The President's Secret Baby: A Second Chance Romance

by Gage Grayson

  I even enjoy the mindless routine of getting my laptop, tablet, and business phone ready for a long day of work.

  That’s what I need right now—a long day of being carried away by numbers and by market trends and hard analysis that has nothing to fucking do with intraoffice gossip, circus-like board meetings, weird, needless competitiveness or any of the other shit that’s been inundating the firm.

  The second I get everything, it suddenly starts raining like fucking crazy outside, with raindrops falling fast and loud on the window.

  Good—that should block out the noise of the rest of the fucking office, at least..

  As my finger hovers over my laptop trackpad, ready to inaugurate another marathon work session, my fucking desk phone rings.

  Of course, it’s the intraoffice ring. What the fuck could it be now?

  I pick up the fucking phone, mostly to get it to stop ringing.

  “What is it, Greg?” I growl into the receiver.

  “Who?” The female voice on the other end sounds majorly confused.

  “Greg. You know, the only person who’s ever called this phone—until now. Who is this?”

  “This is Kallie!”

  I rummage through my mind for a moment before placing the name. I just watched Kallie give a presentation yesterday, but I’m trying to not think about too much of the bullshit happening these days.

  She doesn’t sound too offended, though. She sounds almost bubbly.

  “What can I do for you, Kallie?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Not much.”

  Really? Really? What the fuck is going on?

  “Kallie, I know you’re new around here, and forgive me if I sound gruff, but...”

  I’m ready to tell her that this is a work line, meant for work-related purposes, so if she doesn’t have something important to say, then I need to hang up.

  But I seriously don’t know what the fuck she’s doing, so I’ll try not to be too much of a jerk.

  “Is there something you needed to tell me, Kallie? Or ask? Something about work?”

  “Hmm. Yes, actually…”

  Kallie pauses. For crying out fucking loud.

  Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe she’s nervous, maybe she forgot.

  “Are you okay, Kallie? If you need some time to remember, you can call me back…”

  “What happened to my presentation?”

  The fate of Kallie’s magic marker whiteboard presentation is not the first thing on my mind right now. I think back to yesterday afternoon, which is a very enjoyable thing to think about.

  Suddenly, I’m lost in a daydream.

  I’m no longer in my office on Friday morning, but I’m back in the boardroom on Thursday afternoon.

  And Maddie and I are enjoying the best damn business meeting imaginable. Things got a little heated—or a lot heated—during that meeting, but it was a lively and productive exchange.

  “Helllooooo?” Kallie’s voice on the phone brings me right the fuck back to the present. “What happened to my presentation, Ethan? Or have you gone deaf?”

  Jesus.

  I don’t know what the fuck is up with Kallie, but her presentation was a casualty of my meeting with Maddie.

  But seriously, what the hell is going on with Kallie?

  Fuck it, I don’t even fucking care anymore. If Kallie wants to know what happened, I’ll do for her what I’d do for anybody:

  Tell her the truth.

  There’ll surely be consequences for me, but…

  Fuck, there’d be consequences for Maddie too.

  Dammit.

  The click of Kallie hanging up interrupts my train of thought.

  There is no way that Kallie knows the whole story of what happened, but she knows it was destroyed, and I was the last person in the boardroom—besides Madeline.

  So, I’ll take the fucking blame if it comes up again.

  I throw the receiver back on the hook and unplug the useless fucking phone from the wall.

  What the fuck would Kallie do with that whiteboard full of erasable scribblings anyway?

  Frame it?

  Fuck, I’m getting agitated about this shit—I’m sure she worked hard on it, but...

  If Kallie were nicer about it, I’d maybe try harder to understand.

  As it is, I’ve got no time for any of this bullshit with a full day’s work ahead of me.

  After that useless little delay, I get to work for real.

  I read local, national, and international business news.

  I see Swiss cities mentioned several times—new startups in Zurich, in Basel...

  Fuck, of course I know that Basel’s a city. Why did I tell Maddie I thought it was a village in the fucking Alps or something?

  What am I in denial about?

  No time, keep working.

  I run current market data through analysis apps on my tablet and phone. I pore over raw data on my laptop monitor, staring at it for minutes, hours, running it through the analysis program in my head.

  That program keeps getting better, sharper, more powerful. As the hours go by, all the distractions and bullshit slowly fade from my mind as I become a market analysis machine.

  I glance at my wristwatch, and it’s almost noon. If I can stay in this zone for a few more hours, I can reach a sort of state of Zen, concerned with nothing but numbers.

  I’m not there yet.

  Kallie, her presentation, and that fucking phone call, are still gnawing at my mind.

  Without thinking, I look at my phone, and of course there’s an email notification from Rosen. It’s only recently that people at his level—full partners in the firm—have started emailing me regularly.

  It happens all the time now. I dismiss the notification. I don’t even want to fucking look at it. After what Maddie told me, something like that has the potential to sidetrack an entire day.

  Insider trading, pharma companies, the real reason for moving to goddamn Switzerland...

  Potentially, what Maddie told me is a fucking bombshell. Yet I haven’t thought about it once today.

  Until now.

  Maddie didn’t get into specifics, and I’m yet to see proof of anything. Maddie seems convinced. But as far as I know, there’s some higher-up at the SEC with an ax to grind, or Maddie and the SEC are simply mistaken about something.

  Maybe that’s it—it’s just a big misunderstanding.

  Would that even be possible?

  All I know is that I stopped working, and now I’m just thinking about this shit.

  My desk phone is sitting silently. Someone could be trying to call right now.

  There’s just no way Kallie knows what happened in the boardroom. It seems like she knows something, though.

  Either that, or she’s just a supremely fucking unpleasant person.

  That’s probably true whether she knows something or not.

  Oh well, back to work. I get back into the flow quickly and fiercely, the torrential downpour helping to block out any distractions.

  After about five hours, I start compiling a list of potential lenders for leverage. Even with institutional investors being cultivated, I’m seeing new opportunities for massive returns—opportunities that are not going to wait.

  In other words, we need to borrow some money. That’s my opinion, anyway.

  It’s also a good excuse to talk to Rosen and Barrister. What I’d really like to know is what’s going on with Switzerland, what’s going on with Kallie, and what’s really going on with the company.

  It’s almost five on the dot, and I need to brave that corridor to find the partners before they leave. After years of amazing fucking returns for the firm, they can’t afford to lose me. The least they could do is tell me the truth.

  The corridor hums with excitement as everyone is leaving for the weekend en masse. I wander up and down the corridor, searching for the partners but assuming they must be long gone by now.

  “Barrett!”

  I stay cool, even though Rosen�
��s sudden yelling makes me want to jump out of my skin. I turn around casually, not seeing him anywhere.

  “In the boardroom, Barrett!”

  I almost jump again, but I stroll coolly into the boardroom where both Rosen and Barrister are seated at the conference table.

  “Do you need glasses, Barrett?” Rosen asks as I close the door.

  “No.”

  I close the door.

  “I think he forgot his coffee,” Barrister quips.

  “I decided to do without it today.” I don’t give them the satisfaction of taking their digs personally. I just sit down across the table from them casually. “What’s up?”

  “We hear you’ve been hiding in your office all day,” comments Barrister.

  Kallie’s been talking to them. Great.

  “I’m in there most days—working, helping the fund succeed. Speaking of which, I think it’s time to consider a credit line...”

  “Enough of that,” interrupts Rosen. “The fund, as you know it, isn’t long for this world.”

  Fuck. How much do they know? Before I have time to think too much about it, Barrister taps an envelope on the table and slides it across to me.

  Picking up the plain white envelope, I put on my best poker face, although I have no idea what the fuck is happening.

  The envelope is sealed. I tear it open, pull out a folded sheet of yellow legal paper, unfold it, and see a printed dollar sign followed by a very large fucking number.

  “Switzerland?” I ask.

  Rosen nods. I look at the number.

  “This would be a yearly salary? I work on management and performance fees now...”

  “We know how you work,” Rosen interrupts. “And that’s per month.”

  Holy goddamn fucking shit. Poker face, don’t fail me now.

  “It’s a generous offer. I’ve never worked on just a straight salary, with no—”

  “Is he joking?” asks Rosen.

  “I’ll assume you’re being serious, Barrett,” says Barrister. “That figure is in addition to your usual management fee, plus fifty-percent performance fee, plus bonuses.”

  “It’s a...very high dollar figure,” I stammer, not able to process what I’m hearing.

  “Oh, I apologize.” This is absolutely the first time I’ve heard Rosen say those words. “That’s supposed to be in Swiss Francs.”

  My eyes get just a little wider, but I feel like I’m about to have a fucking heart attack. With the exchange rate, that’s even more fucking money.

  “A two-year contract,” says Barrister. “After that, it’s up to you.”

  “Two years, and you can retire,” adds Rosen. “Or you could keep getting filthy rich. What’s today’s date?”

  My eyes are glued to the number. There has to be some mistake.

  “Never mind that.” Barrister stands up, along with Rosen. “It’s Friday. We’ll give you two weeks, until the Friday after next, at nine o’clock sharp. We’ll have the contracts ready to sign.”

  “Unless, of course, you decide to refuse,” Rosen states somberly before laughing at the idea, along with Barrister.

  The two partners leave me alone in the boardroom, still holding the sheet of paper in disbelief.

  Ethan

  When I finally exit the boardroom, the stream of people leaving for the weekend is still surging out the door.

  It’s that time—a few minutes past five—and none of my colleagues are keen on staying for another second. For them, it’s quitting time. For me, it’s time to stretch and get the fuck back to work.

  Not today, though. Today, it can be quitting time for me too.

  Productivity is not going to be my friend any longer today anyway. Even the quiet Saturday I was looking forward to will probably have to wait.

  Today, it’s time for me to find out what this leaving at five o’clock shit is all about, because I have a lot more on my mind than market analysis, and it’s likely to stay that way for a while.

  In the hallway, there was still the energetic buzz and lively talking of people at the start of their weekend. By the time I’m riding the packed elevator, the interns, analysts, and administrative assistants are suddenly quiet. It’s obvious that word about the move is getting around, probably in the form of vague rumors and half-truths.

  They don’t know the full extent of what’s going on—and neither do I, for that matter—but it’s sinking in that a sea change is of some kind is happening, and few, if any, jobs will be safe when it rolls around.

  Greg’s standing right in front of me as the elevator descends. The elevator stops at the twentieth floor, and more people get on, making the car even more crowded. I can almost see Greg updating his resume in his head.

  What would I do if I stay behind when the company moves overseas?

  Starting my own fund, finding another fund or another firm to work with...I wasn’t planning on any of that shit, but those are my options, and I need to figure it out pronto.

  Whatever it is, that is.

  Walking through the lobby with seemingly every other office drone in the building, I stop thinking.

  At least, I stop weighing options or considering options. There’s too much information missing, and there’s no way I’m not being manipulated.

  And I can’t let myself be fucking manipulated.

  Walking through the revolving doors, I take out my personal phone and dial Maddie. Walking down Broadway, I wait for her to pick up.

  I walk fast and hard down the sidewalk, counting two rings, three, four, and stop counting when I turn onto Barclay.

  When I get to the entrance of my building, Maddie still hasn’t picked up. I don’t want to leave a message, and I realize I don’t really know why I’m calling, so…

  “What is it, Ethan?”

  Madeline’s voice, sounding short on patience, stops me in my tracks just before I hang up.

  “Hey, you answer the phone the same way I do at work.”

  I start walking to the elevator, suddenly feeling a fuck of a lot better.

  “Well, I am at work, Ethan. What’s up?”

  “You’re at work? You didn’t come by the office today.”

  “We’re pursuing the investigation differently now, Mr. Barrett. Hold on, I need to close my office door for some privacy.”

  “Of course,” I say, smiling to myself. I sit on the marble bench by the elevators while listening to Maddie close her door.

  “So,” Maddie continues in a quieter voice, “why are you calling again?”

  “It’s Friday.”

  “Uh...okay?”

  “And I was wondering if you wanted to get together this weekend.”

  Maddie sighs.

  “Maybe. I’ll have to call you later about that. Anything else?”

  My heart starts rocketing at the thought of seeing Maddie outside of the office, detached from the investigation and all the other shit. Yet there’s something about Maddie’s response makes me feel like I have more to say, or should have more to say.

  “I left work early today.”

  “Huh, good for you. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  “Not quite. Remember the Switzerland thing?”

  “Your whole firm moving to Switzerland?” Maddie’s voice is getting even quieter. “Yes, I’m quite aware of those plans.”

  “They, the two highest-ranking partners, just gave me the craziest offer for a contract there. I can’t discuss figures, but...”

  “Yeah, stay the fuck away from that.” Maddie sighs again. I can tell she’s stopping herself from getting more specific. “That’s my advice, anyway.”

  The elevator dings, and the door opens. The elevator’s empty, and I didn’t even press the fucking button. I look over my shoulder for some reason.

  “Okay,” I respond, my mouth getting dry.

  “Okay? I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here, Ethan.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The elevator door closes, and I hear t
he car start traveling back to the upper floors.

  “You’re just relaying information to me. I’m not accusing you of even considering signing a contract. Or...leaving the country.”

  Either the connection or Maddie’s voice starts breaking up with the last couple words.

  Those words seem unnecessary, anyway. She must know that if I sign the contract, that means leaving the country. She knows about Switzerland; she might know more about the plan than I do.

  And would it really be out of the question for me to consider it? Maddie knows that this is my job. Also, the investigation’s still underway. Maddie hasn’t shared any specifics with me, and she knows I haven’t seen whatever evidence it is that has her so convinced.

  “I just wanted to tell you what happened, Madeline.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. Anything else?”

  “Not really. Should I call you later about this weekend? Or do you want to call me?”

  “You know what, Ethan?” Madeline’s voice jumps in volume, and her irritated tone startled me enough to stand up from the bench.

  “I’m actually seeing my friends up in Boston this weekend.”

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. Goodbye.”

  One thing that I always felt was missing with smartphones is the ability to hang up emphatically. Even with an old flip phone, you have the option of slamming it closed.

  But, the way the call just ends so abruptly, I can tell Maddie hit that End Call icon with her finger as hard as she fucking could.

  Staring dumbly at my personal phone, I stay seated, frozen on the bench well after Maddie hangs up.

  I stay like that for a few minutes, at least, until the elevator door opens.

  Again, I didn’t press the button, and again it’s completely empty.

  This is a newer building, but I’m starting to think it’s fucking haunted.

  This time, I take the haunted elevator’s suggestion and get in. After hitting the button for the 52nd floor, I turn off my personal phone, which I almost never do, and I turn off my business phone, which I absolutely never do.

  The moment both phones are off, disconnecting me from the world, the elevator door opens to my floor.

  Realizing holding two different phones in both of my hands, I deposit them both bitterly in my front pocket.