Daddy: A Billionaire Baby Romance

by Katy Kaylee

  And then he hung up.

  I stared at my phone, sputtering at the blank screen. Did he really thing he could just order me to-

  Well, actually, he definitely could. He was my boss and a super mega CEO who was used to getting his way. I was sure that I could just refuse and go home, but then I wouldn’t be a team player. And not being a team player was code for ‘soon to be fired’.

  Rolling my eyes to myself, I headed to the bathroom and did my best to make myself look a bit better while I waited. I didn’t have a lot in my purse, but a brush, some perfume and a little bit of water splashed on my face could do wonders.

  I tried to plan out my interaction for the rest of the party, how I would act and how fake my smile would have to be. It was exhausting, and I just didn’t have the energy for it, but I had to.

  No wonder so many other assistants had quit before me. This went beyond competency, beyond smarts and being able to do my job. This was an endless slog uphill with a bunch of unfair requests.

  I was just thinking bitterly to myself how unfair it all was when someone new stepped in with a package. Their eyes scanned between their phone and the room until they settled on me.

  “Ms. Viello?” he asked, stepping forward.

  I nodded, standing up to take the package. I knew it was my new outfit, but I waited until he was gone to open it.

  And thank goodness I did, because once I saw what was inside, I felt my eyes go wide and my face burn vermillion. There was no way he was expecting me to wear that, was he?

  I couldn’t believe it. As terrible and uncomfortable as I had assumed the night would be, it had suddenly gotten a whole lot worse.

  Fitz

  My driver pulled up to the party just bordering on fashionably late. Truth be told, it had been hard to contain myself and not show up early. I wanted to see Ms. Viello in the outfit that I had picked out for her. To see her how she reacted to the sudden responsibility that I had thrown onto her.

  It wasn’t hard to guess that she wasn’t exactly a party person. Despite her eye for detail in planning them, I was sure that she viewed them as wastes of time. Would she be livid when I met her? Or uncertain, clinging to my shadow all night for a bit of extra security? I could only hope.

  I headed past the security we posted at the outside entrance then headed up the stairwell to the appropriate landing. I felt more excited, more alive than I had in ages, anticipation bubbling in my middle.

  Was it really just a silly little assistant causing all this hubbub inside me? It didn’t seem probable, but when I spotted her just inside the entrance, clearly waiting for my arrival, it wasn’t like I could deny it.

  She was wearing the dress that I had picked out for her, a hugging, emerald dress that was just casual enough for the party but just upscale enough for everyone around her to know that it wasn’t cheap. She was an absolute meal in it, her cleavage nearly spilling over the top and her wide, luscious hips taking the fabric to its absolute maximum.

  Her legs were clad in the same plain, sensible stockings that she usually wore with her skirts in the office, but her feet were decked in black, velveteen wedges that I hadn’t seen her wear before. Had those just been in her purse, or had she had one of the many other assistants go fetch them for her?

  I hadn’t been sure if she would actually wear the dress. I had almost expected to come to the party to find her stubbornly in her own cloths with that defiant tilt to her chin which made me want to conquer her that much more. But to see her all decked out in what I had chosen for her, put on display like a beautiful work of art… it made the night that much more interesting to me.

  “Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, and for once I could see that she was struggling to keep her mask of professionalism in place. “You’re here.”

  She looked like she didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset about that, but that suited me just fine. My mind was still lingering on how the dress clung to her every curve, my body thrumming to reach out and touch her.

  “That I am,” I answered calmly.

  She had taken her hair down. It was the first time I had ever seen her without her severe bun, and I had never realized just how long her hair was. Falling in thick, gentle waves, it went almost halfway down her back. If only I could just wrap my fingers up in it and pull her towards me…

  “According to the guest list the entertainment division gave me, almost everyone is here. I wrote a list of who might be the most advantageous for us to speak to, so do you-”

  I stepped forward, raising a hand to lower the tablet that she had brought up to hide her face. She looked up at me, her green eyes wide before she caught herself and that impenetrable demeanor slid back into place.

  “None of that for tonight. People can smell it when you have an angle. We’ll just walk the party and have whatever conversations that present themselves.”

  “That doesn’t sound very efficient,” she argued. Because of course that would be her objection. Not the dress, not the shoes, not having to work a ridiculously long day on top of a ridiculously long week. No, it was the thought of wasting time, of suboptimal planning that had those full lips of hers contradicting me.

  “This is one of the very few occasions where efficiency is not a good thing.” I offered her my arm, but she just looked at me. I swore smoke was coming out of her ears as her mind churned, but eventually she just gestured to the catering table.

  “Can I get you a drink, Mr. Fitzgerald?” She asked instead.

  Oh well. The arm thing was a gamble as it was. “Sure, lead away.” I said. Normally I wasn’t a following kind of guy, but I wouldn’t mind seeing the view as she walked away.

  It was everything that I had been hoping for, each of her round cheeks barely contained within the satin dress. It was something else to watch them try to fight past each other, and I barely managed to avert my eyes in time before she turned back to me with an empty cup.

  “What would you like?”

  “I’ll take a water bottle,” I said. It seemed like she barely contained rolling her eyes before turning back to one of the workers at the table. She said something I couldn’t quite catch, and then they handed her two water bottles.

  “Here you are, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said, handing one of them over to me.

  I took it from her but didn’t unscrew the top yet. Gesturing to her own, I raised one of my eyebrows. “You thirsty?”

  “Yeah. It seems that having surprise responsibilities that involve a whole lot of social interactions can lead to dry mouth.”

  It was the first time that she had mouthed off to me since that one time about the notes and it took quite a bit to hold back my smile. I liked the way she challenged me, keeping me on my toes.

  “Are you telling me that you aren’t a social butterfly, Ms. Viello?”

  She seemed to realize exactly what she said to me, her cheeks flushing before she quickly recovered. “Did I give you an impression otherwise?”

  “Honestly, I can’t say. For working almost a month together, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, that’s not true,” she answered. “You know that I’m quick, efficient, good with small details and the job itself. What else is there?”

  I couldn’t help a short laugh. It was maybe the longest sentence that she had said to me since the whole note situation, and I wanted to hear more. “Certainly, there’s more to life than your job.”

  She glanced up at me sidelong, her thick lashes obscuring much of her expression. “That seems strange, coming from you.”

  “Does it?” I asked, turning to face her fully. She kept herself in profile relative to myself, but I didn’t mind.

  “Yeah, you’re Mr. Fitzgerald, who built his own media empire all on his own from the young age of twenty. You’re not exactly known for taking it easy.”

  “No,” I murmured. “I’m not. But just because I’m relentless doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun outside of my job.”

  “Is it really a j
ob when you own the place?”

  “If it wasn’t a job, then I wouldn’t need an assistant, would I?”

  When I glanced down at her she had the tiniest of a smile, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly. “Fair enough. And I do like having a steady paycheck, so let’s leave it at that.”

  I opened my mouth to keep it going, feeling more entertained than I had any right to, when suddenly someone was in front of me, their voice far too annoying and fishing for the moment.

  “Ah! Fitzy, it’s so good to see you!”

  Only all my years of control kept me from grimacing at the sound of a very specific talent agent.

  Normally just an agent wouldn’t have the ability to talk to me like that. Let alone use such a juvenile nick-name, but Charles Van Meter was an old friend of the family that I’d known since I was eight, and there were certain passes I gave the man.

  I supposed it helped that he had led my company to some of its most lucrative talent matches in our early years and I probably wouldn’t be where I was without him.

  “Charlie,” I said with a nod. “Good to see you.”

  “Really? Cause your face doesn’t say that!”

  The downside of doing business with someone who knew you too well. “My assistant and I were just discussing a rather irritating run in we had earlier today.”

  “Oh, assistant, huh?” the older man asked, turning on that sort of endearing charm that only those in their sixties could have. “You poor dear. Ending your first week with a shindig? Fitzy, you are cruel.”

  “Actually, this is the end of my first month,” Ms. Viello answered with that same sort of business-cautious tone she used with me. Good. She wasn’t fooled by Charles’ innocent old man routine. While the man was affable and preferred kindness over machinations, there was a reason he was one of the best in his business.

  “Month?!” Charlie declared, hand over his heart in a flamboyant gesture. “Oh honey, you must be something. You sure you don’t want to quit working for this old bully and come to where you’ll be cherished?”

  Normally I would have rolled my eyes at Charlies joking about poaching one of my employees, but I didn’t feel any sort of levity. Instead a slight bit of possessiveness burned in my chest. Ms. Viello was my assistant. She had come to work for my company, and if he knew what was-

  “Actually, I like working with this old bully just fine,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “And my mother always taught me to watch out for offers that were too good to be true from much too handsome men.”

  “Too handsome men?” Charlie repeated, gently gripping the arm of the young lady who was next to him. “Oh, I like this girl, Fitzy. I like this girl a lot.”

  I shook my head, the possessiveness in my chest swelling at Ms. Viello’s gentle turndown. She liked working with me, huh? I knew that chances were she was just saying that to save face, but that didn’t matter.

  “Did you need something, Charlie, or did you just come over to try to snipe away the best assistant I’ve ever had?”

  In my peripheral vision I saw Ms. Viello stiffen and her breath hitch. Had I never complimented her before? I needed to do it more often if she made that kind of noises every time.

  “The best you ever had, huh? If I didn’t know better, I would think you were getting soft.”

  “Charlie,” I said again, my voice level.

  “Right, right. Of course, you want to talk work even in the middle of what should be a good time. It’s never just a celebration with you, is it?”

  “Multitasking is the key to success,” Ms. Viello said quickly before seeming to realize that she had spoken out of turn again. “Er… or so I’ve heard.”

  “Ooooh, yes! I can see why she’s lasted so long!” The older man clapped, seemingly very amused. “But right, business, business. Fitzy, this is Amelia here, or as her channel goes, LittleMistPancake. She’s an art channel.”

  The young woman lifted her hand for a shake, her eyes shuttling nervously between Ms. Viello and me. It was the sort of uncertainty I was used to when someone was intimidated by what my resources could or could not do for them. One that my assistant had never really worn around me.

  “I, uh, I like to draw pastel goth stuff.”

  “Pastel goth,” I repeated, returning her shake. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It’s like creepy-cute,” Ms. Viello said quickly. “Often combining black with multiple pastel colors like mint, lavender and baby pink, or using horror motifs and themes along with hyper-cute characters.”

  “Uh, yeah,” the young woman beside Charlie said, looking relieved that my assistant had taken over. “Like that.”

  “How interesting,” I said politely. Really, I didn’t care much about that as I did her numbers. “Do you do speed draws?”

  “Uh, that. And audience participation. I illustrate stories sometimes. I’ve repainted a couple of dolls. You know…stuff.”

  “I see.” I looked to Charlie. “Alright, I’ll have our acquisition team take a look at the channel. You know you can come to me during office hours instead of sneaking business into a party.”

  “Oh, I know honey,” he answered, wiggling his fingers at me. “But can I get absolutely wasted on fruity cocktails in your office at the same time?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Exactly. I’ll see you next week. Tootle-loo, darlings!”

  He swept away, the young woman on his arm and I looked to Ms. Viello once again. “You get all of that down?”

  She nodded, tucking her phone into her cleavage. I didn’t avert my eyes as it slid into her generous bust, disappearing from sight with a slight jiggle.

  “Do you mind?” she asked, looking up at me with flushed cheeks.

  “Not really. Should I?”

  She crossed her arms, but it did nothing to make her impressive rack any smaller. “Isn’t that inappropriate?”

  “You’re the one shoving a company-provided phone into your bra. You tell me.”

  She made a snorting noise and it was the most real reaction I had ever heard from her. If I didn’t know better, I would say that she was relaxing around me. Maybe even flirting a little. “Please, like I could wear a bra in this get up.”

  I tried not to let that thought go straight to my dick and I was completely unsuccessful. Sure, I knew the dress was tight and wardrobe had said something about it’s built-in support, but I hadn’t paid much attention to that once I started imagining my assistant in it. Just the thought that there was only a thin layer between her and my hand was maddening, and I did my best to dismiss it.

  “Come on,” I said, striding across the floor. “Let’s make our rounds before helping ourselves to too many h’orderves.”

  She nodded, falling in line beside me. I tried not to notice each little jiggle and wiggle of her body in those heels of her and failed miserably. This was going to be a long, but very, very fun night.

  While I often attended the parties that I threw for my employees, I never really cut loose. While I enjoyed celebrating and having fun as the next guy, I preferred to do it in a circle of my friends rather than a group of people who worked for me. There was always the chance of something going very, very wrong and to me, it wasn’t worth the risk.

  And yet, I found myself having a blast of a time. Almost all of it due to the curvy assistant I had shadowing me all night.

  It seemed that all I had to do was get her after hours, that mask of hers needed to slip off at some point. While she still maintained professionalism and politeness, she was definitely ten times more snarky than she had ever been in the office.

  The hours had slipped by like minutes, her eyes sparkling with mischief and her smiles growing more common as she grew used to me. I could tell that she was also impressing many of the people I spoke to. After all, a pretty woman always did wonders for negotiations.

  Not that anything as important as negotiations happened at the party. But there were several interesting conversations and some introductions
, as well as other things that Ms. Viello seemed to think prudent enough to jot down in her phone.

  By the time people were starting to filter out, it was at least three am in the morning. I knew plenty of scene parties that lasted well into the next day, and sometimes multiple days, but I had never been interested in ever staying at any sort of shindig that lasted past four in the morning. Either my reputation had gotten out -just like everything else about me- or the entertainment department knew to wind things down before I reached my limit.

  “Well… this was certainly something,” Ms. Viello said with a short little sigh.

  “When you say it like that, it sounds like you didn’t enjoy our time together.” I teased, watching her reaction.

  Only the side of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Considering that I’m being paid time and a half for it, I guess it wasn’t a total loss.”

  “Ah yes, monetary gain certainly dulls the pain from being in my company.”

  “Have you ever considered that perhaps it’s my heels and this dress that make the night so trying, or do you assume everything is about you?”

  “Well, most times things are about me,” I shot back. “But right now, I think the most interesting question is where this personality is during the daytime.”

  “I guess I’m just too tired to be professional,” she said with a small, breathy little laugh that made my blood rush.

  “Is that the case? Maybe you should be tired more often.”

  I turned to her, both of us standing by the nearly empty sitting area with only a few of the other assistants working to clear trash away and check on things. She craned her neck to look at me, a confused expression on her face.

  “That doesn’t sound very productive.”

  “Not everything has to be about productivity.” I countered.

  “Really?” she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. “Because that doesn’t seem to be your M.O.”