The Billionaire's Christmas Bundle Of Joy - A Secret Baby Romance

by Holly Rayner

  “You know, I can talk to Jeff. We can rearrange your schedule.”

  Mia exhaled through her nose. “I’m not comfortable with that, really. I don’t need to give Jeff another reason to hate me.”

  “I can order him not to hate you,” James said, laughing.

  “That’s kind of my point,” Mia shrugged. “I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am. I don’t want him to assume that I’m only as successful as I am because of our relationship. I’m too proud for it.”

  “I appreciate a woman who’s proud,” James said, folding his fingers over her soft shoulder. “I’m attracted to it, actually.”

  “To my cockiness?” she teased.

  “I’m a bit of an egomaniac,” James joked. “I need to be with a woman whose ego can match mine.”

  The limo halted in front of the Italian restaurant, called Giovanni’s, in the center of downtown. John reached the limo door first and escorted Mia to the curb. He whispered in her ear. “If his ego ever gets too much to bear, you know where to find me.”

  “In the front seat?” she teased.

  “Precisely,” John said, giving her a light pat on the back. “Have fun, you two.”

  James reached her, then, and brought his arm around her shoulders. His hand was warm on her chilled skin. He led her into the restaurant, wearing a confident smile. She felt her lips curl up in a grin as the upper crust of Portland turned their wine-tipsy eyes toward them.

  James waved his hand toward some of the men and women he’d grown to know in Portland since he’d become a part of this echelon. “Just smile and wave,” he whispered to Mia. “It’s the mantra I continue to tell myself, every day, and you know what? It gets you much further than you think.”

  The hostess led them to a private table on the second floor. Mia grasped the railing of the steps, gazing out at the candlelit restaurant. Light glinted in red and white wines, and women and men dined on elegant pasta dishes, gazing into each other’s eyes. Behind them, downtown Portland glinted through the window. It was truly one of the most romantic, most sophisticated scenes she’d ever seen.

  The hostess opened up a large set of doors, revealing their private table, drenched in candlelight. Mia gasped at the view. It was completely decorated for Christmas! Garlands hung above the table, and red bows lined the room. A Christmas tree brimmed with light in the corner, and a record player emitted crackling Billie Holiday, the very music they’d listened to that fateful night. Best of all, above the table, above the table hung a sprig of mistletoe.

  Mia blinked toward him. “You thought of everything,” she said, breathless. “How did you do it?”

  James didn’t answer, but brought his face toward hers, and kissed her deeply. They were alone in their little Christmas world, locked in a snow globe of affection and hope for the future.

  In the back of her mind, Mia reminded herself that it didn’t matter that she didn’t know the “true James” yet. To her, the “true” James was a thoughtful individual who took care of her, who rubbed her back when she was tired, who arranged Italian restaurants to decorate for Christmas, even in the middle of June.

  “Who are you?” she whispered when they broke their kiss. “Are you my prince charming?”

  “If you’ll be my princess,” James laughed. He played with the strands of hair that fell loose around her ears, and Mia felt love flow through her. “Actually. I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he continued. “Or at least—think about something.”

  “Sure,” Mia said softly. “What is it?”

  “I was wondering if you would want to become my girlfriend. For real.” James’ eyes were filled with light. His words were genuine and kind.

  Mia fell into her “yes” without a second’s delay; she couldn’t imagine saying anything else.

  They sealed the promise with a kiss: two lovers deciding to follow the same path, to bring a human into the world together. There was a risk, Mia knew, that their smiles would falter, that maybe they wouldn’t find joy at each other’s side forever. But there, in that moment, they were aligned. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

  SEVENTEEN

  Mia entered her second trimester with limited weight gain, no more nausea, and with that healthy, baby glow still shining from her every pore. Theresa often told her how jealous she was.

  “It’s like you don’t even need makeup anymore,” the makeup artist scoffed, her hands on her hips. She began applying light blush on Mia’s cheeks. The feel of the bristles tickled her sensitive skin.

  “I’m working on this fascinating segment right now,” Mia began, her lips moving tentatively. Her hands were stretched over her belly. “It’s about this man who was in a coma for fifteen years.”

  “Oh yeah?” Theresa mumbled. She was never terribly interested in the goings-on of Mia’s news position. It wasn’t her world. “A coma? And his family left him like that for so long?”

  “That’s the thing,” Mia said, snapping her fingers. “He woke up last week and didn’t have anyone; he has amnesia and has no idea who he is. He learned that he’d been found near the river with no ID, fifteen years ago. And because it was clear that he was fine, that he could wake up any day, the hospital kept him on support.”

  “God, can you imagine being fed through a tube for fifteen years, and then finally being able to enjoy a burger?” Theresa asked, flipping a comb through Mia’s hair. “I imagine that must be what heaven is like.”

  But Mia was lost in thought, thinking only of the upcoming interview she had with the man in question. It was one of the harder-hitting stories she’d ever been given to cover, despite its very human-interest angle. She wasn’t prepared to mess it up.

  Mia darted from the makeup room and started her jeep in the parking lot, knowing she was meant to meet the man—who’d been given the name Cody Preston by the nurses—at the local diner in ten minutes. She ensured she had her notebook, her tape recorder, and her pens with her. In her pocket, her phone buzzed, but she ignored it, knowing it was probably James, calling to tell her something sweet. But she couldn’t lose focus. Not when this story was so important to her.

  She arrived at the diner three minutes early and trotted toward the back booth, flipping open her notes. She’d spent the entire night creating these questions. A waitress set a glass of water and an orange juice in front of her, and she didn’t look up.

  Finally, Cody Preston—or whatever his real name was—entered the diner, jangling the bell. He smiled warmly as Mia stood up to greet him and gestured to her growing belly. “I didn’t realize you were pregnant,” he said.

  “I guess that’s not something you can hear over the phone,” Mia joked. She wanted to make him comfortable, despite the gravity of his situation. They sat. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m feeling fine, all things considered,” Cody said, gesturing to the waitress for a coffee. “The state has set me up with an apartment while I look for a job. I don’t know what my skills are, so I suppose I’ll just do bartending or something. Whatever I can find, until I figure some stuff out.”

  Mia nodded, pressing play on her recorder. “I’m sure it’s been a whirlwind for you.”

  “It’s been a nightmare,” Cody said, folding his arms. “I have no idea what kind of life I was living before this. I’m not sure who I was, where I came from. When I walk the streets of Portland, I seem to know where I am and how to get places. Maybe that tells me that I’m from here, or at least that I spent a good deal of time here. But I’m not sure.”

  “That must be really disconcerting,” Mia said.

  “It is, it really is.”

  “What were the first thoughts you had when you woke up in that hospital bed last week?” She tapped her pen on her lips, leaning toward him.

  “Let’s see,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “I thought—I’m in a hospital bed. There must have been an accident. And then I remember peering down at my hands and wondering why they looked so old and wrinkly.�
�� He laughed at himself. “They tell me that I look much younger than 45 because I haven’t been eating bad foods or sitting in the sun. But to me, I look so much older than I know myself to be, on the inside. But I don’t have the memories to back it up.”

  Mia nodded, frowning. “So. What are you doing to discover your identity? How are you starting the search for your past?”

  “Well, this news broadcast will hopefully help my cause. Perhaps someone who knows me will reach out. Perhaps they’ll tell me where I came from and what the heck I was doing near that river that day.” He shook his head. “It’s so strange, knowing you have a body, a mind, all these thoughts—and not knowing where they came from. It’s been so strange creating these memories over the past week and knowing I have a backlog, somewhere in my mind.”

  “Do you feel like you’ve always been this person, then? Do you feel like you’re following old instincts, despite not remembering how you know them?”

  “Maybe,” Cody said, shrugging. “But I can’t be sure. When I look into your eyes, I get this slight, glinting memory. Something snarls back there, like I knew a girl who looked similar to you or maybe had similar mannerisms to you, I don’t know. But it’s horrible, because when you’re meeting new people, you want to reveal so much about yourself. You want to give them as much as you can about your past and how it defines you. And I can’t do that.”

  The interview continued for another thirty minutes or so. Afterwards, Mia sat speechless behind the wheel of her jeep, sweltering in the heat. She felt sweat beads rise up beneath her armpits, on her forehead. In the diner, Cody Preston had seemed so lost, and yet so certain that his past was the missing key to understanding the world. She’d agreed with him wholeheartedly, finding herself explaining to him that she’d grown up in foster homes and children’s homes all over the state. “I feel like this defines me,” she’d told him. “I wouldn’t be who I am today without it.”

  “And that’s what I mean about my past,” Cody had said. “I’m probably not even a Cody. What was I like as a kid? What made me tick? And how does this play into who I am today?” He had shrugged, at a loss. “That’s really what I’m trying to figure out.”

  Mia drove back to the studio, her arms and hands shaking. Since she and James had begun their relationship full-force, things had been wonderful. They’d spent long weekends together, living in pajamas and getting to know each other intimately. She’d journeyed with him to Orlando for a mini-vacation, while he busied himself with work. He’d taken her to luxurious restaurants, catered to her every whim. But every time she’d inquired about his past—digging into why he’d chosen the college he had, wondering about his mother and father—he’d shut her down.

  “I just don’t like talking about that stuff,” James had said. “I just believe that you are who you create. Nobody you met, nobody who tries to influence you, is truly who you are today. Don’t you agree? Besides, I really don’t think you or anyone else would find it interesting.” And every time, he’d blink up at her with such glorious, bright eyes, bringing her either to agree with him whole-heartedly or wrap her arms around him and fall into a close, heart-thumping kiss.

  But it had to stop. The interview with Cody Preston had alerted Mia to that. She didn’t know anything about James’ past. She knew little things: that he’d begun his career at 22, that he’d become a billionaire at 27, that his favorite food was chicken parmigiana. But she didn’t know why the current James lived the way he did. Why had he so craved his billionaire status? Why did he yearn to be constantly on the move?

  Mia walked up the steps of the office building, her mind racing. James had arrived back that morning from a trip to Tennessee, and she hated to make her first greeting with him so stunted with questions. But his evasiveness was making her crazy.

  She took a deep breath outside his office, recognizing Jeff’s voice on the other side. They were discussing work—or arguing about it, more like. “I just don’t think she’s ready for that kind of segment,” Jeff explained. Mia heard him thump his fist on James’ desk.

  Her heart ached. Were they talking about her? Had James requested that she get better stories?

  “She’s a talented woman,” James retorted. “And I believe—and have, for quite some time—that you’re a sexist. About as sexist as they come, Jeff.”

  Jeff’s voice grew. “I am not a sexist.”

  “When was the last time you promoted a woman at this station?”

  “You put me in charge, James. You had faith that I would promote the right people at the right time. And I don’t believe I’ve done anything to alter that faith.”

  “Until now,” James said back.

  Mia sensed that Jeff would leap from the office in only a moment, and she ran around the corner, breathing heavily.

  Inwardly, she glowed with the knowledge that James was watching out for her. However, contrarily, she hated that he’d asked. She wanted Jeff to take notice of her on his own, even though she knew she was probably fighting a losing battle.

  She heard Jeff leave the room, then, muttering to himself. “Asshole,” he spouted. She peered around the corner to catch him rubbing angrily at his bald spot.

  She felt a brief moment of fear before walking back toward the office, righting her shoulders. She peered into the cracked doorway and gave James a bright smile. “Hello, there. Welcome back from the Deep South.”

  James brought his face up from the newspaper and got to his feet, ushering her toward him. “How was your week, baby?” He kissed her deeply, placing his hand on her stomach. “You’re looking ravishing.”

  “It was fine—” she murmured, trying to bring her mind back to its mission. “I actually have a pretty interesting story coming out this afternoon.”

  “Not just dogs who befriend chickens, like the week before last?” James teased. He pointed at the doorway, back toward Jeff. “I’m talking to him about it, darling. I’ll get this worked out for you.”

  But Mia waved her hand. “Actually, this piece is about a man who recently woke up from a coma. He was in the coma for fifteen years.”

  “I wish I could be in a coma for fifteen years. I need the sleep,” James joked, folding his paper. “What happened to him?”

  “That’s the thing. Nobody knows, not even him. He doesn’t know his name, where he came from…anything.” Her words sped up with excitement. “I just met up with him at the diner—”

  “You don’t have to go to a diner,” James said, interrupting her. “I’m happy to give you cash so you don’t have to eat burnt grilled cheese.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Can I get back to my story now?”

  “Please proceed,” James answered teasingly.

  “Thank you. So he was found by a river, unconscious, fifteen years ago, and now he’s on a mission to recover his memories. I think it’s fascinating. He says he knows he’s living with all the knowledge he’s ever had. I mean, how else could he know how to drive a car? How else could he know his way around Portland? His past is still all there, but he just can’t access it the way we can.” She pointed to her head, excitement pouring through her. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s been blessed with amnesia,” James said, standing from his desk. His eyes darkened. “If I could forget the past completely and live in this present with you and the baby, I would.”

  Mia frowned. She followed him to the window, where they peered out at the August heat. The sun blasted against the black tar of the parking lot.

  “I wish I knew more, actually,” she whispered. “I wish I could remember what it felt like the first time I ate one of those burnt grilled cheeses. I wish I could remember exactly what my first kiss felt like. It was probably a whirlwind.”

  James shrugged. “But now that you’ve nixed out everything you don’t like, why can’t you just live with this reality? Without bothering with the other stuff?”

  Mia felt her foot slam on the floor, then. Would he ever see her side to any argument? Or was hi
s ego just that much more powerful than hers?

  “Listen, James.” She turned to him with a firm expression. “I was thinking. I hardly know anything about you.”

  “And I’ve told you it’s not interesting. You really don’t want to know.” James scratched the back of his head a bit too hard. She could tell it bothered him, her bringing this up again. Her knee-jerk reaction was to end the conversation, and fast.

  Mia grasped his hand, then. She cradled it before placing it on her stomach. “Do you feel it?”

  “He or she’s hardly kicking yet, right?” James said, his voice playful.

  “It’s your life and line, in there,” she whispered, ignoring him. “And when this baby is born, when this baby grows into a breathing human, he or she is really going to want to learn about you. Our child will want to know where you came from. What your parents were like—or are like. I don’t even know if they’re living or dead.” She felt breathless. “If you don’t tell me about your past, then how can you expect to pass this on to your child? We’re a family now, James; we have to be honest with each other about where we came from. And if we have any demons in our past, we have to overcome them. Together.”