Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7)

by Layla Valentine

  He picked up his knife and fork and prepared to cut into his meal.

  “Unbelievable,” I said. “You kick me out of the house, and now you want to control my life from halfway across the country. Maybe I’ll quit that job and start my own business anyway.”

  “Then good luck living without my help,” he said, his calm tone making me even more upset.

  I couldn’t take it anymore, I burst out of my chair.

  “The last thing I want is to have dinner with someone who thinks so little of me.”

  With that, I stormed out of the restaurant, my blood boiling and my fists clenched. I vowed it would be the last time anyone told me what to do.

  Chapter 14

  Chloe

  “Okay,” I said, wiping my brow with the back of my hand and taking a look over the food I’d spent almost all of Christmas Eve prepping. “Is that everything?”

  Luz stepped to my side and followed my gaze, giving the food a careful appraisal.

  “We have all of the game hens?” she asked.

  “Yep,” I said. “All three dozen of them.”

  “Cranberry stuffing?”

  I placed my hands on the rims of two huge bowls of stuffing.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “And what about desserts?” she asked.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I may have gone a little dessert-crazy,” I said. “We’ve got a dozen pies, two of each kind. I made a freaking vat of bread pudding and another vat of sticky toffee pudding. We got cookies for days, and I even made some homemade eggnog ice cream to go along with the bathtub-sized amount of eggnog I made.”

  Luz gave me a playful look as she slowly reached forward and took one of the chocolate-dipped cookies that I’d made and sank her teeth into it.

  “Wow,” she said. “Wowee-wow.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Good?”

  “This is a cookie?” she asked. “It’s like a damn slice of heaven.”

  “Old recipe,” I said, feeling more than a small amount of pride. “Cookies are one of the first things I learned to make when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure I could make them in my sleep.”

  Luz continued chewing, an expression of total delight on her face.

  “Maybe you should,” she said. “Make these while you’re sleeping and sell them. You’d make a killing all while you catch some z’s.”

  I smiled. “Well, I’m glad at least one of the dishes is ready to go.”

  Luz popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth as she strolled along the length of the counter. “And you’ve got sides, salads, little appetizers, all of that?” she asked.

  “You bet. And you should know—you were here helping me for a ton of them.”

  “You’re right,” she said with a smile. “I was.”

  “Thanks again for your help, Luz. This is the biggest cooking job I’ve done on my own, and I don’t know if I could’ve done it without you.”

  “Don’t even worry about it,” she said. “Mr. King is so generous with his holiday bonuses that I don’t mind sticking around to help. I even feel like I should be doing more.”

  “Well,” I said. “We could always make another batch of eggnog—kidding, kidding.”

  Luz smiled. “Well, if you do have anything else you’d like me to help with, speak now or forever hold your peace. Otherwise, I’m gonna go home and spend the evening with the family.”

  “No, no,” I said. “You’ve done more than enough.”

  Then a thought occurred to me.

  “Wait,” I said, moving to one of the cupboards and taking out a container.

  I grabbed a dozen or so cookies from the enormous pile of treats and put them into the container. Then I took a thermos and filled it full of eggnog.

  “These are for the kids,” I said, handing her the cookies. “And this is for you and the husband to enjoy after they’ve gone to bed.”

  Luz took the thermos and the container, a big smile spreading across her face. “You’re too sweet, Chloe,” she said. “And I’ll have something special for you when I see you tomorrow.”

  She stuck out her arms and pulled me into a big hug.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetie,” she said.

  “Merry Christmas, Luz,” I said.

  Luz opened the thermos and took a deep sniff of the eggnog before screwing the cap back on. She flashed me one more smile before grabbing her things and heading out.

  Once she was gone, and I was alone, I leaned back against the kitchen island opposite the counter with all the food, still unable to believe that we’d put this all together, just Luz and me. Sure, the staff showing up tomorrow would help get it all ready to serve, but we’d done a whole restaurant’s worth of prep. I was worn out but pleased with our hard work.

  Luz’s plans to go back with her family had left a feeling of longing in my heart. Though my parents still lived in the area and I was more than happy to see them tomorrow, part of me wished that I had a family of my own to come home to.

  And that’s when it hit me that before too long, I would.

  I eyed the boozy eggnog for a long moment, wishing that I could help myself to it. Instead, I poured myself a glass of sweet apple cider from a batch I’d made. For a nice break, I decided to enjoy it out on the balcony before I finished up the work of putting everything away.

  After throwing my jacket on, I stepped out onto the balcony, the sun setting over the ocean with brilliant oranges and creams, the sky already ink-dark above. I sipped my apple cider as I watched the tide come in, the sound of the waves calming me after the stress of the work I’d done.

  I still couldn’t believe that I was going to be a mother. It’d only been a day, and the news hadn’t quite sunk in yet. I expected it would be a while before it did. My life was going to change forever, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what lay ahead. But I was going to have to be. There wasn’t any other option.

  And there was still the matter of Jordan. He was the father, not a doubt in my mind about that. He was long gone, however, having left me without even so much as a goodbye. I was torn—part of me understood that he deserved to know the truth and that despite how furious I was at him, I could sure as hell use his help.

  Another part of me was convinced that I had to go this all alone, that a selfish man-child like Jordan couldn’t be trusted to the job of raising a kid, assuming he even wanted to be involved in the first place. Everything was so confusing and difficult, and all I could do was lose myself in the business of the holidays and hope that the New Year would bring some clarity.

  I brought my glass of cider to my lips and finished off the rest, letting the rich flavor of apples, cloves, and cinnamon linger on my palate for a long moment, a happy smile forming on my lips.

  But my contentment wasn’t to last. From inside the kitchen, I heard a clatter, followed by a few curse words. I turned on my heels to see who it was, but the kitchen lights were off, and all I could make out was a tall figure moving around in there.

  With quick steps, I strode back to the kitchen, curious who the hell was messing around with my food. I flicked the lights on, gasping when I saw who it was.

  Standing in the kitchen, helping himself to my food, was none other than Jordan King.

  Chapter 15

  Chloe

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked Jordan, my hands on my hips.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked, as cocky and self-assured as ever. “I’m sampling all the amazing food that you’ve made for tomorrow.”

  “‘For tomorrow’ being the operative freaking words there,” I said, stepping over to him and smacking the hand holding one of the hens.

  “I already had one of the drumsticks,” he said. “You might as well let me have the rest.”

  I noticed two things as I stood in front of Jordan King. One, the fact that my heart was beating like a hummingbird’s. Despite how mad I was at him, that same attraction came rushing ba
ck.

  The other thing I noticed was the heavy smell of wine on his breath. Mulled wine, to be specific. Judging by his unsteady stance, and the fact that he was helping himself to whatever food was in arm’s reach, I could tell that he’d already started his holiday celebrations.

  “Fine,” I said, stepping back and awkwardly putting some distance between us. “But that’s your hen for tomorrow. You don’t get another one.”

  He raised his hands in mock surrender, a tiny drumstick held in the fingers of one.

  “Whatever you say, chef. Far be it from me to tell you what to do in your kitchen.”

  Out of anyone else’s mouth, I might think that this was him being polite. But with Jordan, I knew right away that it was him being a smartass, and a drunken smartass at that.

  “Anyway,” he said, leaning against the counter and nearly knocking over a tray of salmon appetizers. “What’s up?”

  I didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t the slightest indication that he was at all apologetic for what he’d done. He was acting like he’d seen me last night or something, not the weeks and weeks that it had been.

  “What’s up?” I asked, shaking my head in total disbelief. “You…you sleep me with me and then leave without saying a word, and now you’re here again, three sheets to the freaking wind and eating the food I’ve made like it’s all totally cool. And all you have to say is ‘what’s up’?”

  He regarded me for a long moment without saying anything. Then he headed over to the fridge, pulled it open, and took out a bottle of fancy-looking craft beer. Jordan gave the top a twist and took a long sip. I couldn’t tell if he was buying time or if he thought so little of me that he didn’t mind stopping for a quick drink.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, wiping the beer from his mouth. “About that. I went to New York. I figured you wouldn’t mind. Plus, I knew that I’d be back before too long for Christmas or whatever. And here I am.”

  He extended his arms outward in a ta-da gesture, stumbling on his feet.

  “Why the hell would you figure I wouldn’t mind?” I asked. “I thought…”

  Right as I spoke the words, I realized that I didn’t really know what I thought. Was it stupid of me to think that a guy like Jordan had swept me off my feet like he did for any reason other than to screw me and toss me aside? Was I in the wrong here?

  “What did you think?” he asked. “Did you think we were going to get married or something? That I was going to pop the question?”

  His words hurt—no doubt about that.

  “I didn’t think you were going to turn out to be such an asshole, for one.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m awfully sorry.”

  It was an apology, but a sarcastic one. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest. I don’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or how much of a prick he was being, but my mood was getting worse by the second.

  Jordan, apparently gathering the self-awareness to read my expression and body language, stepped over to me.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’m only teasing. I actually had a really nice weekend with you. And to be honest, I ended up liking you more than I expected. But I had to go to New York, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Why did you even have to go to New York, anyway?” I asked, my arms still crossed. “You’re saying it like it wasn’t your choice.”

  “It wasn’t,” he said before taking a long swig of his beer. “It was…”

  He trailed off, and I got the impression that the reason, whatever it might’ve been, was more personal than he was prepared to share. Even in his drunken state, he was worried about his ego. Typical.

  “Listen,” he said. “I have a really great idea. Hold on.”

  After one more sip of his beer, he hurried out of the room. I watched him leave, wondering just what the hell he had on his mind. Jordan returned a few moments later, a big, stupid smile on his face and something in his hand.

  He approached me, and I glanced down at what he was carrying, realizing that it was, of course, mistletoe.

  “Come here,” he said, closing the distance between us as he raised the sprig of green and red over our heads. “It’s not the holidays without mistletoe, right? Come here and give me a kiss.”

  He moved closer and closer. Despite the attraction that I’d felt upon seeing him again, kissing him was the last thing I wanted at that moment.

  “No,” I said, my voice stern as I pushed him away.

  His expression turned from almost child-like eagerness to one of disappointment.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You didn’t have any problem kissing me before.”

  “You weren’t acting like this before,” I said.

  “Whatever,” he said, tossing the mistletoe onto the counter.

  “You still haven’t said you were sorry for leaving without a word. I think you owe me that.”

  He looked away for a moment as if trying to figure out if he had it in him.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I had my reasons for not telling you. I mean, can you imagine what the scandal would’ve been like if anyone had found out what you and I were doing? That I was hooking up with the help?”

  My breath caught in my throat. He’d been cruel before, but this was something else.

  “The help?!” I shouted. “That’s what I was to you? The freaking help?”

  Right at that moment, something dawned on me. I thought back to the dates Jordan had taken me on—the secluded overlook, the masked ball, all of it. I realized that it all had been in a situation where no one could see or recognize us. He really, truly had been worried about people finding out what we were doing.

  “You kept this all a secret,” I said, choking up by the second. “You took me out to places where no one would recognize us. All because you didn’t want anyone to find out that the great Jordan freaking King was banging the chef!”

  He shrugged his shoulders, conceding the point.

  “And the picture!” I said. “When you told me that we couldn’t take a picture the night of the ball, you said it was because we didn’t have the time! But now, now I get it. You didn’t want me to show anyone, for the word to get out.”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” he asked. “Was I supposed to let people find out? For my dad to find out?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “You…you fucker,” I said, my words coming out in a hiss. “For all your goddamn sweet talk, telling me that you and I were alike, it turns out you’re exactly what I thought you were from the start—a spoiled, rich little brat. A cruel, cocky asshole who thinks he can do whatever he wants.”

  Jordan said nothing at first, and I wondered if I’d been too mean and had taken it too far.

  Nope. Another flippant shrug made it clear that he wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

  “Hey, I said I was sorry. What else do you want?”

  I couldn’t take any more of this.

  “Get out. Now,” I said, my tone as stern as I could make it.

  “But…this is my house,” he said.

  “This is your dad’s house,” I corrected. “It’s all your dad’s, everything you think you own. And right now, your dad’s paying me to prepare that food you’re eating. So get out so I can do my job. You know what that is, right? A job?”

  “Fine, whatever,” he said. “See ya around.”

  Then he turned and left, just like that, swiping his beer off the counter as he went.

  I listened to his footsteps grow quieter, followed by the opening and closing of some door in the distance.

  And then I was alone.

  I wanted to scream and cry, the conversation having made me so mad I could hardly see straight. But I had a job to do, and I vowed to keep it together, at least for as long as it took to finish my work.

  Over the next hour or so I finished putting everything away, making sure all the food was ready for tomorrow. When I was finally done, the on
ly thing that remained was the picked-at hen that Jordan had left on the counter. I grabbed it so hard that I nearly crushed it in my hand and threw it in the garbage with an angry grunt.

  After gathering up my things, I stormed out to my car. I entered in time to watch the clock tick over from eleven-fifty-nine to midnight. Right as it did, I let the frustration and anger from the conversation loose, crossing my arms over the steering wheel and crying out all of the tears that I could.

  Once I was all cried out, I had one more realization to make: I was truly on my own. Part of me had kept hope alive that Jordan might be ready to man up, to be a father to his child. But that little drunken display answered any question about that issue that I might’ve had. He was just some rich playboy, not cut out for anything other than spending his dad’s money.

  It was all on me.

  I dried my tears and started my car, knowing the time for weakness was over.

  Chapter 16

  Chloe

  The holidays came and went, and before I knew it a new year was underway. The Christmas party and the following New Year’s party went better than I could’ve hoped. The food was a smashing success, and my holiday bonus from Mr. King was more than generous. Despite everything that had happened with Jordan, I was hoping to start this year off on the right foot, ready for the immense responsibilities that lay ahead of me.

  Not everything had been a bed of roses, however. The nausea I’d been experiencing had grown even worse, sometimes striking in the middle of a shift at the Kings’. Also, there had been days that my energy had been so dismal that I couldn’t get out of bed. I’d wake up in the morning not feeling refreshed in the slightest, and it would take every last bit of strength I had to get ready for the shift ahead.

  So, I was more than eager to get to my first prenatal appointment. In addition to the great pay, working for Mr. King included full benefits, and I was ready to take advantage of them. My appointment had been set for nine in the morning, so I got up with plenty of time to spare in the event that I had another low-energy day.