Summer of Love: The Billionaire's Baby (BWWM Pregnancy and Marriage Multicultural Love Story)

by Imani King

  "Oh my God," she said as tomato juice dripped down her chin, "Blake, oh my God."

  "I told you, didn't I? Now get chopping young lady, it won't be ratatouille without tomatoes."

  But Natasha wasn't ready to go back to chopping vegetables just yet. She was still standing there beside me with an adorably bemused look on her pretty face.

  "Blake! This is what tomatoes taste like? I feel so...I feel so deprived all of a sudden. Why didn't anyone ever tell me this is what tomatoes tasted like?"

  I couldn't resist leaning in and kissing her sweet mouth, which tasted of the tomatoes she was busy singing the praises of.

  "I don't know, Nat - probably because most people don't know for themselves."

  "Blake, seriously. I'm having some kind of crisis here. All this time I thought being rich meant bigger houses and fancier cars and, I don't know, yachts and helicopters, and now I find out it's also details like this - getting to eat tomatoes that taste this good? I think I'm starting to feel bad about not being rich."

  She was joking, but she wasn't completely joking. She was smiling, too, but it was wistful and innocent and ever so slightly betrayed all at the same time. I wasn't quite sure what to say - especially given that her tomato-based revelation had only occurred to me just then, when she brought it up.

  "Don't think I don't know what a privileged life I've led, Nat, alright? I don't ever want you to think that."

  She looked at me then, her expression soft.

  "No, Blake, that isn't what I meant. Besides, I understand that you had no more control over the circumstances you were born into than any of us did - I guess, I don't know, I feel a little sad that I only just discovered how delicious tomatoes are and I'm twenty-four years old."

  She started chopping the remaining produce and I leaned over, kissing her neck until she squealed and whispering into her ear. "And you haven't even had real Italian gelato yet."

  We ate our ratatouille with a bottle of white wine I found in the wine cellar, sitting across from each other at Villa Ambra's ancient wooden dining table and discussing what we were going to do during our trip. Well, Natasha was discussing what we were going to do and I was pretending to join in, making random affirmative noises in response to her plans so she wouldn't guess that mostly what I was doing was watching her full, peachy lips as she spoke.

  "Blake!"

  "Huh? What?" I asked, busted almost at once.

  "Are you even listening to me?"

  She was laughing, amused at my distraction and I decided impulsively to confess. Something about Nat made me feel at ease. I knew I could admit things to her I've never really been that enthused about admitting to women before - even silly little things like what had just happened.

  "You got me," I told her, shaking my head sheepishly, "I was listening, and then I got to looking at your lips and then...I forgot everything else. It's your fault, Nat. If you weren't so goddamned sexy it would be much easier to talk to you."

  And instead of chastising me for my one-track male mind, Natasha looked me in the eye, put her napkin on the table and got up from her chair, walking around the table to where I was sitting. She didn't say anything when she got to me, she just asked me to push my chair back, which I did. Then she knelt down on the floor between my feet and started to unbuckle my belt and the sudden hot rush of blood to my cock almost made me light-headed.

  "Oh Natasha. You're such a sweet girl," I breathed as she unzipped me and pulled my aching cock out of my pants, holding it tenderly in her hands and looking up into my eyes.

  She kissed the tip of it slowly, running it over her lower lip, back and forth until I was leaking pre-cum, and then she licked that off, not taking her eyes off me for a second. Nothing is better than the look in Natasha's brown eyes when she wants me.

  "You know what?" she asked me, running her fingers lightly down my shaft, "You have the biggest, sweetest, most beautiful cock I have ever seen."

  Then she pushed her lips down over the head and pushed them as far down as she could go, until I could feel myself against the soft, wet back of her tongue - as well as the cum rising quickly in my balls.

  She made short work of me, taking her time, careful not to go too far and gag herself but obviously eager to take as much of me as she could. There was something about that - her effort, her real need to please me - that almost sent me over the edge right away. I tried to hold back as she slid her beautiful lips up and down and curled her little tongue underneath me every time she took me back into the perfection that was her mouth but it wasn't much use.

  "Nat," I said as I felt myself getting there, wanting to warn her, "Nat! Oh, fuck baby. I'm going to come soon. Babe, you've got me so close."

  She caught the warning and pulled her mouth away from me momentarily.

  "Blake, I want you to come in my mouth. I want you to watch me swallowing it..."

  My whole body jerked up off the chair as she took me into her mouth again and I came almost instantly, groaning and burying one hand in her hair as I exploded, watching her swallowing my essence and not showing an ounce of disgust. She just looked up at me indulgently like the only thing she wanted in the whole world was what I was giving her.

  It took a long time for my breathing to get back to normal. Natasha stayed where she was for a few minutes, smiling up at me and licking the last few drops of cum off the tip of my cock as I shuddered with pleasure and stroked her cheek with my thumb. She was perfect. I'm surprised I managed not to propose to her right then and there, actually - the only reason I didn't is probably because she got up and made a crack about needing kneepads due to the stone flooring and I had to laugh.

  "Where the hell have you been, Natasha Ray?"

  "What do you mean?" She replied coyly as I zipped myself back up, feeling about as satisfied as I suspect it's possible for a man to feel.

  After the sun had set we headed out to the garden with glasses of wine and sat on wooden lounge chairs that overlooked the valley below, which was now twinkling with the lights of the small town.

  I turned to Nat in the dark and held out my glass.

  "To you, my beautiful girl. And to tomatoes."

  She clinked her glass against mine and we lay back and looked up at the night sky. At first she refused to believe that you could see satellites but I explained that the lack of light pollution in the countryside made it easier to see a lot more than was possible in L.A. and sure enough in a few minutes she was pointing and exclaiming:

  "Blake! Blake! I can see one! Look, up there!"

  I spotted the satellite streaking smoothly across the field of stars and reached out to squeeze Natasha's hand. How could I have known that halfway across the world, at the very same time as I lay there in a bubble of contentment with my sweet girl, the photographs that would mark the end of our happiness had already started to fly back and forth in the ether?

  Chapter 13: Natasha

  The bright Italian sunshine woke me up, shining through the ivy that covered the stone villa and giving the bedroom a trembling, dappled effect. Blake wasn't in bed with me but the smell of strong coffee was wafting up the stairs and I had a good idea as to where I would find him.

  "Good morning," I mumbled, slightly embarrassed by my sleeping in as I found Blake in the kitchen pouring espresso into those tiny little cups I've only ever seen in movies.

  "Morning? Nat, it's afternoon - you're jetlagged."

  He handed me an espresso and kissed my forehead gently.

  "Mmmm. And you aren't?"

  "Oh yeah, I only got up an hour ago - I'm probably more used to it than you are, though. It's always harder flying to Europe from North America than the other way around - the way back will be easier."

  The way back. My stomach sank slightly at the realization that life - and responsibilities - in Los Angeles remained, and that sooner than I thought I was going to have to return to them.

  "Do we have to go back? I think I just want to stay here forever, if that's OK? I can learn
how to grow vegetables and olive trees and we can just do nothing all day except swim in the pool and eat delicious food and...each other."

  Blake's hair was sticking up in all directions and he had the shadow of a beard on his unshaven face. He looked devastatingly sexy standing there shirtless in his PJ pants, cocking an eyebrow at me as I detailed my plan for our life of idleness and sex in the sun-soaked Italian countryside.

  The next few days were like a dream. Now, when I look back and remember them it's all in soft focus. Never had I known such complete contentment. We lived like teenagers on summer vacation, doing nothing but indulging ourselves - in each other, in the best food and wine I've ever tasted, in the feeling of the warm summer breeze that skimmed over our bare skin as we lounged naked by the pool. Everything was so perfect. I want to say that what happened was a shock, but it wasn't. That kind of happiness isn't something I'm built to accept as my due and no matter the circumstances of its occurrence, there was always some small, defiant part of me waiting for everything to come crashing down. Perhaps I wasn't expecting it to be as dramatic a downfall as it was, but when Blake walked into the kitchen where I was chopping vegetables and his face looked like thunder I'm not sure I can claim to have been surprised. It almost felt inevitable. Ah yes, here it is, the unknown thing that's going to ruin us and reveal my silly dreams for what they are.

  "What's up?" I asked him, holding my hands under the tap to wash off the vegetable debris.

  Blake looked me in the eye briefly and then down at the floor, shaking his head.

  "Nat..."

  I'd never seen him look so full of dread. It scared me.

  "Blake! What's going on? What's wrong? Why do you look like that?"

  He held his iPad out to me but when I went to take it he suddenly took it back.

  "Wait, Nat. Let me say something first. I have experience with this, OK?"

  What the hell was he talking about? Panic was rising up inside me - whatever was happening, it was serious.

  "Did something happen? Has someone died? What the hell Blake, is my family OK?"

  I could hear my own voice rising shrilly as my mind exploded with terrible possibilities.

  "No, Nat. No, your family is fine, so are your friends, everyone is fine. No one is dead."

  "Then what is it?" I asked as relief rendered me momentarily incapable of understanding that everyone else being fine didn't mean that whatever was happening was going to be of no consequence.

  "Natasha, I know who's behind this. I've already called Lisa and she's on it. This won't go unanswered."

  I reached out for the iPad he was still holding back and he let me take it, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting his head in his hands as I looked down at the screen.

  It took a few long, agonizing seconds for what I was seeing to sink in. It was a photo of me and a couple of friends from college - I recognized it immediately, I even remembered the party it had been taken at. There was me sitting in front of a coffee table and looking at the person taking the photo, who had managed to catch me in mid-blink so I looked blind drunk, even though in reality I had only just arrived and was actually completely sober. On one side of me Rosa was looking away, talking to someone out of shot and on the other side was Josh, a boy I remembered from freshman year, grinning goofily at the camera.

  My eyes flicked up and I recognized the logo of one of the well-known celebrity gossip websites. Underneath it, there was a headline:

  "CHEATING SCANDAL! Blake Charlton Cheats With Druggie Party Girl!"

  My reaction was so naive. I was genuinely confused. I didn't understand why there was a photo of me under a headline about Blake Charlton cheating with some party girl. When I spoke I faltered slightly:

  "Blake - why is there a - why is there a picture of me here? What's going on?"

  He stood up from the table and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his body protectively as my eyes stayed glued to the screen and my mind whirred. There was a glass marijuana pipe on the coffee table in the photograph. There was also a bong. Both objects jumped out at me suddenly. I remembered that party - it was at a frat house and the grinning boy beside me had spent all night trying to get me to agree to get high with him, which I had refused to do based mostly on his creepy insistence.

  It was me. I was the druggie party girl. And everyone I knew was going to see that headline, and that photo.

  "Oh my God," I whispered, looking up at Blake as the scope of the personal disaster sank in. My job. My family. My friends. Everyone was going to see that photo.

  "Natasha, please. Nat. Look at me. I've just spoken to Lisa. She is the best person in the whole business and she is on this. OK? She is on this. We're going to take care of it."

  He was grasping my shoulders and his grip was getting progressively tighter as my knees got weaker.

  "Blake," I gasped as the tingling feeling of a mounting panic attack started crawling through me, "How are you going to 'take care' of this?! This is out there. Right now! Everyone I know is going to see this!"

  Blake looked distraught. He pulled me against his chest again so I would stop looking at the screen and kissed the top of my head hard. When he spoke, he did it slowly and in a voice that was shaking with anger.

  "Nat, I promise you this is going to be taken care of. I promise you."

  Blake gave me half a Xanax and I spent the rest of the day wandering around like a zombie, wide-eyed, unspeaking and suddenly immune to the charms of Villa Ambra. He spent the rest of the day on the phone speaking in serious, controlled tones to Lisa and Barrington and who knows who else.

  It didn't get any better, either. It got worse. As the implications of the photo sunk in, as the e-mails and calls from concerned friends and family members poured in it slowly dawned on me that no matter what Blake did or who he sued, the damage was probably done. A lifetime of hard work and responsibility - of always trying to do the right thing - all of it canceled by a single image. Rosa told me the paparazzi were camped outside our apartment, grilling her and our other roommate as to my whereabouts, asking them to sell photos of me, offering money for lurid details of my life.

  The next day there were more photos. Photos of me and Blake on the beach in Malibu, mostly obscured by the grass that grew on the sand dunes but obviously having sex. I didn't look at them - I didn't need to - but when Blake told me they'd been published I just collapsed onto the floor, crying shamelessly, no longer able to contain myself. I looked up at him as tears ran down my face.

  "You said it was safe there. You said there wouldn't be any paparazzi anywhere."

  I could see the hurt on his face - I could also see his anger curdling into something cold and focused. I didn't want to hurt Blake, that isn't why I said what I said, but I had trusted him! He was the one with years of experience dealing with paparazzi and parasitical fortune-seekers of all kinds - of course I had believed him. Why hadn't we just held out long enough to get into the house?

  "There wouldn't be, Nat. We were followed. Not a single soul knew where we went that day. Vanessa's probably had me followed since the day I left Three Palms. Fuck!"

  He slammed his fist down on the table so hard it shook.

  "I need to fly back to L.A. You should stay here. We can't be photographed together. They're going to be all over both of us."

  "No, Blake. I'm not staying here alone," I said, shaking my head and trying to catch his eye. "I understand that we can't be seen together but I'm not staying here by myself, I need to be with people who love me - I'm barely holding it together right now."

  "Alright," Blake said, thinking, "I have a house about an hour north of L.A. You can stay there - bring Rosa and your mom and anyone you need. You're also going to need a new phone - Lisa will have it for you when you get back. You should change all your passwords on all your e-mail accounts - everything."

  He helped me up and pulled me into his lap, tucking a loose curl of hair behind my ear and stroking my face.

  "Natash
a, I want to say something to you."

  "OK."

  "This is absolutely terrible. Your privacy has been invaded in a disgusting way and I know you're shocked and angry. I am angry, too - you have no idea - but I'm not shocked. I should have seen this coming and I didn't. I'm so sorry, sweet girl. I'm so sorry."

  When I looked up at him his eyes were shining. I was about to respond but he continued.

  "I've been here before. There's really not much the paps or the press can do to me at this point - even if my career is destroyed I won't go hungry. It's different for you, I understand that. I would do anything to fix this - I am doing everything to fix this. I just, Natasha, I don't want to lose you..."

  Did he think he was going to lose me? I almost laughed at what to me seemed at the time like an absurd worry.

  "Blake - what are you talking about? You're not going to lose me."

  He looked at me very intently, studying my face. "I hope you're right, Nat. I really hope you're right, because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

  "Blake," I turned my face up to his and kissed his mouth tenderly, "I know whose fault this is. I know it isn't yours. Please don't worry about that."

  "Like I said, Nat, I hope you're right. You - I don't think you have any idea how insidious this kind of thing can be - the media hunger, the negative attention, it's so destructive. I'll do anything to protect you from it."

  I flew back to Los Angeles the next day on a separate flight from Blake, and when I landed at LAX, Rosa was there to greet me. As soon as I saw her face I started crying hard, almost sobbing right there at the arrivals gate as she put her arms around me and stroked my hair.

  "Shh, Nat. It's OK. I packed all your stuff and I'm coming up to stay with you at Blake's place for the next two nights at least - we're going to make sure you're never alone. We're going to deal with this, alright? Me and you and everyone who loves you, we're all going to deal with this and in six months no one will remember any of it, I promise."