His Perfect BabyA Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  And she’s beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. She smiles slightly which makes my heart race as I wheel the food into the main room, stopping next to her bed.

  “Good morning,” she says.

  “Morning.” I gesture at the tray. “Breakfast in bed.”

  Her smile gets bigger. “Is this going to be a normal thing?”

  I shrug and cross my arms. “It can be, if you want.”

  She looks at me strangely. “I don’t understand this.”

  “What’s confusing about breakfast?”

  “I mean...” She trails off. “All of this.” She gestures at the room. “Why give me this?”

  I smile at her and sit on the edge of the bed. I reach out and gently run my fingers through her hair. She watches me with her gorgeous wide eyes.

  “I told you,” I say softly. “I want to spoil you.”

  “I don’t mind being spoiled.” She smiles.

  “I’m going to keep you in here. In this room. And I’m going to spoil you as much as I can.”

  “If that’s what you want,” she says softly, watching me.

  “You’re my pet now, Aria,” I say. “I’m going to keep you in this little cage and use you however I want.”

  “Okay,” she says, practically a whisper. I can feel excitement coursing through my body and as I look at her, I wonder if she feels the same thing.

  Her face looks excited. I can see a slight flush in her cheeks and her breath comes quickly. But I don’t know if that’s because she wants me as much as I want her, or if it’s because she’s just good at what she does.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  “It smells really good,” she says.

  “I made it myself, actually.”

  “Really?” She laughs lightly and takes the mug of coffee from the tray. “A rich man that cooks and looks good in the morning.”

  I laugh and take the second mug, sipping the coffee. “I do what I can.”

  “I could get used to it.”

  “Good. That’s what I want.” I nod at the food. “Go ahead and eat.”

  She reaches out and takes a piece of toast, biting down into it. She chews for a second and seems to realize that she’s actually hungry as she reaches out for a fork.

  “I have to go to work soon,” I say. “You’ll be stuck in this room all day.”

  “That’s okay,” she says. “It’s a big room.” She eats some eggs and smiles huge. “This is really good.”

  “Butter,” I say. “And a little whole milk.”

  She laughs. “You really are spoiling me.”

  “Only way to make eggs.” I grin at her. “Like I said last night, you can have whatever you want. But you still have to get permission to leave this room from me directly. Understand?”

  “Okay,” she says. “That’s fine.”

  “Good.” I watch her eat for a moment, trying to see past her exterior. I can’t tell if she’s enjoying it or if she’s eating just to please me.

  That’s going to be the problem. I’m going to have to be on my game when it comes to her if I want to really see past her acting. She’s meant to do everything she can to please me, which means she’s going to suppress her own desires to do what I want.

  To an extent, I expect that. I expect her to obey my rules. But I don’t want her to simply do what she thinks I want her to do.

  I need her to want this. That brings me more pleasure than she could possibly know.

  I stand up and she watches me as I move across the room. “Have a good day, my pet,” I say to her. I watch her reaction to the little nickname, and smile with satisfaction.

  She clearly doesn’t like it.

  “Have a good day,” she says.

  I cock my head at her, grinning, but decide not to say anything. I turn and head back out into the hallway, smiling to myself.

  She’s already acting, but I can see through some of it. I’m going to figure her out and soon I’ll give her exactly what she wants. She won’t be able to resist showing herself to me.

  Only when she’s completely stripped bare in front of me will I finally give her what she really needs. I grin to myself and can’t think about anything else on the entire trip into the office.

  6

  Aria

  I lean back against the headboard as soon as Ethan leaves the room, ignoring the food beside me. It’s not that I don’t like breakfast, I just don’t normally eat much in the morning. I finish the toast and coffee at least before wheeling the cart back out into the hallway. I’m careful not to actually leave the room as I push it outside.

  Once that’s done, I go into the bathroom and start the shower. It’s a gorgeous bathroom with a full vanity, whirlpool tub, and huge shower. Everything is tiled in beautiful mosaic patterns, and part of me feels like the toilet itself should be solid gold.

  It’s not, of course, and I get into the shower to wash myself. I feel like I’m cleaning days’ worth of grime from my body even though I showered the night before, just as the auction was about to begin.

  Showers can be hard for me sometimes. It feels good, but it’s strange. I can still remember waking up in a shower, half naked, my body bruised and battered and wondering where the hell I am. That was one of the lowest points in my life when I realized what I did just to score some drugs.

  It was when I was lying on the floor of that shower, half conscious of what had happened, that I realized I was at rock bottom. It was the lowest point of my life. And I can’t help but think about it every time I get in the shower.

  I’m disgusted by the person I was. I’ve been clean for two years and have no plan to go back, but I still feel that stupid junky deep inside of me, begging to get out.

  I made mistakes. I’ve been weak and frail and stupid before. But I pulled myself up off that shower floor, got the fuck out of that house, and checked myself into a rehab treatment facility.

  Six months in there and I never looked back. I still owe them, which is actually just one small part of my debt, but it’s one debt that I won’t mind paying off. They saved me there, saved my life, showed me that a life without drugs is the life I want to lead.

  I shut off the shower and get out, toweling myself off. I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how I got from the bottom of that shower to this place. I run my fingers over the marble countertop and although I know that I’m just this man’s plaything, I can’t help but imagine that I’m something more.

  I can’t let myself indulge in that, though. Ethan doesn’t care about me. He just wants to play a game. He wants me to be his pet and to stay in this room. Sure, he’s spoiling me, but it’s still his game that I have to play. He doesn’t want Aria, he doesn’t want the real me. He would turn and run the second he found out about me.

  But maybe I can pretend, at least for a little while. I’ll have to pretend harder than I have been so far. I need this to go well.

  Once I’m dry enough, I wrap a towel around me and head back out into the main room. I look around for my bags, but I don’t find them anywhere.

  Instead, the drawers have clothes already in them, but they’re not my clothes. There are bras, panties, and some tops and bottoms. In the closet, several dresses hang, and it all looks to be in my size. For a second I panic, afraid that he took away my phone and my things. If I don’t have my phone, I can’t contact The Syndicate, and that would be bad.

  But tucked in the back corner of the closet are my bags. I breathe a sigh of relief as I fish out my phone and shoot a text to the number they gave me, just letting them know that I’m fine and taken care of.

  When that’s done, I go back into the main room and get dressed. I put on a matching bra and panty set, looking at myself in the mirror. I want to be pleasing to him, so I pick out a cute, revealing top and short little jean shorts.

  Once dressed, I stand there and look at the room. The clock next to the bed says that it’s eight in the morning, and I realize that I have all day to kill.

  I get my laptop
from my bag, but there’s no open WiFi. Nervously, I grab the phone and hit zero before listening to it ring.

  “Yes?” It’s Jenkins’s voice from the night before.

  “Uh, hi, it’s Aria,” I say.

  “Yes?” he asks again.

  “I, uh, was wondering if there was a WiFi password?” I ask.

  “No internet,” he says.

  I pause. “No internet?” I repeat.

  “I was instructed to keep you off the internet.”

  I frown, disappointed. What the hell am I supposed to do all day then?

  “Okay,” I say. “Thank you. Are there any books you could bring up?”

  “Of course,” he says. “Will that be all?”

  “Uh, yes. Thank you.”

  The phone disconnects and I flop back onto the bed.

  “No internet,” I groan to myself and roll over onto my side.

  Jenkins brings up a box full of books not too long later, but he doesn’t stick around. He simply places the box outside of my door, knocks twice, and then leaves. I pull the box inside and start fishing through it. They’re mostly trashy romances, but that’s good enough.

  I spend most of the day reading. It’s boring and slow, but it’s all I have to do. Eventually I figure out how to work the television, so I switch from reading to watching TV and back again all day long. Jenkins brings me lunch and dinner, but that’s the only human contact I get all day.

  The food is good, so at least there’s that. After dinner, around eight that night, I start getting really antsy.

  I haven’t heard from Ethan all day. I know he’s a busy man and probably works late, but still, I thought maybe I’d see him more. He hasn’t even touched me yet, although it hasn’t been a full day. Maybe he’s just easing himself into it, working up to it. Maybe he just likes a little suspense.

  I don’t feel suspenseful. I just feel bored.

  Eventually, midnight rolls around, and I’m exhausted. I turn off the television and toss my book aside before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed.

  I stare up at the ceiling, disappointed. I thought that being an escort was going to be more exciting than this. So far, it’s more like a boring vacation. I want to make Ethan happy, not just sit around in this room alone and read books.

  Then again, this is what he told me to do. He wants me to stay in this room and only leave with his permission. If that makes him happy, knowing that I’m safe in here, well, then I guess it’s what I have to do.

  Still, I’m disappointed. I want to see him again. Maybe that’s silly, but I want to see his cocky smile and his handsome face. I want to see the muscles under his perfectly fitting suit. I want him to take me, let me please him in the way that I know I’m supposed to.

  Instead, I’m stuck in here. His little pet. I frown at the nickname.

  I don’t really like it, but I don’t really hate it, either. It just makes me feel strange. My heart beats fast and part of me likes the idea of being a pretty thing sitting in a cage for him, though the other part of me doesn’t want to be kept.

  As I start to drift off to sleep, the phone starts to ring. It’s sudden and it pulls me from sleep with a start. I crawl over to the side and pull it off the receiver on the third ring.

  “Hello?” I answer, glancing at the clock. It’s around one in the morning.

  “Hello, pet,” he says.

  I smile despite myself. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “How are you liking your stay so far?”

  “Good,” I say. “The food is amazing.”

  “You can thank Michelle for that, my cook. You’ll meet her soon.”

  “I look forward to it.” I hold the receiver between my ear and my shoulder, twirling the cord between my fingers.

  “I’m stuck at work, but I’m thinking about you,” he says softly. “What are you wearing right now?”

  I smile to myself. “Black bra and matching panties,” I say, which is true. Though I’m also wearing a white t-shirt and soft jogging pants.

  “That’s all?” he asks. “I doubt you sleep in just that.”

  “Who says I’m sleeping?” I ask, suddenly getting an idea.

  “It’s late,” he says.

  “I was up thinking of you,” I answer.

  He pauses. “What were you thinking?” he asks.

  “I was thinking about your hands on my body,” I say. “I’m your pet, but you haven’t even stroked me yet,” I say.

  Another pause. “And you want me to stroke you?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “As soon as you’re home. I’m so bored without you.”

  “I’m sure you are.” He pauses again and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. “I’ll see you soon, pet. Sleep tight.”

  He hangs up suddenly and I’m left staring at the phone, not sure what just happened.

  I tried to be sexy for him and he just hangs up on me. Like he wasn’t interested in it at all. I hang the phone up and collapse back into bed, sighing.

  Maybe I suck at this. If I can’t figure out what he wants and soon, I’m going to screw it all up, and I can’t afford that.

  This is my last attempt. It’s all or nothing for me right now, and I can’t give up. One bad phone call won’t change anything.

  I’m going to make this man happy whether he wants me to or not.

  7

  Ethan

  I have to force myself to go to my last meeting, even though it’s one of the most important meetings of the day.

  All I want to do is go home to Aria. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. I slept in my office again last night and because of some stupid emergency, I couldn’t make it home all day. I called her briefly last night, and again this afternoon, but that was it.

  She sounds bored. I have to admit, I figured it might take a little longer for her to get sick of her little vacation. Maybe I’ll have to punish her for letting me know that she’s bored.

  Then again, I want her to be herself, so that can’t fly. I’ll punish her still, but it’ll have to be for some other reason.

  I smile to myself, imagining how I’ll punish her as I walk into the restaurant. This last meeting is with Richard Taylor, one of the most notorious businessmen in the city. He’s a real estate guy, and I want to buy out one of his buildings to use as my new corporate headquarters once all this merger stuff goes through. But he’s hard to work with and has an awful reputation for being involved with some shady ventures.

  I spot Richard sitting in a booth table toward the back. I walk directly toward him. It’s interesting how being a good businessperson very often means you’re a bad regular person. The sort of thing business demands from you usually means you’re a hard person to be around in normal circumstances.

  Richard Taylor is no exception to this rule. As I approach, he frowns and checks his watch, almost as if I’m late. I’m not, of course, but he’ll make me feel like I am just because he showed up early.

  “Ethan,” he says, standing, and we shake hands.

  “Richard. Good to see you.”

  “You too. Sit down, have a drink.”

  “Nothing for me tonight,” I say, waving off the waitress as she approaches. “I have to get home.”

  He laughs at me. “You go home? I feel like I haven’t been home in days.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m making it a point to sleep in my own bed tonight,” I say, smiling at him.

  He nods and for a second, I wonder if my little theory about businessmen extends to myself.

  Am I just as bad as Richard is? I like to think I’m not. My employees respect me, maybe even like me. I’m generous with benefits and raises and I never yell. I pride myself on being a good boss, because I absolutely hate bad bosses.

  But I’m still at the top of my game, and my personal life definitely suffers for it. I can see myself in men like Richard
, or at least part of myself. Still, I’m not like him, and won’t let myself become like him.

  I have my pet at home to help keep me sane.

  “Well then, down to business so you can get home,” he says, and I know it’s a backhanded insult.

  I choose to ignore it. Instead, I take out a contract we’ve been discussing and we dive back in, talking about the intricacies of the deal.

  Richard is a hard negotiator, but I know he needs to sell. He took the recession hard a few years ago, and some of his assets are currently losing him a lot of money. This building happens to be one of those assets. I have the capital and the ability to turn it back into a worthwhile place, but Richard has to meet me in the middle first.

  He’s playing hardball, though. He doesn’t want to budge an inch on any of his demands, especially not on price, and every concession I get comes at the cost of two more concessions from my side. It’s infuriating and exhausting to keep arguing about petty details, but that’s what Richard seems to want to do.

  We go at it for an hour before I’m finally finished for the night. Richard is on his second martini when I lean back, shaking my head.

  “Let’s stop here for the night,” I say to him.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, grinning. “I feel like we’re just making progress.”

  “We’ll resume tomorrow,” I say, though I want to punch him in the face.

  “Sure, fine. Whatever you want,” he says. “Make a meeting with my secretary.”

  I know that means I probably won’t see him for another week. Richard tosses some bills on the table, clearly overpaying for his drinks but doing it to show off. I don’t really understand that, since we both know I’m worth more than he is, but it doesn’t matter. We stand and walk toward the exit together.

  “You and I, Ethan, we’re warriors,” he says to me as we’re walking out.

  “How’s that?” I ask him.

  “This business is all a fight. And you have to be a warrior to win it. I think you know that.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “But it’s not all cutthroat.”