by Amy Brent
Fifteen minutes felt like hours as he fidgeted in his seat and he soon noticed the door opening and students pouring out into the hall. The crowd thinned, and he waited for her as he stared at the red peeling paint of the heavy wood. He stood as it opened again and Amy walked out with her eyes on the ground as she looked like she was ready to start crying right then and there. “Amy,” Colton spoke as she lifted her head to stare at him. “What’s going on?”
“He found you,” She spoke more than questioned Colton and let out a resigned sigh. “Let’s go to yours. We need to talk alone.”
They walked side by side to the building that housed their dorms, and he stole glances at her along the way. She dressed in some bright leggings and a black tunic that brushed the tops of her thighs with some high boots. Her face was clean of makeup, but she looked beautiful as he stared at her.
Colton could feel the eyes on them as he opened the door and led her to his room at the end of the hallway. He hated rumors but at the moment he was dealing with something bigger than that. Colton closed out the world as he watched her go and sit on the bed as she looked up at him. “Do you hate me?”
“For what?” Colton asked as surprise crossed her face.
She turned her head slowly before she rested her head in her hands. “I…he didn’t tell you. I can’t believe it.” She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes again, filled with tears. “I’m pregnant, Colton. Just a few weeks but I have seen…it. I know it’s there, and I’m appalled at myself. I was never the girl that would have had two possible baby daddies. Never.”
“Two?” Colton asked as his heart started to break apart inside of him.
“I had a plan. I followed Trey here, and I was going to get my degree and live my life. It was so obvious that we might not make it, but I am a smart girl. I have a lot going for me until suddenly I don’t.” Amy spoke as if she was in a daze and he dropped to the floor in front of her. “I was with you both. You were so much more and so much better, but sometimes he’d just get to me and we…” Amy shook her head. “I think that there’s a better chance that it is yours since we did a few times without anything and even Trey wasn’t stupid enough to do that. But still…I don’t know.”
CHAPTER 6
“Amy…I want to be with you through this.” Colton found himself saying as he took her hands and stared into her confused face. “I love you. I denied it even as it was happening to me along the way. I know I did, but I do. I love you.”
“What if this baby isn’t yours?” She asked as tears slid down her cheeks.
“I don’t know. I guess we see, but I want to try with you. I don’t want you going through this alone and I sure as fuck don’t want anybody else. I haven’t for a long time now.”
“I am already a size sixteen. I am going to blow up like a whale.” The tears were falling harder as she sniffled and he slipped his arms over her legs. “I am going to be a bitch and emotional and hate myself for what I did to both of you. I am going to agonize over the next few months until I can see this baby and know…I want it to be yours so bad.” Amy’s voice shook with need, and he pressed his head into her chest and breathed her in.
“I do too. I just know that I want to be with you right here and right now. I can’t think past this moment.” Colton told her as they both moved close together and kissed each other hungrily. “How far along are you?” He kissed her again.
“About eight weeks,” Amy replied against his lips as he cupped her face in his hands.
“I hear that women are horny when they’re pregnant.”
“Fuck, yes.” Amy breathed as he scooted her back onto the bed and carefully pressed her against the pillows. “I have been getting myself off the last few weeks.”
“Jesus,” Colton muttered as he found her lips and slid his hands up her shirt. He knew that they didn’t have to be quiet now. Colton also knew that there would be a lot to clear up in the next few days, but right now he was where he wanted to be as he tasted her sweet kiss again and felt her smooth skin. “I love you.”
“I love you. I have never loved anybody the way that I do you,” Amy whispered as he claimed her lips in a hard kiss.
EPILOGUE
Amy and Colton couldn’t wait for the baby to arrive to know the truth. All three took the steps to set up a paternity test within a couple of months and Colton threw the papers in the air when he saw that it was his baby. He still felt bad for Trey and the fact that he and Amy had betrayed him. That would always bother him, but he and Trey had moved past it and worked together on the ice just fine.
They were both spotlighted by the scouts along with a couple of other guys. Trey went to Washington and Colton was pleased to find out that he would be staying here in town and playing with the team that he had dinner with so long ago. He smiled through the draft as he glanced around at all of the up and coming players, excited about his future and not just this aspect of it.
Amy was home in their condo with her mother as she grew close to her due date with their daughter. She claimed to be fat and ugly, but he had never found her so beautiful in his life than when she was heavy with his baby. He was also protective and spoiled her every chance that he got, and Amy told him that is why she fell more in love with him by the day.
They hadn’t discussed marriage too seriously yet, but Colton knew the day was coming where he would propose. Hell, he might do it in the hospital room.
When he went to meet his new coach and collect his shirt, Colton held it against him and grinned as cheers filled the room. He could feel her in the room with him as he watched the cameras flash and shook hands with the men around him.
The future was going to be amazing.
THE END
Billionaire Romance Collection
THE BILLIONAIRE’S SURROGATE
Camille
The atmosphere in the casino was electric. All around me, faces were watching the game, sharing in my success, living vicariously. Through me. If you've ever been the center of attention, the one person in the room no one can keep their eyes off of, you know how addictive it is.
I wasn't addicted to gambling. I'd done it a couple of times and I'd won and lost. Nothing prolific, nothing to urge me to go there again.
But this, this was different. I was breathing my success; it had replaced the oxygen in the air. A downer of a night at a friend's party had driven us here. Sharon had left at midnight. One more round of Blackjack, I'd told myself, and I was leaving, too.
Everything changed, then. I started winning. Winning big. Winning big is addictive. The gasps and the cheers and the fan base you build when you're winning and winning and winning again are addictive. I never understood people who gave up everything for gambling. I still don't. I wasn't giving everything up, I was making the Casino cough up the dough.
A cute guy sat across from me and he made eye contact. Cerulean blue eyes. Flawless skin. A smile that made me weak at the knees. He was going to ask for my number after the game. Or ask for me to join him in his hotel room. Maybe we would have a couple of drinks before undressed me. Maybe he would dive between my legs without waiting, leading me to a different kind of climax than what I was running on now.
I was aware of my dress against my skin, my low neckline and what he saw. Caramel skin. Big curly hair. The swells of my breasts rising and falling with my breathing. My lips, full and plump and glossy. The money in front of me, making me worth it.
I played another hand. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
He was looking at my cleavage when I looked at him again and I liked it. I wanted him to stare. After tonight, when I'd won my money back more than fivefold, I was going to make sure that he knew all about winning, too. The look in his eyes said it all. He wanted me.
"You should cash in," a woman said behind me and when I looked over my shoulder I frowned. She looked like the motherly type. Maybe even the grandmotherly. She still wore a mink stole the way they used to back in the day. Wrinkles on her face suggested she was to
o old to understand that I was building my own future here. I ignored her. I was on a roll.
Everything slowed down. My heart thundered in my ears. I felt the crowd around me draw a breath. I held my own. The electric blue eyes and the green felt table was the backdrop to my winning streak. After this, my life would never be the same.
I put the final card down. The dealer played his hand. Everything around me shattered. The crowd exhaled disappointment. The dealer won this hand and drew my money away from me. The whole pile of chips. I watched it move away from me in a blur. I looked up at Mr. Blue Eyes. He stood up without looking at me and sauntered away. I looked back at the chips, counting the white space between every heartbeat.
That woman had been right, I should have cashed my chips when I was ahead. And I had been right, too. My life would never be the same.
I had a hundred left in my pocket. A crumpled note that seemed forlorn and weary after the gold I'd had at my fingertips. I sat down at the bar and ordered vodka. A lot of it. I was going to drown my sorrows. If I ended up drowning myself in the process, so be it.
Somewhere Sharon arrived and grabbed me by the arm.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Camille?" Her tone was pitying, not angry. I let her pull me to my feet. The room spun. There were three bartenders when the whole night there had only been one. I felt like vomiting. This was what being a failure felt like. It tasted bitter in my throat.
"You could have used the last money to get a cab instead of drinking yourself into a stupor. I'm glad you called me instead of plastering yourself to a pavement."
I'd called her? I let Sharon steer me out of the door, through the parking lot, toward her car.
"You lost everything, didn't you?"
I couldn't hold it anymore and threw up on the tarmac right next to her car. I heaved and retched until there was nothing left.
"God, it's all on your dress. You couldn't have bent over first?"
I thought I had. A tissue appeared in front of me and I wiped my mouth. Sharon opened her car door.
"You owe me for the smell of puke that's going to linger for the next three months."
I owed her but there was no money. Didn't she know that? I put my head on my knees, smelling the coconut body butter I'd put on after showering to come out, mixed with the sweet-sour tinge of vomit. My head spun as fast as the wheels did as Sharon drove back to the dorm.
She parked and helped me out of the front seat like a child, steering me into the building. Inside I pulled my own clothes off. It felt like sandpaper on my skin. I needed to get out of it. The bed was softer than I remembered it. The room danced around me and threatened to make me throw up again but darkness closed in and I let it take over. This was much better than vomiting and spinning. Sharon said something but I was too busy concentrating on the darkness coming at me to save me.
When I opened my eyes light pierced my eyes and I complained, closing them again. My head throbbed. I rolled over, my head lolling off the bed. The cold air in the room tingled over my skin and I sat up. Too fast. The world spun around me.
God, how much did I drink? I pressed the palm against my head, trying to calm the fluttering pain. It didn't help. I was naked and hungover over and...
The events of the night before rushed toward me and hit me in the face like a physical punch. My stomach turned and I scrambled to the bathroom, making it all the way to the toilet. It tasted like old alcohol and despair. I hugged the toilet for half an hour before sitting back. Fifty grand. That was how much I'd lost.
No, I'd lost a lot more. I'd started off with fifty grand. I'd doubled it and doubled it again and one more time before I'd lost it. I pulled myself up over the basin and splashed water on my face. Reality was a cold hearted bitch.
What was I going to do? My mom had given me everything she had to finish my degree, to take care of myself while I was away from home. She'd been a hairdresser all her life with nothing more than a diploma. She'd given me that money so that I could make more of myself than she'd been able to.
I'd meant to make the money more. My car was on the verge of breaking down so I had to keep taking the bus. I needed new clothes. I wanted new clothes. I'd wanted to make the money more.
Instead, I'd lost it all. I was studying finances. I should have understood the concept of probability. I should have known better.
Should have, would have, could have. Those never helped anyone. They sure as shit wouldn't help me.
I needed to make a plan to get money. I couldn't tell Mama. If she found out what I'd done she would never forgive me. She wouldn't be angry. She would be disappointed. The worst thing in the world was to disappoint Mama.
I showered in the dorm showers and got dressed. I took two Aspirin, a glass of tomato juice from my little fridge, and felt just as shit as before. This was going to be the darkest day of my life.
A newspaper was in on a table in the communal area and I tucked it under my arm. I went downstairs and waited for the bus. I needed to start looking for a job to earn back that money if I wanted to pay my way through school at all. The movement in the bus made me wonder if I was going to throw up again. Would it wash out of the suede jacket of the woman next to me?
I opened the newspaper, hoping it would distract me from my rolling stomach. My head pounded. The letters danced in front of my eyes. The chances were slim but at this point, all a girl like me could do was hope.
I browsed through the classifieds. All the jobs that had money worth working for needed the education I was still in the process of getting. All the other jobs - waitressing, cleaning, tutoring - didn't pay nearly enough to make it worth my time or my degree. I closed my eyes and opened then again. Bad idea with the bus swaying from side to side.
I paged through the rest of the newspaper. On the page with the Homosexual and Adult Services ads, something caught my eye. Buried between the Immorals was an ad for a Surrogate Mother. Someone needed a belly to breed a baby in. The payment? Fifty thousand dollars.
Exactly what I needed.
How long would I have to stay away from my mom for, nine months? I only saw her every six months as it was to save on traveling costs. If I skipped once I could have the baby and be done when I finally went back home. Mama would never have to know.
I looked at the ad again. A surrogate mother. The truth was, I’d done worse.
Mark
I had both hands on the steering wheel to ground myself. Marina sat next to me, fussing with her shirt. I glanced at her. Her blond hair fell in a curtain and I couldn't see her face.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
She turned her head and I knew I would see her face now if I looked. I didn't look. I knew what her face would look like. Lately, she'd been looking at me with this unbelieving expression.
"We talked about this, Mark. We can't just turn around and go home now. The interview is set up. Do you want to leave her hanging?"
I shook my head. My knuckles were turning white. God forbid I should leave someone else hanging. Marina was getting what she wanted. This woman we were going to meet, the one that was supposed to carry my baby, was getting what she wanted. What about me? Was I going to get what I wanted?
Marina had always wanted a child. It was one of the things on her to-do list when we got married. It hadn't bothered me then that she had this list, that she had a timeline. It should have. I should have asked her if I could see the list and checked if I was on par with her.
The house had been fine when we'd bought it but she'd needed an interior decorator to redo the whole thing. Why hadn't we just bought somewhere else if she was unhappy? When I'd asked her she'd told me it wasn't her fault I didn't care what other people thought of us. I didn't understand why it mattered when we were happy. Maybe that was what she meant.
When I had the opportunity for a raise but it would take me away from her, she'd urged me to do it. We would just grow sick of each other if we spent the rest of our lives in each other's personal space. I thou
ght that was the point of marriage. She was happy being the housewife while I slaved at the office. Maybe it helped that my PA was too old to be attractive. Maybe Marina knew that I would always come home to her no matter how many reasons she gave me not to.
"You have to take Seventh," Marina said. She fussed with her blouse again.
"You look fine."
"I look old."
I frowned and looked at her. I was forty. She was four years younger. We'd been married for nine years. I was sure she'd married me for my money but I'd never asked. It would have been rude. The doctor had said it wasn't due to her age she couldn't fall pregnant. She blamed me for waiting too long.
I wasn't sure if she understood that I wasn't ready to be a father. The same way I hadn't been ready to be a husband when she'd put forward an ultimatum. We'd been dating for three years at that point. Marriage or breakup. That was it for me.
I hadn't wanted to lose her. Too often I wondered how my life would have been if I'd chosen myself over her instead.
I'd grown used to being a husband. Maybe I would grow used to being a father, too.
We parked in front of the St. Joseph Hospital and got out of the car. I tugged on my tie. Marina's heels clacked on the tarmac and then on the linoleum as we walked into the building. The air inside the hospital was cool. It smelled clinical. Doctor Kamal was in his office when he arrived and he smiled, his teeth white against his coffee colored skin.
"She's ready for you," he said in his American accent that sounded out of place against his Indian appearance. He gestured toward the room where we were going to conduct the interview and Marina walked first, all business. We were talking about the body that would host her baby - our baby - after all.