Billionaire's Forbidden Baby: BWWM Interracial Alpha Male Baby Romance Novel (11 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kiara

The phone rung for about the fifteenth time that day, and for about the fifteenth time, Kiara ignored it. She reached a hand out from under the blanket and felt around for it, pushing the power button to deny the call.

I bet I know who it is,
she thought glumly.

When she glanced out from under the blanket, her assumption was confirmed. Yup, Damien – relentless as always.

“You know, you can’t keep ignoring him forever, girl,” Tasha’s soft, purring voice said.

Kiara peeked out from under the duvet and gave Tasha a deathly glare.

“I can if I want to.”

“Well, maybe, but you should probably stop ignoring Gwyneth and Tessa, and all those other people who keep calling from the office, wondering where you are.”

Tasha licked a spoonful of ice cream, holding the tub in her hands and thrusting it invitingly in Kiara’s direction. With a defeated sigh, Kiara threw the soft blanket off of her and sat up, looking like the shadow of a once striking, curvy woman. She was pretty sure she’d lost weight over the last few days. She threw up whenever she even thought about eating or smelled anything cooking. Kiara wasn’t even entirely sure if it was because of the pregnancy or if her nerves were just getting the best of her – but whatever it was, she was literally getting sick of it.

She motioned towards Tasha, reaching out her hands to receive the ice cream from her. Double chocolate fudge. Tasha knew her well. Too well, maybe. There was another big spoon already waiting in the perfectly cold, creamy ice cream, and Kiara sunk it in without reservation. She took her first bite, and her eyes rolled back a bit in pleasure. Okay, that tasted
good
.

“See, a little bit of ice cream will fix just about everything. Do you want to tell me what that everything is or do I have to keep guessing?” Tasha asked, stealing a bite herself as well.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Kiara said, pushing a lock of hair out of her face.

Her usually carefully cared for and gorgeous weave was a mess from hiding out under the covers for four days, and Kiara was pretty sure that wasn’t the only thing out of order. She’d just been avoiding the mirror because she didn’t want to find out. Kiara was well and truly deep in some grade A self-pity and it was going to take more than just ice cream to shake her out of it – not that it didn’t help.

“Yeah you do. I’ve never seen you quite this… depressing.”

“Depressing? Pfft. That’s an awfully big word,” she said, snorting.

“Well, you’re an awfully sad sack right now,” Tasha bit back, maneuvering her spoon out of the way as Kiara tried to jab it out of her hand with hers.

“I am not.”

“Really? Sitting in your old Duke jersey, crying into a pillow for four days and throwing up every few hours. You don’t call that sad? Because I do. And the Kiara I know would too.”

Tasha licked her spoon clean, giving Kiara a knowing look. Kiara wanted to bite back with something witty, but all she could think about was how Eliza had told her that things would be ‘fixed’, effectively shutting down any rational thought.

“And now you won’t even call me on it?” Tasha scoffed, her expression changing to worried. “Kei, what’s going on? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Tasha took Kiara’s hand, and it was all Kiara could do to keep from bursting into tears. She felt them brimming up already and shoved another mouthful of ice cream into her mouth.

“I can’t say anything,” she murmured through the ice cream. “It’s too horrible. You’d hate me.”

“I’ve known you for fifteen years. I couldn’t possibly hate you, no matter what you do. ‘Sides, without you, I’d be living in some shoebox apartment in the bad part of town, not in this relative lap of luxury,” Tasha said, smiling gently.

Tasha was right. They’d been friends since middle school and moved in together when Kiara got a job in Los Angeles. Tasha worked as a bartender in an upscale bar, but it was only by pooling their wages that they could afford a place that was even remotely livable. And Tasha had always been there for her, even when Kiara hadn’t exactly deserved it. The opposite was true as well, though, so they’d managed to keep their karmic debt to a minimum.

Kiara shoved the spoon into the tub and buried her face in her hands. She wasn’t sure if she could say what she wanted to say. She sure as hell couldn’t say it to herself, and she’d been trying to for four days. Even proof hadn’t been enough to make it really,
really
sink in.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“What?! Pregnant!? How? When! Oh my god, is it that billionaire guy? Damien What’s-His-Cock? It is, isn’t it… Oh, Kiara…”

Kiara listened to Tasha go through the plethora of emotions she’d been cycling through for the past four days all in the span of four seconds. Then, Tasha pulled her into a warm embrace and held her close, rocking her back and forth a little as those tears she’d been so valiantly fighting came flooding out.

“I’m so stupid,” Kiara sobbed, allowing the moment of weakness to take her.

“You’re no such thing, Kei. I mean, look at the upside. At least your rack is going to be
phenomenal
. I was wondering if you’d been sneaking plastic surgery behind my back. Damn, girl.”

Kiara pulled away from Tasha, laughing through the tears and wiping them away.

“
That’s
your first thought? That my tits will look better?!”

Tasha made a face, taking another scoop of ice cream and offering it to Kiara before biting at it herself.

“No. My first thought was that your mama is going to kill you if she hears about it, but the boobs thing came a close second. Does she know? Does
he
know?” Tasha asked, quirking a brow.

Kiara’s stomach cramped, and she couldn’t help but make a sour face. She should have already done both of those things but hadn’t got to either yet.

“No. Nobody knows. Just me, and you, and… Well, doesn’t matter.”

The thought of Eliza was bitter enough to scrape even the pleasant aftertaste of chocolate out of Kiara’s mouth. She shoved the spoon into the ice cream again and took a decisive bite – fuck Eliza. Kiara wiped the tears away with the ragged sleeve of her worn jersey, which had seen her through a fair amount of heartbreak.

“And you’re sure?”

“As sure as eight pregnancy tests can make me. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment for Thursday, but I think it’s pretty obvious at this point.”

“And what are you going to do?” Tasha asked carefully, pursing her lips at Kiara.

Hell if I know…

“What can I do?”

“A whole lot of things. Tell Richie Rich. Tell your mama. Get on prenatal vitamins, have the baby. Raise it. Give her up for adoption. Abortion…“

“No,” Kiara stopped Tasha, waving her spoon at her well-meaning roommate. “I’m not going to do
that
. I know it’s an option for plenty of women, but it isn’t for me. I made this mess. The least I can do is make sure my child doesn’t suffer because of it.”

Tasha looked sympathetic, but Kiara knew what she must have been thinking. Was she ready? Was this what she had been preparing for? For years, Kiara had been slaving away at her career in the hopes of one day being financially secure enough and with a nice guy by her side to have the big, supportive family she’d always dreamed of.

And instead, here she was, pregnant with a billionaire’s baby, hunted by his crazy ex and completely incapable of doing anything but feeling sorry for herself.

“Are you going to tell Damien?” Tasha asked carefully.

“I don’t think so,” Kiara replied, shaking her head.

The pit of her stomach iced over at the thought. She never imagined she would be the kind of woman who would not tell a man that she was carrying his child. But she never thought she’d get pregnant out of wedlock either, so there were a lot of things Kiara was currently going through that didn’t exactly fit into her well-formed plan of how her life should go.

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve been told in no few words that it would just make things worse. Besides, do you think Damien Thatch is the kind of man who wants to play house with someone like me and a kid he wasn’t planning on having? I don’t think so. And I don’t want him to have to be with me out of some kind of obligation. This is on me, and I’m going to make it work.”

“I think he has a right to know. At the very least, it should be his decision, you know? Whether he wants to be involved or not. But, it’s your baby and your life, and whatever you want, Kei, that’s how we’ll do it. Now quit glaring at me. You know I’m telling you the truth,” Tasha said, swinging her spoon in Kiara’s general direction.

Yup, Kiara knew. That didn’t make it any less painful to hear it from someone else’s mouth, though. Kiara was more than relieved when Tasha decided to lighten the mood, as things were getting far too depressing for Kiara to handle. Especially because she knew she didn’t have anyone but herself to blame for what was going on.

“Whatever you want, you know I’ll support you. We can make the den into a nursery! I’m killer with a paintbrush. I’m thinking green. Maybe some of those cool nature stickers on the walls. Isn’t that what they’re doing these days? Bringing kids up so they know what nature is all about? I don’t know. I think we need to buy books. Have you bought any books?”

Tasha rattled off questions, and Kiara just laughed a little. It was nice to know that she was still capable of smiling, even if things looked completely hopeless. She was just going to have to suck it up and keep her chin up. There had to be a way out of this that didn’t include hurting anyone, least of all her unborn child.

While Tasha pondered out loud about the best gender-neutral color scheme for the den, Kiara put a hand on her belly. She was going to make it work. She had to.

And Damien couldn’t know about it. Not a thing.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Damien

What the fuck are you doing. When did you turn into
that
guy?
Damien asked himself, standing in front of a rough-looking apartment building.

He leant on his silver Mercedes, his arms crossed over his wide chest. Dressed in a perfectly tailored white dress-shirt, light slacks and Italian leather shoes that probably cost more than the upkeep of Kiara’s entire apartment building, Damien was feeling something he wasn’t quite used to – out of place.

He’d been trying to get in contact with Kiara for days now. It wasn’t only that his time in L.A. was always limited, but also that he didn’t like the way she kept making herself scarce. It wasn’t the coy, coquettish game of a woman, who liked to be chased. Of course, every woman wanted to feel hunted every now and then, but Damien was sure there was more to it. And, if he was right, Eliza had some kind of hand in it.

The last thing he would stand for was Eliza messing with his love life.

Squaring his jaw, he pushed himself away and took the plunge. He entered the building with long strides and just about ran up the stairs, tucking his sunglasses away behind the button of his shirt.

Damien Thatch wasn’t used to hearing no as an answer. In fact, he didn’t recognize the word unless it was him that was saying it. As such, being so unceremoniously ignored by the object of his current interest, Kiara, was more than he was willing to handle. If she wasn’t going to make herself available to him, well, he’d just have to come and find her himself.

It had taken exactly one phone call to find out where she lived. And then it had taken a good few hours of driving around to clear his head before he could actually show up at the address. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but she was at the same time maddening, captivating and completely impossible, and he couldn’t get enough of her. And when he wanted something, well, he just had to have it.

When he reached the right door, he steadied himself for a moment, relaxing his shoulders. Damien raised his hand and knocked a few times – quick, rasping motions that exuded urgency and impatience. It fit his mood, as even one more minute meant that he might explode from his need to see her.

“Hey. You’re not Kiara,” he said pleasantly, cocking his head to the side slightly and smiling to the tall, curvy woman greeting him at the door.

She had frizzy hair, carefully pulled back into a bun, and lively dark-brown eyes that told Damien that she’d sized him up the second she’d seen him. And she liked him, so that was good. Distantly, he noted that had he met her in a dark club somewhere, he might have fucked her until those pretty red lips screamed his name over and over again. That is, if he didn’t know Kiara. And if Kiara wasn’t doing such a brilliant job at completely taking over his mojo.

“You’re right, I’m not. Let me guess. Damien? I saw your Benz outside. You know, if you leave it for too long, you’re not going to have any tires to drive off on.”

“Just means I’ll get to enjoy the company of the lovely ladies in this apartment for longer, hmm?”

He winked. He couldn’t help it. Once the charm started pouring out, it was like fighting the flood to get it back under control.

“Anyway, is Kiara home? And I don’t think I’ve caught your name.”

“Tasha. And I’ll go see. Don’t you go winking at me, boy. I know you’re trouble,” Tasha said, waggling her finger at him as she twirled around and headed deeper into the apartment.

Damien smirked to himself, closing the door behind him and looking around the small hallway. Tasha was right. He
was
trouble, and that’s what women like her loved so much about him. He was willing to bet that being trouble wasn’t making him any more popular with Kiara, though.

He heard distant murmurs and then rustling covers and hurried footsteps. Damien had to muffle a chuckle as he made out the very obvious sound of two women hurriedly discussing whether or not one of them was presentable. Hell, Kiara could have walked out dressed in a brown paper bag and he would have still only been able to think about how to get it off of her.