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

by Claire Adams

  "I'm sorry for your loss," I said as she threw her arms around my neck, clinging to me. I could feel her fighting back the sobs as she held onto me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly as I looked straight ahead at my father's casket.

  "I didn't know if you were coming home or not," she choked out as she let go enough to step back and look up at me. I could see the pain in her eyes, but I ignored it.

  "I didn't know if I could," I said without emotion. "But here I am."

  "I'm so glad you came," she said as she laid a hand on my cheek and smiled sadly. "I know your father would have appreciated it."

  "I'm sure he would have," I said flatly as I looked over at the open casket just to make sure it was, in fact, my father lying in it. "He'd have liked one more chance to tell me how much I messed up my life."

  "Jackson, please," my mother quietly pleaded. "Not today. Please, not today."

  "Fine," I said curtly. "Not today."

  "Or any other day," my brother added as he joined the family circle nodding at me. "Jack."

  "Lincoln," I said in the same blank tone. My older brother was the star of the family. He was the one who had done everything my father had expected and had, for all intents and purpose, been his right hand man for years. He was two years older than me, but people often mistook us for twins. I didn't expect that to happen today, though, since I'd decided to forgo shaving and had left my tie in my suitcase. I'd done it on purpose, knowing that my father would have been appalled by my lack of decorum.

  "Good of you to make it," Lincoln said looking me over and then shaking his head. "Couldn't you have dressed properly for the occasion—or shaved, at the very least?"

  "I guess I lack your impeccable sense of dress and hygiene, brother dear," I said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "But then again, I don't have a wife who maps out every minute detail of my life for me and tells me how to function."

  "I wonder why that is," Lincoln said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned forward and added, "It couldn't be because you're incapable of forming any kind of relationship that requires you to stick around longer than 48 hours, could it?"

  "No,” I shot back with venom, “but it could be because I never had my head so far up my father's ass that I'd let him pick out a woman for me to marry."

  "Boys! Please, stop it!" my mother hissed as she grabbed our arms and pulled us to the side of the room, away from the mourners. She looked back and forth between the two of us, and said, "I don't care how you feel about your father or each other or this family, but I will not have the two of you fighting today. I won't have it! Do you understand me?"

  Lincoln and I dutifully nodded as she gripped our arms so hard we both winced. That's how things are done in the Yates family. If you don't get what you want the first time, you use enough force to ensure that everyone eventually complies.

  "Fine," I finally conceded. "I need a drink."

  "No,” my mother said in a steely voice, “you'll come stand in the receiving line and talk to the people who are here to express their condolences for the loss of your father. Today you will do what I need."

  She let go of my arm and ran a hand over her skirt, smoothing away the imaginary wrinkles before turning and heading back to the receiving line. Lincoln and I followed her like obedient puppies and then stood guard on either side of her as she received condolences from what seemed like an endless line of people.

  "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Yates," the chubby woman in the midnight-blue velvet dress sobbed as she grabbed my mother and enfolded her in a bone-crushing hug. My mother patted her back and let the woman hug her for a few moments before stepping back and giving her a brave smile.

  "Thank you, Norma," my mother said. "I know Bernard appreciated all the wonderful years of service you gave him. He always said there was no way on Earth he could have been so successful without your help."

  "Aww, shucks. He was such a good and decent man!" Norma drawled in a heavy Southern accent. "Y’all know it's not fair that he's been taken from us!"

  "No, it isn't," my mother said quietly. "But there are no guarantees in life, and I think Bernard lived as well as he could have for as long as he was with us."

  "It’s gonna be like biscuits without butter," Norma moaned into her handkerchief. "What are we going to do without him? Who will run the business?"

  "Now, Norma, you know that father had all kinds of things in place in the event that something like this happened," my brother interjected as he pulled the plump woman away from our mother and propelled her down the line. "It'll all be taken care of, so don't you worry about a thing."

  Norma moved on to my father's casket where she knelt down in front of it and wept like a child as she murmured words into her folded hands that none of us could hear. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the small brunette standing in front of me.

  "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Yates," she said as she looked up at me with a pair of bright blue eyes, shining with tears. "Your father was kind to me, and I'll miss him."

  "Thank you, Miss . . . ?" I trailed off, staring at the spray of freckles that covered her face. She wasn't classically beautiful, but she had a look that was fresh and pretty. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders and curled around her face in a way that made her resemble a Raphaelite angel.

  "Leah Walsh," she said holding out her hand. "I work for your father, well, worked for him. He hired me right out of high school and trained me to take over the manufacturing division. He was a kind man, and I'll never forget him."

  "Yes, well, thank you, Miss Walsh," I said coolly. There was something unusual about her, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "Did you know my father well?"

  "Yes," she said puzzled. "We all knew him well. He was a great man."

  "Ah, so you didn't know him at all," I said flippantly. Leah tipped her head and frowned.

  "Is a problem, Mr. Yates?" she asked. "Because it seems to me that you just might. No offense or anything."

  "None taken, Miss Walsh," I said grinning. "My only questions are if you've met my mother, Elizabeth Yates, and whether you'd have dinner with me sometime?"

  Leah blushed slightly at my questions. She nodded as she repeated her condolences to my mother, who smiled graciously, thanked her, and moved her on down the line. I watched her as she greeted my brother and wondered what job she held at the company and whether I would be able to convince her to have dinner with me sometime. She was a pretty, young girl—just the kind to take my mind off things.

  "Well, well, well, if it isn't Jack Yates back from his globetrotting adventures," a familiar voice said. I turned and found myself standing face to face with Sloan Morgan.

  "Good God, Sloan? Sloan Morgan?" I asked as I stood staring at the gorgeous blonde in front of me. She was tall and lithe, but she filled out her dress like a pro.

  "Entirely too long, my friend," she said as she stepped forward and ran her fingers through my hair before leaning in and pressing her lips against my cheek. "I've missed you."

  "Have you really?" I asked, eyeing her suspiciously. She was a stunning woman who embodied all the characteristics of a typical WASP, and my father had been after me to marry her since I was sixteen-years-old. We had history, but I preferred not to let myself think about it. "You look as beautiful as ever."

  "Why thank you, Jack," she smiled, and I felt the blood begin pumping through my veins. She knew she looked good in her black, cashmere wrap dress and stiletto pumps. “Always fashionable and always properly attired,” was her motto. She was educated at Stanford and Princeton but found it nearly impossible to get a foothold in the male-dominated business world. Rumors abounded about her sexuality and her involvement with the men she worked with. With Sloan, you never quite knew what the truth was. Despite the rumors, Sloan held her head high and kept working.

  "What are you up to these days?" I asked as she moved past me toward my mother.

  "We should get a drink and talk," she said as she gave me a suggesting loo
k.

  "Let's do it, then" I nodded. "Let me finish up here, and we'll go find somewhere to talk. Wait for me?"

  Sloan nodded as she moved down the line toward my father's casket. I watched her and wondered why I had put up such a huge resistance to marrying her. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of my father lying in the casket and felt the familiar rush of shame and anger. I remembered why.

  As the last of the mourners moved past my family and paid their respects to my father, I followed them. I stood over his casket and looked at his face. He looked like he was at peace with his eyes closed and his hands folded across his chest, holding a copy of the King James Bible in repose.

  "Listen, you old bastard," I whispered as I leaned in close enough so that only he would be able to hear me. "I don't care what these people have said about you. You were a rotten son-of-a-bitch, and I hope you rot in hell for all eternity."

  I winced as I half expected him to rise up out of the casket and call down the heavens upon me, but when nothing happened, I breathed a sigh of relief, stood up straight, nodded once, and walked away. As I did, I saw the blue-eyed brunette staring intently at me. I returned her gaze and nodded as I moved toward the back of the room where Sloan stood waiting for me.

  For the rest of the night, I felt those blue eyes solemnly watching me as I tried my best to drink my father out of my memory.

  Chapter Six

  Leah

  Once I'd offered my condolences to the Yates family, I joined Norma off to one side and listened to her sob about the loss of one of the greatest men she'd ever known. I looked across the room at the Yates family and wondered how a man who was so great could have raised two entirely unpleasant sons.

  "Mr. Yates always said ‘Good morning,’ and stopped in to ask about my grandchildren," Norma said as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. She’d been Mr. Yates' secretary for almost 20 years, and she knew him better than most people in the company. Norma was also a southern belle, who thrived on the dramatic potential of every situation, and we loved her because of it. "It's like we're losing not just a CEO, but a strong guiding light!"

  "Ease up on the sainthood bullshit, Norma," Burt scoffed as he and Kevin offered us a shot from their flasks. "He was a good guy, but he could also be a real bastard."

  "Don’t piss on my leg, and tell me it’s raining, Burt," Norma warned, wiping her eyes. "He was a man who sunk everything he had into the business to make it run successfully."

  "And those are the guys who are usually running from something at home," Kevin said before drinking deeply. "I would know."

  "He was always kind to me," I said, looking back and forth between the two men. "I'm not sure what you guys are talking about."

  "Look, he was a good man," Burt sighed. "He worked hard and ran a successful company, but those sons of his are two of the biggest pains in the ass I've ever met. I don't think they raised themselves, if you know what I mean."

  "Kiss my ass and go-to-hell!” Norma gasped. "Those boys have done incredibly well for themselves! The oldest one is a lawyer, and the younger one made a fortune in computers. I'd call that successful."

  "Yeah, but they both hated their old man," Kevin said grimly. "I'm not sure how you missed the forced smiles and the hateful looks. Besides, Mrs. Yates had to reprimand them both in order to get them to shake hands with the folks coming to the wake. Did you miss all of this, Norma?"

  "It's the grief," Norma insisted. "They're just sad that their father died."

  "More like they're both waiting to celebrate," Burt muttered. "He was a good businessman, but a lousy human being. That's all there was to it, Norma."

  "Don't y’all speak ill of the dead," Norma said, narrowing her eyes and giving both men a cold stare. They shrugged their shoulders and slunk off to join the other guys from the warehouse at the back of the room.

  As I watched them go, I noticed that Jack Yates had moved to the back of the room as well and was talking with a tall, elegant, blonde woman. She stood close to him as she talked, and it was obvious that she was telling him something of great importance. When he looked away, she reached up and grabbed his chin, turning his face back toward her.

  He caught me staring at them for a split second before I resumed my conversation with Norma. Part of me remained focused on Jack Yates, and I wondered who the woman was and what was so urgent that she had to corner him at his father's wake.

  "So, what do you think, Leah?" Norma asked.

  "Huh? About what?" I asked, shaking my head and trying to focus on what the woman was asking me.

  "Who do you think is going to run the company now that Mr. Yates is dead?" she asked impatiently. "What's going to happen to Baby Steps?"

  "I'm sure there is something in place that will take care of it, Norma," I said, trying not to let her worry work its way into my brain.

  "I've been working for this company for 20 years, and I've seen everything there was to see. But I've never seen the paperwork for who would be in charge if Mr. Yates died," Norma whispered to me. "I'm wondering if it's going to be his younger son."

  "You're kidding, right?" I said. I turned my attention toward Jack Yates and observed a tall, broad shouldered man who was dressed completely inappropriately for his own father's funeral and who was passionately discussing something with the tall, blonde woman in the designer dress. Jack Yates appeared to be the exact opposite of everything his father stood for. "There is no way they are turning the company over to that man."

  "Who else is going to run it?" Norma asked. "I mean, his other son is a high-powered attorney at Bank of Manhattan. He's not going to drop his clients to run the company. And his wife isn't someone who knows how to run a company. Who else are they going to get?"

  "There's no way they're going to turn over the company to Jack Yates," I said shaking my head.

  "You wanna bet on it?" Norma said with a twinkle in her eye as she held out her hand to shake. I looked at her then down at her hand before looking back over at Jack Yates who was now downing a bottle of beer that someone had handed him. He had one arm around the woman, and he was eyeing her the way I'd seen the men at our local pub eye me after one too many drinks. I looked at Norma grinning and grabbed her hand.

  "It's a bet," I said shaking firmly. "What are we betting?"

  "If I win, you take me to dinner, hon," Norma said.

  "What the hell kind of bet is that?" I demanded. "If you’re right, you win, and if you’re wrong, there’s no consequence!"

  "He’s already made his interest in you pretty clear, so if I’m wrong and he doesn’t take over, I’ll find a way to fix you two up,” she grinned. "I might just do it anyway. You’re not a spring chicken, you know, darlin’.”

  "Norma!" I protested. "I resent being treated like chattel."

  "Oh honey, don’t go getting your knickers in a knot," Norma nodded. "I'll keep you posted on the progress in the executive suite."

  "Norma, you’re a piece of work," I said shaking my head.

  "Nah, darlin’, I’m just a woman with a mission," Norma said as she drank from her flask and watched the rest of the mourners pass by Mr. Yates's casket. "I think I need to get home."

  I said goodbye to Norma, and she went outside to find a cab.

  *

  A little while later, I stepped away from my coworkers to get some fresh air and try to keep my swirling emotions at bay. I felt a deep sadness about losing Bernard, but I also felt conflicted about my mother. For a moment, I thought about how all of this would have been different if my mother had died instead.

  "Everything would be fine if it was Mama instead," I muttered as I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to put that horrible thought out of my mind.

  "What’s that?" a deep voice asked breaking into my private moment.

  "What?" I said as I whipped around to see who was talking to me. I found Jack Yates standing a foot away, grinning.

  "I said, ‘What’s that?’" he repeated as he stepped slightly closer, closing the gap b
etween us. I could smell his deep, musky cologne that was decidedly masculine and incredibly intoxicating. Jack Yates was well over six-feet tall and had a head full of curly dark hair that looked like it would be heaven to run my fingers through. His dark-brown eyes were warm, but had a hint of danger that made my pulse race as I looked into them. But it was his full mouth that caught my attention and left me slightly dazed. His bottom lip begged to be nipped at, and I shook my head as I looked away to keep myself from imagining what I’d do if I were alone with the man. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue dress shirt that looked like it hadn’t seen an iron in quite a while and, unlike the rest of the men at the wake, he’d skipped the tie and left the neck of his shirt open. I could see his broad, smooth chest begin to . . .

  "Oh, I was just working out some frustrations," I said shaking my head and stepping backward as I tried to widen the space between me and the handsome son of my late boss.

  "I know of a better way to work off frustrations," he said with a sly grin as he, again, attempted to close the gap between us.

  "Did you really just say that?" I asked as I put my hands on my hips and squinted up at him. The sun was high in the sky, but Jack was so tall that he blocked it, leaving a halo of bright light shining around the outer edges of his skull. The idea that he could be wearing a halo struck me as immensely funny, and I burst out laughing.

  "What? What did I say that was so funny?" he asked, obviously annoyed, but also interested.

  "Your father, my boss, is inside in a casket, and you're making a pass at me out here in the parking lot?" I said bluntly. "That seems like something that would be more suited for a wedding or a formal dinner, not a wake."

  "Can't blame me for trying, can you?" he grinned as he, again, stepped closer and reached out to run a finger down the side of my arm. The feeling of his skin pressed against mine gave me a jolt. I stepped backwards and tripped on a concrete barrier placed around the nearby flowerbed. Before I knew what had happened, Jack reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me tightly against his body to prevent me from tumbling into the dirt.