How to Have Your Boss's Secret Baby (How To Rom Com Book 3)

by London Casey

  He pressed a button on the phone to connect to his conference call.

  What a dickhead.

  I sat on the floor with my back against the couch.

  The fireplace was empty.

  The cabin was getting cold.

  I had two blankets covering me and my fingers were moving fast on the keyboard.

  Faster than I had ever typed in my entire life.

  Each story of Cole just bled into another.

  It was amazing to open the floodgates and just let go.

  That day I went to his apartment with his dry cleaning…

  I stopped typing and I scrolled up to find the rest of the story.

  I picked up Cole’s dry cleaning, as requested. The guy who owned the place - Jimmy - had gotten to know me. At first, he called me Cole’s wife, which I let slide a few times. Then I snapped at him one day and told him I was Cole’s secretary and that I’d rather fall off a bridge than marry Cole.

  Jimmy laughed.

  He knew how Cole was.

  I wasn’t the first secretary to pick up his dry cleaning.

  So with the dry cleaning in hand, I went to Cole’s apartment.

  When I got to his door, I stood there with his clothes and a key to the place.

  I had no idea how to get a woman out of his place.

  For all I knew, she could have been naked and sleeping in his bed.

  This was his mess, not mine.

  But he was paying me…

  That’s when an idea hit me.

  I stuck the key in the lock and grabbed two of his freshly dry-cleaned shirts.

  I balled them up and stuck them under my shirt.

  Yeah… this was my plan…

  I opened the door and entered the apartment.

  I made sure to slam the door as hard as I could.

  “Cole?” a voice called out.

  “Who’s here?” I yelled.

  A second later, a woman appeared from the bedroom.

  Wearing one of Cole’s button-down shirts.

  It was unbuttoned.

  Her boobs were hanging out of the shirt.

  At least until she saw me.

  She pulled the shirt tight and gasped. “Who the hell are you?”

  I walked to the kitchen counter with the dry cleaning and threw it down.

  I side stepped and put my hands to my big belly.

  “I’m having Cole’s baby,” I said. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The woman gasped and disappeared into the bedroom.

  She emerged just seconds later with clothes, heels and a little, black leather bag. She trotted across the apartment, shocked.

  “I had no idea,” she said. “He didn’t say anything. He didn’t… ohgod… what have I done…”

  “Just get out of here,” I growled.

  She looked at my stomach and shook her head.

  I never saw someone leave so fast in my life.

  When she was gone, I took the shirts out of my shirt and I smoothed them out on the counter with the rest of his dry cleaning.

  Then I helped myself to a bottle of Cole’s super-fancy water.

  That was just one of many stories.

  They were funny. But they were sad.

  Cole was such a dickhead.

  A cockhead.

  But this book idea was going to be…

  “Whoa,” I whispered.

  I smiled.

  Cole was finally good for something other than getting on my nerves.

  I finished another Cockhead Cole story and then tried to start a fire.

  Hint - it didn’t work.

  I stacked up pieces of wood and found a lighter.

  I held the lighter to the wood and nothing happened.

  Small pieces smoked for a few seconds and that was it.

  I got pissed. I was shivering.

  I wanted a fire in the fireplace so I could get warm and keep typing.

  That went out the window when my phone dinged with a text message.

  From Cole.

  I’ll be there in twenty. Look beautiful.

  “Shit!” I cried out.

  I had lost track of time.

  It was time for this stupid dinner with Mr. Pickle. I was supposed to be arm candy for Cole.

  I shut my laptop and ran to the bedroom.

  I packed my laptop away and set my sights on my suitcase.

  As I dug through the clothes, I felt my heart racing faster by the second.

  My plan had been to go through a few outfits to see what worked and didn’t.

  I knew what I had secretly packed in the bottom of the suitcase.

  There was one dress I owned that would fit the part for what Cole wanted.

  It was my little black dress.

  I didn’t remember when I got it, why I got it, or the last time I wore it.

  The last part was a lie. I wore the dress a year ago when I was on a bit of a dry spell and I needed to get some. So, I wore it out, met a guy with blue eyes and a nice smile, then went back to his place for some fun.

  The dress was my last resort dress.

  Even Bev knew about the dress.

  She called it my fuck dress.

  I wore it to have sex. As simple as that.

  It was the only dress I had that hugged my curves. The neck was low cut but not too low. At the same time, I didn’t need a very low-cut dress to show off. The straps were thin and moved on my shoulders freely. Again, it gave the sex appeal vibe.

  A hot guy sliding those straps down…

  Except there was no hot-guy situation tonight.

  Mr. Pickle was not a hot guy.

  And Cole…

  Never.

  Elevator Guy stood a chance. But never Cole.

  I checked my phone.

  I was now down to ten minutes.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  I grabbed the black dress and a strapless bra and ran to the bathroom.

  I refused to look at myself in the mirror as I got dressed.

  I felt the heat burning on my cheeks when I knew I had to turn around to check myself.

  When I did, I shut my eyes.

  I groaned.

  My hair was still a mess, but that was fixed with a hair tie. I had zero time to care about hair.

  Sorry, Cole.

  And knowing this Mr. Pickle Perv, he wasn’t going to be looking at my hair.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes.

  The dress fit as perfect as it did last time.

  That to me was a win.

  I touched my sides and my hips.

  There was no turning back now.

  All I needed was a set of heels, which were tucked away in the suitcase, and I was done.

  As I slipped the heels on and stumbled like a newborn giraffe for a few seconds, I heard Cole enter the cabin.

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself why I was here.

  I was getting paid by the hour. Score.

  I was able to write. Score.

  I was getting paid to write. Score, score.

  All I needed to do was endure a dinner with Cole and Mr. Pickle.

  I stepped out to the living room and when Cole saw me, he froze.

  “Holy fuck, Maya,” he said.

  “What?” I asked, fearing I had a tear in my dress or maybe a boob popped out without me knowing.

  Cole just stared. “You look fucking beautiful.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Cole

  Holy fuck.

  She was stunning.

  There were more than a few times I tried to picture Maya in a dress. Thinking about what the dress would look like on her body. How she would look wearing it. My brain could not compute an accurate image.

  Now I had one.

  Beautiful didn’t seem like a good enough word to describe her.

  Her feet and legs… her hips. Good Christ, her hips…

  She had an hourglass shape that had been hiding from my life all this time.

  Not to mention her che
st.

  I had caught mild glimpses before. Depending on the shirt she wore, I’d sometimes catch her chest pushing out a little, wanting to show itself off.

  Was I the horny, asshole boss eye fucking the hell out of his secretary?

  You’re damn right I was.

  Maya deserved it. And honestly, she probably needed it.

  I wasn’t sure I had ever met a woman who could go from jeans and a hoodie, looking tired and ragged, to this.

  There was even a second or two where I wondered if Maya had someone come stand in for her.

  But the color of her cheeks and insecurity behind her honey eyes told me this was definitely Maya.

  “I’ll be ready in five,” I said to her.

  I swiftly moved by her and hurried down to the master bedroom.

  As I changed into my suit, there was a moment when I caught the sight of the bulge between my legs and actually paused, wondering if I should… take care of myself…

  First off, just to relax a little.

  Take the tension out of my body so I could stay loose at this dinner.

  The plan was to have Mr. Pickle get dead drunk and feel like he was king of the world. I needed to be on my game to pounce and get this deal done. My secret weapon was Maya, of course. She was going to stay pretty sober and take mental notes of anything said that I could use later.

  But if my head was scrambled with the sight of Maya in a dress…

  My right hand reached down, and I grabbed my cock through my boxers.

  I groaned and opened my hand right away.

  “Fuck no,” I whispered.

  There was no fucking way in hell I was going to jerk off thinking about Maya.

  I curled my lip and got dressed in one of my nicest suits.

  I checked myself in the mirror and that was it.

  It was time to get serious.

  I exited the bedroom with a mean look on my face.

  For good measure, I put my sunglasses on.

  When I saw Maya waiting, I ground my teeth and felt a small growl in my throat.

  She looked too good.

  I should have stuck with my original plan and found someone else to come up here with me.

  “We’re getting a ride there,” I said.

  “Isn’t it like a one-minute walk?” Maya asked.

  “It’s freezing out,” I said.

  I put my hand out and Maya reached for me.

  We held hands and walked out of the cabin.

  Maya instantly shivered.

  “Told you,” I said.

  I let her hand go and put my arm around her bare, soft shoulder.

  My cock throbbed in my pants.

  I needed a fucking drink.

  “So I told the son of a bitch, you like the whiskey that much, shove it up your ass!”

  Mr. Pickle laughed and slapped the table.

  I forced a laugh.

  Maya smiled.

  Mr. Pickle’s date was a woman named Marissa - or Rissa as he called her.

  She wore a dark blue dress that wasn’t much of a dress.

  The front was loose and she showed off the majority of her tits minus the nipples.

  Mr. Pickle reached around to Rissa’s shoulder and pulled her close to him. He kissed the top of her head.

  “But that’s not the crazy part,” Mr. Pickle said in a low voice. “The son of a bitch poured whiskey on the bar. He got a straw. And I swear on my grandma’s grave, he snorted it.”

  “That must have felt great,” I said.

  “He was so high off pills he didn’t feel a thing,” Mr. Pickle said. He laughed again and waved his right hand. “Oh, listen to me. Telling these terrible stories. You must think I’m a bad man, Maya.”

  I looked at Maya.

  She stiffened and smiled. “Well… to be fair… I work for Cole. Not sure much compares to him.”

  Mr. Pickle belly laughed and reached for his drink.

  By my count, that was his third of the night.

  Right on cue, the fourth drink was delivered by the bartender.

  “Hey, Thomas,” Mr. Pickle said. “What do you think of my friend here? Cole.”

  Thomas looked at me. “He’s alright.”

  “Just alright?” Mr. Pickle asked.

  “He’s down to earth. He’s not digging in your pockets like the others do.”

  “Are you vetting me?” I asked Thomas.

  “He gets paid for that,” Mr. Pickle said. He winked. “Thomas is a master of research. He loves bartending on the side. He feels people out for me.”

  “Wow,” I said. “This is all very official and intense. I’m pretty sure I’ve made my position clear here. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Don’t get pissed, Cole,” Mr. Pickle said.

  “I am a little,” I said. “I thought we had trust.”

  “We do,” Mr. Pickle said. “I’m just asking Thomas a question.”

  “Which I answered,” Thomas said. “You’re a decent one, Cole.”

  Maya let out a laugh.

  “Ut-oh!” Mr. Pickle said. “The secretary feels otherwise.”

  I glanced at Maya and wanted to scream.

  She cringed and reached for her drink. “I need a few more of these. Then I’ll start talking.”

  “What else will you start doing, honey?” Mr. Pickle asked.

  Maya sat back in her chair.

  “What’s wrong?” Mr. Pickle asked. “Scared of me?”

  “Not at all,” Maya said.

  “So play the game. Flirt back.”

  “With you?”

  “Why not?”

  “What about your date?”

  “She’s paid for,” Mr. Pickle said. “I’ll share her with you.”

  “I’m not the sharing type,” Maya said. “I can be very greedy.”

  “Well, in that case, name your price.”

  I saw Maya’s face drop. She was as strong as anything. Tough and beautiful. But Mr. Pickle just implied she had a price tag. She could be bought for the night.

  In other words.

  Maya was a whore to him.

  My mind quickly justified the words… because, face it, wasn’t I doing the same thing to Maya? She was getting paid to be there with me.

  Except the look on her face.

  She was either going to cry or throw her drink at Mr. Pickle’s face.

  Either result would not be a good thing for me.

  “Come on, have a little fun,” Mr. Pickle said. He winked. Then he looked at me. “I’m not sure you made the right choice, Cole.”

  He laughed.

  Maya grabbed her drink and downed it in seconds.

  She slammed the glass to the table. “I’ll have another one of those. Better yet, let’s have some fun. Make it a double.”

  Mr. Pickle called for Thomas.

  I didn’t like where this was going.

  The dinner itself was delicious and mostly quiet.

  From the corner of my eyes, I watched Maya. She had a few drinks at first but then slowed herself down.

  Which was good.

  I didn’t need her getting too drunk and messing this all up.

  Mr. Pickle had his left hand under the table, touching Rissa’s leg. I watched her squirm a little, her cheeks turning red.

  Mr. Pickle winked at me.

  I leaned forward against the table. “Let’s finish this up so we can all have some fun.”

  “The four of us together?” Mr. Pickle asked. “We better set some rules.”

  I forced a laugh. “I like this side of you, Mr. Pickle. It’s nice to get out of that office setting.”

  “You’re telling me,” he said. “Want to know where my fingers are right now?”

  “Judging by the look on Rissa’s face, I know right where you’re at,” I said. “I’m sure you have plenty to do tonight. And I’m sure Rissa doesn’t want to come in front of us.”

  “Don’t assume,” Mr. Pickle said. “Right, Rissa?”

  “I’m good w
ith anything,” Rissa said. “I’m at his command.”

  She was speaking to me.

  I looked at Maya.

  Her eyes told me if I touched her, she would stab me with a fork.

  “Then let me slide in one last pitch,” I said. “Then we all can finish the night properly.”

  “No need, Cole,” Mr. Pickle said. “If I wasn’t interested, you wouldn’t be here. You showed up. You brought a date. She’s a little prudish and feisty, but it’s not my cock that has to work that hard, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “I love a good challenge. That’s why I brought Maya.”

  “Is that so?” Maya asked.

  “That’s right, love,” I said to her. “The bigger the fight, the bigger the reward.”

  “But,” Mr. Pickle said. “The bigger the wallet, the easier it all is.”

  “Which is why we’re talking,” I said, turning my attention back to him. “This makes all of our wallets much bigger. My fear is that the longer we take to get this deal done, we lose value on both ends. Mr. Pickle, I’m only talking to you. I don’t want to talk to anyone else.”

  “Kind of like your choice in women?” Mr. Pickle asked. “You set your sights on Maya and that’s it, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What made it work?”

  “With Maya?”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Pickle said.

  He put his left hand on the table.

  Rissa’s cheeks were still flushed.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I said.

  “You hired her,” Mr. Pickle said. “You brought her here. Why?”

  I looked at Maya again.

  “She knows how to look beautiful when it counts,” I said. “Plus… I told her to. She’s my hired help.”

  Mr. Pickle hit the table. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” He pointed to Maya. “So you do have a price. I’m sure I can offer a whole lot more than Cole is.”

  Maya looked ready to explode again.

  I reached to put my hand to her back and she shook me away.

  I cleared my throat. “Mr. Pickle, why don’t we-”

  “I think that’s enough for one night,” he suddenly announced. “I have some thinking to do. Among other things.”

  He and Rissa looked at each other.

  When I looked at Maya, she asked, “Is this done now?”

  I nodded.

  She wasted no time standing up and hurrying away from the table.