Jay's Lucky Baby - A Secret Baby Romance

by Layla Valentine

  Leaning in conspiratorially, casting a look at Kyle, who was standing obliviously behind the counter, she said, “Now, why don’t you give Kyle a chance?”

  I made another half-hearted poke at my muffin with my fork. In my present miserable circumstances, the proposition didn’t seem as ridiculous as usual.

  “Well, you know,” I said unconvincingly. “He’s my boss, and…”

  “And so what?” Helen countered. “Then, you could work less and earn more. Listen, Donna, I think you need someone to take your mind off that sociopath.”

  “Don’t call him that,” I grumbled.

  Taking my hand, Helen let out a “tut, tut” again. “Hey, why don’t we hit up that new bar—the Cruise Room—tonight, the fancy one we’ve been meaning to go to?”

  I withdrew my hand, although I nodded.

  “All right. Why not?”

  With a victorious smile, turning to Kyle, Helen called, “Hey, Kyle, want to go to the Cruise Room with us tonight?”

  A few seconds later, Kyle was at our table, his gaze flicking from me to Helen and back to me.

  “Yeah. You guys are going? Tonight?”

  Helen nodded.

  “Yep. Me and this one are going to drown our sorrows, 11 p.m. So you’ll join?”

  “Definitely,” Kyle said, lingering for a moment before he picked up on my stoic refusal to even glance in his direction. Gliding off, he said, “See you ladies tonight!”

  At my glare, Helen only giggled.

  “What? You never said I couldn’t.”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it. I was too tired for this.

  “I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

  Helen nodded.

  “Promise me you’ll be there and not bail, yeah?”

  With a sigh, I nodded again.

  Then, leaning in again, Helen whispered, “Wear something sexy.” Then, her five-fingered wave dismissed me.

  So, with a quick nod to Kyle, I slumped out of there, to my car, and drove home.

  Back at home, I only gave my parents a half-hearted “hi” before high-tailing it to my room.

  Once there, I realized my mistake. I’d thought I wanted to be alone, but alone was the last thing I needed right now. As I stared dully at the peeling tulip wallpaper across from me, Helen’s words kept replaying in my head: I warned you about that sociopath.

  All I could see in that wall’s tears and coils of crumpled flowers was the aforementioned sociopathic billionaire—his shy, pleased smile as I had rejoiced in his cookie gift, the bowled-over way he had looked at me in that sequin dress. I could almost feel the stroke of his hand on my back, that solid way he had held me. And now, I was never going to see him again, never hear his voice again. Unless…

  Before I could stop myself, my fingers were dancing over my phone, tapping out the number I’d come to know so well. At the last number, I paused, staring at my barely visible reflection in the black of my phone’s background.

  What was the right thing to do? As soon as I knew the answer, it was too late; I was tapping down the last number and then the phone was ringing, my heartbeat hammering out in time to the rings.

  One ring, then two, then a female voice answered with a chirpy, “Hello?”

  “Hi…Could I speak to Carter?”

  A pause, then she asked, “Who is this?”

  I hung up, my gaze returning to the peeling wallpaper. Somehow, it had worsened since my short call; it seemed about to drop down onto the floor.

  Who could that have been who had answered? A friend? A girlfriend? It hadn’t sounded like Carter’s secretary, and anyway, why would his secretary or anyone else have access to his personal phone?

  I sank back into my bed and stared up at the water-stained ceiling. Whatever happened tonight, it couldn’t make me feel any worse than I did now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Carter

  Going out tonight wasn’t a good idea. Even as our car pulled up to the Cruise Room and Skylar and I finished the last of our beers, I considered just leaving him there and having the driver take me home. I didn’t want to go out tonight; I didn’t want to do much of anything tonight.

  Yet, when I glanced out the window into the opaque night, I realized that this, as forced and uncomfortable as it was, was still better than being alone.

  “It’s time!” Skylar boomed.

  Tossing the cans behind us, we stumbled out.

  A few steps inside the bar, I smiled. I’d forgotten how aesthetically pleasing the place was: the art deco, swanky furniture, the red-lit yellow walls, the plush seats. Even its clientele looked more upper-class than usual, with flapper-like dresses and nonchalant expressions.

  Best of all was that it wasn’t too busy yet. Good. We could order a few more drinks without having to fight the crowd.

  Immediately, Skylar and I hustled over to some bar stools and asked the pretty bartender for some vodka oranges. As she got to work on our order, Skylar put his arm around me.

  “Still down about the latest broad?”

  I cast him a startled look. I hadn’t told him much about Donna, just that I had been seeing her a lot lately and had stopped. For a musclehead, Skylar was surprisingly perceptive.

  “No, I… Okay, maybe a little,” I admitted.

  Skylar nodded.

  “Don’t you worry, bro. I knew you’d be sad, so I invited some friends.”

  Drawing away, I shook my head.

  “Skylar—no, man. I’m really not in the mood.”

  But Skylar was already sliding cash to the glass-bearing bartender, telling her to keep the change.

  I stood up.

  “I mean it. I feel really shitty, not in the mood for that,” I told him.

  Pursing his lips, Skylar nodded. Then, patting the bar stool I’d been on a second ago, he said, “It’ll be more for me than you. You don’t have to do anything. I mean it.”

  A few drinks later, when vanilla musk wafted between us, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy and excited at the same time.

  “Skylar…” a tall Asian girl with a short lace skirt cooed, lacing her arms around him.

  “Kyra,” Skylar said, smirking at me over her shoulder.

  “This is Tracie,” she told us, gesturing to her friend, a shorter redhead with breasts that were practically falling out of her top.

  When we hugged, I realized the vanilla musk was coming from her.

  “Sooo,” Kyra said, linking her arms in both Skylar’s and mine. “Why are we not in a booth again?”

  So, Tracie linking her arm in my free one, off to a booth we waltzed, slumping into it with a haphazard expulsion of giggles.

  What seemed like seconds later, Skylar had ordered a bottle, the champagne was flowing, and we were toasting.

  “Like,” Kyra said, leaning into the table, so close I could see every one of her perfect white teeth, “I can’t believe you’re, like, Carter Ray. The Carter Ray.”

  Her glassy eyes scanned mine, expecting something; I wasn’t sure what.

  “Yeah,” was all I could think to say, and yet, this seemed to please her.

  Smiling devilishly, she declared, “Don’t think I haven’t heard all the juicy rumors. I’ll have to be careful around you.”

  Though, really, it was Tracie who should have been careful. Neither she nor I said much, but we didn’t have to. Our legs that were pressed side by side did the talking, while the endless downing of drinks didn’t hurt.

  As everything slowly grew more and more blurry, I thought of her. Donna. Of what she was doing now, if she missed me. If I called her, would she answer? Why would I call her, though?

  The answer was the sad swirl in my gut as I surveyed the bar. This whole place, as handsome as it was, was full of lonely people laughing loud to scare away the silence, of dressed-up people more practiced in the art of pretending to have fun than actually having it. And then, there was me, the loneliest and worst pretender of them all, the one who had the most reason to be happy and
yet…

  That was why I was going to call her. Donna was the only one who had ever made me feel like I belonged, who had ever made me almost forgot who I was, forget that I was unhappy.

  “I need a minute,” I mumbled as I stumbled out of the booth. The others’ response was uproarious laughter. They didn’t know that I wouldn’t be coming back.

  Outside, the night was cool and full of passersby, smoking, fleeting and content. I dialed her number slowly, enjoying not knowing whether she’d answer yet. What would I do if she didn’t pick up?

  It rang. Once, twice.

  “Hello?” Donna said behind me, and I turned around.

  The call still on, the phone clutched in her hand, she gaped at me.

  She looked hot as hell—a short red dress and red heels to match, her eyes lined in black.

  “Carter,” she said.

  A frowning girl pulled her to the Cruise Room’s door.

  “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

  But Donna held her ground, didn’t budge.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  The friend paused. Then, throwing up her hands, she disappeared inside. Donna turned to me, running her hand through her hair.

  “You were calling me.”

  I nodded. “I want to talk to you.”

  She stared at me blankly. “I called you today.”

  “I left my phone with my assistant. Had a meeting. Why?”

  Her eyes lit up, but next thing I knew, my arm was being grasped.

  “Hey there, handsome.”

  It was Tracie, her red lips curled into a sultry grin. Suddenly noticing Donna, she turned to her, cocking her head at her as if to say, “And who are you?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Donna

  I left Carter and his stupid redhead and hurried inside. My head was throbbing with nerves and angry questions: Had I really been so easy to replace? Why call me when he was with another woman?

  The answer came as a twist of my lips as I sat down at the booth Helen was waiting for me in.

  Because he could. Because it was another one of his games. Carter Ray was a heartless man who liked playing with people like they were his own personal dolls.

  “Honey, how are you?” Helen asked, her ring-bedazzled fingers clasping my hand. “I warned you…”

  And, speak of the devil, there he was, standing at our booth, his black eyes on me.

  “Can I talk to you?”

  I looked away.

  “No.”

  “Donna, please.”

  I kept my gaze on Helen’s face, which looked as determined as I should have been.

  “Go away, Carter. Leave me alone.”

  “Donna, I’m serious—”

  “Hey, bro, I got us another bottle.”

  I looked up to see just about the last person I wanted to.

  “Oy, Freckles, you’re here?”

  It was the jerk customer who’d come in from time to time these past few weeks. The douchebag who Carter was friends with, of course. I should’ve figured.

  His gaze was on my cleavage and his fleshy lips were saying, “Hey, you should join our table.”

  I shook my head.

  “We’re meeting a friend, thanks.”

  As if on cue, Kyle appeared behind Carter and Douchebag.

  Wearing a starched shirt and a confused smile, he said, “Donna?”

  “Kyle!” I exclaimed, pushing past the two buff bodies to reach the thinner one.

  Throwing my arms around him, I craned my head around so I could enjoy the discomfort on Carter’s face as I pressed myself to Kyle. I separated from him slowly and then, taking his hand, led him into the booth beside me.

  “We ran into some friends,” I said, throwing a sneer their way. “They were just leaving.”

  And, sulking off, finally, they did.

  Kyle was looking at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

  “Donna, you look…”

  “Stunning, right!” Helen piped up. “I told her the red dress was perfect for tonight.”

  There was something frantic in her words, and yet I found myself smiling, nodding.

  Yes, now that things had been decided, they were going to go just fine.

  While Helen and Kyle chatted about something or other, a bottle was put down on our table.

  The waiter inclined his head to the corner of the room. “From that gentleman.”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s been a mistake.”

  He shook his frizzy blond head.

  “He said it was for the woman in the red dress.”

  I shook mine again.

  “Well, I don’t want it.”

  “Here, I’ll order us something,” Kyle said, lifting the bottle and extending it to the waiter. “You can take this back, and I’ll order a pitcher of sangria.”

  The waiter nodded and disappeared without another word.

  “Thanks, Kyle,” I said.

  I touched his chest at the same time as I tossed a glare to Carter. Smiling at me, Kyle slipped his arm around me. Helen smiled at us while the music, the calm, smooth beat, egged us on.

  The pitcher took a long time to arrive, but we didn’t take long to finish it. Everything was gradually becoming inconsequential, delightfully blurry. More drinks came and went, and Helen, Kyle, and I laughed at everything and nothing, and yet, through it all, Carter was on the periphery.

  No matter how much I drank, I could feel him, watching me with his steely gaze, ordering drinks he didn’t need. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about caring about me or anything like that. This was about winning and losing, and Carter Ray, who always got what he wanted, didn’t want to lose. I was the prize he hadn’t quite finished with yet, so he was going to do his damnedest to win me back.

  As I staggered off to the bathroom, delivering him an extra-icy glare, I almost felt like striding up to him and saying it to his face, “I’m done with being toyed with. Now, I’m going for what’s good for me. Rather, who’s good for me.”

  And yet, inside the small, too-black box of the bathroom, I still couldn’t escape him. It was just like his building, dark and imposing, just like those eyes of his. Carter.

  I glared at the girl who was crying in the mirror, the girl I used to know. What had I been doing these past few weeks? What was wrong with me? The answer was with the man out there, the one with the heartless black eyes. The one I passed as I exited the bathroom and walked toward the table with my friends.

  Halfway there, however, my arm was grabbed. It was the muscular douchebag, the one with the cropped hair, Carter’s friend. He had a reddish orange drink in his hand, and he was looking at me.

  “Got this for you.”

  He extended the drink. Over his shoulder, I saw Carter watching us with something that looked like worry in his furtive eyes. I took the drink and, glaring at Carter all the while, downed it in one go.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Carter

  As Donna staggered off to her friends, Skylar returned to our table. It was just us; the girls were off in the bathroom.

  Nudging me, he said, “I give her ten minutes.”

  “What are you talking about?

  “Little Miss Hard to Get. Once what I slipped in her drink hits her, she won’t be protesting much longer.”

  I stared at him, scanning his face for the crack of a smile, anything. But the glint in Skylar’s eyes was entirely serious.

  “You’re joking,” I said, and he smirked.

  “What? I thought you wanted to have fun tonight.”

  A coil of tension dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “What the fuck, man? Are you crazy?”

  Now Skylar was the one scanning my face, his smile falling.

  “This coming from Carter Ray, the coldblooded business machine?”

  When I said nothing, he continued. “C’mon, I mean anyone with eye
s can see the girl wants it.”

  I was shaking my head, but the words weren’t coming out. What would I say, anyway? Some expression of disgust, shock, or shame? That Skylar was just as sleazy as I’d suspected—worse, even?

  “Look,” he said, pointing behind me. “Looks like her friends won’t be a problem much longer, anyway.”

  Sure enough, I turned around to see Donna sitting at her table obliviously while the girl and guy made out. After a minute, they rose with linked arms.

  “We’ll be back in a few,” the girl slurred to Donna’s half-slumped form. “Don’t move.”

  And then, stumbling out of the bar, they were gone. Next thing I knew, Skylar was striding over to the table, me following him close behind. Sitting down, he draped his arm around Donna.

  “It’s time to go, isn’t it?” he asked her.

  She nodded dully and allowed herself to be helped up. Shooting me a “you see?” look, Skylar wasted no time steering her out of the bar. A few feet outside, I caught up to him.

  “Hey, Skylar?”

  “Yeah?”

  When he turned around, I punched him in the face.

  He slumped back, taking Donna tumbling down with him. Sprawled on the ground, he regarded me with shock.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  I was already by Donna’s side, helping her up. Once she was standing, albeit unsteadily, I turned to Skylar, who was getting up himself. He was advancing, his own fist raised this time.

  “No one fucking hits me and gets away with it.”

  I took a few steps back.

  “Don’t do this, man.”

  A high-pitched, almost delirious-sounding laugh emerged from his snarled lips.

  “It’s already done.”

  And with that, he lunged at me.

  I stepped to the side. He hurtled past me. I paused. His face was a beet-red mask of rage now; Skylar was only getting started.

  The next time his fist swung at me, I swung my own punch back. I caught him under the chin, sending him staggering back.

  Then there was a palm on my chest. It was security, a big beefy bald guy.