The Billionaire's Seed_A Secret Baby Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  “Aaron,” Vanessa broke the stillness. “What do you want out of life?”

  Shock drizzled through him. “What?” he asked, lifting his head to face her.

  “What do you want out of life?” she asked again. “Have you already achieved your dreams? Are you still searching for something?”

  He let his eyes wander outside to the cyan sea, and the way the sunlight glimmered across the surface of the waves. All he wanted was normalcy, to be average, to not be considered such a commodity.

  “I want… to be a regular guy,” he confessed. “I want a house, I want a wife, I want to barbecue in the backyard and drink beer with my friends. I want to talk about sports, not stocks. I want to fix things in the garage. I want to read all the newspaper sections, not just the finance and business parts. I want… to be average,” Aaron said, looking into her eyes.

  “Have you ever told anyone before?” she questioned, curiously.

  “No one’s ever asked me,” he replied.

  Chapter 21

  In the months following his trip to the Maldives, Aaron was informed that his assumption about his former secretary’s involvement in the case was false. His father was still deteriorating, even after a quick jump in his health. In what felt like a move of ultimate betrayal, Mr. Lee was taken into federal custody on two charges of attempted murder, having stolen the serum from an unknown merchant on the black market.

  “Why did you do it?” Aaron said into the phone as he stared into Mr. Lee’s eyes, sunken and gray, across the plexiglass barrier. “Why would you do this to us?”

  “You never respected me,” Mr. Lee hissed. “I had worked for your father since before you were born. I should have owned the company by now. I should be in charge. I was loyal for decades, but Charlie never cared about me. I was stuck, unable to move up, wasting my time. I wanted him gone. I wanted you gone. I wanted to win.”

  “How did you inject the poison into me? How did you make me into such a monster?” Aaron was desperate for answers; his brain seemed to turn itself inside-out in longing to understand how all this happened.

  “I spiked your coffee,” snarled Mr. Lee, his eyes somersaulting in their turpitude. “The morning of the meeting with the investors. I placed a tasteless sedative in a single serving of decaf coffee and poured it into a mug as soon as I saw Desiree coming. Once you were knocked out, I injected you with the serum...the same serum I plunged into your father’s bloodstream in sustained, nearly-lethal doses. I kept him alive just long enough to name me as his successor. And yet...he never did...” Mr. Lee’s wicked confession trailed off, leaving Aaron with the constricting depravity of his words.

  “My father could read people,” Aaron said slowly, measuredly. “He could have sensed this behavior in you, Mr. Lee. That’s probably the reason that you never moved up in the company, not me.”

  Hatred emanated from Mr. Lee’s pores as he spit at Aaron’s face across the windowpane. The two guards supervising the visit immediately snapped to action, dragging Mr. Lee back into the dingy recesses of the federal prison where he was held, awaiting the death sentence. Sighing, Aaron held his thumbs tightly within his fingers for a few seconds before getting up to leave. This was his coping mechanism, this helped him calm down. Over time, Aaron learned the value in stress-management strategies, always testing and trying new ways to prevent a transformation. In times of intense anxiety, Aaron could squeeze his thumbs at the pressure points to release dopamine through his body to create waves of contentment.

  Behind the wheel of the Tesla he’d traded for his old bachelor’s Porsche, Aaron took in the fields of unending green across the rural California landscape. Mountains sketched themselves out across the brilliant blue of the southwestern sky and birds flitted through the wind gusts, chirping and singing a soundtrack of inextinguishable joy. He sold Kümertech to a rival company, which absorbed his albatross with open arms. Now, Aaron did what he wanted, when he wanted, and didn’t have to keep up the masquerade of detached indifference.

  Aaron pulled into the driveway of a house he’d bought shortly after his return from the Maldives. Emma ran out to greet him as he closed the car door, bounding across the yard only to be swooped up in his arms and spun around until they both fell in their dizziness on the landing pad of the grass. Vanessa watched from the window, spinning in her own form of dizzy joy at the sight of the two of them together, giving each other companionship they’d never had before.

  For Emma, Aaron was a big brother and a father figure rolled into one. For Aaron, Emma was a window into a life of joy, of compassion, of innocence, of hope. For Vanessa, they were bridges to a family she didn’t think she deserved, the new and improved version of the family that was ripped away from her. She was nearing her twenty-third birthday, and her life had painted itself in ways that she lacked the artistic ability to imagine. Watching Aaron gaze up at clouds with Emma in the grass, pointing out cloud formations and giggling at the possibilities, Vanessa’s heart was bursting. This was her life now.

  Keeping Daddy’s Secret

  By: Natasha Spencer

  Keeping Daddy’s Secret

  © November 2017 – All rights reserved

  By Natasha Spencer,

  Published by Passionate Publishing Inc.

  This is a work of fiction. All names and characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  This book is for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher.

  Warning

  This book is intended for adult readers, 18+ years old. Please close this e-book if you are not comfortable reading

  Chapter 1

  Jolie Park sighed when she looked up over her book and saw a group of four twenty-somethings hurling themselves into the swimming pool. They made a loud splash with each awkward cannonball and the rest of them cheered, laughed and clapped their hands. They were beginning to test her patience

  Jolie was a twenty-something herself; 25 to be precise, but she looked down at the group, from her sharp nose and clucked her tongue. This was supposed to be a peaceful resort, this was supposed to be her vacation; and now she had splashes of water dampening the edge of her book.

  Gritting her teeth with annoyance, Jolie slapped her book shut and dropped it to her side. When she reached her hand for the glass of frozen margarita, which she had long since forgotten about; she realized that the drink had melted and now it wouldn’t taste the same.

  She took a sip anyway, and allowed the drink to travel down her throat. It settled somewhere in the bottom of her stomach and cooled the back of her neck. The Florida weather didn’t suit her, she thought. Tans and bright sunshine were over-rated. She couldn’t wait to go back to New York. Anywhere on the East Coast in fact, where people layered their clothes and didn’t do cartwheels in the sand for fun.

  But she couldn’t return, not yet. Her boss had made it very clear to her that this forced vacation was a matter of life and death.

  “When was the last time you took a day off, Jolie?” Margaret had asked, slipping her custom made Chopard glasses off the bridge of her nose. Jolie had shrugged her shoulders and looked away. She didn’t need a vacation, what good had one ever done to anybody? Instead, there was the latest issue of Dot that they needed to get to the printers in less than seven days and they hadn’t even decided on the middle page’s layout yet.

  “I don’t need a vacation, Margaret. I need you to approve the photograph for the front cover,” she had replied, folding her arms over her chest.

  Margaret had sighed and made a few clicks on her computer, before turning her own tired eyes towards Jolie.

  “I’m booking you tickets to the Florida Keys. One week, fully paid and you’re getting on the flight tonight,” she said and Jolie crossed her brows and shook her head.

  One week! Seven days? She hadn’t spent more than a few waking hou
rs away from her office desk in the past three years. It’s how she had made it this far at this age. The magazine was the start and end of her entire life’s work and worth.

  “We haven’t worked on the middle page’s…” Jolie began to say and Margaret had cut her short.

  “Layout…I know. And, even though you’re the best at it, and your invaluable opinion will be greatly missed, Jolie, I think you seriously need this vacation,” she replied, fixing a stern gaze on her assistant editor.

  Jolie gulped, feeling at a loss. She was good at following orders, and very good at executing them. It was the very reason why Margaret Aston, one of the most feared and respected fashion editors in the country had handpicked Jolie from the slush pile. She stuck her chin up in the air and tried to assert herself.

  “I promise to take it easy,” she said, but she couldn’t even convince herself with that quivering voice. For the first time in three years, she felt like she was losing control.

  “You fell asleep at your desk last night, Jolie. The cleaners had to come and wake you up this morning,” Margaret steepled her fingers and Jolie felt the color in her cheeks rising.

  “I just lost track of time,” she tried but Margaret wasn’t having any of that.

  “At least eight interns have made formal complaints about your attitude towards them. And don’t get me wrong, Jolie, you know I like a good set of choice words thrown at these incompetent sparrows,” Margaret said and sucked in a lungful of air. This was exactly why Jolie admired Margaret, they were on the same page.

  “Then what is the problem?” Jolie was quick to ask and Margaret sighed again.

  “You sent two of them home for the day, because their shoes were from a few seasons ago. We needed the foot soldiers for the day, Jo, that was a little extreme,” Margaret said and a more sympathetic gaze entered her eyes.

  “So, you’re reprimanding me for making sure that our representatives do their job well? We are a fashion magazine, Margaret…” Jolie was on the defensive quickly and now her boss smiled at her and shook her head.

  “Of course, I’m not,” she said and the two women stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

  “You know, Jo, you remind me of me and I can’t help but want to grab you by the shoulders and give you a good shake and some life advice. Advice I wish someone had given me when I was starting out in this business,” Margaret said and Jolie was surprised by the softness in the older lady’s voice. She couldn’t remember an instance before this that Margaret had spoken to anyone in this tone. Jolie almost felt like her heart was breaking in two.

  “You need to build a life for yourself outside the magazine, outside this industry…before it is too late for you,” she said, holding Jolie’s gaze firmly. Neither of them wanted to be the first one to look away.

  “You’re going and that’s final. If you refuse, you can pack your bags and clear your desk and look for a new job. And don’t expect a letter of recommendation from me,” Margaret said and perched her glasses back on her nose and turned her face away from Jolie.

  Jolie gulped, licked her lips and decided that she was going to go to Florida. She was going to make this a part of her job. And maybe, there was some truth in what Margaret was saying, and seven days wasn’t a very long time at all. It would pass her by in the blink of an eye.

  Chapter 2

  Brandon Calloway had his hands stuck in the pockets of his pants. He was standing at the edge of the beach, surveying his guests and his property. The resort was doing well, and as he scanned his territory, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

  He had spent the better part of the past 25 years, making good investments and slowly, one property at a time, he had managed to build an empire for himself. An empire big enough to boast of three resorts in Florida, four in California and a new one under construction in Hawaii.

  He had started from nothing. A small B&B that his grandmother had left him in Cedar Key. A property that his two siblings had washed their hands off the moment the Will was read. Brandon had bought it off his brothers for a meagre sum and spent the whole summer fixing the house. For three years, he had greeted every guest himself, mastered the art of a good breakfast in its kitchen and saved every penny so he could invest in a second property.

  Which, he did. And then in a third, and then the fourth one was a resort, and the rest was history. It was the same story he had told the reporter who had come to interview him from Forbes magazine. He was being featured in the magazine that month in the article titled ‘Five Billionaires under Sixty’ and now he couldn’t believe he had come this far.

  It had taken him twenty-five years, and now he was 52 and his beard had just started greying…but he had made it! He had built a legacy for his children.

  What children? Brandon tried to not shake his head at that thought, but ended up gritting his teeth instead. He had used up all his energy and brain space towards the business, and building this legacy and, not once in all those years had he stopped to wonder who he was building it for.

  Women had come and gone, but Brandon had remained, steadfast and true to his ambitions. Like an old film reel, the faces of all the women he had short lived relationships with, flipped through his mind’s eye. None of them were good enough, none of them were partner-quality and, most importantly, he had never fallen in love.

  “You’ve never given one of them a chance. Two weeks isn’t long enough for you to fall in love, Bran. It doesn’t work that way,” his best friend, Marty, had said to him six years ago. But where was he supposed to find the time? Two weeks at a time, was all he had, to dedicate his energy to a woman and then the moment they started interfering with his work-he was out of there.

  Now, at 52, after having achieved everything he had set out to achieve in his life, he felt the pang. That pull in the pit of his belly. Who was he going to leave all this to?

  He met Alice in Boston, on a business trip. She was the manager at the hair salon that was recommended to him by one of his assistants, and Brandon was in dire need of a haircut.

  Now when he looked back on that day, on that week of his trip to Boston, he couldn’t help but wonder if the result of that trip was a direct consequence of one of his “moods.” He’d been thinking hard about his legacy, about what Marty had told him six years ago and, when he saw Alice, he decided that she would do.

  Alice was much younger than him, in her late thirties with some child bearing years still left in her. He knew he had caught her eye too. She hovered around him a little longer. Offered to cut his hair herself, instead of designating one of the other hairdressers to him. Within fifteen minutes, he had asked her on a date. Within a day, they had slept together twice and he had extended his trip. Within a week, he had decided that he was in love and asked her to marry him. They flew to Vegas, and his two assistants stepped in as witnesses to the marriage. For the first time in his life, Brandon had felt like he had taken charge of his personal life.

  That was three months ago, and between then and now, he had seen his new bride no more than three times.

  Alice was quick to quit her job at the salon, and find a brand new townhouse in the swanky part of Boston. Brandon’s contribution to the setting up of the house, had been nothing more than transporting his trunks of books from his home in Cedar Key.

  Alice didn’t even seem to mind that she rarely ever saw her new husband, which should have come as a relief to him. Living with another person, dealing with the daily nuances of a relationship…were not things that he was experienced in. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if this had been the right decision. They hadn’t even discussed children, he didn’t even know if Alice wanted them. Sometimes, he even forgot her last name, and he hadn’t even asked her any questions about why Alice’s daughter hadn’t turned up for their wedding in Vegas.

  Brandon slipped his phone out of the pocket of his pants and stared at the bundle of emails and messages on the screen. None of them were from his wife. In a split second, he decide
d that he needed to make this work. He needed to give this marriage and this relationship a fair shot, it was about time that he did.

  Chapter 3

  Jolie decided that she would rather spend the rest of the day in her room. The swimming pool area had become too noisy now, and the private beach that the resort offered had started looking crowded. Her room was going to be the only place where she could get some peace and quiet, she figured. But, before anything else, another frozen margarita was in order.

  She weaved around the deck chairs of fellow vacationers as she walked towards the Tiki bar set up at the edge of the pool. Her satin cover-up trailed behind her, and the book she had abandoned reading earlier, dangled from her hand.

  At the bar, a man was sitting on a stool with his back turned to her and she sat down beside him.

  “Another one of those frozen margaritas you made for me earlier, Juan,” she said with a sigh to the bartender. The only people she had any form a conversation with, in the past two days of staying here, had been the bartenders. She’d developed a working relationship with all of them and they seemed to like her too.

  “If you liked the frozen margarita, you should give the limoncello mojito a try,” the man sitting beside her said, swiveling on the stool and turned to Jolie. None of the guests had dared to speak to her before this, and she figured it had to do with the vibe she usually gave off.

  His voice had startled her too. It was a deep soothing voice that seemed to pierce her soul and it took her a few moments to re-adjust herself.