Hot Doc: A Secret Baby Romance (Loving You Again)

by Sofia Finn

  “Shhh.” He stroked my hair. “You’re not a screw up, Maddie. You were a woman in pain, dealing with it the only way she knew how. Don’t ever apologize for it. And I’m so sorry Maddie for everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it, especially about you being a bad mother.” I could feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Tell me what I can do to make it up you.”

  I leaned back to look into his beautiful blue eyes, exactly like my daughter’s.

  He cracked a wry smile. “What if I removed those goddamn chandeliers from my ceilings. Will you forgive me then?”

  I bit back a smile. “No,” I quipped. “But it’s a start.”

  20

  Epilogue

  Maddie

  9 months later…

  “Happy birthday Tate!”

  There was a round of applause as Tate blushed. He stood in front of an obscenely large cake, with Cage at his side, smiling with pride, and Ela lifted onto his shoulders.

  “Blow it out, son,” Cage said, putting his hand down on Tate’s shoulder. Tate looked uncertainly at the candles.

  “Yeah, blow it out!” Ela agreed with a squeal when Cage ducked. He balanced Ela on his shoulder while whispering something in Tate’s ears, making the boy finally crack a smile and beam up at him.

  He nodded and blew out the cake to the sound of applause.

  It had been nearly three months since we finalized Tate’s adoption papers, but I still remembered it like it was yesterday. It had been a hard, long battle at the court to prove that Tate had been abused by his foster parents. There were no marks on his body, and apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Collins had been pillars of the community. In fact, when they had found out I was dating Cage, they had tried to countersue the both of us for kidnapping, defamation, and emotional distress…somewhere to the tune of two million dollars. I had been so enraged at the thought that I couldn’t believe it, but Cage just laughed when he got the court document.

  And then proceeded to completely annihilate them.

  Seriously. Neither of us wanted to put Tate on the stand and have his whole story out there, but he gave a police statement. Then Cage had hired a private investigator to dig into Mr. Collins’ past, finding out that he had done the same thing to other children. Children who were all grown up and ready to testify against their abuser.

  It had all gone downhill for the Collins from there.

  Not satisfied with taking Tate, Cage fought for a quick prison sentence for the man, even naming his wife as an accessory. He had gone after every single person who had known about Tate’s abuse and didn’t say anything, personally warning them that if they did not come forward, they would have to deal with the wrath of the Burke family. This was before we even made up our minds to adopt Tate, but Cage had made it clear that, just like Ela, he now considered Tate one of his. His son.

  After having the Collins arrested, the rest of the adoption process was pretty smooth. When I told Tate at the hospital that he would be coming home with us, he held me tight. I’d asked him how he felt about being adopted by Cage. He cried. I cried too and, that was how Cage found both of us weeping into each other’s arms in room 6.

  As we drove him home for the first time, Tate’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You live here?”

  I smiled back at him from the front seat of the car. “You know Tate, I said the exact same thing when I first saw it. It’s ok; it’s a lot less scary from the inside than it is on the outside.”

  But Tate was reluctant to get out of the car, clutching his seatbelt like it was a lifeline. “I can’t go in there,” he said, looking down as if in shame. “They won’t let me in.”

  Cage turned around and chucked Tate’s chin. “Look at me, Tate,” he said in that tone of his, and Tate looked up.

  “There are two things you should know about me as your new father. The first is that I’m one scary guy. No one messes with me or mine. And you’re my son now, Tate, which means no one messes with you either. You do whatever you want. And if anyone has a problem with it, then you come to me. Got it?”

  “Within reason, of course,” I added with a smile.

  Tate’s eyes were wide, and he looked up at Cage with absolute devotion. He finally nodded.

  They got out of the car, and I felt tears in my eyes as they walked hand in hand to the entrance.

  “Tate!” Ela had screamed when we got there, running up to hug the boy, who held her with a warm smile.

  “Hi Ela,” he said.

  We had gone with Ela to visit Tate a few times at the hospital, and the two had taken to each other pretty strongly . Ela was ecstatic when I explained to her we would be adopting Tate.

  “Mommy said you are staying with us from now on! They said you are my new brother! Brandon has a brother, but Brandon says he’s a knob-head. You’re not a knob-head, so I’m happy you’re my brother.”

  Tate looked like he was going to start crying again. “I’m happy I’m your brother, too, Ela.”

  Ela smiled brightly. “I got a daddy for my third birthday and now a brother for my fourth one!”

  Cage and I grinned at each other.

  At Ela’s birthday party, Cage and I had told her together that he was her dad. He went with the story that I had told her initially and said that he was finally back after saving the world and making sure other kids were safe. Ela cried and screamed, jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew if I ate my vegetables, you would come back!”

  My heart had filled with such warmth as she’d jumped into her father's arms, and the two had embraced as she called him “daddy.”

  “What do you want for your birthday party Tate?” Ela asked during Tate’s first dinner at our home. She clutched his hand and pulled him to sit next to her. Tate followed obediently.

  Tate shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never had one.”

  We all gaped at him.

  “You’ve never had a birthday party?” Ela said with as much abject horror as a newly turned 4-year-old could muster.

  Tate blushed, looking down at his hands. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “It is now,” Cage said.

  “He loves ice cream cakes,” I threw in, and Cage’s eyes glinted with mischief.

  “How about a giant vanilla ice cream cake for your birthday, Tate?”

  Tate’s eyes went wide, and the longing in them was almost painful. “They make those?”

  Cage winked at him. “You bet.”

  That was how we ended up throwing the party a few months later in Cage’s home. But we weren’t alone. There were a few of our close friends and some people Tate had made at his new school.

  As I watched Tate blow out his candles, Dr. Randy shuffled his way to me.

  “Thanks for the invite,” he said, after planting a kiss on my cheek. I could hear Cage growling and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Possessive bastard, isn’t he?” Dr. Randy smiled too. He seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of Cage.

  I shrugged. We turned to where Cage was glaring at us as Tate sliced the cake.

  “Sometimes.” But he was my possessive bastard. “Thanks for coming, Randy.”

  “My godson’s first official birthday party? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  We had decided to assign Randy as Tate’s godfather since they already knew each other pretty well from the hospital. It had been a tossup between him and Ben, but since Ben had already taken to his position as Ela’s godfather, we figured Randy could take Tate.

  Although, Cage wasn’t all too happy about it.

  Speaking of Ben…he was late.

  No sooner than I had the thought the doorbell rang. Paola went to answer it, and Ben walked inside. He froze in front of her.

  Paola’s stepped back in shock.

  They stared at each other for seconds.

  What the hell is that?

  “Well, would you look at that,” Dr. Randy murmured. “Looks like there might be a new couple soon. Love is in the air, I guess. Ain’t
it a beautiful thing?

  Ben eventually recovered, nodded his head at Paola, and started looking around. His eyes brightened when he found me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, walking up to us in a hurry. “Work was kinda crazy.”

  Ben had slowly started taking over work from Cage at Burke international. He pretty much ran the thing singlehandedly, leaving Cage to take care of St. Johns. It was a huge relief to Cage. I made sure he slept at least six hours a day, ate three square meals, got back into lifting weights, and was just generally healthier.

  “It’s ok,” I told him. “You made it just in time for the important part.”

  After the cake cutting, Cage came forward with Ela still on his shoulders, and cleared his throat to make a speech.

  “In the last year,” he started. “I have gained both an incredible daughter and a wonderful son. I’m so incredibly happy to announce that my son has now turned 9 years old. Tate, I love you and always will.”

  Tate’s expression was tight, and he nodded as Cage went down on his knees, pulling the boy into a hug. We all cheered. Their bond had gotten so strong over the past few months. It was just beautiful.

  “Uncle Ben!” Ela dashed to hug her third favorite person as Tate and Cage walked towards us.

  “Won’t even say hi to your Uncle Randy?” Randy mock glared at her. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

  Ela giggled. “Hi uncle Randy.”

  Randy chuffed her on the nose and swung her up into her arms.

  “Hey,” I said to the father of my children.

  “Hey,” he said back, and his eyes were filled with so much love that made my heart melt. He leaned forward to give me a kiss.

  “Why the hell are y’alls windows so big?” Randy asked, breaking the moment. “It’s not safe.”

  “I agree,” I said. “We should get somewhere smaller. Maybe out of the city. With a yard. Especially now that we’re going to be having more kids.”

  All three men stared at me in disbelief. I focused on Cage’s gape.

  “Oh, and you should probably marry me too at some point. You know, no pressure.”

  Cage answered by pulling me into a deep kiss as his brother and friend slapped him on the back and said their congratulations. We kissed for longer than was probably appropriate for PDA, but I didn’t have the heart to stop it. I was so blissfully happy that it was insane.

  Hmm, maybe my luck wasn’t so bad after all.

  The End.

  Did you like this book? Then you’ll LOVE Desiring Boss Daddy.

  Goofy nanny falls for the billionaire - I know, so cliche…

  He hired me to babysit his precious daughter

  Not sit on his lap.

  I know this is wrong… but it feels so right.

  Perhaps it’s just a rebound.

  The last thing I want is another failed relationship.

  Our touch is forbidden, but I lost myself in his green eyes and his hard protective embrace.

  We’re walking a dangerous line and he knows it too.

  A threat from his past pops back in town.

  My presence could be his downfall…

  Well honey, this Mary Poppins is here to stay.

  Start reading Desiring Boss Daddy NOW!

  21

  Desiring Boss Daddy Sneak Peek

  Graham

  Start reading Desiring Boss Daddy NOW!

  “Daddy. Dad. Dad. Daddy. Dad. DAD!”

  “Heard you the first time, Collins,” I said, keeping my eyes carefully on the road. I didn’t often drive with my daughter. In fact, I would be lying if I said it had been a piece of cake to get the car seat into the back of the Tesla.

  Honestly, it was a fucking nightmare—one made even worse since it was my driver’s day off.

  I definitely could’ve used Carol’s help with all of this, but even that thought was laughable. There was no reason for my former nanny to install my four-year-old’s car seat—a booster seat, as she called it—in my car. I rarely traveled with Collins in the Tesla. If she needed to go somewhere, it was always with Carol. I was far too busy running my father’s company—well, my company, now—to go on many outings with my daughter.

  Regrets? I had a few. But the biggest one at the moment? Agreeing to let my nanny retire.

  “I have to go potty,” my daughter informed me. When I glanced into the rearview mirror, I could see her brow knitted in concentration.

  “Collins.” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “We went potty before we left home, remember?”

  “Yes.” She squirmed against the restraints of the booster seat and plucked at the buckle. “But I have to go potty. Now.”

  “Can you wait?” I downshifted and roared around an ambling station wagon. We were ahead of rush hour, thank God, but it didn’t exempt us from the rest of the traffic moving along the expressway. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “How long?” Collins studied my reflection in the mirror, her green eyes calculating. Their color and expression matched mine, which is how I knew she was testing me. Not even a cartoon on her tablet could distract her from the boredom of the commute between our home and the office. Surprise, she was just like her father.

  “I bet if you can count to a hundred, we’ll be there before then,” I said, executing a series of maneuvers with my car that I usually wouldn’t with my daughter inside.

  Hell. I normally wouldn’t even have my daughter inside my car.

  It wasn’t because I didn’t like to spend time with her—quite the opposite, actually. In fact, I love spending time with Collins, and I want to give her the world because she deserves it. She is sweet, intelligent, exacting, and demanding.

  Precisely a Hilborne. Born for greatness.

  If only I had picked a better mother for her.

  “One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten,” Collins hollered in what had to be record time for her counting skills.

  At that rate, we weren’t going to be at the office by one hundred.

  “Good job, Collie,” I said. I wasn’t about to tell her to slow down. Why pull the reins on intellectual progress? “What’s next?”

  When my daughter performed like this, rattling off the next dozen digits, I saw her mother. Josie. It was simply an expression, eyes wide and innocent, reciting from memory, golden locks falling around her face. I couldn’t fault Collins for it. I couldn’t fault my daughter for anything. How could anyone fault a four-year-old for acting like the people who had conceived her? Her stubbornness and green eyes were where my family resemblance ended. My dark hair contrasted my daughter’s dark blonde curls, and her face—especially when she was expressing displeasure—was Josie through and through.

  Still, it was disconcerting to see a reflection or even a ripple—in my daughter—of the woman I thought I loved. The woman I thought I was going to marry. Sure, we made Collins together, but Josie hadn’t been who I thought she was. She didn’t love me for who I was. Just what I was.

  And what exactly was I? A billionaire—the successor of my father’s business, chosen over my brother, who used to manage Hilborne Security in San Francisco. Granted, Noah found something he wanted to do more than our family business, but I suppose love did crazy things to people.

  Josie had been thrilled to be a part of our family’s legacy, but then I discovered the only thing she ever wanted. Money.

  “Fifty!” Collins declared, jolting me back to the present.

  “What a liar!” I exclaimed, passing a series of slow-moving semi-trailers. “I didn’t hear you get through the forties.”

  “I said them,” Collins insisted. “I just said them. You weren’t listening.”

  “Sorry, baby.” I tried to throw her a smile through the mirror, but she rolled her eyes in a dramatic manner—she must have picked it up on TV—and glared out the window. That was a note to self: Figure out what she was watching and fix it.

  Carol would know.

  My fingers itched to call my former nanny’s nu
mber. It was my first on speed dial while the office was second. That’s how heavily I relied on Carol to parent my child when I was busy, and Josie was…well.

  Josie wasn’t a part of the picture anymore.

  Carol, the nanny, had come highly recommended. A family friend had gushed about how she stayed with the family until the children didn’t need her anymore. But Carol left me after a single sick day. Just like that.

  As if the last four years meant nothing at all.

  “Daddy.” Collins leveled a look at me that was pure Josie—a look that said she was going to get what she wanted or else. “I have to potty. Now.”

  “Baby, we are in the car.” I motored around a minivan and barely made the exit. “On the road. Almost there.”

  “You said we would be there by one hundred.”

  “Did you get to one hundred, Collie?”

  A stroke of luck—I made it through the light at the intersection and likely burned rubber drifting into our corporate parking lot.

  “No,” my daughter admitted.

  “Let’s count together, then,” I said, willing myself to be calm. My child was potty trained, and she hadn’t had an accident in nearly two years. Although she liked to solve her boredom through trips to the restroom whenever she could, she probably wouldn’t have an accident in her car seat, in a Tesla, on the first day I had to take her to work with me because I didn’t have any other options.

  Right?

  “From ten,” I said, willing Collins to hold it—to hold everything—together. “Ten, nine…”

  “Eight, seven, six…”

  “Five, four, three…” I screeched to a halt in a parking spot and bolted out of the car.

  “Two, one, blastoff!”