by Vanessa Rose
As he broke down, I moved to his side and lightly touched his arms.
“But she was out,” he said. “And she… she didn’t wake up. Because she lost too much blood. And I… I thought that at least her baby would make up for what she went through. But then… then that kid’s lungs wouldn’t work. And I… I…”
My chin trembled as he broke down, and I moved fast to take him into my arms as we fell together to the floor. Clasping him close, I stroked his back and sighed into his ear.
“And that’s why you’re so scared,” I said.
Dylan’s voice stayed muffled in my breast as I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his stubbled cheeks.
“What else could you have done?” I asked. “That was an impossible situation---”
“And so is this, Gabrielle.”
I didn’t make a move as he brushed the hair from my damp eyes, moaning as he fell close to my mouth.
“I swear I just wanted a drink,” he said. “And then… then there’s all of you. And I feel safe. But then… then you throw another kid into the mix. And I just don’t---”
“Dylan, it’s okay now.”
Holding him as he cried, I imagined the dark shades lining his soul from that wanted one more moment to move forward. Should I have been the stronger person and tried to seek him out sooner?
“But… but, Gabrielle?”
Our eyes met, and I watched him struggle for the words when he finally sighed and gently kissed my cheek.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “And the chance that… that our kid might be the way home.”
“Dylan…”
Kissing him quickly, I sank into swirl of his embrace, never leaving his mouth as I helped him to his feet. Pulling back, I laughed into his chest and thought of all the ways that I had missed him. Now he was back, and I was ready to explore his body all over again when Kayla wailed from the other room.
“I… I should check on---”
“I could come with you,” he said. “I mean… we need the practice, right?”
Feeling as if my heart would burst up and through my throat, I steadied myself with his hand and looked into his eyes.
“So you want that kid to be yours,” I asked.
“Ours, Gabrielle,” he said. “I don’t want to do anything without you.”
I started to kiss him again when Kayla’s cries pushed us apart, but I managed to nip his lips as I held his hand tighter.
“You do this now,” I said. “Then I’m keeping you close for the long haul.”
Dylan started to flinch, and I held my breath as he settled into my hand and smiled.
“So let’s get started,” he said. “I’m ready for a new experience.”
Taking him at his word, I led him towards Kayla’s crib. Dylan’s arms quaked as I eased them over the edge, but he followed my lead and took the baby into his arms.
“There you go,” I said as I helped him steady the back of her soft head. “See how she settles with you.”
Dylan nodded, and I curled close to his side, imbibing his tangy scent mingling with Kayla’s aroma as I reached my fingers under his chin and smiled into his eyes.
“You… you think I can be like this with our kid?” he asked.
“Dylan…”
Kissing his lips quickly, I settled into his shoulder and watched Kayla coo as I wrapped my arm around his waist.
“I think that you can be so much more.”
The Billionaire’s Secret Contract
Vanessa Rose
© Copyright 2018 by Vanessa Rose. All rights reserved.
No part of this novel may be reproduced, duplicated, distributed or transmitted in either electronic or print form. Neither may it be stored in a retrieval system, database or in any form without prior written consent from the author.
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1: At First Sight
Chapter 2: Foreign Affairs
Chapter 3: Gift from God
Chapter 4: New Beginnings
Chapter 5: Luxury and Lust
Chapter 6: Little Surprises
Chapter 8: A Bouquet of Roses
Chapter 9: Lucky
Chapter 1: At First Sight
Michael’s phone rang just as he was trying to decide which box of biscuits he’d like best.
“Michael Clarke,” he answered, not bothering to check the caller ID first. His cell had been ringing nonstop all day with updates on the McKellen deal.
“Mikey,” his brother’s voice mockingly crooned from the other end. “How’s tricks? Bad time? Hope I didn’t wake you; I’ve yet to get a proper handle on this time zone business. Good thing you’ll be back in London in a couple of weeks.”
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “What now, Jonathan? I’m expecting more calls from Greg soon so be quick about it.”
There was a pause. “Where are you?” Jonathan asked.
“Supermarket.”
His brother sighed. “What in the hell are you doing in a supermarket? Isn’t that what you’ve got maids for, mate?”
“It’s good to get out in the real world every now and then. I’ve spent my entire summer surrounded by blokes so far removed I doubt they even remember what a cash register is.”
“Most of those lot were likely born into their fortune, Mikey. You and I don’t need a reminder.”
Jonathan spoke the truth. The two brothers had been raised by a single mother who made ends meet by waiting tables. Not exactly a glamorous upbringing. Even though it had been over twenty years since he left home to make his own way, Michael still vividly remembered those trips to the store as a child, watching his mother feverishly thumb through stacks of coupons in the checkout, doing what she could to stretch her meager income.
Maybe he didn’t need a reminder, but he needed to get away from his colleagues from time to time. He’d been in the States all summer, spending the majority of his days attending ritzy parties and dining with other esteemed businessmen. But while he enjoyed the lifestyle and he certainly enjoyed the excitement of New York City, he could sometimes do without the company. His colleagues were nice enough, but he could hardly relate to most of them. They, like his brother, scoffed at the idea of “stooping to the level of commoners,” as he once heard his brother put it. Yes, they had a hard upbringing and had managed to claw their way to the top, but Jonathan now thought he was above all that, as did most of their peers. Michael, however, had never quite fit in with that sort. Sometimes it just felt nice to blend in.
“What do you think? Macadamia nut or cranberry raisin?” Michael said, turning the box of biscuits over in his hand.
Jonathan groaned over the line. “Anyway, the reason I called is that I wanted to know if you’ve booked your flight home yet.”
Michael dropped the box of cranberry raisins and opted for the double chocolate chip instead. He began to make his way to the checkout. “I haven’t, no.”
“What? You best not wait too much longer. All the decent first class seats will be taken. You don’t want another layover in Brussels, do you?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure I want another layover at all.”
“All the more reason to get on booking that flight.”
“That’s the thing, Jonathan. I think I’d like to stay in New York.”
There was a long silence before Jonathan spoke again. “Like, permanently?”
Michael slid into the checkout line. The store was remarkably full, likely because rush hour was just beginning. Lots of folks grabbing a quick round of groceries on their way home from work, he figured. The line he’d chosen was three deep, longer than some of the other lines around him but he’d picked at random. He didn’t mind waiting.
“I think so, yes. Permanently,” he said. “But my visa is expiring soon, so I’m not exactly sure how to pull that off just yet.”
Jonathan laughed. “Marry an American girl. Or get arrested. About the same, if you ask me.”
Michael laugh
ed too, but he also just then notice the woman in front of him.
She was young, maybe mid to late twenties. Her dark hair haloed her brown face like a cloud, all curled and twisted to somehow appear elegant and playful at the same time. The splotches of flour on her apron suggested she’d just come from a shift at a bakery, and the near-empty cart and fistful of coupons suggested the bakery didn’t pay very well. She balanced a baby girl on her hip as she unloaded her items onto the register’s belt, most of which were diapers and baby food.
Michael hung up on his brother.
He watched as she shuffled through her coupons, matching them up to the items on the belt. He couldn’t help but be reminded of his mother.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the cashier said. The young woman bristled at the word “ma’am.” “This coupon doesn’t apply to these flavors of baby food.”
“Oh, um,” the woman began, “I know, but my daughter is lactose intolerant so I was hoping…”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t accept this coupon for these items.” The cashier paused. “Would you still like to buy them?”
The woman surveyed her groceries. “Yeah, I’ll just go without these.” She handed the cashier the stack of quick box meals and a few cans of soup.
The cashier swept the items to the side and before Michael knew it, the young woman had scooped up her bags of groceries and headed out the door. He knew immediately that she would be able to help him, but more importantly, he would be able to help her. Seeing her in the line like this right as his brother had brought up the idea of marriage had to be a sign.
The cashier had to tell him his total twice before he snapped back to reality.
“Actually,” he said, still watching the woman through the glass doors as she made her way across the parking lot, “I’d like to pay for what that lady left behind too.”
Chapter 2: Foreign Affairs
Taylor had just about made it to the bus stop when the man from the checkout caught up to her. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, out of breath. He held out a bag of groceries. “You left these behind.”
Taylor glanced into the bag and recognized the box dinner and cans of soup she’d had to go without. She gave him a terse smile. This wasn’t the first time some man took pity on her and tried to “save” her from her wretched life. “That’s very kind, but you didn’t have to do that.” Lucy stirred in her arm. It was close to nap time and Taylor wanted to get her home as quickly as possible.
“I, er, I’m sorry,” he said, setting his own bag on the ground to offer her a hand. “My name is Michael. Following you like this was presumptuous of me. Please forgive me.”
She studied his hand, his gentle smile. Reluctantly, she shifted Lucy to her other arm and shook his hand in return. He seemed classier than the usual creeps, at least. Classy enough not to earn her usual cold shoulder and a threat to call the police. “Taylor.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Taylor.” He smiled and again offered her the groceries. “Please, forgive my boldness, but I’d very much like for you to take these.”
What a situation this was. On one hand, she was vehemently against taking pity presents from strange men. It was demeaning, and they always had an ulterior motive anyway. On the other hand, though, she was almost out of food for her in the apartment and she wouldn’t be getting paid again until next week.
“Fine, but you really didn’t need to do that.” She took the bag from him and then muttered, “Thanks.” It was heavier than she anticipated. Getting all of this plus a fussy baby home on the bus was bound to be an adventure.
“Good. Thank you.” He smiled again and she turned to go, but he continued. “Listen, I don’t mean to overstep, but I think I understand your apprehension.”
Taylor whipped back around. “Do you?” she snapped more angrily than she intended.
Michael deflated, putting his hands up to show that he was backing off. “You’re right, you’re right. I couldn’t begin to understand, even though I want to.”
Her anger wavered. That wasn’t the response she had expected. So many men, Lucy’s deadbeat father included, had claimed to understand, to relate, to know what it’s like to live her life. To be a black single mother working for pennies at a job she hated. “Yeah, you couldn’t,” she said finally, “so thanks for the charity but we’ve got a bus to catch.”
“Wait! You look like you have your hands full. Let me give you a ride home.”
Taylor’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?” He wanted her to accept more charity and to show him where she lived? He must have thought she was exceptionally stupid.
“It’s the least I can do.” He picked up his bag and gestured in the direction where his car must have been parked. “Or let me pay for a cab, if you prefer.”
She chewed her lip, unsure of what to do. He was right, she knew. She did have her hands more than full and she dreaded having to take the bus across town with all her groceries and Lucy. Public transportation always made her feel uneasy. And this guy was going to great lengths to prove that he wasn’t a creep, which she appreciated, but how did she know it wasn’t a trick? He could be playing her.
But something about this guy piqued her interest. Most of the scumbags that offered her rides in a shoddy attempt at flirtation were, well, scumbags. Even though her guard was up and she’d heard his spiel before, she could tell Michael wasn’t a scumbag. She felt safe in his care despite her defenses. Maybe it was the genuine admiration in his voice or the warmth of his face as he awaited her answer, but she could sense that he was different from the others.
“Okay,” she said warily. “Where’s your car?”
Taylor wasn’t the least bit surprised when he escorted her to the most expensive car in the lot, a brand new Bentley. He insisted on carrying her bags so that she had both hands free for Lucy.
“Nice ride,” she said, snapping a picture with her phone. She managed to get him in the shot too as he loaded up the trunk with her groceries. As she climbed into the back seat with Lucy in her lap, she text the picture of the car and its driver to her mother.
“Getting a ride home from this guy,” she wrote. “Michael, sounds British, late 30s. Call police if I don’t call you in a half hour.” She added in his license plate number and a more detailed description of where she was and the car she was in. Even though she trusted him enough to accept the favor, she couldn’t be too careful, especially with her daughter.
The drive was surprisingly pleasant. Taylor could tell that Michael went to great lengths to keep her comfortable. He made small talk, keeping the conversation safe but somehow still interesting, asking her about her job at the bakery and how long she’d lived in the city. Taylor gave him guarded answers, but as the Bentley slowly crawled through the rush hour traffic, she began to loosen up.
She hated her job and saw no reason to lie about it. The bakery had seemed like a good fit at first, seeing as she had loved to bake from a young age, but the owners didn’t treat her very well. She’d been there for years and upward mobility was all but nonexistent. As far as the city, though, she’d lived in New York all her life. Her parents split up when she was a kid, so she grew up with her mother and two sisters in the Bronx.
It was when he asked about Lucy’s age, the first question he’d posed about her daughter, that she challenged him back.
“So what’s a rich guy like you doing chauffeuring around a woman like me, anyway?” She stared at him through the rearview mirror. “You can’t really be interested in my life.”
He smirked, glancing up to meet her eyes for a moment. “I didn’t always have money.”
“So? You do now.”
“I do, but I remember what it was like when I didn’t. I was lucky enough to be able to work my way into good finances. I like to share the wealth, when I can.”
Michael told her about his mother, how she raised him and his brother with next to nothing. That did surprise her; she never would have expected that he’d ever wanted for anything in h
is life. She told him as much.
He just laughed. “Well, it’s true. You remind me of her, even.”
Taylor wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I’m also surprised that you’re so upfront about your personal life. In my experience, men don’t usually admit stuff like that.”
“It’s only fair,” he said with a shrug. “I figure you deserve to know a little about me.” He paused. “Though I must admit I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you.”
Taylor bristled. She turned her gaze out the window as they rolled up to a stoplight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“As you may have guessed by this point, I’m not an American citizen. In fact, my visa is due to expire soon, though I’d very much like to stay in this great country.” His fingers drummed the steering wheel nervously. “Please forgive how forward this proposition will sound, but I don’t fancy the idea of misleading you.”
“Are you looking for a green card marriage?” Taylor said incredulously.
“Um, well, it sounds absurd in those terms, I know, but essentially… yes.”
Was this guy insane? They’d known each other for less than an hour and he was suggesting they marry each other? Taking him up on the ride offer had been a mistake. At least they were nearing her apartment. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I’m completely serious. Of course, you would be greatly compensated for your, er, effort. I know by now how much you don’t appreciate charity, so—“
“Okay, stop right there.” If Lucy hadn’t been with her, Taylor would’ve bailed from the car then and there.
“One million dollars per year.”
Taylor froze. “Excuse me?”
“One million dollars, plus I’ll cover all living expenses and any other expenses that come from raising your daughter. You’ll be covered under my insurance, you’ll have your own car so you won’t need to rely on the bus, and I’d even like for you to move into my penthouse suite in Manhattan. The place is more than large enough to accommodate us comfortably, complete with individual bedrooms for all three of us.”
