Billionaire's Secret Babies (An Alpha Billionaire Secret Baby Romance Love Story)

by Claire Adams

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "Been too long. Needed it," I gasped. I took the water, but I tried to walk past him to the guest room.

  Penn caught my arm gently. "I think I called enough of the shots yesterday. How about you get to plan today?"

  I shook my head and groaned as my legs ached. "If I call the shots, then I'm going back to bed."

  "Sounds good to me," Penn said with a warm glance.

  I shoved him, glad to be back on the solid ground of our teasing banter. "How about we finally use that spa day your mother and father set up for your birthday?"

  It was Penn's turn to groan. "I thought you didn't like the idea of being cooped up all day."

  "It's a resort. I'm sure they've got gardens and pools. That'll have to be enough outside for you. I want the royal treatment."

  I didn't understand why that casual comment made him frown until his driver pulled into the driveway of the resort. A team of four people greeted us at the car in a rush of ingratiating welcomes. Xavier Templeton had made the reservation, and any guest of his was getting the full service. It took us ten minutes and eight hundred questions about the smallest preferences before we were able to move through the lobby.

  "We have champagne available, if you would like," the manager said with a slight bow.

  Penn's lip curled up at the man's sniveling offer. "No, thanks. We just came here to relax."

  The manager nodded and then proceeded to introduce Penn and me to every one of the staff. Each staff member was instructed to take extra special care of us.

  At first, I loved the attention. I had only gone halfway down the hallway to the women's changing area when I was already gifted a satin robe, a pair of supple leather sandals, and an appointment to have a perfume custom-made.

  "So, what first?" Penn asked, literally fighting off the circle of staff all ready to help. He turned his back on them and raised an eyebrow at me.

  I ran through the incredibly long menu of services, plus the additional perks Mr. Templeton was offered. It was impossible to find something that would not include a hovering staff. Then, I saw an idea and smiled. Penn might be disgusted with the royal treatment, but I had an idea to make it work for us.

  "I like the sound of the hot springs. Maybe at this time of day, it won't be too crowded?" I asked.

  The manager immediately promised that we would have the hot springs all to ourselves for the next two hours. Penn laughed at the thought of anyone spending two hours in the super-heated water, but he nodded. The flock of staff members scattered, and within minutes, we were escorted out to the steaming pools and left on our own.

  "Well-played," Penn said. "But I thought you wanted to take advantage? What happened to wanting everything?"

  "I am regretting that you turned down the champagne," I said.

  Penn grinned as I slipped out of my satin robe and into the hot springs. "Then I'll get it for you, with my own money, and not on Xavier's tab. I want you to know who to thank."

  I tied my hair up in a bun. "Then I'll thank myself for having such a great idea. Are you sure you can afford champagne? They'll bring you the best bottle, whether that's what you want or not."

  "Funny you should mention that." Penn sat down next to the hot spring and dipped his feet in the steaming water. He flagged down a faraway, hovering staff member and ordered the champagne. "There's talk that this black sheep is reformed, and now that he's getting married, he might even get his trust fund back."

  "Trust fund?"

  Penn laughed. "Yeah. I'd forgotten all about it, but since I turned thirty, my accountant called to mention it. The amount doubles if I get married during my thirtieth year."

  He chuckled over it like a great joke, but even the super-heated water could not warm the chill I suddenly felt. So, now, I was just the means for him to reclaim the money he'd throw away?

  When the champagne arrived, it tasted sour. It was probably the hot water and the steam, but to me, it felt like more. I recognized the label on the bottle and knew there was no way I could afford that champagne. Not even if I worked successfully at the Ritz for ten years.

  It always came back to the money. I felt it in my gut like a hard twist. If I couldn't earn the money for something, then I couldn't have it. That had been the hard lesson learned again and again in my childhood, but now it was the line against which I measured my morals.

  I needed to make my own way. I could never be dependent on another like my mother had been.

  All those years she cared for my father, stayed at home with me, and then when she was sick, he couldn't afford to give her good care, much less the best. She wasted away under that negligence, unable to take care of herself. I had promised myself then that I would always be able to take care of myself, no matter what.

  "Not enjoying the hot springs?" Penn asked. He splashed into the water beside me, despite the prominent beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. "You can always go in and do the whole facial, hot-stone massage, manicure, or whatever else you want."

  I shook my damp head. "No, this is a birthday gift for you. I'm just taking advantage. Actually, I think I'm going to go."

  I hauled myself out of the heavenly hot water and grabbed a resort towel.

  Penn caught my ankle. "Hey, don't look so down. I have an idea if you want to get out of here. You know, you haven't given me a birthday present yet."

  I tugged my ankle away from him and gave him a rueful smile. "I know what you think would make a good birthday present, but I'm sorry; that's not part of our deal."

  "Our deal," he snorted. "It's not really a business transaction, you know."

  I had to grab a lawn chair to steady myself when he pulled himself out of the water. The steam clung to him, his tanned skin slick with the water. He brushed it off his arms and chest, but the heat still shone on his skin. I had the wild desire to taste him and had to shake it off before I could form a clear thought.

  "Fine. It's not business, but it's not a relationship either. And we're not going to sleep together, if that's what you're thinking of as a present." I wrapped the towel tighter around me.

  Penn shook water droplets from his shaggy hair. "No. That's not what I was thinking. I was thinking that this resort has a really great little Tiki bar."

  "Bar? It's a little early in the morning for that, don't you think?"

  He plucked the still half-full champagne bottle out of the ice stand. "I know the bar's not open, but when you see it, I think you'll be glad we took full advantage of our hosts here."

  He was right, I later grumbled to myself.

  We had put our clothes back on and announced our intention of using the bar. The ingratiating manager scurried in front of us and threw open the padded doors that led to the Tiki bar. He turned on the lights, pointed out more, and then bowed to Penn's edict that we be left alone.

  "Darn," I joked. "Who's going to pour me a drink?"

  Penn winked and slid behind the bar. He made a big show of uncorking our already open bottle of champagne and filling my glass. I took a sip as he fumbled with the switches on the back wall.

  "There. That should do it. Now, look," Penn nodded behind me.

  I turned around and choked on the fizzing bubbles in my champagne. The bar was small, but one whole corner was taken over by a raised dais. The small stage was set apart by Tiki torches and a palm leaves backdrop. Penn played around with a few more switches and managed to turn on the waterfall that poured down from the ceiling into a pool at the foot of the stage.

  "How about a song? It was the most romantic part of how we met," Penn said.

  "Yes. Oh, by the way, good job with that. I've never heard one evening get stretched into a year so easily." I couldn't help but approach the stage. Penn waved me on, and I stepped up. "Who am I supposed to sing to?"

  "Mickey," Penn said with a playful smile. He grabbed a shaker and pretended to make a drink. "He's a down-on-his-luck bartender in love with a beautiful torch singer. Until one night he gets a
big enough tip he can finally ask her to elope."

  "Oh, so now we're eloping?" I asked, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach.

  "Come on," Penn pleaded. "There has to be a song along those lines."

  I started singing and was delighted when Penn froze. He stood with the empty shaker suspended in the air until I laughed through the chorus. Then he went about his pantomime of Mickey the bartender.

  For my part, I grabbed the mic and brought my song through the round tables. I pretended to flirt with patrons, sing while I caressed the faces of other men. Then, I brought the wistful end of the song right up to the bar and jumped up to sit on it and sing just for him.

  The embers in Penn's eyes died out with the last note. "That was fun, but what if I'm tired of pretending?"

  I didn't know what to say, but we were interrupted. A man stepped apologetically from the doorway and cleared his throat. "I don't mean to intrude, but I have to know if you are available," the man said.

  "Available? No, she's not," Penn said. He rolled up his sleeve and suddenly looked every inch the protective bartender boyfriend to my sultry singer.

  "Are you her manager? Because I have to say, you would be wonderful here on a Friday, Saturday night." The man held out his business card, and I took it. "Just think about it. You want to sing, and this stage is yours."

  "Well, what do you know," I chuckled when the bar owner disappeared. "Mickey and his singer might make it after all. The perfect happy ending to their love story, don't you think?"

  Penn shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm a cynical bachelor, remember?"

  I rolled my eyes. "How could I forget? Oh, yeah, you proposed to me."

  "To make my mother happy," Penn said. "Which is really the height of irony seeing as my parents were never married. They fought too much, wanted all different things, and never agreed on anything. That was my example of love, and I gotta say, I'm not impressed."

  I crossed my arms and leaned on the bar. "So, you really are faking the whole thing?"

  "Yeah," Penn scoffed. "It's just a harmless diversion."

  Harmless, I thought as my heart tumbled over and over.

  I shook my head. "No. I don't think anyone's that good an actor. I bet you're really a romantic; you're just too stubborn to admit it."

  Penn tossed down a bar rag and walked around the end to join me. "Sounds like a challenge to me. The only problem is, I think you're the one who’s not up for it. Are you telling me that Ms. Practical, Ms. Life Plan, could actually be so spontaneous as to fall in love? Doesn't work. You're ruled by your head, just like me."

  I stuck out my hand, rankled that he thought me so cold and sharply leveled. "I accept your challenge. I bet by the time our little fake engagement has run its course, I will find a way to show you what real love looks like."

  "How Shakespearian," Penn chuckled. "Then again, I've always been partial to the farces."

  We shook on it, and I schemed over it all the way back to his house. There, it didn't seem fair to point out the obvious love between Alice and Xavier.

  Penn's father held both of Alice’s hands while they stood by his town car and said goodbye. Alice was leaving for her encampment and would be back to start her treatments in earnest. Xavier brushed her hair back and skimmed her cheek with his fingers as they talked.

  Penn saw, too, but didn't say anything. The tense clench of his jaw told me he didn't trust it. He was waiting for his father to push her away or his mother to run off. He must have seen them like this a dozen times only to have it erased by other, harder memories. Love was never just one thing, and it wasn't always pretty.

  I tried to think of a way to tell him that. I wanted to tell him the most beautiful love I had seen was my mother comforting my father even as she lay dying. It had been an ugly, sobbing scene, but deep in my heart, I knew it was love. The memory made me flinch, and I tucked it away again where it wouldn't hurt.

  Then, Xavier spotted us. The cool, considering look he gave me made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had, overnight, become exactly what Penn's father had accused me of. I was holding a position that I did not deserve and scheming over ways to make it real.

  "Back from enjoying the luxuries of the spa?" Xavier asked.

  Penn shrugged. "We didn't really get into the whole spa, pampering, hovered-over thing. But it was nice, and I suppose I have you to thank for that."

  "Don't mention it," Xavier said, but he looked at me with an arched brow.

  "Thank you," I said and made a beeline for the house.

  Penn's father was on to me, and I didn't like how his dark eyes seemed to look straight through me. I hoped he was about to go off on a round of business meetings or conference calls, but Xavier seemed to be at leisure. He strolled into the kitchen as I was washing an apple in the sink. I pretended not to notice him, but that made everything worse.

  I got nervous, and when I'm nervous, I sing. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I turned around and saw Xavier's face. The sharp suspicion was softened as he held his eyes almost closed and listened.

  When I stopped, Xavier's eyes flew open. "You really do have talent, and that's the truth."

  "Why do you say it like that?" I asked, my fingers bruising the apple. "Do you think I'm lying about other things?"

  "I'm not sure." Xavier was honest. "There's something you're hiding, but I'm not sure it has to do with Penn."

  I shrugged, determined not to give an inch to a man who'd always gotten everything. "You're paranoid. Actually, it's very understandable. You're stuck in a situation that you cannot control where you are trying to protect people you love. The only problem is that what you're trying to protect those loved ones against will never be under your control. So, you're looking for someone to blame."

  "Do they teach grief-counseling in hospitality school?"

  I sighed. "Still studying my background check?"

  "No," Xavier said, "and I'm not going to apologize about that."

  I set the apple down and looked at Penn's father. "And I'm not going to apologize for being here for your son. He apparently needed someone on his side for once."

  Xavier gave a sad laugh. "That's the truth. I'm not against him–I've never been against him–it's just that we never seem to be on the same team. I just hope that you really are."

  "Trying to control things that are out of your control is going to exhaust you."

  His smile had a sharp edge. "So wise for someone so young. That's what's off about you. Still, I have to admit that you're right. Just remember, Corsica; love is out of everyone's control."

  Penn joined us in the kitchen, wary of our quiet and serious tones. "Please tell me you are not trying to interrogate my future bride."

  "No," Xavier sighed. "We were just talking about how love can reach out and knock you off your chosen path, no matter who you are or who you think you want to be."

  "What was all that about?" Penn asked me when his father left.

  "Are you sure he isn't on to us?" I asked, rubbing my forehead.

  He snorted. "You're the one who invited him to stay here, remember? Don't worry. Business will soon grab his attention again. The man can't live without his work. You'll see. Nothing else will matter when there's a new deal on the table."

  I felt my headache tighten. It wasn't Xavier I was worried about. It was my deal with Penn. How was I going to keep up my end if I myself was falling in love?

  Chapter Eleven

  Penn

  Corsica is wearing a new dress, I thought. Or maybe one of her few designer pieces in a new way. I didn't want to admit it, but I had snooped through her room earlier in the day.

  She was a complete mystery to me, even more so now that I knew her suitcase was very light. Yet every day she was a new combination of fashion and expense. It seemed to prove she was used to making something of nothing, but I worried it also showed her desire for only the good things in life. What if Corsica wanted nothing but the best money could buy?

 
I could give her anything she desired, but that thought made my heart twist hard. That's something my father had tried to do with my mother. When it didn't work, he covered up the failure with alcohol, and things only got worse.

  Maybe this was Corsica, rich or poor, I hoped.

  She swatted away my father's hand when he tried to add a few herbs to the sauce she was cooking. "I don't care how sophisticated your palate is; if you screw up my mother's recipe, I'll toss this whole pot in the ocean," Corsica said.

  My father laughed, and I hated to admit I liked the sound. Instead, I sauntered into the kitchen and leaned over Corsica's shoulder. "Looks good, but not nearly as good as this outfit you're wearing."

  She elbowed me in the ribs. "Quit teasing me. I'm living out of a suitcase."

  "If you won't let me help with the cooking, then I'll just go pick a wine," Xavier said.

  I nuzzled her neck long after my father had left the kitchen. "I wasn't putting on a show for him," I said, lips still tracing along her shoulder. "You look wonderful."

  "I've been wearing one of three dresses this whole time. I might need to go shopping while we're here." Corsica shied away from my continued kisses.

  "No," I said, wondering if she expected me to pay for a spree. "I think it's just you. You look more elegant when you're relaxed."

  Corsica shook her head, unwilling to accept the compliment. "How can I relax when your father's been critiquing each step of this recipe and you're distracting me? Do you really want burned sauce?"

  I laughed and caught her hand. "I don't care if we have to throw the whole dinner out. What's this wonderful song?"

  Her cheeks colored as I pulled her into a slow dance. We swayed, pressed close together in the kitchen until my father returned.

  He put the bottle of wine down on the counter and made no move to give us privacy. "I can play this song," he said, and then his phone rang. "I promise I'll play it again for you later, but I have to take this call."

  "That's too bad," Corsica said as my father promptly disappeared. "Why can't he, of all people, just take the night off?"