The Billionaire Experience: A Secret Baby Romance

by Kara Hart

  “Catching up,” I repeat. I can’t laugh. Hawkins is the guy who got me started in this business. His agency is the reason why I’m over here, but I fled once I got a good return.

  “You should have changed your name,” he laughs again. “It’s almost as if you’ve been waiting for me. How much have you been making over there, anyway?”

  “Pennies on the dollar,” I lie. “And I did change my name. On the leases anyway.”

  “Stop worrying. This is just a friend trying to catch up with another old friend. I’m proud of you, Walker,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I mutter. My heart starts pounding. Will I have to leave this place? Will I have to squander everything I’ve fought so hard to achieve?

  “I’ll let you go. I know how busy you are,” he says.

  “Talk to you soon,” I say, knowing he’s going to be around, sooner or later.

  “Perhaps. Or not, you never know with these things, do you?” There’s a sudden pause because I have really nothing to say. I owe him for more money than he’s letting on and he can sense my sudden fear, although I’m not running anytime soon.

  “I guess not,” I simply say.

  “Goodbye, Walker,” he hangs up the phone.

  6

  Erica

  When I get home from the party, the house is dark and feels more foreign to me than ever. I tip-toe into the living room, to pour myself a small glass of wine, so I can fall asleep. Tonight, I won’t be sleeping in the same bed as Darrin. This is something I still have to get used to.

  When I grab the right wine bottle, I hear him. “You didn’t tell me you’d be going out tonight,” he says. I jump in a panic, nearly dropping the bottle of wine onto the white carpet.

  “Darrin!” I exclaim. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He’s sitting in his lazy-boy chair, drinking a glass of something unclear. He smiles and crosses his legs. “Where did you go tonight? Who are you seeing, Erica?” he asks. I can tell he’s been waiting up for a long time. It’s nearly 1A.M.

  “None of your business.” I resume my task of pouring myself a glass of wine. I take a small drink, tasting the bitter fruit against the top of my mouth. I never really enjoyed wine, but it has always made me feel better in times of need.

  “God dammit. Can’t you tell me anything?” He’s more frustrated than angry. I don’t want to hurt him. I never did. But he’s not listening to me. He can’t seem to comprehend why this is over and done with.

  “This isn’t how love is supposed to be, Darrin. You’re not supposed to have sex with other women while your wife is at home, sick with the goddamn flu.”

  “That was one time!” he yells, throwing his glass at the wall. It shatters in a dramatic effect, leaving my heart racing. I back up and he sees what he’s done, almost instantly. He sits back down and takes a deep breath. My arms are up, acting as a guard.

  “One time,” he repeats. “And it was a mistake. The other times were even more stupid. I… I have a problem, Erica. Can’t you understand that? Don’t you have any empathy?”

  “Putting your dick into unknown vaginas is not a problem. It’s not an addiction. It’s not a disease, Darrin! It’s a choice you continue to make. If you were doing this every night, I might come with you to a facility. I might even empathize with you,” I say. “But now, I can’t even look you in the eyes. This is over. I’m not seeing anyone, but I’d sure as hell would like to.”

  He ignores just about everything I say. The situation I’m in is hopeless, an endless echo chamber. Whatever I say will be heard, stored, and disregarded as false. Only I will understand the words I say. Even my friends tell me to suck it up. “This is a man’s world,” I’m basically told. Men cheat. Get used to it. Well, I’m not accepting that. I’m on the way to finding something better.

  “I gave you everything,” he says through his teeth. “Everything! Remember who put in a good word at your ad agency? Remember who put in the down payment to this house? And that dress you’re wearing. Jesus Christ, I was the one who gave you that, last Christmas. I was the one that offered you hope. I was the man of your dreams.”

  For a second, I expect tears, but nothing comes. He’s gone from feeling frustrated, to feeling anger. The glass shards sit across the floor. What I can now tell by scent is whiskey has stained the carpet of his house. He’s right, after all. He put in the down payment. Everything is in his name. His car, his house, and my wardrobe. If he could legally own me, he’d probably already have done it. Hell, our prenuptial agreement is looking pretty damn good for him at this point.

  He may own everything, but there’s one thing he doesn’t understand. I do not care anymore. None of these things matter as much as my ability to make my own decisions. “I’m sorry, Darrin. It’s not that I don’t love you in a certain way,” I begin. “I just can’t live this lie of a life anymore. I want more. I want better things. Shit, I want to go back to school. Remember when you said it would be a waste? It’s always been a dream of mine to get my masters.”

  “Then go back to school. What do I care?” He stands up from his chair, thinking he’s found his leg up on me. I down the glass of wine and set it down on the mini bar. “Let’s fix this, baby. Let’s build a new life. You can get your masters. I believe in you.”

  “Yeah?” I ask him. I drop to the floor and lay down near the spilt liquid. “Well, I don’t believe in this. I can’t believe in this.”

  I wake up in a haze and I’m still across the floor. The whiskey has dried up and the glass fragments are still in the carpet. I’m starting to realize who I am and what I can be, but there are some things I still find hard to unlearn. I grab a small hand vacuum and suck up the glass. I pick up one large piece and it cuts my finger. A small droplet of blood falls onto the carpet.

  “Shit!” I hiss, sucking on the edge of my finger. I almost break down and start to cry, but I’m stronger than that. I simply hold my breath until the pain goes away. It’s just another day. I have to keep telling myself that.

  I’m late for work and have at least five missed calls from my boss at the ad agency. “You need to go in,” I tell myself. I look at the keys on the table. No doubt, Darrin has seen the damage to his car, but he hasn’t mentioned anything. In fact, he has already left for work. Either that, or he’s gone over to that bimbo’s house.

  I pull out the card from my purse. The Boyfriend Experience. Walker Hambell. I can’t do it. I can’t call him. It wouldn’t be right. There are fantasies and there are realities. Walker is just a fantasy that went too far. He’s a male escort, for Christ’s sake. That’s what they call them, right? A prostitute? He’s clearly bad news, despite his charm and good looks. We kissed. I need to leave it at that. I toss the card into the trashcan and hope to God I never see him again.

  Renata calls me several hours later. “Hey, you busy tonight?” she asks me.

  “I’m wide open,” I laugh.

  “Really? I thought for sure you’d be stuck with work assignments all night. Is everything alright?” she asks.

  “I’ll talk to you about it tonight,” I sigh. “Everything is… well, it’s interesting, at least.”

  The hours pass and I somehow find myself cleaning the whole damn house. My instincts are shit right now. I should be packing my things, not washing his underwear. But deep down inside, he’s got me trained to satisfy all his needs and he knows it. That’s why he thinks this whole thing will blow over. With time, persistence, and a lot of patience, a man can surely get his way.

  But the women in a man’s life hold the key to true power. I know it.

  When the sun sets, I meet up at Renata’s house. It’s a small place, connected to a side house, which she rents out for extra cash. I don’t know why, but I used to pity her. I used to think it was so sad that she had to work so hard just to scrape by. Now, it’s obvious how free she really is. She answers to no one but herself.

  “What’s wrong, girl?” she asks me. She’s got a bottle of wine sitting on the table
, but I refuse to drink anymore, for at least a few nights.

  “It’s Darrin. He won’t let up. Last night, when I got home, he got angry,” I say. “He threw a glass at the wall, Ren. It was terrifying.”

  “Jesus,” she mutters. “He actually threw something at you?”

  “Well, it wasn’t at me, but it was pretty damn close,” I say, reliving the whole experience. I start to shake, so I close my eyes to feel grounded again.

  “Bastard,” she whispers to herself. “So it’s really over, huh? Like, you can’t accept this crap, Erica.”

  “I thought you said all men do this kind of stuff?” I smile a little. “One night ago you were telling me to take it easy, acting as if everything was fine and dandy.”

  “Well, you clearly shouldn’t listen to me. Look at where I am,” she laughs, awkwardly, to herself.

  “You’re in a better position than I’m in, Ren. Don’t put yourself down like that,” I say. “Besides, I haven’t gone into work in the past two days. I’m pretty sure that ship is sailing.”

  “Wow, this is really serious,” she mutters. “Erica, you can’t just brush everything aside. When you do finally divorce his ass, you need to be prepared.”

  I shrug. “I know, I know. I just…” I stop myself from going into panic-mode. “Look, to be honest, I can’t stop thinking about that guy at the party.”

  “Oh, jeeze,” she laughs. “The guy with the rock hard body? Um, yes please. Tell me that you called him already.”

  “I threw away his number.” I don’t tell her about the card, about what he specializes in.

  “You didn’t!” she cries. “Erica, you idiot! I would have called him.”

  “You don’t understand,” I laugh. “I can’t call him. I think he’s bad news. Like, he’s a real player.”

  “And?” Her eyes go wide and buggy with confusion. “That’s like the perfect combination. Do you know how well he probably fucks? He’s a perfect rebound situation.”

  “Ew. Rebound.” I sigh and put my palms to my face with exhaustion. “That’s the last thing I want right now. Besides, I can’t stoop to Darrin’s level, can I?” I peer through my fingers, waiting for her to answer me with some sort of sagely advice.

  “Girl, he cheated on you with three different women,” she smiles. “Why are you the one feeling guilty about things? You told him you wanted out. He’s not listening to you. If you ask me, his feelings are not your problem anymore. Plus, how do you know he’s done doing the dirty?”

  “That’s just it.” I frown. “I don’t know. For all I know, he could be on his lunch break, getting head from that…” I stop myself. I’m not going to blame her. It’s not her fault. It’s Darrin’s fault. He’s such a bastard.

  “Well, I’m pretty ticked off that you threw away the guy’s number, but there are other fish in the sea, I guess,” she says.

  “It’ll still be in the trash at home. It’s not technically gone forever,” I say.

  “You better grab it before bed,” she warns. “This is your ticket out of there. Once you go out with this guy, you’re never going to want to go home to Darrin again.”

  “I’m such a slut,” I whisper, groaning a little to myself.

  “You’re not a slut. Don’t listen to him. He’s the slut who threw a glass at you. I can’t trust him anymore. Frankly, I never really have,” she says with a steady confidence in her voice.

  I blurt out, “I kissed him, you know.” Followed by, “That guy. In the women’s bathroom.”

  “Wait,” she smiles. “Back up. You what?”

  “I kissed him in the bathroom,” I repeat, feeling my cheeks turn warm. “Well, he kissed me, really. It was… well, it was interesting, to say the least.”

  “You loved it, you bitch!” She slaps the couch in a hysterical fit. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you. You totally hid this from me.”

  “I didn’t know he was going to do it!” I laugh. “All of a sudden he got all close to me. He put his finger up to my lips and told me to quiet down. That’s when he kissed me.”

  “You’re depressing me,” she says. “That’s like the hottest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. Damn you, E.”

  I relive it over and over again in my head. On the drive home, I stare at the darkened road and the white lines that I roll over, endlessly. The radio is powered off, but the wind provides a strange soundtrack to the images in my head.

  He’s standing at the edge of my bedroom, in my new house. I wake up and see him there. He’s not smiling. He moves silently toward me. He crawls on the bed, putting his finger to his lips. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. His hand slides up my nightgown and I feel as he enters me.

  When he pulls his hand away, he offers me two wet fingers. “Taste yourself,” he commands me. I open my mouth for him, as if in a trance. He gazes into my eyes, piercing through my soul. His presence is so heavy.

  I taste his fingers, the warmth of my wetness moving down my tongue. My lips wrap firmly around his fingers. It tastes sweet, like candy. There is no guilt, even though I know this is all so wrong. He pulls his fingers against my lips and brings his face down against my breasts. He licks around each nipple, lightly, and cups the bottom of my cleavage firmly.

  “Walker,” I whisper. He smiles, and places his palm against my cheek. I close my eyes and my mouth falls open. His lips crush against mine. His tongue finally enters my mouth, circling around my own. He tastes fresh, like evergreen. He smells like old cologne. Fuck, he’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

  He unzips his pants. His cock comes darting out, hard as a fucking rock. He doesn’t even take his pants off. He’s breathing quickly. He wants me too bad. There’s no time to spare. “Fuck me,” I whisper, spreading my legs.

  My nightgown is off, thrown in the corner of the room. I feel him thrust into me, almost without warning. His hand moves up my stomach. He feels my soft skin and I can feel him grow harder inside of me. His pulse quickens. His hands then move to my ribs. He holds on with one hand. The other keeps going upward. It rests across my neck, serving as a reminder who’s boss.

  This is my fantasy. This is the experience I’ve always desired. Power. Control. He’s the man to give me that, right? Somehow, I’m back in my driveway. It’s late and I’m wondering if Darrin is already in bed. The car lights are off, as well as the house lights inside, but I’m still running the car in the driveway.

  I have my hands in between my legs, gripped firmly by my thighs. One finger is rubbing my clit, while I’m sliding in three fingers. I spread myself open, thinking about him, this mysterious man I met in a car crash. It would be fate if we were to meet again.

  I cum harder than usual, getting the leather interior below me soaking wet. I don’t even bother to clean it with my dress. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, until I’m calm again. “Walker,” I keep repeating in my head.

  When I open my eyes again, I’m stepping out of the car. I walk over to the trashcan. I’m going to find his number again. However, when I lift the lid open, there’s nothing inside. “No, no, no,” I sigh to myself. “Fuck!”

  I’m quiet, so as to not wake Darrin. I don’t want another repeat of last night. Not again. But I’m frantic. I look all over the house, quietly. I look inside my purse, I look in my phone to see if I saved the number, but I can’t find it anywhere. The boyfriend experience is not something I’ll be able to enjoy. That fateful car crash and that kiss in the bathroom, was all the fun a woman like me is allowed to have.

  Maybe it’s fate telling me to get on with my marriage. A broken marriage isn’t something that’s unfixable, right? I don’t know anymore. I feel like I’m giving up.

  When I go to sleep, I’m on the couch in the living room. The stain is still there. That was a test on my part. I left it there to see what he’d do with it. It should have been obvious. No effort has been made on Darrin’s part. He simply got off work and went to bed, probably watching the game before he shut his eyes.

&
nbsp; I close my eyes and try to think of what I’ll do with my life. I think of what I’ll pack and where I’ll go. I can’t go to my parents. They won’t understand. They’ve been unhappily married for decades upon decades. I’ll have to figure it out on my own.

  For now, I can breathe easy. When I dream, I dream of him, Walker Hambell. The kind of man I’ve been too scared I’d find. The man I’ve been waiting for. The man who got away.

  7

  Erica

  This is the third day I haven’t gone in to work. When I look at my phone, bright and early, I laugh. “We’ve been waiting on you for days, Erica. Don’t bother coming in. We’ll find a replacement,” my boss texts me.

  I knew it was heading that direction. That job was the best job I’ve ever had. I thought I’d die doing that job. Now, I don’t have anything. Oddly enough, I don’t feel bad about it. I feel absolutely young again. I feel free.

  I head to the bedroom to see if Darrin is still home. He’s nowhere to be found, but his work briefcase is still on the bed, as if it was an aside to his day. I begin the final ascent. I start packing my things, first going through all of the necessities. My clothes, any toiletries I need, some old keepsakes. The hard part will be differentiating things we bought together. Fuck it, he can have it all. I don’t care.

  When I’m finished, the house is much emptier. I take a look around me and start to feel nostalgic. This house was a dream when we first bought it. Darrin is right in a way. He did shell out a lot of money for this place, even though I begged him to let me pay when I got a chance. He always loved holding that over my head.

  In the bedroom is his briefcase, still on the bed. Every time I turn to grab something, I see it. I don’t know what it is, but something tempts me to open it. I’m not famous for invading anyone’s privacy, but Darrin’s been my husband for years now. It’s not like him to miss a day of work. In fact, I’m almost positive he’s never taken a day off in his life.