Single Dad’s Plaything: A Single Dad First Time Billionaire Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  The comforting sound of his voice brought me back to reality. And in reality, I couldn’t just drop everything I care about aside from him for him. No matter how much my very soul longed to do so.

  “First of all!” I said sassily. “Don’t use that pet name. ‘My Sweet’. It makes you sound like a god damn Bond villain. I mean, you already have that sexy accent. Anything else is just a little too on the nose as far as I’m concerned”

  “Would it help if I were stroking a cat?” He couldn’t keep a straight face as he began to snicker and giggle at his own genius. “I am quite sexy, aren’t I?” He tried to say through his laughter.

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Not even going to dignify that with a response.” I took a deep breath. “I need full reign to decorate. And… a rented art studio space.”

  “First of all, done. I’m sure you’ll make it look great. I’m keeping my TV though. The apartment complex I live in has an art studio you can just use that.” He said airily.

  “Why didn’t you just say so! I would’ve moved in with you the second you asked if I knew that!” He gave me a disbelieving glance and I blushed at my outburst.

  “And I would’ve thought my presence alone was enough.” It was phrased as a silly joke but I could hear the hurt in his words. I hurt him. I did the one thing I swore I would never do and the worst part is I have no idea how I could possibly make it any better.

  “It’s not… I don’t… uh…” I looked away from him, finally realizing his point of view. Is he so bad that the girl he loves doesn’t want to move to a better place with him? It isn’t that at all, but I could tell he didn’t grasp that fact.

  To him, it has to be about that because there is no way to phrase it as being about something else. He doesn’t get my need to prove himself as worthy as an independent person because Werebears never feel such a thing. A werebear conceiving is so rare that all werebear children are treated as gifts and the thought of having to stand on your own two feet is as good as child abuse.

  I coughed to clear my throat. “I will quit my job, but I will still continue to make my art and sell it.” That was a fair idea, right?

  He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he wrapped his arms around me. What I said wasn’t even close to a response. “Deal. But you must also stop trying to find out about my work.”

  I itched to argue. To scream and shout and fight back. To rage at this. I didn’t do any of those things, however. I just inclined my head in silent agreement.

  He nuzzled me. “I love you so much.” He whispered it so lowly that I shouldn’t be able to hear it.

  And for the first time, as I stared into his glittering sapphire eyes, I really believed it.

  He’s beautiful.

  Chapter 10

  Everyone has their flaws, sure. I mean, I don’t often think before throwing myself right into the stupidest kind of danger. Dating a werebear? That’s stupid. They are passionate and volatile and the only reason they’re so likable is that charisma is basically coded into his very DNA. Falling in love with one is even dumber. And sometimes, you just have to accept those flaws.

  He hired professional movers to move all my things into his house overnight. He took us to a different hotel as they did that. It only took two days and then all my paperwork had his penthouse as my home address.

  It was annoying that I wasn’t asked about this arrangement, but it is not completely unforgivable. This particular behavior isn’t too bad compared to some of his other less likable behaviors. He only thought he was helping, after all. And I just can’t stay mad at the kindest man I know. The kindest man I have ever met. He just loved me too much to stay rational. Too much love. If I’m being completely honest, it’s really hard to characterize that as a flaw, no matter what spin I deign to put on it.

  I woke up in his arms, in his – no – our house. It’s fit for a Queen and her King, and it’s perfect. It gives me shivers to say that and I just feel so excited and happy to think of it. He looked down at me and smiled softly at me. He looked at me like I was some adorable, cherubic thing sometimes.

  “Marry me.” It wasn’t an order even though he phrased it that way. It was still my choice. All of what we have been doing together is my choice. The way he said it. So nonchalantly. Like he was offering to go get some coffee and not be his partner in holy matrimony for the rest of my life!

  “What?” I asked, incredulously. He’s usually such a romantic man. He takes me to elaborate dates and uses his beautiful words and charisma to leave me helpless to his charms. If that is all true – and I know it is – why is this so unromantic?

  “I figured as you are giving birth to my child, and we were living together. It would be best if we were to get married. Rationally and strategically speaking of course.” I nearly gnashed my teeth at the clinical way he spoke. He couldn’t honestly believe this was a good way to propose to his girl, even if I know the truth. “To avoid a scandal.”

  How dare he! A scandal. A scandal! I am worth so much more than that and he is not giving me nearly as much credit as I deserve! Especially if he only intends to marry me because we are living together! I mean, hell, the only reason we are living together is that I am pregnant. Before that, he asked me to move in with him already! Was he going to try and make me marry him if I had originally accepted?

  I don’t care if I’m being unfair right now! This whole situation is unfair on me!

  Pausing right before I tore him a new one for being completely emotionless, I watched the way his hands shook just slightly as he waited for a reply. The tenseness in his shoulders and the furrow of his brow. All things he was trying to hide from me, but I could see them easily. I could just see through him completely.

  He’s not nearly as put together as he makes me believe he is.

  It was utterly pitiful and pathetic. He looked… scared. Like a little kid that I just couldn’t bring myself to be mad at. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault. It takes two to tango and, even he looks upset at himself for how unromantic his proposal was.

  Maybe he just didn’t know how to make it romantic.

  Maybe he was afraid I’d say no. So afraid, in fact, that he didn’t want to make a spectacle out of it. Out of us. Afraid that I would reject him and he would be exposed and vulnerable. The fear makes him so human.

  Too bad I was too sweet to let him squirm for long. I kind of had this sadistic side of me that wanted to make him squirm a little more. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” My voice came out hoarse and too high-pitched at the same time, I was overly excited and I just needed to get the words out as quick as possible.

  I looked up to see his reaction, some small part of me still believed this whole situation to be nothing more than a cruel joke at my own expense.

  His face lit up with happiness and his beautiful eyes glittered in a way that I feel like comparing them to stars would be an injustice. The tenseness in his shoulders relaxed and his smile could make the moon and the stars weep with jealousy, never being able to match even half of the beauty that practically oozed out of every pore of his face. The shine in his eyes outshone the sun itself and I felt that I had to look away before he blinded me with it.

  Before the sight of his eyes and the thought of his beauty rendered me speechless and weak. Before I would just agree to anything he asked of me just to get him to keep smiling.

  He hid his emotions well, after a moment to get his bearings, though his eyes continued to light up. He didn’t let me see his beautiful smile for long and it’s not fair. I deserved more of that dazzling scene that came to life in front of my eyes. “Good. We should have a big ceremony… for the ruse.”

  I rolled my eyes. What is up with him? He already told me he loves me. What more could he be worried about? This dork. “Sure.”

  He wants me to believe he wants me to marry him not because of love, which is bizarre. Why would he want me to think that? He told me he loved me multiple times already! But I know
better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. We will be married. We will be happy That has to be enough.

  He was happy right now though, and honestly… that was all that I really needed to be on board with this decision.

  When I thought about it, it worried me, just a tiny bit, to know how much I valued his happiness over anything else. Even my own.

  It should have worried me more. But being in his strong arms seemed to comfort me, no matter how truly illogical I knew that was.

  Chapter 11

  It didn’t help my worries and suspicions about his work. Living with him, that is. See! I’m so out of sorts I can’t even string a decent sentence together! It’s just the hormones. Werebear offspring bring a lot more than any normal pregnancy would.

  I was eating some disgusting concoction of mayonnaise, sushi, and fried egg that I had to beg Damian to get for me. Cravings make a girl even crazier than normal, evidently. I’m eating this food and I don’t even know if I like it. I also don’t think cravings should come in the third week of pregnancy, but what do I know? Werebear anatomy vs Human anatomy is so different that I can’t even try and find a middle ground to figure out how this pregnancy is going to go.

  Adding to that stress is that he still won’t tell me about his job. And he goes out in the middle of the night. I would think he was a masked vigilante… if there were any masked vigilante’s around, that is.

  Since there aren’t, I really need to know the truth. I promised I wouldn’t try and ask him about it, and I promised not to follow him to work. Gah! Why am I so easy to convince? I should have never made that promise.

  “I have to go to work. I’m sorry for the short notice.” He kissed my forehead as he got up from the bed and pulled a nice 3-piece-suit from his closet indiscriminately. It doesn’t matter which suit he used. He looked beautiful regardless.

  “It’s three in the morning.” I couldn’t help but argue. Did he really have to leave me now? Can’t somebody else go? Why can’t he stay? Why does he need to leave the house in the middle of the night? He barely ever works in the daytime. “What do you have to do that requires you work in the middle of the night?

  I blushed when I realized I had immediately broken the exact promise I made. I promised not to ask and that was exactly what I did.

  “I love you more than anything else in the world.” He promised me, giving me this genuine smile that made me melt inside. He turned me into a pile of goo with just a kind word, and I wish I could be angry about that, but I love him too much for it. I love him much too much to think twice.

  “But,” I prompted him, knowing he was struggling. I couldn’t help but help him out, even with something like this. He acted like the world was against him sometimes, and deep down, I think he even subconsciously sees me as being against him. I’m not his enemy, and I never would be. I just need to be patient with him. He’ll understand me, understand our love someday.

  He growled to himself. “I just can’t. Why don’t you get that?”

  “I can’t get it because you haven’t explained anything to me yet!” I shouted back at him, earning a growl from the man whose baby was currently in my stomach, making me even irater than I already was. “Stop growling!”

  “Clarissa.” I hate how he said my name right now. Almost patronizing. He was trying to make me calm down. Trying to make me just accept this is the way things are. Because my husband is an overly complicated nut-job sometimes.

  “I have to go- Stop- Clarissa- Antony Nelson needs my help. He’s my best friend and I’m not abandoning him!” I kept interrupting him and each time, he became louder and louder.

  Was it bad how excited I was all of a sudden? I got exactly what I wanted. A name. A lead. I can use that name!

  All I have to do is search that guy. But Damian can’t know. I know it’s wrong to keep secrets from my love, I mean, I know he’s keeping secrets from me. But that can all just be forgiven. He’s too lovable for that.

  Well, it’ll be forgiven the second I figure it out.

  I schooled my expression into a mask of indifference so he would be unable to find out what I am thinking of. “Okay.” I made sure to sound extra whiny. Impossible to ignore. I sounded like I would do anything to keep him here.

  Did he buy it? Wow. And I thought Werebears instincts told them everything? I guess, because a large part of me wished for him to stay here, in my arms, he couldn’t tell the truth.

  Either way, I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “I will return to you as soon as possible, Love.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips and I was filled with guilt. He clearly picked up on it, attributing it to my guilt over being so possessive over his attention and time. “I would not leave you if I didn’t have to. This is, however, a necessary evil.”

  And then he was walking out of the house.

  Yes.

  Chapter 12

  If I had one flaw, it would be… well, shortsightedness. Obliviousness? Recklessness? A single-minded determination to always get what I want?

  Dammit. I was going somewhere with this!

  Oh, yeah. If I had one flaw, it would be nosiness.

  I always had to know everything that was going on and exactly why and what it was, how to stop it or make it go on longer. How to get what I want. How to change the world.

  How? Why? Where?

  Mother used to tell me I have the heart of a journalist. I told her I have the soul of an artist.

  Mother-Dearest may be more right than I have ever given her credit for. I drummed my fingers on the laptop in my lap. The sound relaxed me as I considered my options. This is my last chance. I could put it away. Pretend I wasn’t going to attempt to betray my true love’s trust by poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.

  Prove that he was right to classify me as, at least on some small level, an adversary. Someone, he can never tell the truth to and really trust him.

  I wasn’t one though.

  I lived and breathed for him. I would do anything for him. Except this. Like a stubborn dog with a juicy bone, I have a one-track mind and I need to know. It would drive me mad if I didn’t at least try. It would be in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.

  This is purely unselfish, I promised myself. It would drive a wedge between the two of us. I’m merely attempting to prevent such a thing from happening. Prevent myself from getting too fed up. Prevent a million fights over the same stupid topic.

  Not even I bought what I was attempting to sell.

  It would be better if I did. Easier. Simpler.

  The truth was, I was afraid on some level. That all of this was a lie. That his stories didn’t line up. That he isn’t the man I think he is. And only the truth can alleviate that fear.

  With this in mind, I decided to engage in this pure stalker behavior. I began to look him up. Antony Nelson. At the very least, I will match a face to a name. At worst, I’ll get truths that I am unprepared for. Anything, any answer, is better than what I have now to go off of. My fingers dance around the keyboard as I put his name in every search engine I can find.

  I’ve never been good at research, but I’m hormonal and determined.

  And there is nothing more capable than a woman on a mission! (Except, you know, somebody who is actually competent at the subject matter.

  I nearly threw my laptop away and smashed it when I came up with nothing. There were whispers here and there of A. Nelson, some kind of a master manipulator. But it couldn’t be. Damian wouldn’t surround himself with those kinds of people.

  All the images were of different men. Some Hispanic, a few Scottish, one Japanese. Maybe it’s a code name? Like a cool superspy. Is Damian a superspy? That would explain a lot.

  Okay, if I’m being honest, it wouldn’t explain anything.

  Grasping at straws here!

  I love him, so I’ll pretend that that’s okay and I don’t care.

  Chapter 13

  Sure. Every girl spends their childhood dreaming of their f
airytale wedding. And sure, I never got the answers to my questions. And sure, it’s annoying being rushed through the planning phase, but we needed to be married as soon as possible.

  He wanted us to get married before I began to show.

  I never thought a wedding could be planned and executed in 3 weeks, but he has somehow done it. I guess enough money can really get anything you want done the way you want it to be done.

  We are in some kind of large cathedral. It was an eggshell white and ornate paintings covered the ceiling. There were mosaics on each of the windows. The seats were lined with silk and there were beautiful flowers strewn about the room.

  I could name every flower and what they were. The first flowers were white with blood red streaks coming from the stem to the petals. Tulips. And they were variegated. Beautiful eyes. That is the meaning of the flower.

  He chose each flower, and I didn’t understand why this one. His eyes are like molten sapphire, pools of emotion that I could just drown in. But he was not arrogant. Not enough to pick flowers for himself. I suppose he told me once or twice that my blue-grey eyes were like a storm, that belies the softness I hold deep inside my heart.

  He thinks I’m beautiful.

  He really, truly does.

  The next are these tiny white star-shaped flowers. Simple and traditional. Stephanotis. Happiness in Marriage. He wanted us to have a happy marriage together.

  The third flower was orange blossom. Sure, they were not the prettiest flower, simple and almost plain, like me. That may be why they were my favorite. They are so unremarkable, yet they stand for Eternal Love.

  Just like that, my pre-wedding jitters all melted away.