Billionaire Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  “And you think that getting involved with her daddy would ruin things for her?” Misty asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

  “What if it didn't work out? Andrew could kick us out, or he could refuse to ever have anything to do with Emma again, or both. I couldn't handle that.”

  “Well, even if you're not trying to get back into his bed, there's no reason why the two of you can't be friends,” Misty said, shrugging. “It sounds like you're enjoying his company, at least.”

  “Honestly, I'm not sure that I am,” I admitted. I frowned, puzzling it over. It wasn't that I was finding Andrew's company unpleasant, but at the same time, it wasn't as though we were hanging out. It definitely wasn't like that first night together, where we'd chatted about anything and everything. “Every time I've seen him lately, Emma's been there with us,” I slowly told her. “And it's been great, but it hasn't been like Andrew and I are hanging out. I've just enjoyed watching him interact with Emma.”

  Misty frowned but nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “Emma's kind of your buffer.”

  “Yeah, exactly. We got into a disagreement at the breakfast table the morning after I arrived there, about those long-term plans, but neither of us wanted to bicker in front of Emma. So we shelved it to come back to later. I feel like that's what's happening with every point of friction between us: we're just kicking it all under the rug at the moment. But if we were going to start a real relationship, if we were going to start to be friends, we'd have to unpack all of that. I'm not ready to do that yet.”

  “That's fair,” Misty said. “If you ever need a babysitter for a little while, though, just someone to take Emma off your hands for a little while so that you and Andrew could really talk”–from the way she suggested it, I could tell she wasn't just thinking that we'd talk–“you know where to find me.”

  I giggled. “You're really rooting for the two of us, aren't you?”

  “He's a handsome billionaire,” Misty said jokingly. “What's not to like?” She grinned at me. “Seriously, though, you know I just want you to be happy.”

  “And you think Andrew would make me happy?” I asked, worrying my lower lip between my teeth as I thought about it.

  Our life the past few weeks hadn't been horrible, that was true. It was definitely a big step up from the way that we had been living. But like Misty had said, I wasn't the kind of woman who was content with living off my husband's paycheck.

  As much as I admired stay-at-home-moms and as much as I loved Emma, I wasn't sure that I wanted that for the rest of my life. I'd be much happier working, I was sure. Not that being with Andrew meant that I wouldn't be able to work. I just needed to sort my life out before I got romantically entangled with anyone, Andrew or otherwise.

  “It's been kind of nice having more time to spend with Emma, now that I'm not frantically job-searching,” I mused. “Maybe I would make a good stay-at-home-mom.”

  Misty laughed. “You'd be bored sick within the month,” she told me. “And what would you do once Emma started going to school? You'd go nuts.”

  “You're right,” I sighed.

  “I bet you just want to put in more Emma play-hours than Daddy does,” Misty remarked, grinning at me. “You're probably jealous because he's so good at handling her. She'll be Daddy's little princess before you know it.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her, but then I frowned. “Do you really think that's going to happen?” I asked. I could almost see the signs of it, now that she had mentioned it.

  Misty snorted. “No, I don't think that's going to happen, any more than I think that I'm going to be able to usurp her affections for you,” she said. “It's good to have a lot of different people for Emma to love and model her behavior on, isn't it? What's that saying: it takes a village to raise a kid?”

  I smiled tentatively at her. “You're right,” I said. “I should be happy that she and Andrew are so taken with one another. I mean, I am happy that she and Andrew are so taken with one another.”

  “Good,” Misty said. “I'm glad everything is going so well for you. I really was worried, you know.”

  “I know,” I said. I shook my head. “But enough about me. How have you been? Did you find someone to fill that spare room?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, I don't have a place for you if Andrew kicks you out tomorrow,” Misty said. “Unless you wanted to sleep in my closet.” She grinned crookedly. “It's been good. The girl's name is Nicole, and she's a law student, so she's not around the apartment very much. Nice, though, and very clean. Probably the best living situation I've ever had.”

  “I resent that!” I said. “I make a great roommate.”

  “You do,” Misty agreed. “But the cranky baby wailing at three a.m. leaves something to be desired.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, don't I know it.”

  “Anyway, nothing major has been happening. I went out for drinks with some of my coworkers last Friday, and that was kind of fun. I miss going out with you, though. You made a much better wing-lady than Christina from accounting.”

  I felt another pang of guilt. “I know I haven't been the best friend lately, but I feel like things are really looking up for me now,” I told her. “And you know that as soon as I have the money to come out for drinks with you again, I'll be there.”

  “Hey, relax,” Misty said, reaching over to grab my hand. “I was just teasing. I know that you're busy right now, even beyond your financial situation. You just concentrate on you, and I'll also concentrate on you, and eventually, we'll get you and Emma back on your feet again.”

  I smiled at her. “You're the best friend,” I told her. “I don't know how I got so lucky.”

  “Maybe you used up all your luck with meeting me, and that's why you've had shitty luck with everything else,” Misty suggested.

  We both burst out laughing, and I felt happier than I had in ages. For the first time, it felt like maybe things were finally starting to turn around for me, just like Misty thought. I could only hope so.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Andrew

  In a fit of anger, I tore up the former meeting agenda. There were a number of important points on it that I wanted to discuss, but it looked like we weren't going to have time for them. Instead, we were going to need to focus this meeting on the company's recently published quarterly revenue numbers. Exclusively.

  I had, of course, planned to touch on those numbers, but I hadn't expected them to be as bad as they'd ended up being. Not that Orinoco was in any sort of trouble, but we hadn't even come close to hitting our internal goals for the quarter.

  It might not seem like much; the company was still surpassing its competitors in terms of productivity and revenue, but those internal goals were in place for a reason. Once we started slipping on those, it was only a matter of time before some other company toppled our dynasty.

  Put simply, if we didn't continue to grow, we were stagnating or worse.

  When I stalked into the meeting with the company executives, I could tell from the hush and a couple pale faces that they knew exactly what was coming. It was no secret how I handled the company.

  I slammed the quarterly report down on the table, glaring around at the rest of the men and women gathered in there. “Let me see a show of hands if any of you haven't seen the latest quarterly numbers.” Nobody moved. “That, at least, will save me from wasting the time going over them,” I said sarcastically. “Does anyone want to take a guess at what I'm so upset about?”

  Still, no one moved. I snorted. “See, this is exactly the problem. You all seem to lack ambition. No one wants to be the first to step forward. And we can't afford that, in the industry that we're in. I'll give you one more try: does anyone want to tell me why we can't afford that in the industry that we're in?”

  Silence. I scowled and pointed towards the intern, Bobby. “Bobby, why don't you come up here,” I said. It wasn't a suggestion.

  The kid paled and hurriedly made his way towards the front of the room
, even though I knew that if he really had his way, he'd be running from the room as fast as he could.

  “Bobby, why don't you tell everyone what you think,” I said. Again, not a suggestion. “Why can't we afford a lack of ambition in the industry we're in?”

  I could practically hear him swallow. “Because if there's a lack of ambition, there's a lack of innovation,” the kid stammered, looking over at me to see if he had answered correctly, before quickly turning his eyes back towards the rest of the executives.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “And, uh, if there's a lack of innovation, we don't stay ahead of our competitors?”

  “Are you asking me that?” I said incredulously. “Bobby, go sit down.” The kid scurried to obey. “Is that the problem?” I asked snidely, glaring around at the executives. “Do you all have some uncertainty on whether or not we need innovation? Because let me tell you, our competitors are already snapping at our heels. We're one step away from being just another has-been. But it seems that some of you would rather rest on our laurels than continue to improve the company, is that it?”

  “But sir, we're still increasing our profits,” one of the marketing executives protested.

  Everyone else turned to stare at the man, myself included. It wasn't unheard of for someone to speak out during these meetings, but everyone knew that the person who spoke out during these meetings got fired immediately. It had been a while since anyone was stupid enough to do that.

  The marketing exec seemed to realize what an error he'd made as soon as the words left his mouth. He squawked and put his hand over his mouth, looking as though he'd give anything to take those words back. His face turned an interesting shade of purple.

  For a long moment, I just stared at him, letting his fear sink in. “And tell me, Mr. Harrison, do you think that our internal goals have no purpose?” I asked him.

  “Of course not, sir,” he said, tripping over the words in his eagerness to get them out.

  “Does anyone want to tell me why we have internal goals?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the quaking man. No one spoke, but this time, rather than call someone out, I slammed my hand down on the table, making all of them jump. “We have those internal company goals for the same reason! The only way we're going to keep our profits up is if we continue to improve as a team. The world is changing, and our industry is changing every day. Every day, there's a new competitor out there. Every day, the other companies in our industry are watching us and trying their very hardest to overtake us. If we start to relax, if we let ourselves slip, we're one short fall before becoming obsolete. Does everyone understand that?”

  Everyone was again silent. It was on the tip of my tongue to continue the dressing down, when suddenly, unbidden, I thought of Lexi. I wondered if this is what it had felt like for her, being fired from her job. Becoming the scapegoat for the company, despite the fact that she'd churned out plenty of good work in the past.

  Because I could tell that she'd done a lot of good work in the past. That presentation that she'd done for me, despite the fact that she'd been expecting to give a totally different type of presentation, had covered everything that I'd needed it to cover and then some.

  Mr. Harrison, Jack, also turned in plenty of great work as a marketing executive. I knew that because I was still micromanaging the company at every turn, and I could tell you exactly what every one of the men and women in this room did on a daily basis. Suddenly, the idea of firing one of them over this just seemed petty.

  I sighed and sat down in my seat, flipping open to a new page in my notebook. “Well?” I asked. “Can anyone come up with any reasons for why we didn't make our internal goals for the quarter?”

  Everyone around the table exchanged glances, as though they thought it was some sort of trick question.

  I raised an eyebrow at them. “Come on, you all must know something, either related to your own department or otherwise. Let's start with marketing for this quarter. We focused on online advertisement, as usual, but we also put up some billboards around Seattle. Jack, what were the numbers on those? Do we think they worked? If not, why not?”

  Jack looked startled. He cleared his throat, looking around the table again as though he was hoping for someone to throw him a lifeline. But everyone else just looked surprised. Jack cleared his throat again. “We think the billboards worked, sir. We wouldn't have paid for them if we hadn't thought they would work.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Do we have any evidence that they were effective?”

  Jack straightened, seeming to gain confidence. “We do,” he said, flipping open the folder in front of him. Come to think of it, it was the first time I could remember seeing one of the executives flip open their notes and reference something during a meeting. It was at least the first time in a long time. “We polled people as they made purchases through the Orinoco site. Granted, not everyone answered. But out of those who answered, a surprising number of them said that they saw our billboards and thought to purchase their items through our site.”

  He paused and glanced around the group. “Bear in mind that the focus for these billboards was letting people know about things that they could purchase through our website which they might not otherwise have thought about. For example, one woman purchased groceries through the site after finding out she could. A college student bought a new phone through the site. The push was that they would find increased selection on our site, as well as better prices than they might find if they went to a brick-and-mortar store.”

  I nodded. “So we know that the billboards were working,” I said. “Does anyone know any issues that we might have had this quarter?”

  “There was bad weather,” Bobby said, clearly wanting to make up for earlier.

  “Go on,” I said. “What does bad weather have to do with anything?” I had a feeling I knew where it was going, though, and that feeling was confirmed as he glanced over at Tim, the head of our logistics team. Tim remained silent, but he nodded encouragingly at Bobby.

  “In February, there were a lot of delays,” Bobby said. “With highways being closed due to avalanche risks through the midwest and ice in other places as well. That affected our supply chain and our delivery times, so we weren't able to meet our guaranteed shipping times in all cases.”

  “We did have to shell out a lot of money in partial refunds when products didn't arrive by the dates they were supposed to,” Margot, one of the accounting execs, piped up. “Even though those products were eventually delivered to the customers, because they didn't meet the guarantees, that meant that we weren't making as much profit per product.”

  “And it also led to a lot of negative consumer sentiment,” Michelle added, nodding her head. “There were a lot of negative reviews that got posted to product pages strictly because people were upset about how long it took to receive certain orders. There were also a number of people who vowed not to use Orinoco again because they didn't trust our shipping guarantee, even if we did, as Margot said, give people partial refunds when we didn't meet those guarantees.”

  “That negative consumer sentiment wasn't just regarding late deliveries, though,” Jack mused. “There was actually a surprising amount of negative feedback on the billboards where people didn't want to use Orinoco rather than a brick-and-mortar shop to purchase certain things like groceries. I guess it felt too impersonal to them.”

  “All right,” I said, pleased with the way the discussion was going. “So maybe that's what we need to focus on in the coming quarter: eliminating, or at least minimizing, that negative consumer sentiment. Helping people realize that even though they're purchasing those items with the intermediary of a large corporation, it still goes back to those same mom-and-pop shops. That's where we're getting a lot of our products from. How are we going to do that?”

  The rest of the meeting was productive. At first, things were still a little quiet. No one wanted to be wrong. But as I continued to give positive feedback on various ideas, more
and more people began to chime in. They still seemed terrified, perhaps more so now than they had when they'd been able to predict what my reactions were going to be. But it was productive all the same.

  “All right,” I said as we began to wrap up the meeting. “Those were some good ideas. Now, I'm not going to fire anyone because of last quarter's failures. However, I do want us all to try to incorporate some of what we've discussed in this meeting into what we're going to do for the coming quarter. Let’s see if we can not only meet our internal goals, but surpass them.”

  There was another glance shared around the table. Everyone looked frightened.

  “I'm not going to fire anyone next quarter if we don’t surpass those goals,” I said, rolling my eyes, even though inwardly, I was starting to wonder about company morale. “The company is still increasing its profits, as was mentioned before. That's what I like to see. I'd just like to see more.”

  They stared at me as though I'd gone insane.

  I stood abruptly. “I believe that's all we have time for today. If you have any further inspiration, you know where to find me.”

  I couldn't remember the last time someone had come to my office just to chat about an idea. Usually, I needed to summon them there regarding perceived issues that the company was having.

  The only thing I could think about, as I headed back to my office, was that I had never realized what an asshole I'd been to my employees before.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lexi

  I smiled at the picture that Emma was proudly showing off to me, even though I didn't really see the unicorn that she was going on and on about. It was cute to see her so excited, though.

  “We'll hang it on the fridge,” I promised her. Then, I smiled slyly. “Or maybe Daddy will hang it up in his work office.”

  Andrew was allowing Emma to continue calling him Daddy, although neither of us had told her to call him that. Still, he didn't want to advertise the fact that he had a child. He'd still hang the picture up in his office if Emma asked him to, but he'd be forced to come up with some sort of story explaining where the picture had come from.