Accidental Baby: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance

by Lara Swann

  “Yes. Speaking.” I say, trying to simultaneously sound like a consummate business professional who receives these calls all the time, but also interested and attentive anyway. In two words. Yeah, I’m great at this shit.

  Really, I’m just trying to get the words out through a throat now clogged with my rapidly beating heart.

  Please be what I think this is. Please. Please.

  “I have you down here on our list of contractors who may be interested in additional work, is that correct?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is. I am.” I cut myself off before I can repeat that again. Damn it, Ava.

  “Ah, good. We’ve just received information for a very big project that we’re lining up for next week. Looking at the scale of the work involved, we’re looking for some additional resources to supplement our own. Due to the intensive nature of the project, we’d need it to be a full-time, in-house role where you’d be fully integrated with our own team of designers for the duration of the work, if you’re interested. I don’t know what your current commitments are, but I’ve reviewed the designs you’ve done for us in the past and if you’re available then we think this would be a great fit.”

  Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

  I want to turn around to Vicki and jump up and down. I want to tell her everything I just heard. I want to yell that finally, finally, just maybe—

  Instead, I try very hard not to let myself feel the rush of sudden hope and adrenaline and excitement that wants to overwhelm everything else.

  “Yes, I’d be very interested.” I say genuinely, and I can’t help the enthusiasm in my voice, even if I want to keep it somewhat self-contained.

  “I have a few commitments at the moment.” I continue, trying to keep a straight face as I use her words. “But I should be able to wrap them up within the next day or so, and I could clear my schedule after that.”

  I’m slightly making that up. I mean, I have a few pieces of design work that I’ve been doing mostly for myself, but I don’t really need to finish anything at the moment. Yep. That’s how dry it’s been recently. Except I don’t exactly want her to know that the designer they’re interested in hiring has been sitting on her ass for the last month or so. For obvious reasons.

  “Perfect.” The voice comes back to me. “I’ll email you the full details, and if you can get back to us by the end of tomorrow to let us know your thoughts, that would be great. It will be Tina Johnson leading the team.”

  “Thank you, I will do. Thanks for calling.”

  I stop myself before I thank her again, and she quickly checks the email they have on file before the phone clicks off as I’m left staring at it.

  Did that really just happen? Did it?

  Oh my god.

  “Well?!” Vicki demands from where she’s sat on the couch, looking at me expectantly.

  The hope that’s obvious on her expression warms something inside me, and I’m thankful all over again that I made a good choice back in second grade when we became best friends. Though it was probably her choice - seems more likely she was the one to approach me.

  “I got it.” I breathe out, hardly able to believe it.

  “What did you get, Ava? C’mon, tell me!”

  That’s all it takes for me to rush over to her, pulling her up and gushing at her about the brief call I just had.

  “A real job. A real real one. Full-time, in-house, part of their team…my god, Vicki, I think this is my way in. Finally. If I do this well…”

  “They might offer you a permanent position.” She finishes for me, her eyes lighting up as she squeezes my hand and jumps around hugging me. “Ohh Ava.”

  I pull her tightly into me, clutching her hard as I fight for breath. Out of nowhere, emotion overwhelms me and I have to fight back the stupid moisture I feel prick the edges of my eyes.

  “It’s happening, Vicki. It’s really happening.”

  She pulls back, grinning as she looks at me.

  “I always knew it would. I knew it.”

  I smile back, then hug her again. Yeah, she always did - far more than me.

  “C’mon, let’s go celebrate!” She says, starting to drag me toward the door, her half-finished glass of wine forgotten on the table.

  “What, now?”

  “Yes, now!”

  “No drinking, Vicki, I’m serious. It’s Monday, I’ve got to be fully alert for that email and I can still feel Saturday’s hangover—”

  “No drinking.” She agrees, though not without a slight roll of her eyes. “Tacos, then?”

  That makes me smile. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

  I let her drag me out of the apartment, excitement buzzing through my veins as I think about everything this means.

  For the first time in months, I feel alive and invigorated by the thought of the future.

  Maybe everything that happened between Jackson and I was for the best - maybe this is how it’s meant to be. Maybe this is where it all starts for me.

  Hot sex…a real design job…yeah, Ava, life is finally looking up for you.

  Chapter Seven

  Ava

  By the end of the week, everything is arranged.

  I’m starting with the rest of the Two-Bit Designs team at the Indivest offices on Monday, as a real part of their team. To Indivest, they won’t even know that I’m not a permanent employee. And maybe, by the end of this…I can’t help but hope that if I do well enough, I could be.

  At the very least, I’ll have one hell of a good credential to get a few more jobs, I’ll have more contacts in the industry - and hopefully, I’ll have impressed Two-Bit Designs enough to offer me more work even if they’re not hiring.

  That’s so long as I do a good job.

  Which I’m more determined about than I think I’ve ever been in my life.

  So to say I’m a little bit nervous as I walk into the impressive, modern-looking office on Monday might be an understatement.

  At ten people, it’s a big team by design agency standards and I can understand why they felt they needed support. With the other projects and long-term clients, I’m sure it was hard for them to find the eight permanent employees to devote to this job.

  These are the people I’m determined will be my best friends and biggest advocates by the end of this.

  Tina Johnson - the team lead who had been mentioned over the phone - turns out to be a tall woman with long brown hair and stylish glasses perched at the end of her nose. She seems nice enough - as enthusiastic as we all are about a potential new client, or in my case the potential new job - but with a no-nonsense attitude I can appreciate.

  When we arrive, an assistant comes down to greet us in the main lobby and takes us up to the floor Indivest work from. We’ve all been given a brief about the household investment app already - and hell, I already downloaded it just to take a closer look - but I’m still almost bursting with curiosity and anticipation as the elevator opens.

  I don’t know the first thing about investing, but the app was simple enough that if I’d had any spare money available at all, I could tell how easy it would be to get started.

  I could also tell, almost immediately, just how damn ugly the thing is. For a successful app, it’s one of the more basic and unrefined ones I’ve seen.

  No wonder they wanted Two-Bit Designs to come in.

  I try not to swing my head around to look at everything as we’re given a brief tour and led through to the room set aside for us to work in. Two-Bit Designs would usually work from their own office, but Indivest made a special request. According to the brief, the CEO likes to be close to the most important projects Indivest is working on.

  In return, Two-Bit Designs requested an area with a lot of space for us all to work together and play with ideas. For someone who has just done design work from a laptop in a spare room, it sounds like my idea of heaven.

  “Ah, and these are the offices for the chief execs - they keep their doors open when they’re in, and if you have any queries I suggest y
ou come by to discuss them. We’ve always worked informally here - the execs like to take an active interest in what’s going on.”

  I’m nodding along, appreciating the environment they obviously have here, and it’s only a casual glance at the door to my side that stops me for a moment.

  Damien Blake.

  My feet stumble and even as I force them to keep moving with everyone else, my head swings back.

  No…obviously it’s not…

  The door is closed and I don’t think there’s anyone in the office, but I feel my heart start beating at double-time at the idea.

  Damien…

  It can’t be him. It’s definitely not him.

  That was just a random guy. And you never got his last name. There must be dozens…hundreds…of Damiens running around Fresno, right?

  Dozens of Damiens who happen to have some sort of financial app? Something like Indivest?

  I shake my head, trying to cut the thought off. It’s just me over-thinking, that’s all. Worrying about something stupid, just like Vicki always says. I mean, what are the chances that the guy I had a one night stand with - the guy I left before he even woke up - actually works here?

  Is, in fact, the CEO here?

  I tell myself it’s stupid, but I can still feel the slight sheen of sweat start to gather down my back. That’s really not what I need. Sleeping with the CEO who just hired us is probably making-a-bad-impression-101. On him, and Two-Bit, and…well…everyone.

  Damn it.

  I can barely focus as the assistant continues the tour, pointing out the kitchen, bathrooms, leisure area - leisure area? Wow, this place is cool - and finally showing us to where we’ll be working. I keep having to resist the urge to get out my phone and text Vicki with my most recent crisis. That would definitely be a bad impression to make.

  Maybe you’ll never see him. I mean, you’re probably the most junior person on this team. No way are they going to let you have any contact with the actual client.

  Even if it is him, maybe he’ll never know I’m here. I can avoid him, right?

  I can make this work.

  It might not even be him.

  I’ve just about managed to convince myself that it’ll all be fine when the assistant turns to leave.

  “I’ll let you get settled in here.” She says as she pauses at the doorway. “Damien, our CEO, was hoping to meet you all in the main boardroom in about an hour to discuss what needs to be done.”

  Tina nods easily enough, even as my heart sinks down into my stomach.

  Seriously? He wants to meet all of us?

  Well, I guess that will tell me whether it’s him. Of all the things that could happen to you, Ava…

  The sudden hubbub around me as everyone starts setting up laptops and moving equipment around distracts me, though, as well as the interested chatter about our initial impressions of the app, the company and the office we’re working in. It’s obvious the rest of the team is excited too, and it brings back my earlier enthusiasm too - almost enough to stop me from thinking about the imminent meeting with Hot-Sex-Turned-Possible-CEO-Guy.

  The nickname makes me laugh to myself and I wish again that Vicki was here to exclaim over this crazy situation with me - but I soon get drawn into a conversation about one of the design elements of the entry point into the app, and some of the anxiety fades a little.

  You’re here. You’re going to do this. You belong here - with these people, in this team - and no one is going to stop you. Not even the CEO you might have accidentally had sex with.

  Well, okay, maybe him. But hopefully not.

  I tell myself I’m going to make this work, and I might be worrying for nothing - but when the time comes and we leave for the boardroom together, I find myself almost trying to hide in the huddle of people around me. I just want to see him, I want to know…before he sees me. Though how that’ll help, I have no idea.

  We get there a few minutes early and unfortunately the group dissipates into individual seats, my concealment disappearing as I sit down in one of the seats to the side of the table. I try to continue the conversation I was having earlier with the guy - Frank - on my side, but I keep glancing at the door.

  He still manages to appear the one moment I’m not looking - striding into the room with the kind of confidence I’d expect from an impressive CEO.

  And a sex god.

  And there’s no doubt about that. The moment my head turns toward him, I know exactly who it is.

  Damien.

  Hot-Sex-Guy.

  And, obviously, CEO of Indivest.

  Fuck.

  “Hi there.” He starts casually enough, even as my blood is raging through my head, loud enough that the only reason I can hear him at all is because it’s his voice. Deep, seductive. Powerful. “I’m Damien. Thank you all for coming in today - I’m really glad you had the time to take on this project. I wanted to meet now, before any work is started, to talk through—”

  My eyes are drawn to him as he speaks, even though my vision seems slightly hazy with disbelief, because as much as I want to curl in on myself and pretend I’m not even here - pretend he’s not here, I can’t help looking at him.

  And I can’t help the curl of desire that whispers through me, either. As damn inappropriate as that is.

  My mind flashes with images of that night. Of everything we did. Despite the professional setting we’re in now, despite knowing that all my attention should be on the project that could be the start of my new life as an awesome, single, independent person with a career and everything.

  All my attention is on Damien. I wouldn’t say it’s all on his project.

  It’s only because I can’t stop looking at him, my body remembering even where my mind wants to totally forget it ever happened, that I catch the moment he stumbles.

  He’s looking around at us all as he speaks, no doubt some leadership technique for making everyone feel included and welcome or something, but it’s a technique that seems to be working as everyone in the room starts to relax - everyone except me.

  I see the moment his gaze lands on me - and I see the immediate reaction there. The slight widening of his eyes, the interruption to the easy flow of his words as for a brief instant he just stares. I look away immediately - and not just out of awkwardness or embarrassment. There’s a part of me that’s worried he’ll see exactly what I was just thinking about.

  Almost as much as I’m worried about what the hell is going to happen now.

  “—to talk through the project, what I’m expecting and hoping for, your initial thoughts and how we’ll work together.”

  He recovers quickly - far more quickly than me - his voice becoming smooth as he picks up from where he left off. I can’t help it - I sneak a glance back, to see that his expression is similarly easy and casual again. Then I look around, wondering if anyone else picked up on that little diversion - but no, everyone just seems eager and interested in what their new client has to say.

  It’s almost…an anticlimax.

  But as he starts talking through the brief, giving chances for questions, stopping to discuss initial ideas and potential design options, the part of me that’s wound so tight I think I might burst starts to breathe a small sigh of relief. I’m still on high-alert, with adrenaline pumping through me - and I’m still impossibly embarrassed to have ended up in this situation - but…I start to think it might be okay after all.

  Maybe that’s all there is to this. An awkward encounter and then we avoid each other for the rest of this project, right?

  I mean, that’s probably what he thinks is best too.

  After this meeting, I probably won’t even have to be in the same room as him again - and if I am, it’ll be just like this, as a junior member of the team who’s hardly going to speak up in front of everyone. All I’ll have to do is forget the fact that the guy who did all those things to me is working right down the hall.

  Easy, right?

  Except, even as the meeting runs s
moothly and we start to get a better understanding of what everyone expects from this project, I can feel the way his eyes flick toward me, just occasionally. I try not to notice, but something about it sends hot-and-cold shivers down my spine and I don’t think those subtle glances are quite the same as the way he’s looking at everyone else in this room.

  I can’t help wonder what he’s thinking.

  About what we did. About the way I left.

  Does he regret it?

  Is he pissed about me disappearing?

  Is any of that going to affect this?

  I tell myself that it shouldn’t, but Vicki has told me more than one story about asshole clients who cause trouble just to be difficult…and, well, Damien would probably have more reason for it than any of them.

  By the time the meeting finishes and everyone files out of the large boardroom-style room, I’m just relieved that it’s over. Everyone around me leaves buzzing and excited about the new project, the potential options we discussed and some of the design questions we’re going to have to work through and I…well, I’m definitely buzzing too. But despite how much I’ve wanted to work on something like this for so long, I don’t think my reaction is to any of the things we discussed.

  In fact, I’m not even sure I remember half of them.

  Great. This good impression thing…

  At least by leaving in the middle of that whole group, I’m away from Damien and there’s no chance for him to say anything before I get away from the eyes I feel following me. If he was even going to say anything anyway.

  Damn it. Are you going to obsess over this the whole time you’re here?

  There’s an uncomfortable part of me that thinks I might do just that - but, as the team gets back to our working space and starts talking about plans and design, I find myself getting drawn in again.

  The anxious-worry is still there in the back of my mind, stopping me from relaxing completely, but what we’re doing here is exciting enough that it actually manages to distract me.

  Thank god for how much I love design work. If it can distract me from thoughts of awesome-hot-sex and then terrible-awful-embarrassment-awkwardness, well, Vicki is right, it’s obviously what I was made to do.