Billionaire Baby Daddy: A Second Chance Romance

by Lara Swann

  It’ll be an answer to a question. That’s all this is.

  Chapter Two

  Leah

  “D’you want to borrow one of mine?”

  I jump away from where I’d been pulling at my top in front of the mirror, looking over at Emma almost guiltily.

  “What’s wrong with this one?” I give it another glance, frowning.

  “Well, I guess if you’re worried about how to tell this guy you have a kid, that top will do it for you.” She grins at me, then gestures to a few out-of-the-way stains I hadn’t noticed.

  Damn it.

  Sure, I don’t think I own anything nice anymore, but I thought this would be okay.

  “Well…I do have a kid.” I say. “I’m proud of that. I’m not sure I should be trying to pretend to be someone else—”

  “Leah.” Emma stops me. “Being proud of being a Mom, and wanting to wear something that hasn’t been destroyed by said motherhood so that you can feel awesome about yourself…those aren’t mutually exclusive. C’mon.”

  She turns towards her room before I can think of an argument, and I find myself reluctantly following after her, quietly grateful.

  It’s not that I want to dress up for Alistair. He can think whatever he damn well likes of me - and after I tell him about Maddie, all the pretty tops in the world aren’t going to help with that opinion.

  It’s just that I’m not sure I’ll get within a hundred yards of him looking like…this.

  Emma is already throwing things out of her walk-in closet when I enter the room.

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “Aww, c’mon, how long has it been since we dressed each other up for a date, Leah? Let me have a little fun.” Her eyes sparkle back at me, and I laugh.

  “Believe me, this is not a date.”

  “Well, you never know.” She looks back at me between sifting through clothes. “If he’s not a deadbeat, and you tell him about Maddie and he wants to help out…maybe something will happen, babe - there was a time there was a spark, right? Maybe this could change everything for you guys...”

  “Em…”

  “Or hell, maybe you’ll just get laid. You could do with it.”

  That startles a laugh out of me.

  “That’s so not what I’m thinking about right now.”

  “I knoow. That’s your problem, hun.”

  “Mm, and you really think ‘hey, I had your kid’ is going to make him want to jump into bed with me again?”

  “Well, you could phrase it a little better. I really hope that’s not your plan.” She finally turns back, holding out a top to me.

  I take it, distracted by amusement at Emma’s antics and my own growing nerves. Reassurance and tact don’t quite seem to be her thing today - and I’m not sure whether that’s helping, or making it worse.

  Then I hold the top up against me and stare at her.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “Aww, c’mon Leah, that top is sexy as hell. It’ll make you look amazing.”

  “I’m so not going for sexy as hell. This is not a date.”

  She sighs dramatically, but hands me another as if perfectly prepared for my refusal.

  It’s only mildly better, and we spend the next half hour going through her wardrobe to find something that we can both accept. I eventually settle for a smart black pullover that hugs my body in all the right places, but it’s modest and sombre enough that I don’t feel like I’m trying to hide Mom behind sexy party girl.

  It’s good enough to get me into his office, and that’s all I need.

  Even if it does feel a little…strange. To be wearing something smart and clean and nice. Not quite like it did back when I was with him, but a little. And I’m not sure I want that on my mind as I see the father of my child for the first time in years.

  I shrug off the feeling and turn back to Emma.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay to take Maddie for the morning?”

  “Of course.” She smiles. “It’s my day off, and I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

  Having spent almost every day since she was born with my daughter, I can’t quite understand that idea - as much as I love her - but I trust that Emma isn’t just trying to be nice.

  “And you’ve got my number? You’ll call if there’s anything—anything at all—”

  “Yes, I promise. I’ll call you the first moment anything happens. But we’ll be fine, don’t worry - I have three new nieces and nephews now, so it won’t be like that time she almost ended up in the washer.”

  I groan. “Great. Just what I want in my head as I leave you two alone together.”

  She grins in a way that says it was entirely deliberate, and I lean in to hug her before I leave.

  I kiss Maddie goodbye, artfully evading her endless questions of where I’m going and why she can’t come, and then I finally make it out the door.

  On my way to Alistair’s office.

  God help me.

  I have the journey from Emma’s place in Jackson Heights to Manhattan to try and get my head together, but it goes too quickly and I feel like I haven’t quite figured anything out by the time I’m standing outside his office building, looking up at a place that I haven’t been in five years.

  This isn’t the only office his company uses - but it was always the one he preferred, and I’m hoping that’s still true.

  It hasn’t changed all that much, and the bustle and people around seem just the same. Except this time, I feel out of place instead of part of it all.

  I know I’m relying far more than I should be on the memories of the man he was five years ago, but I don’t have much choice. And it scares me how much I’ve put into this attempt to find him - dragging Maddie along with me all the way from Pittsburgh, spending far too much to get here, and…if it doesn’t work out…I don’t know exactly what I’ll do. I certainly won’t have my jobs to go back to, that was clear from taking the time out for this.

  I tell myself it will work out anyway. That I’ll find a way.

  But, despite all my claims to Emma that I’m not expecting anything from seeing Alistair…I can’t help the small hope that this might make a difference. That things will get better for Maddie and I.

  I take a deep breath, gather myself and approach the building…then chicken out, switching direction at the last minute.

  Damn it! Why does the thought of seeing him again do this to you?

  I shake my head, irritated with myself, but take some time wandering around the office blocks here, checking out a couple of the coffee shops we used to visit and letting myself get comfortable with just being here again. And try not to let the memories snatch at me too much.

  I’m a different person now. And he will be too.

  I still have no idea exactly what I’m going to say to him, but eventually I figure I can’t stall much longer, and finally enter the building.

  It provides offices for several companies across different floors, and I’m confronted with my first problem: actually getting to Alistair. Which should have been obvious, but I was so caught up in how I was going to deal with seeing him again, that for some reason it didn’t occur to me.

  I look around, trying to remember what it was like when I’d casually visit his offices and not even think about the mild security out front, and after a few moments I realize that no one is particularly on alert for intruders.

  I relax a little, and make my way to the elevator leading to his company offices, moving with another group of people apparently coming back from lunch. The security guard in front of the gates questions me about my pass, but just shrugs and lets me through when I say I left it upstairs.

  And then I’m through. Riding up in the elevator with people talking amongst themselves in that strange, muted elevator-voice. As if that might stop someone from hearing their gossip about office politics.

  I can’t help it - I know I’m paying particular attention to listen out for any comment about Alistair i
n particular, but none comes, and they leave the elevator before it reaches the floor I know his office is on. Was on.

  The executive floor.

  They’ll be no bullshitting my way through once I get up there. I just have to hope to hell that he’ll hear me out.

  When I step out, I immediately notice that it’s changed.

  Not just in layout and style to fit with the latest modern office trends, but also the decor of the whole place. It’s more elegant and expensive, and screams money and power even more effectively than when I knew him. The benefits of his recent successes, I guess.

  I walk down the hall, following the path in my mind to where he should be, and hoping it hasn’t misled me. I don’t see anyone, but that’s not surprising - this floor is all about allocating lavish amounts of space and style to offices and meeting rooms for people that are rarely here to appreciate them.

  Like Alistair. But he should be here - he was in New York only days ago…

  “Excuse me?”

  Those thoughts are interrupted by a brisk female voice, tone already disapproving, and I look up to see a desk on prominent display before a large, opulent office that fills a space slightly larger than I remember Alistair’s.

  And the pretty young woman sat behind it with elegantly styled hair and picture-perfect make-up. Both of which only make her frown more intimidating.

  My heart sinks immediately. I was hoping to see Meredith, the personal secretary I’d always known Alistair to have, and who might remember me. With this girl…I’ve got nothing.

  I approach anyway, and try a smile. “Erm…yes, hi. I’m, um, I’m here to see Alistair Sinclair.”

  Her eyebrow rises with obvious skepticism. I wonder briefly if this is how she acts around everyone who comes to see him.

  “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Sinclair?”

  “Ah, no. But if you’ll give him a message—”

  “I’m sorry.” She smiles in a way that says she really isn’t. “Mr. Sinclair is a very busy man - he doesn’t have time to see anyone outside of his schedule.”

  “This is really important - he’ll want to see me.” I try again, hoping I don’t sound as desperate as I’m beginning to feel. “Please, just tell him Leah Jackson needs to talk to him. Here, I can give you my number—”

  “Yeah, you and every other girl in New York. Don’t bother, he’s not going to call you back. Honestly, it surprises me how many people think something like that is going to work—”

  “No, we used to date.” I insist, frustrated by her superior-than-thou attitude. Probably why Alistair hired her in the first place - to give his visitors a glimpse of his approach before they’ve even met him. “And this is important - he’ll want to talk to me.”

  At least, there’s a chance he will. You hope.

  The anonymous girl looks me up and down with a scathing expression, and doesn’t quite hold back her small laugh.

  “Yeah, sure, you expect me to believe that? This is Alistair Sinclair we’re talking about. Trust me, the girls that come through here…so out of your class.”

  I stare at her for a moment, fury rising. Sure, I don’t look quite how I did back then, but still…I don’t deserve this bitch’s scorn.

  I take a step closer.

  “Yeah, and not one of them sticks around, do they?” I say, and the brief flicker on her face tells me that my guess was on point. I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing these days, but I spent the months after we split hearing about his rotating bedroom door. I look around callously. “I wonder whether he’s any different with his secretaries. You certainly weren’t around when I knew him.”

  It’s stupid to provoke her, especially since I’m guessing - I don’t have a clue how long she’s been here - but I can’t help myself. Her comments got under my skin - and from the flush that comes to her face, I can tell my retorts hit the mark.

  “Tell Alistair that Leah Jackson needs to talk to him. Or you can be sure he’ll be pissed as hell.” I say, trying to press my advantage even if it is a crappy thing to do.

  I don’t tell her that he’ll also be pissed as hell to get that message, but damn. If she were slightly less condescending, maybe I’d care.

  She recovers a moment later though, sneering at me. “I’m not bothering him with messages from some ex - believe me, girl, if he wanted to talk to you, he would be already. If you ever knew him in the first place. I’m not sure how you got up here, but if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling security.”

  Fuck.

  I swear inwardly, feeling like the world is against me right now. I squint at the office behind her and briefly consider just yelling to see if he’ll come out to see what’s going on - but I can’t even see him sitting behind the over-large desk in there. Fuck, for all I know he’s not even working here today. Or out to a long lunch. Or in a meeting.

  I try anyway. “If you won’t believe me, just wait until he comes by, and then—”

  “I mean it. I’m calling security.” She scowls at me, then presses a button on her phone.

  I hear the dial tone and curse, knowing I’ve lost.

  “Fine. Fine, I’m going.” I hold up my hands and back away, feeling a moment of relief when she drops the call.

  Then I’m left with nothing but heading back to the elevators.

  Slowly.

  Hoping Alistair might appear from somewhere and see me - that I might have the chance to get a word or two out, something - anything - to convince him to talk to me.

  It doesn’t happen.

  Instead I’m faced with the plush lobby around the elevators, the proud Sinclair & Barkley signage, and a few chairs and pot plants that seem more for decoration than use.

  I slump down in one anyway, unable to bring myself to call the lift and leave just yet, still hurting from my failure.

  Maybe I could just stay here until I see him?

  But the chances are someone else will come by first, and that really would alert security. Damn it.

  I lean my head against the high-backed chair and close my eyes, sighing. So close…but fuck, I’d really been hoping Meredith would still be around. She’d understand - she always knew the most important things to bring to Alistair’s attention.

  You were hoping for a hell of a lot, Leah. This is all just wishes and fantasies.

  It’s hard to stop myself from wondering why I ever came - why I left the very limited security of the jobs that were barely letting me survive back in Pittsburgh…

  Well, when you put it like that…

  I look around again, trying to work out what to do.

  And my eye catches on the trolley full of cleaning supplies that’s been left to the side.

  I glance around again, but haven’t seen any sight of whoever brought them up, and then look down at my limited attempt to look professional enough to be here. I probably look more like a cleaner than the kind of girls Alistair dates now anyway, if his secretary’s response is anything to go by.

  Hell, you probably know more about cleaning offices than working in them, too.

  I hesitate. If that girl sees me again…

  But what other option do I have?

  Trying to stalk him from outside? Watching the building and hoping that I run into him?

  After all this, I can’t just give up. I’ve put too much into this - for Maddie. If I don’t even talk to him, I’ll be exactly where I was a few days ago…only with a little less money to get by, and looking for work again.

  I take a deep breath, and then I walk over to the cleaning trolley and take it as if I’ve done this dozens of times before.

  Which I have.

  And if I can stay out of that girl’s way, maybe I can hang around here long enough to have a chance.

  If Alistair is even working here today.

  Maybe, if, but…

  Not much to go on.

  But I’ve spent years running on hope.

  Chapter Three

  Alistair

  “�
��New York City’s most eligible bachelor’?” I read out loud before throwing the magazine onto the desk in disgust. “I didn’t sign up for this shit, Barkley. I’m not doing another fucking personality interview.”

  He grins at me from where he’s leaning back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk.

  “Ahh, c’mon, Alistair. Did you see what it did to our share prices?” He swings his computer monitor across to show me the numbers blinking on the screen.

  How did I know he’d be looking at that?

  “I preferred it when we didn’t have to worry about share prices.” I say shortly, pacing up and down his office in a poor attempt to cover my irritation.

  “We’ve had that debate before.” He barks out a laugh, shaking his head at me. “I would’ve thought that now that we’re richer than sin, we’d be done with that argument.”

  He’s right about that - on both counts.

  Vincent Barkley and I have spent almost our entire partnership debating whether to open the business to public stocks and shares…and I’d been holding it back for years. Until it got to the point that he could prove - decisively - how much more we’d be worth if we went public, as well as the kind of status and opportunities our business would get from a move like that.

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Sinclair & Barkley - the conglomerate that’s been my life’s work so far - is worth triple what it was only a year ago. And I’m worth…god only knows how much more. We’ve been approached for partnerships, investments, opportunities and ideas that I’m excited to be part of.

  But the very public IPO also put us right at the center of New York City’s elite, and - as I’d predicted - gave us almost celebrity status. Or gave me that, as the half of our partnership that always ends up dealing with the media.

  Not to mention the endless regulations that we’re now scrambling to comply with, too. Of course, I knew that the move would put us under far more scrutiny - but the work involved has been endless. And not the fun deal-making, business-fixing kind of work I love either - no, this has all been legislation, tax and accounts. The sort of thing I hire others to deal with, and then spend late hours sifting through anyway, just because they might have fucked up somewhere.