THE BILLIONAIRE'S BABY (A Secret Baby Romance) (41 page)

Saturday morning, when I asked her out properly, I had been a different man.

My mind was stuck on the unknown reason of her vulnerability. That tiny gesture—touching the hollow of her neck and her fingers retreating as if remembering something that should have been there was not—was important. I needed to know why the habit was so ingrained. Maybe it was a bad breakup or the death of a loved one. She could be in financial trouble, I realized with a jolt, as the thought that had been at the back of my head since we met finally formed itself into a question. Why else would a girl like her have an app used by rich men to find platonic escorts?

I still hadn’t touched my drink, debating in my mind whether or not I needed to find out more about Tia Watson. It shouldn’t be difficult in a small city like Richmond, where most people knew everyone else, and my father practically owned half the city. But she had asked me to leave her alone… directly.

The door to the bar opened, and I heard a woman’s voice followed by another. I took out some cash from my wallet and placed it by the untouched drink at the bar. As I got up to leave and turned around, I saw a woman standing in the door, her face to the other side, her long brown hair flowing behind her. It had to be her.

“Tia!” I called out.

The girl turned around and looked at me as if I were an idiot.

My thoughts, which had frozen when I saw the back of the girl’s head, scattered. “Sorry,” I mumbled, passing her hastily on my way out. Now I was losing my mind as well.

I knew where I needed to go. There was only one place on earth I needed to be right now.

***

Todd picked me up at the Richmond Municipal Airport that evening.

His curiosity at my quick return was clear on his face, but professional to the core, he said nothing except a polite greeting. I had handpicked Todd for this position, and I liked him because he never uttered a single unnecessary word. The last thing I needed was someone talking into my ear right now.

The certainty I had felt this morning leaving New York and returning to Richmond had long disappeared on the flight, replaced by the similar, incessant debate that had taken place while I sat at the bar this morning. Should I or shouldn’t I? I hadn’t eaten all day, and a dull ache was beginning to form on the right side of my head.

As we pulled into my parents’ house, the housekeeper, Dora, greeted me. She asked Todd if there was any luggage and informed me that my father was out of town and my mother was in the dining room.

My headache was growing worse with every passing second. Warily, I walked to the dining room. As I approached, I heard the unmistakable sound of women shrieking with laughter. Just great. I opened the door, and in my dazed state, did a double take. Alisha Banks sat at the table next to my mom.

“Neal, my dear son,” my mother cooed, “how charming to have you back so soon!” I stood transfixed, looking at Alisha, so my mother cleared her throat. “Ah, yes! Alisha is going to be staying with us for a while,” she said brightly, and though she somehow sounded really happy at the prospect, the element of pretense that usually filled ninety percent of her tone still managed to emerge.

“Is everything okay?” I asked with mock concern.

“She was depressed in New York. Her mother mentioned it to me, and I told dear Malika that of course Alisha is always welcome to stay with us. She needed a break from New York.”

So she was depressed in big, bad New York—of course. How fucking original. And I had forgotten that, for some time, Alisha’s mother Malika was a dear friend of my mom’s. Birds of a feather…

“I want to freshen up before I eat something,” I said, eager to make my escape.

“Do you want me to send a tray up to your room?”

This was bizarre. My mother was never so concerned about my wellbeing. She had never been the nurturing kind. However, as long as I could avoid eating with this company…

“Sure.” I half shrugged and headed to my room.

I took a long, hot shower and was considerably more relaxed when I left the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, wearing only a towel wrapped around my waist and drying my hair, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I said. The door opened and Dora appeared, carrying a tray with dinner, followed by Alisha. The housekeeper set the tray down. “Thank you, Dora,” I said as she left the room.

Alisha propped herself up on my bed and smiled brightly. Obviously, Richmond was working wonders for her. “We didn’t get a chance for a proper greeting earlier, so I thought I would come up and say hi,” she simpered.

“Hi,” I said, turning to face the mirror. I wasn’t dressed, and she wasn’t leaving.

“How are you?” she asked.

I looked at her image in the mirror and saw that her big, cartoon-lamb eyes were genuinely wide with concern. This took me by surprise. “I’m… okay. What about you?” I asked.

“Don’t lie to me, Neal,” she said, standing up and walking over to me. “I know you’re not. I’ve always been able to see that in you very easily.” She put her arms around my shoulders from behind and looked at my face in the mirror.

“It’s difficult,” I said finally. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

She began to caress my bare shoulder with her lips. Then she paused, inhaled the scent of my body, and licked the exposed skin with her tongue. Under the towel, I hardened. Alisha’s hand slipped to the front of the towel and underneath it. She stroked my cock, giving it a squeeze.

I was harder now, properly aroused, my mind more distracted than I had been in the last forty-eight hours. Still, I felt no exhilaration or adrenaline the way I usually did when aroused. Chagrin coursed through my veins, along with a deep disgust.

But using her as a distraction was not beneath me.

I picked her up by the waist and stood her in front of the mirror, her back to it. With my hands, I ripped apart the little silk dress she wore. Alisha’s massive breasts tumbled out as soon as I tore off her dress. She was not wearing a bra. Her nipples were bigger and darker than Tia’s.

Tia’s
.
No, not this, not her again.

I shook my head slightly. Alisha was wearing very thin, pink lace panties. I tore them off with my teeth. Compared to Tia, Alisha was so much curvier.

Her again. I wanted to yell. I needed to get her out of my mind. I was a playboy after all, and the only way I knew to get another woman out of my head was to fuck the next best one!

“Turn around,” I told Alisha. She obliged, turning around to face the mirror. “Bend over,” I ordered.

She bent over, her long blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders, touching her breasts and tickling her nipples, which had pebbled with arousal. I remembered them from my college days. As soon as I thought about college, the memory of Alisha sleeping with my friends came back to me, burning red hot. Disgust pumped harder through my veins.

I put my hand between her legs, mercilessly opening her legs wide. I heard something resembling a hiss or a sob escape her lips, but she obliged eagerly. I opened her as wide as I could and entered her from behind, punishingly thrusting as hard as I could.

Momentarily, as soon as I was inside her, my thoughts were distracted. In front of me, Alisha thrust backwards, jutting her ass out even more as I thrust deeper inside her. I paused and looked in the mirror in front of us. Her face was screwed up and little beads of sweat had appeared on her forehead.

“I am going to fuck you, Alisha Banks,” I hissed. She moaned in response, and I covered her mouth with my palm. Deeper and deeper, I thrust into her until the familiar pressure began to build inside me.

Alisha’s expression looked tired. The beads of sweat that had appeared on her forehead were running down her face and onto her breasts now. Her nipples, if possible, looked even bigger and harder than before, her breasts swollen.

When I finally came inside her, I took a deep breath and knew that I was nowhere near done.

I turned her around, and, as if she could read my mind, she plopped herself up on the table in front of the mirror. Drawing me closer, with her arms around my neck, she opened her legs wide and wrapped them around my waist.

I entered her from the front this time, and she tightened her legs around me. My hands held onto her large breasts, squeezing the nipples hard between my fingers, punishing them. She held my head against her shoulder, holding on with unbelievable strength and moving with me to keep up the pace. As I moved faster, her legs tightened around me until I was lightheaded; not even a single wayward thought remained in my mind.

Just as I was threateningly close to reaching climax, Alisha let go of me. She squirmed and crawled out of my grip to get down on her knees, her back leaning against the table for support. She took my cock, hard as a rock and throbbing, in her mouth seconds before I came.

She stood up as I finished, resuming her place on the table in front of the mirror, her back to the mirror and her legs wrapped around my waist. She placed both of my hands firmly on her breasts and let me enter her again.

Holding my head against her shoulder again, her fingers in my hair, she whispered in my ear, “It’s okay; it’s alright. You’re not alone.”

Tia

My period was two weeks late.

I had never, ever been this late in my life… four or five days occasionally, but never a month. I was worried sick, but I did not know who to talk to or ask for advice. There had
to be something I could do. The prospect of taking a pregnancy test scared me, because I knew it would only reveal the truth I was not yet ready to face.

I could not talk to Ella because she still didn’t know I had gone out with Neal after that woefully disastrous charity dinner. Why I hadn’t told her, I didn’t know. No matter how much I tried, I could not bring myself to talk about it. I actively spent most of my time trying not to think about him. I could not remember ever being this scared in my life.

Exactly one month and a day after I had met Neal, I woke up feeling disoriented, groggy, and terribly unwell after an afternoon nap. I had woken up in the morning and had not been able to eat anything, try as I might. I had also felt lightheaded, irritated and had not been able to focus on anything, so around noon, I laid down for a few minutes and had drifted off to sleep.

I woke up from my nap not feeling even the slightest bit better. On the contrary, I felt much worse. The sound of the TV in the living room sounded muffled through my closed door, and the rays of the afternoon sun tried in vain to seep through the cracks in the tightly drawn curtains. The room smelled of stale cheese crackers and Chinese takeout—leftovers from last night. I had eaten in bed and hadn’t removed the dishes because I had fallen asleep right after.

I got out of bed and opened the curtains. As sunlight streamed into my depressing room and tried to latch itself onto and brighten every surface, I felt groggy and dazed. I picked up the dishes from the floor and piled them neatly by the door, thinking I would take them out when I left the room. I was in no mood to go out and face anyone—not even Ella—just yet.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face for a long time. Then I brushed my hair and pulled it into a tight bun. When I left the bathroom, I fetched my mom’s old yoga mat from on top of the cupboard and unrolled it on the floor in front of the window.

I plopped down on a pillow, crossing my legs in front of me and my arms behind me and took a deep breath.
I am a strong, independent woman
—who would hopefully either find a good job soon or go back to school.
I am calm and very much in control of myself.

I took a deep breath and stretched forward into the downward dog position. See, this is already working, I thought, spreading my arms forwards. “I am fine,” I chanted under my breath, exhaling.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I retched and threw up on the floor.

It happened so suddenly that I was thrown completely off guard. One minute I was taking deep breaths and feeling better, and the next I was puking my guts out all over the yoga mat. I dragged myself to the toilet on my hands and knees.

I held on to the toilet seat for at least half an hour. Once I could stand up successfully and force my legs to move, I cleaned up and escaped the bathroom. The dishes I had stacked by the door tumbled to the floor again as I opened the door.

“Ella,” I said with all the strength I could muster as I stepped into the living room.

“Tia, have you seen this?” Ella shrieked from the couch in front of the TV.

The news strip on a local cable channel read
Billionaire Playboy Neal Callaway to Finally Tie the Knot!

The announcement was accompanied by a picture of Neal standing on a red carpet wearing a deep blue suit, his expression smoldering, and next to him—in an unbelievably small and form-fitting cocktail dress in a matching color, her arm in his and the smile on her face wide—stood Alisha Banks.

“Excuse me,” I said as a fresh bout of sickness hit me. “I have to go throw up.”

“Are you okay?” Ella said, getting up and running after me as I struggled to make it back to the bathroom before throwing up again.

Ella sent me to bed and did not let me leave my room the rest of the day. She was positive I had the flu. I felt bad not telling her the truth. However, I wasn’t against the idea of spending the rest of the day in bed and didn’t oppose the idea of her waiting on me for the rest of the day. I would have done the same for her.