The Baby Promise

by Tia Wylder

  I shook my head. “I actually just got out of a relationship,” I said, frowning as I pulled my boxers up over my softening cock.

  Honey nodded.

  “What about you?” I asked, rolling onto my side.

  Honey got to her feet. “I don’t date,” she said. “I don’t have time.”

  “Really?” I smirked. “That’s too bad.”

  Honey nodded. She yawned, and I had the sudden urge to wrap my arm around her and pull her close. Nothing sexual, just to hold her. It was getting late, and I could tell that beneath her tough exterior, Honey was more fragile than she let on.

  “Hey, are you hungry?”

  Honey frowned. She pursed her lips. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, blushing slightly. “That fry didn’t do much.”

  “You like Chinese?”

  Honey nodded. “Yeah,” she said. She grinned. “What, you are thinking of ordering something?”

  I smirked. “I feel like we earned a treat, don’t you?”

  Honey flushed. “That would be nice,” she said. “I don’t have any cash, though,” she added. “So, you don’t have to get me anything.”

  I stared at her.

  “What?” Honey narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  I laughed shortly. “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just, I can’t remember the last time a woman said something to me about money.” I sighed. “Everyone just expects that I’ll pay for them.”

  Honey suddenly looked very serious. “I never joke about money,” she said. There was something to the way she said it, plus the look in her eye that made me want to know more.

  But my stomach was rumbling, and I was exhausted. There’s always tomorrow, I thought. As little as I knew about Honey, I was certain of one thing.

  I wanted to get to know her in a way I’d never felt before.

  Chapter 7

  Honey

  My bed is so soft, I thought drowsily, rolling over and burying my face in the pillow. Why is it so soft today?

  When I heard the masculine grunt to my right, my eyes shot open.

  I wasn’t in my bed at all – I was somewhere else, in an elegantly-furnished room with grey watered silk wallpaper, a four-posted bed made of dark wood, and bright white silk sheets.

  “Sleep well?”

  Suddenly, it all came crashing back to me. The gorgeous stranger at the bar. The torrid cab ride filled with kisses and nuzzling and passion. And the incredible sex, the breathtaking sex, the sex that had fulfilled me more than anything else ever before.

  Oh, and the Chinese food.

  That hadn’t been bad, either.

  I flushed as I sat up, pulling the sheet over my breasts. “Yeah,” I said, wiping my eyes with both hands. My fingers came away streaked with eyeshadow and mascara, and I groaned when I saw that it had streaked all over the white pillowcases. “Sorry about that,” I groaned.

  Peter chuckled. In the light of morning, he was even hotter than he had been at the bar. He was tall and toned, lean but muscular, with eyes the color of the ocean and blonde hair. There was a light dusting of blonde scruff on his sculpted jaw and chin.

  He was easily the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Peter said. He waved a hand in the air. “Feel like breakfast?”

  I bit my lip. “I think I’m still full from last night,” I moaned. To my surprise, I’d eaten a whole container of lo mein and a huge portion of kung pao chicken. “That Chinese food was so good.”

  Peter smirked. “It’s even better leftover,” he said. “Would you believe me if I told you I signed this condo because that place was right down the street?”

  I burst out laughing. “Actually, yeah,” I said, glancing around. “I think I would.”

  “So? Breakfast, then?”

  I flushed. “I should really be getting home,” I said. “I have a ton of work to catch up on this weekend.”

  Peter nodded. “Your firm must really trust you.”

  “Baker & Sons,” I said. “I haven’t been there long, you know how it goes. I have to prove myself.”

  Peter nodded again. “I’m impressed,” he said.

  “Why?” I raised an eyebrow. “Not around a lot of working women?”

  “Not unless you count planning charity dinners over mimosas, no,” Peter said dryly.

  I bit my lip, remembering that he had told me he was newly single. That’s not a good sign, I thought. He’s probably not looking for anything serious…not that I even have time to date right now.

  “Well, as fun as that sounds…” I smirked. In the bright morning light, Peter’s blue eyes were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.

  “How about if you shower,” Peter suggested. “And I’ll whip together some breakfast.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to stay – so badly that it almost frightened me – but I knew I had work to do, and it would take at least an hour to get from Peter’s tony Manhattan condo to my tiny apartment in Brooklyn.

  “Hey, I’ll sweeten the deal,” Peter said. “I have to swing by the office, so I’ll drop you off on the way. Sound good?”

  “Just be warned,” I said dryly. “I’m not exactly living in a nice place right now.”

  Peter seemed surprised, but he didn’t say anything. He pressed a fluffy towel into my hands and showed me the lavish bathroom. Everything was glass and marble, and there was a huge copper soaking tub that was calling my name. But I knew it would take forever to fill up, so I stepped into the glass shower stall and soaped my hair with Peter’s luxury shampoo.

  When I was all cleaned up, I dried off. Peter had put a robe of blue velvet in the bathroom for me, and I pulled it on. Just as I was about to leave, I peeked under the sink. It was full of women’s toiletries, and I frowned.

  What if Peter had lied about being single? What if he lived with someone, a girlfriend, and she was out of town?

  The thought troubled me.

  When I walked into the hall, I smelled something amazing. In the kitchen, I found Peter standing behind a stove, wearing an apron, flipping maple sausages and pancakes and eggs.

  “This looks incredible,” I said, frowning. “I’m amazed you can cook.”

  Peter threw me a wounded look, but he burst out laughing after a few seconds. “I know,” he said. “But I spent a lot of time with the cook growing up,” he added softly. “She was my favorite person in the house.”

  The thought was sad, somehow. I pictured a tiny Peter, alone in a lavish kitchen, as his parents partied elsewhere. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought. You have no idea what his situation was like growing up…maybe he’s a self-made man!

  I nodded and blushed as I climbed onto a stool. Peter passed me a plate loaded with breakfast, and I practically moaned as I began to eat.

  “So,” Peter said, looking at me with such intensity that I flushed. “You grow up around here?”

  I nodded. “On Long Island, actually,” I said, licking my lips.

  “Are your folks still there?”

  I sighed. “No,” I said.

  Peter frowned. “Is everything okay, Honey?”

  I nodded. “I’m just…I’m not exactly used to talking about my past,” I said quietly. “Or really, talking at all. I don’t get out much.”

  Peter smirked. “Well, you can talk to me,” he said. He sat next to me. “What, do you have some roguish older brother who tanked the family fortune?”

  I laughed dryly. “And just how did you know I grew up wealthy?”

  Peter eyed me. “Come on,” he said. “I’m not wrong. I can tell,” he said. “It’s…I don’t know, hard to describe. But I can just tell.”

  I frowned. “I didn’t know it was that obvious,” I said.

  “It’s not a bad thing,” Peter countered. “It means we have something in common.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I told you about the number of women who practically started sobbing when I told them stories of my parents ignoring me to go party, you wouldn’t believe it.”
>
  I nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

  “So, what happened to your family?”

  I sighed. “It’s not a good story,” I said firmly. “But to keep things short, let’s just say that my father lied for the entirety of my childhood and adolescence. When my mother died of cancer, he came out and said that we were broke, that we’d always been broke.” And now I owe a measly seven billion dollars to Uncle Sam, and god knows who else, I added silently in my head.

  “Fuck,” Peter said. “That’s so awful.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed deeply. “It’s…not awesome.”

  “I was wondering why someone so smart and gorgeous like you was working as a paralegal,” Peter continued. “Most girls like you, well, they’re society women.”

  I laughed bitterly. “I honestly have no interest in that,” I said. “But I put myself through college, and I got my job on my own, with no help. And I’ve been fine until now.”

  Peter frowned. “And why do I get the sense that not everything is fine at the moment?”

  I stared at Peter for what felt like a long time, trying to figure out whether I could trust him. I barely knew this man – we’d only met for the first time twelve hours ago. But something about his blue eyes told me that he was sincere and kind.

  The type of man I could trust.

  I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible while I spilled my story. I told Peter everything – the debts, the credit card accounts in my name, my dying father.

  By the time I was done, my eyes were filled with tears. Peter handed me a napkin, and I blotted my eyes dry, deeply embarrassed.

  “I feel so stupid,” I said. “There’s no reason why I should’ve told you any of that – you don’t even know me!”

  Peter was giving me a very strange look.

  “What?” I asked nervously. “What is it?”

  Peter bit his lip and frowned. “Nothing,” he said. “But…I think I have an idea of how I could help.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  Chapter 8

  Peter

  “Well,” I said slowly. “I don’t know if I should say anything. You might find it distasteful.”

  Honey bit her lip. He dark brown hair was drying, and her bright green eyes were even more beautiful in the light of day.

  “You may as well just tell me,” Honey said. “After all, how bad can it be?”

  I sighed. “I need a drink for this,” I said. “Want a mimosa?”

  Honey nodded, and I took a bottle of champagne from the fridge and popped it open, pouring it gently into two flutes and topping them with orange juice. I handed Honey one of the flutes, and she sipped nervously. I drank mine at once, enjoying the fiery burn of the sparkling wine in my throat.

  “Like I said, I work for my father,” I said. “His company is called Spyros Magnate.”

  “Holy shit,” Honey said. “He must be loaded!”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “He is.”

  “So…what do you want?” Honey narrowed her eyes. “You want me to come work for you?”

  “Not exactly,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “The company is set to be mine when I turn thirty-five.”

  Honey didn’t reply.

  “I’m thirty-three now, and my birthday is in five months,” I continued. “But for the company to be mine, I have to have an heir.”

  Honey narrowed her eyes. “Like, a kid?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I must have a child. That’s been in the contract my father had me sign the day I turned eighteen.”

  “And you’re single,” Honey continued. “Why haven’t you gotten married by now?”

  “My ex cheated on me,” I said flatly. “I caught her in bed with a friend of ours the day I was going to propose.”

  Honey gasped and blinked. “Oh my god. That’s awful!”

  “It’s not great,” I concluded. “And unless I can make an heir, soon, the company is going to my younger sister, Agnes…who is still in school,” I added. “I can’t let that happen, Honey. I’ve worked my ass off for my father since I became an adult, and I’m determined not to let my company slip away!” Passion crept into my voice, and I balled my hands into fists.

  “I see,” Honey said quietly. “And…where do I figure into that?”

  I sighed. “If I help you, give you the money you need for your father’s debts…you marry me, and have a child with me.”

  Honey gasped in astonishment. She blinked at me and flushed deeply.

  “And before you can ask, no, I wouldn’t stay married,” I continued. “You’d have no obligations when it came to the child – in fact, you’d be signing a contract relinquishing all parental rights. We’d divorce, and I’d keep the child in my family.”

  Honey narrowed her eyes. “What, to be raised by nannies and cooks, just like you? Why have a kid,” she asked scornfully. “It’s clear you don’t want one.”

  I sighed. “Because I need this company,” I said desperately. “I’d do anything to keep Spyros Magnate out of my sister’s hands.”

  “I…I can’t do that,” Honey said, shaking her head. “Peter, no, it’s wrong. It’s immoral!” She added hotly. She narrowed her eyes at me and stood up, straightening her robe. “I should go.”

  “Honey, wait,” I said, reaching for her wrist. “Just think about it, okay? We could really help each other.”

  Honey sighed, closing her eyes and leaning against the wall. She looked deeply troubled, and I regretted having even opened my mouth. Of course, she wouldn’t have gone for my suggestion – she wasn’t just a money-hungry girl, she was my social equal…she was someone who had known the same life as I for years. I couldn’t imagine how cruelly betrayed Honey felt by her father.

  “No,” Honey said softly. “Thank you, Peter,” she said formally. “I should go.”

  I felt helpless as Honey made her way into the bedroom and closed the door. When she came back, she was dressed in her minidress from the night before. Her long limbs looked oddly naked, and I had to resist the urge to pull her into my arms and hold her tightly.

  “I’m sorry, Honey,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Honey pressed her lips together. “It’s okay,” she said.

  “Here,” I said desperately, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a handful of cash. “Take this. For cab fare.”

  Honey looked at me and shook her head. “I don’t need your money, Peter,” she said. “Have a good life.”

  Then, before I could stop her, she was gone.

  I stayed in a black mood for the rest of the weekend. I went into the office and tried to work, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Honey. I desperately wanted to find her, just to apologize. Of course, I knew she wouldn’t want to hear me out, but I wanted to try.

  Stupid bastard, I thought as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. You shouldn’t have said anything, you scared her away!

  On Sunday, I called Ryan. We met at a bar, and I told him everything. When I was done, he let out a low wolf-whistle.

  “You fucked up, kid,” Ryan said. He shook his head and laughed. “Shit, why did you have to say anything? You could’ve just kept dating her and pressed her for early marriage, man, you could’ve done it!”

  “But then what if she said no,” I said miserably. “What if she refused, and then I ran out of time anyway?”

  Ryan shook his head. “You’re hopeless, man,” he said. He frowned. “And you don’t know where she lives?”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “No,” I said. I groaned. “Wait, hold on!” I closed my eyes and tried to think as rapidly as I could. “She works at Baker & Sons,” I crowed triumphantly. “She told me when we were at the bar!”

  Ryan smirked. “You’ve got it bad,” he said. He frowned. “Heard from Pamela?”

  I groaned. “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “She called me sixteen times over the weekend.”

  “Dude, you need to just block her,” Ryan said. “What hap
pens when she shows up and goes totally nuts?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. She still has to come to get the rest of her stuff from the condo.”

  Ryan frowned. “Make sure Honey’s not around,” he said with a smirk.

  “She’s never going to give me the time of day again,” I said. “But I do have an idea.”