Accidental Baby: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance

by Lara Swann

  That doesn’t stop me from texting my best friend the moment the team decides to break for lunch. The morning of setting up initial work and tasks and dividing them up between us was invigorating - but the moment we stop, Damien is right back at the forefront of my mind. And I feel like I’ve been waiting to tell Vicki for years.

  Me: Oh my god, Vicki. Hot-Sex-Guy works here. He’s the friggin’ boss. I’m so screwed. So screwed.

  On impulse, I don’t use Damien’s name, even though calling him ‘hot-sex-guy’ really isn’t going to help me forget about him. But something about using his name here, in the place he works, seems like a bad idea - and maybe kind of inappropriate. Besides, if someone casually glances over…it’s way less obvious I’m talking about our new client, right?

  Me: This was not supposed to go this way! You told me one night stands were a good thing! Simple! Never again, Vicki. Never again.

  Even as I write it, there’s a twinge in my gut that tells me maybe I don’t entirely mean that. I think I had too much fun to really rule it out forever…though that’s the damn problem. I had entirely too much fun. I’ve been thinking about it entirely too much. Which was great, when it was some crazy mysterious stranger. The guy down to corridor? God-damn it.

  The buzzing of my phone distracts me from where I’m pacing in the bathroom. The one place around here that I feel safe enough I won’t accidentally run into Damien.

  Vicki: Oh, wow. Oh, Ava, your luck…

  I can almost hear her laughing on the other end of the message. Not helpful, Vicki.

  Vicki: Has he said anything?

  Me: No, but damn, he won’t, right? This is so bad. How the hell am I going to avoid him for this whole project?!

  Vicki: You sure you want to avoid him?

  Me: What?! What else am I going to do? Walk up and start casually talking to him about that time we had the most amazing sex ever?

  Vicki: Well, most amazing sex, right? Can’t believe you found the guy again… ;)

  Me: I wasn’t looking for him! I didn’t want to find him! This is the worst, Vicki.

  Vicki: You sure? You didn’t want to be, just a tiny tiny bit?

  Me: Helloooo! CEO of Indivest. My boss. My boss’s boss. A client. The guy controlling this whole damn project. He could fire my ass just for that one stupid night. I want this job, remember?

  Vicki: Yeah, okay, bad idea. Pity though. He sounded great.

  Me: Argh, Vicki, I’m gonna have to get back…what the hell do I do?

  Vicki: Umm, pretend it never happened?

  The bathroom door opens and I almost jump out of my skin, thrusting my cell phone into my pocket as I try to look like I was straightening myself up in front of the mirror. Not that there was anything wrong with what I was doing - but I’m already on edge with Damien working right here, and someone walking in on me sending texts about him is enough to freak me out a little.

  The woman just nods to me, though, her ponytail bobbing and the caramel-colored eyes barely looking over at me before she disappears into one of the stalls. I breathe a small sigh of relief and try to get myself back under control, then give myself a quick check over in the mirror before making myself walk calmly back out into the office.

  I try very hard to stop myself from anxiously looking around for Damien, instead managing to walk the short distance back to our room without incident, my hand hovering subconsciously over the pocket with my cell.

  Sure, Vicki, I can pretend it never happened…but what if Damien doesn’t?

  I can still feel the way he looked at me in that meeting, like eyes on the back of my neck making my whole body feel warm and tingly.

  I manage to shake off the feeling as I get back to work - and surprisingly, that takes over again, the thought of Damien slowly sinking away as I start looking at the section of the app I’ve been assigned. As the day progresses, I force myself to forget about the whole issue. What I’m doing here is more important - for my future, my life, everything.

  Worry about Damien if that becomes an issue. Which it might not. That’s what Vicki would do.

  It’s enough to let me fully enjoy what I’m actually doing, and I’m surprised how quickly the day passes as I start working on my assessment of the app - the strengths and weaknesses of the current design, as well as potential options to improve my section, in line with some of the ideas already thrown around.

  I’m really pleased with how well it’s going - and how lively the whole team is as they discuss what they’re doing or ask for opinions - and it’s not hard to throw myself into it all and just get lost in the kind of work I’ve always wanted to do.

  Enough that I barely notice as people slowly begin to head home for the day, happy to stay late with a couple of the other designers who’ve obviously struck onto something they’re not ready to leave yet. I feel the same way, energized by everything I’ve been doing and my mind working a-mile-a-minute with a few of the ideas I’ve had over the day. I’ve never worked on a project like this, and I just feel like there’s so much to do that I’m not quite ready to leave it.

  When I finally manage to tear myself away from it all, I belatedly realize that I’m the last one left in the room. That makes me smile wryly to myself, but I can’t help feeling secretly pleased - I wanted to make a good impression and this isn’t a bad way to start it.

  I stand and stretch, feeling satisfied for all of two minutes - before the knock on the open door brings me out of my reverie. I look over, my heart and stomach tumbling over themselves as I see exactly what I’ve been dreading this whole time: Damien, stood right there.

  He just knocked, sure, but from the way he’s leaning against the door frame, one hip cocked invitingly and his arms crossed, I can’t help wonder how long he’s been there.

  My eyes dart around the room, only confirming what I already know - everyone else is gone.

  I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

  The moment I look up, he saunters into the room, one eyebrow raised in a way that only reminds me how tempting he was that night at the bar.

  Somehow, I don’t think he’s here to talk about work.

  Damn it. Why did I ever think he might just ignore this?

  Of course the hot and powerful CEO-slash-sex-god is going to tackle this head-on. That’s what that kind of guy does. Ugh.

  “Well…” He says, and his deep voice has all the heat I was dreading-but-hoping to hear. “I can’t deny I’d hoped to see you again, Ava…but I didn’t exactly expect it to be here.”

  I swallow, hard. I really don’t want to be having this conversation. I can’t be having this conversation.

  He’s my boss. The client.

  I need this job.

  “I…er…um…”

  “Why did you leave?” He asks, a small smirk playing around his mouth.

  It takes me a moment to realize what he’s talking about - that morning - and my face turns red immediately. And I’m pretty sure it’s not the sweet, attractive kind of red, either. I can’t believe he’s talking about that here. At work. Where I’m working for him.

  Oh, god.

  “I…ah…” I start panicking that he’s going to get rid of me because of that, because I left that morning, and I have to fight myself to be able to give any sort of answer. Because he’s still looking at me, obviously waiting, with those mesmerizing green eyes making me go full deer-in-headlights. “Well, I…isn’t that what—what happens? I thought—I thought it would be easier.”

  I manage to get it out, even if just talking about it is twisting my stomach up in knots. I might have had one conversation with Vicki about not-so-tame things - that so doesn’t mean I’m suddenly comfortable talking about sex, or the morning after, with a stranger. Or, worse, the guy I did it with.

  I don’t quite have the confidence to meet his gaze, but I try to tell myself that it’s a reasonable answer. It was a reasonable thing to do. Surely that’s understandable? Don’t most guys do that? Disappear by the next
morning?

  “Maybe that’s what some people do.” He says, those eyes still hot and intoxicating when I dare to glance at them, and his smile widening as he continues. “Personally, though, I prefer a nice morning-after…the chance to wake up and wrap my arms around someone…have a nice leisurely breakfast…maybe a few other leisurely activities…”

  The heat on my face only gets worse, I’m sure, and I try my best not to hear what he’s saying. I don’t want to picture it. I don’t want to think how nice that would have been. I don’t want my body to start reacting to that idea the way it seems to want to. The way it already is, if I’m honest about the shiver of desire running down my spine.

  Oh, god.

  “Please, don’t.” It comes out before I can help it, and I’m not sure whether I’m talking to him or myself. “Not here.”

  I can’t do this. I can’t risk it.

  I shake my head, taking a step back even though he hasn’t tried to come any closer.

  “Look, um, that night—it was a great time. But…” I swallow, forcing myself to look at him - and then I do the only thing I can think of. I tell him the truth. “Look, I really need this job, okay? It’s really important to me. And—and what happened, that won’t change anything about the work, okay? I promise. I don’t want it to change anything. I’m sorry—I’m sorry I left and—and I’m sorry we ran into each other like—like this, I guess. But…can we just…forget about it? Please?”

  It’s not the most coherent thing I’ve ever said, but at least I get it out. It probably makes me sound totally pathetic, but I need this job - and I need it to work even if Damien is the CEO we’re reporting to. Which means there can’t be any of this when we’re around the rest of my team.

  Or at all, Ava. There can’t be any of this at all. It was one night, and you need to forget it.

  He’s still looking at me, a deliberate gaze that doesn’t hide his interest, but at least it looks like he’s listening.

  God damn it, why can’t he be as embarrassed about this whole thing as I am?

  Probably because that night together gave him nothing to be embarrassed about.

  “I can’t say I’ll forget about it.” He says after a moment, mouth still curling up in that dangerous smile before he gives a slight nod. “But no, what happened that night won’t affect the work we’re doing here. You don’t have to worry about that, Ava.”

  I can still sense the heat coming from him, matching the barely contained desire buzzing under my skin, but I decide to trust the serious tone behind those words. I don’t have much other choice.

  I let a deep breath out and nod back.

  “Thank you. Sir.”

  I add the last part in an attempt to redirect us to the professional - but the moment I say it, I can tell by the flare of his eyes and the answering pulse in my veins that it was a bad idea. Heat rises into my face again and everything in me squirms awkwardly.

  I pick up my bag in a jagged motion, giving him an attempt at a respectful nod as I skirt around to get out of the room, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible without making that too obvious.

  I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work. Just as I’m pretty sure it looks like I’m running away before he can say anything else.

  Hell, I know I’m running away.

  I didn’t even pack up all the things I was working on, organize my work space or grab my laptop to take home in case inspiration hits me later tonight. I mean, we were told it’s perfectly okay to leave anything in the room throughout this project, so I didn’t have to do any of those things, but I didn’t know I’d be so grateful for that quite so quickly.

  Adrenaline is still pulsing through me as I leave the building. I can’t shake the feeling of those hot, seductive eyes on me, the way they stir my blood as he looks at me like he’s going to devour me whole.

  I tell myself I should be relieved that we talked about it.

  Isn’t this meant to clear the air now? It’s done, right?

  We agreed. We’re just going to forget the whole thing.

  Or not quite forget, in his case.

  Damn it.

  But my job is safe. That’s the most important thing.

  We can just be as normal as we can, mostly avoid each other - and at least now we have an understanding.

  I try very hard not to think about what he said as I walk back to where I’m crashing on Vicki’s couch - something she offered indefinitely while I’m working in this Downtown office, as it’s so much closer than my parents’. I try very hard not to think about what it would have been like if I’d stayed - what we might have done or what might have happened if he hadn’t turned out to be my boss. It doesn’t work.

  Yeah, you’re still screwed, Ava. Still totally screwed.

  Only maybe not in the way I suddenly want to be.

  Chapter Eight

  Damien

  Ava walks past my office on the way to the design project she’s working on and despite every attempt not to notice, my eyes trace her path anyway.

  The pretty blouse with blue and yellow flowers that seems to bring out the colors of her hair and eyes, the skirt that seems entirely too tight for her not interested stance. For someone who was so insistent that we forget all about that, she’s making it far too difficult with the outfits she keeps wearing. Then again, maybe all that is just what she usually wears to the office. It’s certainly perfectly professional. It’s just that it’s also so…appealing.

  Or maybe it’s just that she’s so appealing, and that’s why I can’t stop seeing it.

  It’s why I get in early every morning just so that I’m here when she first arrives and walks past my open office door - just to get that first glimpse of what she’s chosen for today. Of course, I’m not quite ready to admit that to myself. I’m really getting in early for this deal. That’s the reason. Ava’s clothing choices are just…a bonus.

  It was a shock the moment I’d seen her sat in my office just a week after that night - and for a few moments, I’d struggled to control myself.

  A few moments, and then the entire week since.

  If it had been hard to stop thinking about that night with her before, it’s almost impossible now - even if there’s far more reason to. Having a hot memory on my mind is one thing, but active fantasies about a woman who is, in effect, working for me?

  I can’t afford that right now. Or at all.

  I know I shouldn’t have approached her that day - but I couldn’t hold back. I’d spent a week wanting to ask why she’d left before I even woke up, and wondering whether I’d find her again if I went back to that bar…

  I didn’t, but not because I didn’t want to or I wasn’t going to at some point - once I’d got the initial details for this deal underway. Whatever I might have promised to Katy, as far as I’m concerned, a repeat of that Saturday night wouldn’t have broken it.

  Or at least it wouldn’t have before.

  The moment she turned out to be working for the agency re-designing my app? Yeah, that has everything Katy wants to avoid written all over it.

  But I had to talk to her anyway. There was no way I could work with her right here in my office without even mentioning what had happened between us. I just wasn’t expecting her to be so…upset about it.

  Everything I remembered about her had been beautiful and hot and fun - the confident woman who’d demanded I undress and give her a proper view as I went down on her, the sexy girl who had giggled and laughed and moaned as we came together, again and again.

  Instead, I was taken right back to those first glimpses I’d had of her - shy and vulnerable, but with an anxiousness I hadn’t seen back then. Of course, this is a totally different environment, and yeah - I guess I’m the boss here. But I’d never expected that to make me feel like such a dick for approaching her.

  Though I probably was. It’s probably all sorts of inappropriate. I can just imagine what Katy would say.

  And it pissed me off that she was worried abo
ut how something we’d done before I even hired her company would affect her position here. Just what does she think I’m like?

  Except, of course, she doesn’t know me. How would she know I’m not the kind of guy to let that affect anything?

  And now, she’s not going to know me either.

  I hate how I have to keep telling myself I’m not disappointed about that. It’s not like I ever really expected to find the wild, fun girl I’d had an amazing night with.

  It’s just that now that I have, knowing she’s off-limits is driving me crazy.

  Even throwing myself into this deal isn’t distracting me the way it should - not with her just around the corner to distract me right back in the other direction again.

  She is off-limits though. I know that. As amazing as she was that Saturday night, it’s obvious that now she’s here, she’s nothing but uncomfortable with the simmering tension that I’m sure is still there.

  The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable - and the last thing my company needs is a sexual harassment lawsuit. Especially with this deal going on. I can just imagine the look on Katy’s face.

  So for the week she’s been working here so far, I’ve been avoiding her as best I can and ignoring her when I can’t. It feels nearly impossible to do that, and I still can’t quite resist little things like this morning routine. I’ve never had a woman affect me like this before - but then, I’ve never had a woman I’m so attracted to working anywhere near me. Probably because they’ve always been work associates first, not lovers.

  “How’s the proposal coming?” Katy’s voice comes just before the knock on my open office door, and then she steps in.

  Not for the first time in the last week, I’m relieved at Katy’s interruption of my wandering thoughts.

  “It’s good. We’re almost there.” I give her a smile, closing the file I’m working on and turning it around to face her.

  She opens it to flick through briefly, but I can tell she’s only skimming it. With these things, she trusts my judgment.

  “Can I have a copy to look through before you send it over to their people?”