Lucky Daddy: A Billionaire Fake Fiancé Romance

by Eva Luxe

  “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

  “What do you mean?” I snap, feeling the anger boil up inside me.

  Why would I say something like that? Is he serious!?

  “Like, we just had this amazing sex…this amazing moment together, and that’s the first thing out of your mouth?”

  Chris sits up on his elbow and turns to face me. The look on his face is terrifying. I would not like to be one of the poor bastards across from him on the field. But I’m not one to back down, and feeling his anger just brings mine to the surface.

  “Well, what do you expect?” I ask him viciously. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Tell a girl what she wants to hear, use her up and then bail as soon as you can?”

  “You’re unbelievable,” Chris replies. “That’s what you think happened? I just bailed on you? Used you up and bailed?”

  “Are you saying you didn’t?”

  A series of looks flash through Chris’s face like a slideshow. I can’t read them, but I’m smart enough to see he’s contemplating what to say next. It actually starts giving me anxiety as I look at him as I try to anticipate what’s going to come out of his mouth.

  I’m suddenly conscious of every sensation in my body. I feel exposed in front of him. The sweat on my chest feels disgusting and his cum dripping out of me is something that needs to be dealt with immediately. I want to get up and run to the shower and wash this night off me – wash off this enormous, wonderful mistake.

  What is he going to say!? I wonder. Speak!

  But when Chris finally opens his mouth, he says something that takes my breath away.

  “The kid is mine, isn’t he?”

  It’s like a punch to the chest. I thought he would yell at me, insult me, make some snide comment about me or just shake his head, get up and get dressed and leave. I never expected him to bring up Max. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d seen him the other night. But obviously he did. And I am not prepared for this.

  “What—” I stammer, feeling like I have to relearn how to speak all over again. “What are you talking about? What!?”

  “The kid,” Chris repeats firmly. “I saw him the other night. He’s mine, isn’t he?”

  “No!” I snap. The words just slip out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying. I have to recover. Say something! “The entire world doesn’t revolve around you, Chris!”

  I spring to my feet and grimace as more of Chris’s cum slips out of me. My towel’s lying on the floor at my feet and I snatch it up and cover myself. Chris gets to his feet but doesn’t bother with his clothes. He’s looking at me in a way I can’t decipher, and it only makes me more uncomfortable.

  “If that kid is mine, Janelle—”

  “He’s not!” I snap, cutting him off. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Sleeping with Chris was my mistake, not his, but the fact that we still haven’t talked about the last two years is probably what’s doing it. I need to know, but at the same time I don’t want to know.

  To hear Chris’s bullshit excuses about where he’s been and what he’s been up to would break my heart, and I think the fact that I know he’s capable of breaking my heart is making me even more terrified.

  Chris looks at me, then slowly pulls on his pants. I hate the fact that even now, I still find him attractive. This war of emotions within me is driving me crazy and all I want is for him to be gone.

  “You’re unbelievable,” he says as he slides his shirt over his disgustingly amazing torso. “You won’t even let me explain?”

  “Explain what!?” I shout. “How you used me? How you treated me like a whore and left money for me after fucking me!?”

  “I thought you needed that money!” Chris roars. “I told you I’d give you some to dance, then I didn’t want you to dance because of all the guys—”

  Chris stops and throws his hands up. He wants to say something else but he’s not going to.

  “That’s really sweet of you, Chris,” I tell him. “Big rich man helping out the poor little helpless waitress.”

  This whole situation disgusts me. I disgust myself. I got myself into this completely and now I’m angry with him. It’s like a rabbit being angry with a tiger. The tiger’s just doing what the tiger will do, and Chris’s just doing what Chris will do. He’s an arrogant football stud who’s used to getting what he wants. Why would he act any differently with me?

  I feel like a guy. They always talk about how guys have post-sex guilt and that’s pretty much exactly how I’m feeling right now. It’s not that I made a decision and slept with some guy I wasn’t attracted to just because I was super horny or anything. It’s that I made a poor life decision by going through with this.

  I’ve told myself over and over for the last two years that Chris is not the man I thought he was, and then what do I do? The minute he shows up and I see his unbelievably sexy face and body, I just let him have his way with me!

  “That’s not what I am saying at all, Janelle,” Chris says. “I was just…trying to do the right thing.”

  “The right thing!?” I cry out incredulously. “The right thing would have been to be there in the morning! The right thing would have been to not bail on me like some scumbag! The right thing would have been not to lie to me and treat me like a piece of shit!”

  I’m so angry I am ready to slap him. But I hold back. I don’t want to do that. He knows I’m upset, but I don’t want him to know just how upset I am. If there was a real reason for his behavior he would have come out with it by now.

  “I thought you were different, Chris,” I say after a long silence. “But you’re not. You’re just another football asshole that thinks the world and everyone in it belongs to him.”

  Before I even know what’s come over me, I’ve got my hands on him. I shove him hard on the chest and push him toward the door. He staggers back, not because I’m strong but because he’s shocked. So am I.

  I yank the door open and push him out onto the front steps. I didn’t realize just how angry I was with him until now. All the things I’ve been thinking about since I last saw him have just been simmering inside me and I’m boiling over and don’t know how to control it.

  I shouldn’t have slept with him.

  I’ve been here raising his son all by myself, paying the bills, doing my best to help my mother, and when I think of what my life could have been like if Chris was actually a good guy – if he’d stayed with me and taken care of me and made us a family…

  I should have shut the door on him a long time ago.

  Chris opens his mouth to speak, but I slam the door shut and twist the lock. Never – again.

  Chapter 17

  Chris

  I stare at the door for what must be a few minutes before I’m able to move. What a disaster. I shouldn’t have fucked her like that. I should have come out with my explanation and then put my hands on her. Then she’d understand.

  Or would she?

  I didn’t realize just how pissed she was at me. Of course she was upset, but you never really know exactly how a girl feels until she tells you. And I guess by her behavior tonight it’s pretty clear – she hates me.

  And she says the kid isn’t mine, so there’s that weight off my shoulders. But as I walk back to my car, I realize that I was hoping the kid was mine. I’ve never wanted to be a father, but the thought of having a family with Janelle was lingering in the back of my mind and even now, after all that’s happened, the idea of it excites me.

  Stop being weak!

  I curse at myself as I hop into my car and gun it out of her neighborhood. My knuckles whiten as I grip the steering wheel and step on the gas. I don’t have a destination in mind. All I know is I have to keep moving. Sitting still right now is the worst thing I could do.

  I make turns through the darkness, passing parts of town I’ve never seen. I cross the tracks, take a road that circles the lake and end up on a hill overlooking the town. I don’t even stop to get out. I just keep on going
.

  How did I let this happen?

  I swore nothing like this would ever happen to me again. No emotions. No feelings. Just football, floozies and fucking. That was my life.

  I was in love once. Her name was Shannon. She was my world. She brought me to my knees. There was just this way she had about her that made me feel strong, but like I didn’t have to be cocky about it. She just knew who I was and that I would do whatever it took to protect her and I didn’t have to walk around acting like a tough guy to prove it.

  She really knew me…

  At least that’s what I thought.

  Half a year into our relationship Shannon told me she was pregnant. I was fucking floored. It was only one year into my professional football career and was completely unplanned.

  “I don’t know how this happened! I’m on the pill!”

  That’s what she told me. And I accepted it. I wrapped my head around the whole situation and told her that everything would be okay. I had plenty of money. My child would never need anything and neither would she.

  So I married her. It wasn’t a big extravagant wedding with rock stars and celebrity guests. Neither of us wanted that. It was family and close friends, some guys from the team and her family. And it was great.

  We started to make plans for our future. How we’d handle me being on the road, where we’d buy a house, where the best schools were and all that. It’s a hard thing to focus on football when you’re all caught up with the realities that life throws at you when something like this happens.

  Then one night, after we beat Alabama by two downs, I decided to skip out on the victory party and head home early. My mind was right. After months of self-doubt and speculation, I was finally ready to be one hundred percent on board with being a father and a family man, and I wanted to go home and tell Shannon.

  But when I got home, I knew my life was about to change again.

  Brian had been my best friend since youth football when we were six. His dad was assistant coach and we had been tight ever since. We grew up together. He ended up going down the academic route while I got deep into football, but we stayed close.

  After I started traveling for the league, of course we grew apart a bit, but I never thought he’d end up doing what he did.

  I came home to his car in the driveway. He didn’t even have the courtesy to park down the street and sneak into my house. The fact that word never got back to me from one of my neighbors still boggles my fucking mind.

  I knew what I’d see before I walked in the house.

  They were fucking – in our bed. No, that’s not even the right way to put it. They were making love.

  He had her on her back and she had her legs wrapped around him. His tongue was in her mouth and she was sucking on it, her arms caressing his back as he pounded away.

  The moment was almost too much for me. I didn’t know whether to throw up or beat his fucking brains in. Some guys think you should get mad at your girl for cheating and not the guy – I mean, he didn’t do anything wrong. Right?

  But this was Brian. My best friend!

  This wasn’t some random guy who didn’t know she was married. This was the guy I grew up with and called my best friend for as long as I can remember. Not only did he know I was married, he was my fucking best man!

  I actually stayed and watched. They didn’t even see me. I watched him flip her over and fuck her from behind – the cheating little slut that she was. And I watched him cum inside her. And it was then I knew.

  The child she was pregnant with was his.

  I walked out without saying a word, moved into a hotel in town, bought my current house and broke off all contact. She knew she was busted, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that I knew. I didn’t want to have that conversation. It was better if she had to wonder.

  I waited for months, and then sure enough, her lawyers got in touch looking for money. I don’t even know why she tried it. Maybe she thought I still believed there was a chance the kid was mine. So I filed a paternity test and when it came up as Brian’s, I was off the hook.

  The son of a bitch. I’d never felt more betrayed. And it was then that I swore I’d never let myself get so close to another woman again. It just wasn’t worth it. I’m a mark, a target. Girls see me and they see dollar signs. And that’s all fine and good for casual sex and having a good time. But how do you ever trust someone when you’re as rich and famous as I am? How do you ever know if a girl’s not just out for your money?

  The answer is; you don’t.

  And then I went and fucked it all up. I let myself get close to a girl, even if it was only for one night, and now – now I feel like my world’s falling apart.

  I hammer the gas and head for the house – not my bachelor pad – the one my dad left me. It just feels like the right place to be. I’m out in the middle of fucking nowhere, so it takes me a few minutes to find my way back, but as I pull down the dirt road I instantly start to feel better.

  And when I pull up to the house, I see something I never expected. My mom’s car is parked in front of the barn. I park beside her and hop out, taking in the cool air outside of town, and see that she’s sitting on the porch. When she sees me, she smiles.

  “Hey, mom,” I say as I come up the steps. Mom’s turning fifty this year, but she doesn’t look a day over forty. She’s one of those classically beautiful women that seems to age like a fine wine and has one of those personalities that you can’t help but like. Everyone in town thinks she’s an angel, and they’re not far off.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she smiles as I take a seat next to her on the steps.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d come by and see the place,” she says. “Probably should have come during the daytime, but ah well.”

  I look out across the yard, the shadows swaying across the high grass and the old barn that will probably need repairs soon.

  This was the right place to go.

  “How are you, honey?” My mom asks. “You look…troubled.”

  Mom has always been able to read me like a book and I guess tonight is no different. Thankfully, I’m able to let my guard down around her. I let out a deep sigh and hang my head between my knees.

  “Ugh,” I groan.

  “Girl trouble?” She asks.

  “That doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

  She doesn’t press the matter. She knows I’ll talk in my own time. I don’t even really know what to say or where to begin, so I just come out with it.

  “I think I got a girl pregnant.”

  My words sit in the space between us like a cloud. I don’t know how to follow up on that, and thankfully my mom takes over.

  “You think?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “She says it’s not mine, but…”

  “You think it is?”

  “I don’t know!” I say with a gasp, sitting up and leaning back on my elbows. “I mean – she hasn’t asked me for money or anything, and she says it’s not mine, so part of me believes her.”

  “Not every woman wants your money,” my mom says, sounding like some wise old psychic or something.

  “Pssh,” I chuckle. “Tell that to the girls I’ve met.”

  “Well, you haven’t been really looking for the right girls, honey.”

  Mom’s a straight talker, but she has tact. What she wants to say is, “Chris, you’ve been fucking sluts and strippers and floozies for years, what do you expect from them!?” But she puts it delicately.

  “Okay,” I say angrily. “So she doesn’t want money and she says it’s not mine. Why would she lie?”

  “Maybe she’s testing you,” my mom says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe…and I say this with all the love in the world, my son.” I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say. “But some girls…might not see you as…reliable.”

  I scoff and rub my head with frustration. Is that what’s going on h
ere? Janelle’s putting me through some kind of good guy test to see how I behave? Slamming the fucking door in my face and shoving me out of her house doesn’t seem like a test to me. Seems pretty clear that she doesn’t want anything to do with me.

  But hey – girls. What do I know?

  “Well, I’m not playing that game,” I say indignantly. “Either she wants me in her life or she doesn’t. If she says he’s not my kid – he’s not.”

  And that’s that. Right?

  My mom doesn’t answer, and she takes so long to speak that I actually turn to her to see what’s up. She’s not looking at me, but when she finally does, I can see something like pain in her eyes.

  “It always upset me how your father treated you after you graduated,” she finally says. “Just walking away like that.”

  “I guess he thought I was a man then.”

  “Yes,” she nods. “And you were. But you still needed him, and I know that.”

  Now I see where she’s going with this.

  “Yeah,” I say, thinking back. “I did.”

  I gaze out across the property and feel a pang of nostalgia. It’s like my dad’s ghost is here. Like his spirit is floating in the trees and whispering in my mother’s ear. What I wouldn’t give to be able to hear his voice one more time – to listen to one of his lame jokes about me not being tough enough or good enough for the league. That was his way of motivating me – and it worked.

  But she’s right. When dad just picked up and left – I felt abandoned. Everything was going great in my life, but I didn’t have my father. I was left to be a man on my own. And I’ll never understand why he did that.

  “So, what you’re saying is—”

  “If there’s any chance that boy is yours,” my mom says. “You have to make sure you do everything you can to be there for him. Because you know what it’s like to feel abandoned.”