Pregnant By My Boss: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance Compilation

by Cassandra Dee

  As tempted as I am to scream at the man who made love to me and then disappeared from my life without so much as a text, I know it’s not a good idea. I have baby Trentie now, and he’s all I need. I convince myself that tonight is just a small blip, and my child and I will move on from this without looking back.

  Still, as the waiters and waitresses bring stacks of dirty dessert plates back into the kitchen, I know that time is running short. I won’t be able to duck out before the place has cleared, and Trent Moore is the host. He’ll be the last one to leave. There’s a back exit through the kitchen that leads to a scary alley I’d have to walk through to reach my car in the employee parking lot. I could take the exit and avoid any risk of running into Trent. But I’d also risk being mugged, and that risk is too great for me.

  Lizzy squeezes my shoulder. “You’ve almost made it. Just an hour or so and you get to head home to play with your baby.”

  I picture Trentie, already asleep in his crib, and smile. She’s right. I can handle another hour, dodge Trent Moore, and get home to my child. That’s all I need.

  “The last of the guests are finishing their drinks. Would you mind helping gather up plates and such? The sooner we clean up, the sooner we can clear out,” Lizzy says, trying to be helpful.

  “Of course.” Honestly, there’s nothing I’d rather do less than go out to where Trent is, but I can’t not help out when I came here tonight to do just that.

  I grab an empty tray and hoist it onto my shoulder. I worked my way through college as a waitress, and this isn’t the first time I’ve assisted my staff with cleanup. Lizzy’s right—getting the cleanup done quickly means getting home earlier. No one want to stay at a venue longer than necessary.

  Unless they happen to be naked in bed with the best lover they’ve ever had.

  I shake the thought from my head and scurry into the kitchen. Our cleanup strategy is always to take the furthest tables first and work our way toward the middle. I find the table farthest from the kitchen that has yet to be cleared and start loading my tray with empty plates, bowls, and glasses. Once I’ve stacked the entire table’s worth of dirty dishes onto my tray, I lift it back onto my shoulder and walk carefully to the kitchen.

  This action is repeated six more times without incident. I’m a little out of shape, not having done any heavy lifting beyond taking Trentie out of his crib for the last several months. Even so, I’m able to keep up with the other members of my crew. I’m running mostly on adrenaline and the excitement of getting home to kiss my son’s little head.

  I glance at my watch on my way to my next table and bump into someone. Immediately, I look up to apologize to the guest. “I’m so sor—” I freeze, finding myself face to face with Trent Moore.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he says coolly. His handsome face has barely changed since the last time I saw him over a year ago. The only difference is that he doesn’t have stubble tonight, which makes him actually look younger, but just as hot. I want to run my hands down his clean-shaven jaw and kiss that smirk off his face, but resist the urge.

  “I’m busy,” I tell him, forcing my voice to stay calm. “We need to get this cleaned up quickly so we can get out of here.”

  I start to grab a plate, but Trent places a gentle hand on mine, and I hate that his touch sends thrills down my spine. “It can wait, or your staff can handle this.”

  “I don’t want to speak to you,” I tell him, trying to curb my anger.

  “Well, I think I deserve an explanation.”

  “Explanation?” My voice is quiet. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. I look up at him and I see the same anger in his eyes that I feel right now. “Why the hell would you deserve an explanation, you self-centered, big-headed, asshole!”

  Luckily, there are no guests left in the room to hear my outburst. My employees are staring at me though, frozen in shock and awkwardness. They’ve never seen me like this before. I take a deep breath and shoot them a fake smile.

  “Nothing to see here, guys. Sorry about that outburst.”

  It takes a few seconds, but they get back to their respective jobs in silence. I sense their eyes still firmly on me as they clean up the tables, but at least they’re moving now. I look back at Trent, who’s staring at me, those blue eyes ripping me apart. I don’t let him in. If I do, I know I’ll crumble and fall to pieces.

  “I need to work,” I tell him calmly. “Please leave. You don’t need to be here for the cleanup. Your guests are gone, and you’re free to go.”

  Trent barks a bitter laugh. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I repeat, not letting him get to me.

  “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, but I’d like to know why.”

  I stare at him, now intrigued. Is he trying to say it’s my fault we haven’t been in touch since our amazing encounter? He’s even more of an asshole than I thought. For the first time, I’m glad he doesn’t know we have a child together.

  “Please leave, Trent.”

  “Not until we talk,” he says, his voice harsh. I meet his eyes and see something there. Confusion. Fear. Lust. I see the same things in myself when I look in the mirror, thinking of him.

  As much as I hate it, my resistance fades away. Curiosity and a morbid desire to end up in Trent’s bed again lead me to my decision.

  “Fine,” I say, resigned. “Let’s talk. But not here.”

  I walk ahead of him despite his long strides, leading us to the entryway of the venue. We stop in the hallway, out of earshot from my employees, and away from anyone else who might listen in on our conversation. This is a conversation I don’t want another soul to hear.

  “Okay. Talk.” I stand, facing him, with my arms crossed snugly over my large chest. His eyes scan my body, pausing over my breasts, maybe remembering the last time we were together, his mouth on my nipples….

  “There’s something different about you,” he says slowly when he finishes his survey of my figure. “I can’t figure out what it is.”

  He continues to study me. I wait for him to realize I’ve put on weight. After all, my breasts and larger and my hips even wider than before. But my expression is also tired and haggard. I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s intuitive about these things—if he can piece together the fact that I’ve had a baby. Inside, I laugh to myself. Of course he won’t figure it out. Never in a million years would he think pregnancy was in the picture.

  “I’m not different,” I say, trying to be as vague as possible. My brain is working quickly in a panic to make sure he doesn’t find out. I don’t know what would happen if he did.

  He sighs. “Your body has changed, but I know it’s been a year and people change. But there’s something else. It’s almost like you’re…glowing.”

  My breath hitches. That’s a word they use describe pregnant women and new mothers. Glowing. Radiant. Happy. I do feel that way sometimes, but I didn’t know it was so obvious on the outside. The people close to me know I have a kid. My employees, of course, know that I took maternity leave until today. My neighbors, strangers on the street, they’ve all seen Trentie and me together. I haven’t intentionally kept him a secret from anyone except his father. But somehow, I wish I could cover up the fact that I’m glowing, and take back whatever happy aura I’m emitting. Because Trentie’s my precious secret, and mine alone.

  “It’s from the exercise,” I say in a pathetic attempt to cover it up. “I was carrying heavy trays back and forth from the kitchen when you blindsided me.”

  “It’s not that. I can’t put my finger on it, but—”

  “Forget it. Is that what you wanted to talk about? Because if that’s all, I’m going back to help my team.”

  I try to walk around him, but he swiftly takes a step and gets in my way. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about and you know it. I wanted to talk about how you left that morning
and then never took any of my calls or answered my messages. You ghosted me, and I deserve to know why.”

  I feel like I might pass out for the second time today. He thinks I ghosted him?

  “You asshole!” I exclaim angrily, pushing his chest. “I never got a single call from you! I tried to call you so many times, and you wouldn’t accept my calls. I even came to see you and you couldn’t be bothered.”

  Trent has the audacity to look confused. “Excuse me? I never received a single call from you. And if you had gone to my home, my staff would have informed me.”

  I laugh mirthlessly. “Yeah, right. I called your company line over and over again, and I couldn’t get past the operator. It was like I was on a blacklist or something. And your butler and security guard can both vouch for me. I was at your mansion a year ago, Trent. I came to tell you—to talk to you.”

  He jerks sharply.

  “You didn’t,” is that growl. “I haven’t heard from you since we last met.”

  I shake my head, suddenly tired. Because what is there to say? That we really missed each other dozens of times? That this man has been secretly craving me for over a year? Those are pipe dreams … and yet I can’t help but to hope.

  Chapter Ten

  Trent

  “You’re lying,” I say, staring at her, but I’m less sure of myself now than I was before. She seems so adamant and angry. Could she be telling the truth? Did she really try to reach me over and over again? Even going to my house?

  “I’m not lying,” she says, shaking her head. “I have no reason to lie. You, on the other hand, could have easily contacted me. I left you my card, and you hired my company. If you wanted to talk before today, you had every opportunity.”

  I laugh. “Seriously?” I ask incredulously. “I called you so many times it became obsessive! I had to stop myself from calling you every fucking hour.”

  “If that were true, I’d have known. My company doesn’t have blacklists, unlike yours apparently.”

  I gawk at her. Only telemarketers and people who have tried very hard to convince me to partner with them on various projects are on this list. Not beautiful women I want to sleep with again.

  “We have a very limited list of people to ignore, but I assure you, your name isn’t on it,” is my stiff reply. I can’t believe she would think that I would put her on some no-answer list.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Fine,” I snap, pulling my phone out of my pocket and scrolling until I hit the right dates. “Look at this. Look at my outgoing calls from a year ago.”

  I hand her the phone, my outgoing calls displayed on the screen. She scrolls through them, her brows knitted in confusion.

  “My cell isn’t on this list,” she says, handing the phone back to me. “Neither is my work number.”

  “Now who’s lying?” I say, holding the phone toward her again. I scroll through the list and point at her cell number. It’s the one Amanda gave me for Katie’s company. “It’s right here. Look.”

  She squints her eyes and carefully reads over the phone number. “That isn’t my work number. It’s the right area code and first three numbers, but the last four numbers are jumbled—they’re in the wrong order.”

  “What?” I ask, staring at the phone number. The number reflects exactly what Amanda gave me when I requested Katie’s contact info. “That’s not possible. My employee said this is the number she used to contact you.”

  “It isn’t,” she says. She pulls out a business card and hands it to me. Sure enough, the number I’d been calling is incorrect. It’s possible I typed it into my phone wrong, but I swear I copied it correctly.

  Amanda chooses that moment to enter the dining room. She smiles when she sees me, but scowls at the sight of Katie. My stomach drops and everything clicks. Holy fuck.

  Yeah, I definitely didn’t type the number in wrong. Realization crashes into my brain. Amanda turns around, looking like she forgot something, but I call out to her. “Get over here,” is my bark. “You have some explaining to do.”

  The blonde turns back around and skulks toward us. “Yes, Mr. Moore?”

  She bats her eyelashes, as if that might distract me from my anger and suspicion. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of her behavior. Her flirtatious attempts have never worked on me before, but for whatever reason, she hasn’t stopped trying.

  “Has Katie tried calling me at the office?”

  “No,” Amanda says quickly. I fix her with a hard stare. She steps back, curling into herself. “Yes,” she adds quietly.

  I swallow down the rage that is threatening to bubble up to the surface. I want to beat the woman, but I won’t. As my employee, I’ll give her a chance to explain her side. And then she’ll get what she deserves.

  “Did you tell my staff to keep Katie’s calls and visits from me?”

  Amanda looks like she’s struggling to find the answer. Not looking me in the eyes, she responds, “Yes.” She seems to have realized there’s no way out of this. We both know the truth. Questioning her is a courtesy.

  “Did you give Trent the wrong number so he couldn’t call me?” Katie asks her, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice.

  Amanda pierces Katie with an icy glare, as if she can’t believe the question. “Yes,” Amanda hisses, “I did it all, okay? Are you happy now?”

  No, I’m not happy. I am furious, but I’m also hurt. Amanda was supposed to be my right-hand man, not someone who plotted against me and kept things from me. I trusted her for years with both personal and business information. How far does her betrayal go? To what extent?

  “Why?” I ask. “Why would you do this?”

  She shoots me a resentful glare. “Look at you. Even now, a year after you’ve seen her, you can’t wait to get her back to bed. That should be me! You’re supposed to want me, Trent!”

  I gape at her, stunned at her words and her use of my first name. She’s never called me Trent instead of Mr. Moore before, and I hate the way it sounds coming from her mouth. What is she talking about? Why on earth would we get together? We’ve never had a relationship outside of work. Obviously, I knew she was attracted to me, what with her incessant flirting, but I shut that down every time, hard and firm. These are the delusions of a psychopath.

  I glance at Katie and her hurt expression makes me wince. I have to set this straight. For both of them.

  “You and I have never been together,” I growl at Amanda. “We’ve never so much as kissed. What makes you think we have a future together?”

  Her breath hitches and her eyes grow teary.

  “Because you’re perfect for me, and I’m perfect for you. Not her. She’s a working girl who can barely make a living. Her social status is so low she would never fit in with you—our—crowd. I have a great education, and I know everything about your business! We fit together so well, Trent, can’t you see that? I could be a stay-at-home wife, which is what an important businessman like you needs.”

  She leaves out the word “trophy,” but we can all hear the silent insinuation between the lines.

  I point towards Katie but keep my eyes locked on Amanda.

  “Katie built her business from the ground up. She’s an incredible woman, and a million times better than you are. I don’t want a stay-at-home wife. I want someone who challenges me, and who makes me better. Someone who has her own dreams, dreams we can work toward together. You don’t know anything about what I want or need. I want her. Not you.”

  Amanda sniffs, but I know my words haven’t gotten through. This isn’t about me, it’s about her. She wants status and someone with a big wallet so that she never has to work, and she thought I would be that someone. Unfortunately, the blonde thought wrong.

  “Meddling in my personal business is not part of your job, Amanda,” I rasp angrily. “You’re fired.” I’m sure I’ll have to deal with the aftermath, but I don’t care right now. I
can’t have this woman on my staff. Not when she tried to keep me away from the woman I could have been with for the last year.

  Amanda’s jaw drops, but she doesn’t try to fight it because she knows she doesn’t stand a chance. I turn to Katie, vaguely noticing Amanda stomp away in tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for her. She lets me put my hands on her arms.

  “It’s not your fault,” Katie says quietly. “I’m just so sad that we lost all this time together.”

  “Me too.”

  She looks up at me then, her eyes wide, almost like she’s scared.

  “Trent,” she says, a tremor in her voice. “We really need to talk.”

  I nod and sling an arm around that curvy form. Whatever it is, I’m not afraid anymore. Because with this woman at my side … anything is possible.

  Chapter Eleven

  Katie

  All this time, I’ve been furious with Trent, thinking he’s been screening my calls, and it turns out the bitch Amanda just wanted him all to herself. It’s all so surreal, I can barely process it, but a part of me is soaring: Trent wanted to be with me this whole time.

  And now I have to tell him the truth.

  My hands sweat and my heart races. I feel like I might be sick, but I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down.

  Trent keeps his hands on my arms. They’re gentle but firm. He’s waiting patiently for me to talk, to tell him whatever it is that I need to tell him.

  “What’s going on, Katie?” he says softly. “Have you found someone else? I understand if you have...it’s been over a year, I didn’t expect you to—”

  “No!” I say quickly. “That’s not it. I haven’t. There’s no one else.”

  He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. There’s no one else for me, either. That night we shared together…it changed me, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

  I start to cry. Maybe it’s this overwhelming moment, maybe it’s the residual hormones from pregnancy, but I can’t help it. The tears fall freely.