn’t really help. Serves me right, too. What the hell was I thinking? Kissing him back—I was a fool, an idiot… and thoroughly disappointed in myself.

  Ella had gone out with a man who was her superior at the firm where she worked, sort of her boss, actually. Harry was charming, polite, and good-looking. I liked him. He had asked Ella out a few days ago, and tonight was their first official date, which meant I had the place to myself for at least another two or three hours.

  I fixed myself a sandwich and ate it in front of the TV because I could not bear to be alone with my thoughts. Afterwards—though I normally rejected even the possibility— I took a Xanax with a cup of tea. I really needed to get some sleep, and hopefully a fresh perspective on tonight. On its own, sleep would never come. I found the tablet on Ella’s dressing table, the place of magical problem-solving. Within five minutes, I had plopped down on my bed and gone straight to sleep.

  ***

  I don’t know when the dreams started. I do know that I slept peacefully for a few hours before they began.

  Neal’s face swam in front of me, the look in his eyes pleading, different from anything I had seen during the course of the evening. He reached for me, but I stepped away; he looked so dejected that I was ashamed. The dream changed. I saw my mother sitting cross-legged on a rug on the floor. She looked up at me and cried out, “My daughter! Do not run!” I woke up, gasping and sweating, tears in my eyes.

  Going back to sleep was not an option, so I got up. I washed my face and once again reached for my gold chain, absent as it had been for weeks. I had worn that chain for more than ten years. Mom had given it to me on my twelfth birthday. Would I always reach for it?

  By the time I emerged from my room, Ella was making coffee. “Morning,” she chirped. At least someone around here was happy.

  “Morning,” I replied, trying to infuse as much brightness into my greeting and my smile as possible. The result was a loopy, zombie-like effect which Ella chose not to comment on in order to continue in her happy mood.

  “How was your night? And more importantly, how was your night?” She winked and grinned at the same time.

  “It was… okay,” I lied, my face impassive. “Nothing remarkable… you know, the usual. But I wanna hear all about yours.” Heavens only knew I was in a hurry to change the subject from me and my night.

  Ella grinned again. “Gooood!” She laughed. “Good, good!”

  Wait. That was not a usual Ella response to my vague and unsatisfying answer. She was so giddy that she wasn’t worried about me, which was a nice change. I glanced at her again and gasped. “Ella!” I choked on the coffee she had just handed me. “You little whore! Is that a hickey?!”

  She grinned as a man’s voice sounded from behind us. “So… Ella, mind if I use your shower?”

  We turned at the same time, and in the doorway stood a six-foot-something man with not a hint of clothing on his body. In my haste to turn back around, I barely managed to hang on to my cup, though with difficulty. Tall, dark and handsome: this was definitely not Harry from work.

  “Help yourself, Guy.” She chuckled. He disappeared into her room, and I fixed Ella with a pointed stare, not bothering with words. “Oh, what?” she hissed. “Harry bored the hell out of me, so I ditched him and went to a bar where I met Guy. You know… the usual.”

  After Ella and her… well, her whatever left, I tried to think of ways to occupy myself. I still felt tired from last night, so I laid down for a bit. Just as I found a comfortable position in my bed, my phone buzzed.

  I picked it up. It was a notification from the damned app. Money has been transferred to your account by Neal Callaway.

  My blood boiled in my veins. Who the fuck did he think he was? I didn’t need his money. I was just doing it because… Why had I done it? Why had I ever let Ella talk me into doing something so stupid? In light of this morning’s conversation and the appearance of Guy, it wasn’t as if her judgment could exactly be trusted.

  I was immersed in these thoughts when my phone buzzed again. An unknown number had texted: Tia. My heart leapt to my throat, and before I had even checked the sender’s identity, I knew who it was. I opened the messenger and tapped on the number. N. Callaway was accompanied by a photo of him in a deep blue blazer, looking unbelievably handsome. My heart beat faster.

  He was typing again. I’m sorry about last night. I would like to get to know you, and to do that, I would really like to take you out sometime.

  I blinked at the screen several times, then turned it off and put it to the side. My resolution not to pick it up last
ed only a few seconds. Before I could stop myself, I was typing back.

  Why did you transfer money into my account?

  Oh, um, my assistant must have done that. I am sorry if that offended you.

  Oh.

  Can I take you out to dinner tonight? I stared blankly at the screen, my mind apparently in pause mode. So we can start over?

  I thought for a moment, though it didn’t do much good; my mind was as blank as a slate.

  Coffee, I responded after a too-long pause. Five p.m. And surprise me.

  I put my phone in my drawer and lay down again, but that only lasted a few seconds as well. Damn it, I had never been this obsessed with my phone, even as a teenager.

  I’ll pick you up at five.

  Tia

  At half past four, I was ready. I wore a short, white, sleeveless chiffon dress with white Louis Vuitton peep-toes, my last birthday present from my mom. I had pulled my hair back in a low bun at the nape of my neck and wore a thin, silver necklace with small crystal earrings. For courage, I had sprinkled white eye shadow on my eyelids and put on strawberry pink lip-gloss. I looked in the mirror and thought I looked quite charming.

  At one minute to five, my doorbell rang. It’s him.

  I looked out the window and saw him leaning casually against his car. I was a noob when it came to cars, but even I was familiar with this one—it had been plastered all over the advertisements in papers and on billboards: a BMW i8, in black. And the only thing hotter than the car was the man leaning against it.

  Neal wore cream-colored pants with a light, camel-colored shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, and the front buttons of his shirt were open to catch the light evening breeze. With a pair of dark shades, he looked like a model on the runway. My heart skipped a beat. I forced my legs to move; I could look at this view forever.

  I negotiated the stairs very carefully—I did not wear heels often. As I emerged from the front door, Neal looked up from his cell phone and took off his shades. “Hi,” he broke into a smile upon seeing me. “I was just about to text you.”