Wicked Lil' Brat: A Secret Baby Romance

by Alexis Angel

  The skies open up above me and the first flash of lightning and crack of thunder goes through just as I'm angrily crossing the median divider of Park Avenue as I head west.

  I notice that the skies have darkened. They're a whole lot darker now than they were just five minutes ago when I stormed out of the Four Seasons.

  There's another flash and crack.

  And within seconds, just as I get to the sidewalk, the first heavy drops of rain start to fall from the sky.

  I don't have an umbrella, unlike everyone around me who seems to pull theirs out.

  So I'm just walking down Park Avenue as the rain starts coming down.

  I'm getting drenched. But you know what?

  Fuck it.

  I'm pregnant. Lonely.

  The woman I thought was my mother actually has no relation to me. The only connection I truly have with her is that she caused my biological father to kill himself years ago.

  The man that I thought of as my stepfather and who I thought I was falling in love with happens to have betrayed me worse than I've ever thought possible—trading in love and happiness for the chance to save his company by joining forces with the Devil.

  Oh, and I'm also carrying his baby.

  And if Mason is out of my life, then it's probably a good bet that I'm out of a job. I mean, either Lorna will come for me, or he will.

  My "mother" has already kicked me out of her house. She could very easily require Mason to force me out of a job.

  Which means that I wouldn't have enough money to even afford the walk-up apartment I have on the Lower East Side without a job.

  Do you remember earlier on when you first met me I told you that I never really grew up knowing poverty or want?

  I know I may have come across as a bit of a brat, basically saying oh I've been well off.

  Well, guess what, hun. I'm broke, single, lonely, betrayed, pregnant, and drenched to the bone as I walk down New York City right about now.

  I think if anything this whole experience has me humbled. A lot.

  What? You don't believe me?

  I mean, hun, I've lost everything I have. I've pretty much had everything either taken or stolen away from me since you met me.

  Seriously, there is no way for a happily ever after from here.

  There's only one thing that I can do, if I'm looking to survive right now.

  I start to run downtown toward the Kane Price offices. I take off my shoes and run barefoot. What the fuck do I care at this point? I'm already soaked to the core in this downpour.

  I make it to the 52nd Street and Park Avenue headquarters of Kane Price a few minutes later. The sidewalks have cleared out because of the rain and even the traffic is a lot slower. But I don't pay any attention to that, going into the building.

  I can tell the few people in the lobby look at me in a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity but I seriously have no more fucks left to give as I find my ID badge and buzz myself past the security turnstiles and toward the elevator banks.

  The security desk can't do anything to stop me if I'm wet as long as I have my security badge that gives me access.

  The elevator takes me up to my floor. It's evening and a lot of people have left for the day so not too many people stare at me as I walk to my computer.

  Water is literally dripping from my hair, face, and clothes. I'm definitely leaving a trail, but I don't care.

  I go to my desk and turn on my computer.

  It takes five minutes to copy everything I have on Red Lion Aviation and put all of the information on a secure USB that I plug into the computer. Once all the information has been transferred, I take the USB and put it in the driest corner of my purse.

  The next thing I do is open up my email.

  I compose a letter to my direct manager, deciding to copy Mason as well.

  My manager is going to freak the fuck out, that's for sure. A lowly 21-year old intern is copying the billionaire CEO on her resignation letter.

  "Dear Jonathan,

  It is with great regret that I must tender my resignation from Kane Price effective immediately due to personal circumstances. I apologize for the lack of notice as well as the cryptic nature of my message.

  Sincerely,

  Rebecca Lowell"

  As long as I resign first, then Mother can't come out and get Mason to fire me. Which means that at least I have a chance to restart my career on Wall Street.

  Although, who am I kidding? If Mason is really sticking his cock inside Lorna and doing her bidding, I don't know if any place in the world will be safe for me.

  A part of me is ready to cry. But the greater part of me is still in shock.

  I idly wonder for a moment how Mason could be so evil. Something doesn't quite add up.

  I mean, he held me in his arms. I remember looking into his eyes.

  They were full of care. He was always concerned about me.

  I don't understand. Was he lying the whole time? Was it just a game to him?

  Or does he really care about me and maybe he really was starting to fall in love with me but he was willing to sell the whole thing just to make sure that Lorna wasn't going to take his company away from him.

  In which case, he's chosen what is most important to him.

  And I need to do what is most important to me.

  Sorry, this isn't much of the romance story that you thought, is it, hun?

  I mean, again, I'm pretty sure there's no HEA with him and me, here. Ever.

  I look around. I thought all the knick knacks I had on my desk were important. Pictures with my mother. A giant finger from Yankee Stadium that Mason had got for me when we went to go watch the Yankees. A stress ball. Some inspirational pictures. Some gifts from co-workers.

  No, none of it matters anymore.

  What I need to do more than anything else is to get home.

  I leave my computer on and walk to the door that will take me to the elevator banks. Outside the rain continues.

  But I no longer care about rain or getting wet.

  I mean, what's a few ruined clothes to a person who's dealing with a ruined heart, you know?

  Oh well.

  26

  Mason

  Fucking Christ.

  If you're still with me and you don't hate me after what just happened, then you're a fucking saint.

  Because right about now, I feel like the lowest piece of shit around.

  I deserve to be with this fucking woman next to me. With this harpy from hell.

  "Ready, dear?" Lorna says to me, getting up from the table.

  She doesn't even look backward; she's walking toward the door. Her ass is swaying and I even catch a few of the men seated around the restaurant stare at it as she walks by them, but I swear to fucking God it does nothing for me.

  Once Becca stormed off, I had the chance to be the man that could look at himself in the fucking mirror.

  I could have gone after her and taken her in my arms and told her that she never needed to worry about me. That if she wanted to I'd drop everything.

  But I didn't.

  Because big bad Mason Kane is a fucking coward.

  You heard that right.

  The King of Wall Street is a lowly piece of fucking pond scum that can't even reassure the woman he loves. And yeah, I fucking love her. I realize that now.

  But to save my company, to save everything I built, I'm following the woman I hate outside the Four Seasons.

  The rain is coming down by now pretty hard and we wait underneath the awning as Lorna's limo arrives.

  "Let's go to my place, dear," Lorna says with a lascivious smile. "Becca's moved out so we can really break the place in."

  I don't say anything at all because I'm afraid if I start talking I'm going to say something I fucking regret.

  Instead I get into the limo after Lorna and sit down, my mood darkened.

  Remarkably, Lorna does not jump me the moment the door to the limo closes. No. I know, it's a fucking s
urprise to me too, and honestly, a good one. Maybe the only good surprise in an otherwise fucked up situation.

  I mean, I know where we're headed. I know what she expects of me. She's been very upfront with her desire. I just haven't thought about it.

  Instead of jumping on me, Lorna sits across from me. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, wantonly hiking up her skirt to give me a better view of her inner thighs.

  On Becca, I would be hard in an instant. Hell, the car would be rocking back and forth by now.

  Instead, all I can think about is the look of abject hurt on Becca's face when I told her that I couldn't leave. That I had to stay for dinner. That I would probably be going home with Lorna.

  All I can think about is Becca's body as it trembled as she realized that I was going to place the survival of my company over her feelings.

  Listen, I hate it when you look at me like that, alright, Gorgeous?

  This is Wall Street. This is business. You don't have time for feelings.

  I have a fucking fiduciary duty to my shareholders. To the people who rely on me to keep the company running. There are people with retirement accounts, both investors and fucking employees. Their families.

  The car stops outside Lorna's townhouse and the driver opens the door.

  She gets out first.

  That's her shaking her ass at me as she exits the limo.

  Fuck. I need to think about the college tuition that people who work with me are saving for. The 529 Savings plans.

  We walk into the main entrance and Lorna wastes no time.

  She turns around and pushes me toward the entrance to the living room. I let her push me back until I'm back on the sofa on my back.

  Same as the last time I was here.

  Fuck.

  Think of the fucking people that rely on me for their paycheck. Their livelihoods. Their families. Their kids.

  "And now, Mr. Kane, I'm going to enjoy making you mine," Lorna says with an evil smile as she unzips her dress.

  I lay back and watch the dress fall to the floor. She's wearing a lace black bra and a tiny thong.

  Her breasts are big. Her stomach is flat. Her thighs are slender.

  Fuck, she even has a thigh gap.

  But she can't hold a fucking candle to her beautiful daughter.

  Lorna slowly puts her hands to her back and unclasps her bra. She shakes her shoulders and the straps fall off and she lets the garment fall to the floor.

  "Like what you see?" she asks me, hardly paying attention, but rather looking down at her melons as she caresses her body. Her hands go down to her waist and she hooks her fingers under the waistband of her thong and pushes it down.

  She kicks her thong in my direction and it lands on my chest.

  She's shaved. Completely.

  Understand this. If I had never fucking met Becca, I'd probably man the fuck up and I'd tell my cock to get hard and fuck her.

  "I guarantee you, I'll be a lot better lay than my daughter," she purrs.

  What the fuck? My eyes flash toward her in shock.

  "Oh, yes, I know," she gives me a lascivious smile. "Well at least I suspected there was something there, but I didn't know till just now."

  Fucking Christ.

  "I think it's sort of kinky," she says, stepping towards me and running her fingers over my pants. "First you had the daughter. Now you'll have the mother. And I know you'll choose me."

  Lorna puts her knee in between my legs and gently brings it up. I feel her press against my cock and I can tell that it's twitching involuntarily.

  But just hearing her words I realize what I'm doing. What I'm allowing to happen to me.

  You know what, Gorgeous?

  Fuck it.

  I don't care if I lose fucking Kane Price.

  I don't care if I never work on Wall Street again.

  I'm not going to give up the one good thing in my life for a company. I'm not going to sacrifice my happiness to make more money.

  Lorna brings her mouth toward me. "I know you're going to enjoy me," she purrs. "And if you even want I can do a press conference and tell the world I know for a fact you're not impotent and gay. Describe how good you fucked me. I bet Becca will cry for days."

  Fuck off, bitch.

  "Did you say something?" she asks me. She must have heard me mumbling.

  Apparently I didn't speak loudly.

  "I said to fuck off," I say, looking at her. "And then I called you a bitch."

  Lorna looks at me for a moment.

  I don't know where that hand of hers comes from but it's at an awkward angle and trying to slap me.

  I grab it by the wrist and hold it up. She yelps as I lift my body up.

  Lorna tries to latch on, but I throw her.

  Not hard, mind you, Gorgeous.

  I'm a hard fucking man and I've left my enemies in the dust, but I would never touch a fucking woman.

  No, I throw her against the sofa where she crouches as she looks at me.

  I take one last look at her.

  "I think our deal is fucking off," I tell her simply.

  I'm not mad.

  I'm just removing her from my goddamn life.

  "If our deal is off, then your company is mine," Lorna shrieks. I pause and turn to look at her. She has no fucking clue. "I won't stop until Becca ends up just like her father!"

  Becca told me all about her Dad and Lorna.

  You know how I told you I never hit women?

  Well, Gorgeous...just this once I am so fucking tempted.

  But it won't do anything.

  I'm strong enough to leave.

  My mind is a jumble as I hail a cab that takes me downtown.

  “Where do you want me to take you exactly, man?” the cabbie asks me and I jump.

  I’d been in my own little world. Not even realizing that we’re already in Midtown.

  Fuck, I need to get my mind off of this shit.

  “Just drop me near 6th Avenue far corner,” I tell the cabbie and he pulls up to the curb. I swipe and get out.

  I need to get my mind off of Lorna.

  I also need to get it off of Becca. I mean, my brain needs a complete reboot.

  So what do I do?

  I head into Lace.

  It’s a strip club off 35th street, in the shadow of the Empire State Building.

  Don’t shake your head, Gorgeous. New York City is filled with strip clubs, massage parlors, peep shows, and brothels.

  They’re just sitting right in front of you in plain sight.

  Times Square? You got peep shows where you pay a buck per minute to jerk off to the girl in the room fingering herself.

  Near Grand Central? $200 an hour gets you a massage with a happy ending from a fucking Eastern European or Asian masseuse.

  On the East Side? $300 and up and you can go into apartment buildings and pick the girl and take her for an hour to a room where you can fuck her brains out.

  Sure, I’ve done some of it.

  But I work on Wall Street. This is the fucking culture.

  “Hey Mason, long time,” a stripper says as I enter the dimly lit main stage.

  I look at her.

  “Destiny?” I ask. She smiles at me.

  Right. I forgot to tell you that there have been a host of Kane Price department parties at this place. Destiny and I have had our share of fun in the past.

  She’s a good fuck. Just likes her pussy liked and her ass spanked and for me to cum all over her face.

  “What you looking for today?” she asks, her hands traveling to her tits. “Fuck me in the Champagne room or you want me to blow you in the VIP?”

  I look at her for a second.

  That’s when it hits me.

  Did I just leave Lorna to come here?

  “Just give me a second, alright?” I tell her and go outside again.

  Thankfully, the rain has stopped.

  I look downtown.

  In my old life, I would have been looking either inside to Desti
ny or uptown to Lorna.

  In my old life, I would have no problem fucking Lorna. Hell, I might have even traded in my morals and enjoyed it.

  But I’ve changed.

  I realize that I’m no longer the same person.

  It took me a long time to figure this out, but I realize that I’ve been a complete idiot.

  My company is something I built. The whole ‘King of Wall Street’ is something I built for myself.

  But it doesn’t mean a damn without the woman I love being by my side.

  I need Becca. I love Becca.

  But it’s already late. And I don’t want to text her booty call fashion on top of everything she’s been through.

  I need to go home and calm down. Then I need to wake up in the morning and work out.

  And then, around noon, after she’s had enough time, I need to go make things right with her.

  And never look back.

  27

  Becca

  They say yoga is like refreshment to the soul. It’s with that in mind that I put on a tight tank top and squeeze myself inside a pair of yoga pants. I place the rubber mat in the living room, at my feet, and close my eyes. Exercise has always helped me deal with the stress at work, and I just hope it will help me the same when it comes to matters of the heart. Because there’s no other way to put it: right now, my heart is shattered.

  After tasting what real love and lust feels like, I truly don’t know how to move on with my life now. Mason is on my mind constantly: I’ve been thinking about him nonstop since I ran out of the Four Seasons last night, and I dreamt of him when last night even as I was asleep. It’s torture, plain and simple, and I have no idea on how to escape from the pain.

  I go down on the mat, placing my hands in front of me, and arch my back, taking one deep breath. I start slow, assuming an easy position, but then progress to more complicated ones, pushing both my mind and body to the limit. As time passes and beads of sweat start to form on my skin, I feel my body relaxing - still, the gears inside my head keep on turning and turning, Mason’s smile dancing behind my closed eyelids.

  Trying some of the hardest positions, I let my muscles work until they’re exhausted and, only when I can no longer move, do I lay down on the mat. Sprawled on the floor, I look at the ceiling, the pounding of my heart against my eardrums. Locks of hair are plastered to my forehead, glued to my skin by sweat, and I already feel my shirt sticking to my body. Sighing heavily, I sit up and purse my lips, giving up on trying to forget about Mason. Forget about yoga, I need something more drastic.