Knocked Up By My Billionaire Boss

by Ella Brooke

  Celia gave James a look that he was certain he had never seen before. He remembered her as a sunlight girl, all sweetness and summer wonder. Now there was a stoniness to her gaze that he would never have considered before.

  “That was long ago,” Celia said, her voice polite but distant. “I’m surprised that Mr. Casey remembers it at all.”

  She turned to the woman who had brought her here, and when James realized what she was saying, he nearly recoiled in shock.

  “Joyce, I’m afraid that I do not feel very well. Do you mind if I leave? I really should be getting home.” The woman—Joyce—looked surprised. She was already nodding her assent when James stepped in.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to need just a moment of your time, Celia,” he said, his voice brusque. “I can’t have you running off just yet.”

  When it looked like Celia was going to protest, James took her by the elbow and her sharp gray eyes narrowed slightly. She could tell from his grip that he was not going to let go anytime soon. James met her gaze with a calm look, and from the angry resignation in Celia’s eyes, he could tell that she understood.

  Celia realized that James was going to get his way. She could make a fuss about how tightly he was holding her and keeping her at the event, or she could go along with him and listen to what he had to say.

  Joyce’s eyes traveled between the two of them, and to her credit, she gave James a rather suspicious look. Celia, however, only shook her head.

  “That’s fine, I certainly don’t mind discussing some museum policies and prospects with you, Mr. Casey. Just as long as you understand that I cannot stay long.”

  “I’m sure whatever time you are willing to give me will be enough,” he said, his own voice clipped. “Joyce, if you will excuse us.”

  Without waiting to hear an answer from the other woman, he marched Celia to one of the small alcoves set along the main wall. These small alcoves served as miniature galleries on their own, but tonight they were mostly empty as the large pieces were out on the main floor. All that James cared about right this moment, however, was how empty they were.

  The moment they were in relative seclusion James released Celia, eyes narrowed to see if she would try to escape. Instead, she simply straightened to her full height, meeting his eyes squarely with her own steely gaze.

  “Well?” she asked, and he felt a lick of that famous Irish temper flicker through him.

  “‘Well’?” he echoed. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

  The glance she gave him was completely unashamed. “What else should I say to you? I think we have said all that we need to say to each other two years ago.” Unbidden, the memories of their last assignation came back to him, and James flinched slightly.

  “God’s sake, Celia, stop and talk to me for a moment,” he said impatiently. “The child you are carrying alone...”

  “The child that I carried for nine months, I carried alone,” she snapped. “The daughter who I brought into this world through eighteen hours of labor, I brought into this world alone. It is my name and my name only on the birth certificate, and that is final.”

  To James’s shock, she spun on her heel and tried to walk away. Acting on instinct, he grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around. The sudden motion startled the little girl she was carrying, who sucked in her breath and let out a howl that was all out of proportion with her size. James pulled back in surprise, and Celia turned to him with a glare. Her anger would not have halted him, but the bright glimmer of tears in her eyes did.

  “Leave me alone,” she snarled, a catch in her soft voice. “Leave us alone. You’ve done enough damage.”

  “You must know that I can’t,” he said, and no one was more surprised than James when his voice came out soft, almost regretful.

  Celia blinked at him for a moment, and after a brief internal debate with herself, she nodded. “All right. If you need to pursue this, if you find that you cannot go on with an explanation, you can call me tomorrow. Here.” She handed him a card. James glanced at it briefly, bemused to see that her position was listed as liaison. She had climbed in the world since he had last seen her.

  “And you will answer?” he asked, aware of how skeptical he sounded. Seeing Celia and the dark-haired little girl she carried had awakened something in him, something he could only guess at. Now that he had seen the child, he was extremely reluctant to let her leave his sight.

  Celia’s arms were wrapped protectively around her daughter, and she gave him a long look up and down. James felt as if his soul was being weighed, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he felt distinctly unworthy.

  “Yes, I will,” she murmured. “But right now that’s all I’ll promise, so stop fishing.” It was thrown down like a challenge. James was not a man who was challenged often, and when he was, he tended to meet them with the full-bore aggression needed to compete in the business circles in which he traveled. He had faced off against some of the toughest challengers in his field. How they would have laughed to see a young woman, practically still a girl, staring him down.

  “All right,” James said, and after another wary look, she slid past him. He watched her go, and his heart clenched at the peak of blue eyes that seemed focused on him over her shoulder.

  Chapter Two

  Two years ago

  “Celia, are you still working? You were meant to be done half an hour ago.” Celia looked up, hunching her shoulders slightly in guilt. Her mother had always told her that it made her look like a scared squirrel, but she couldn’t stop herself from doing it even under the best of circumstances.

  “Oh, um, I meant to be done, but then I thought that if I could just finish up with these fliers, then—”

  Joyce frowned at her, shaking her head. “Not the way it works, kiddo. When you’re scheduled to clock out, you need to clock out. No exceptions.” Celia tried not to look as if she were wilting, but Joyce sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Just keep an eye on it in the future, okay?”

  Celia nodded, and her manager’s face softened a little.

  “Look, the museum’s still open for another hour or two. Why don’t you go catch the special exhibit? I don’t think you’ve been yet, and you really ought not miss it.”

  “I will,” Celia said gratefully, gathering up her things. “That sounds fantastic.”

  There were several reasons that Celia chose to work at the museum. It was only a short distance away from her apartment, it offered good insurance and it provided her with a free meal at the cafe every day, but those were just perks. A part of her had been drawn to the museum for its art and for the opportunity to see exhibits that took her breath away.

  Celia grew up dreaming about museums and art, even though her practical parents told her that art was a tough field to get into. Now she was an adult, and even if there was very little money left in her bank account at the end of the month, she still had all this art.

  She stashed her things in her locker and made her way to the upper floor where the special exhibit was being hosted. The exhibit featured the work of a sculptor that she had never heard of before, but when she entered the dim gallery, his inspirations were very clear.

  The wood and brass sculptures towered above her, the forms organic and rounded. Despite the smooth curves of the wood and the warm glint of bronze, there was something absolutely menacing about the statues, especially as she went deeper into the room.

  The exhibit was imbued with a kind of sensuality that made Celia uneasy. Here was one sculpture that, from a certain angle, seemed to show a figure with its hand clenched in another figure’s hair. Another one seemed to be running its prey down to the ground, and a third featured a kneeling figure looking up at something with what could only be defined as lust in its abstract face.

  Celia’s heart beat faster and she knew that she was blushing. Her face felt as if it was on fire, and it was from embarrassment as much as it was from the sensuality of the exhibit. She had
a few acquaintances who would roll their eyes and say that it was par for the course; that of course Celia Breeland was shaken up by plain wooden statues. However, they would never have guessed that something about the savage art resonated with her, that touched her to the core of her untried heart and body.

  She paused in front of a sculpture that was half as tall as she was. The figure was definitely female, though slight, and the hint of a smile across the figure’s face was knowing. Two hands, startlingly detailed, came up to cup the figure’s small breasts as if offering them to an unknown watcher, and Celia licked her dry lips.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Celia thought that she was alone in the gallery. The sudden words directed at her made her yelp, and that was answered with a low chuckle that sent a shiver up her spine. Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms over her chest, spinning to where the noise was coming from.

  Celia had always thought that museums were sacred places, somewhere below churches but certainly above shopping malls and restaurants. The man who was slouched at the bench against the wall certainly did not agree.

  He had hair as black as ink, but even in the dim light of the gallery she could tell his eyes were a piercing blue. His face was utterly masculine, certainly handsome, but there was a sensuality to his lips that she absently thought would push him to beautiful. There was no telling how tall he was as he slouched on the bench, his elegant clothes in disarray and his hands carelessly resting on his thighs. His eyes seemed to flicker over her, taking it all in with a kind of wry amusement.

  “I beg your pardon?” Celia asked, her voice rising a little.

  “The girl. The one you’re looking at as if she holds all the meaning of life.” There was something foreign about the man’s accent. He spoke English as if it was his mother tongue, but she knew that no one in Eastwick had an accent like that.

  “I just think she’s lovely,” Celia stuttered, and the man tilted his head to once side.

  “Is that all you think?”

  “No,” Celia said, her voice as soft as a sigh. “There’s something mysterious about it as well, isn’t there? It’s like she’s... she’s offering herself up to something. Something we can’t understand.”

  The man chuckled and sat up a little straighter. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft and rich. “I can’t be calling across the gallery at you, can I?”

  Celia wondered if she should politely take her leave and resume her tour of the gallery, or even duck out of the room and go home. However, the disturbance this man caused in her had nothing to do with alarm. It was fascination, she decided, and she came a little closer.“There’s a love,” he said when she was standing in front of him.

  In this position, Celia was taller than the man she was speaking to, but she could tell now that that was only temporary. The man—Irish, she thought—was tall, and sprawled out on the bench, he made her think of a soldier taking his rest.

  “So you don’t think it’s a mystery?” she asked, and Celia wondered why her voice was so breathless.

  “Not at all,” he replied with a slight wink. “I think she’s offering herself up to her man.”

  Celia’s face went pink and she took a step back. “You think that’s all for... for just a man?” she asked, and she might have turned away if the man’s hand hadn’t snaked out to take her own. It was warm enough to make her gasp, and the moment he touched her, a spark of electricity jumped between them, sharp, almost painful. It felt as if it had sensitized every nerve in her body.

  From the surprised look on the man’s face, he had felt it as well, but he did not let her go. Instead, when he looked up at her, his eyes were darker, almost a deep sapphire.

  “Now that’s not what I said,” he murmured, his accent a little thicker. “I meant her man. Not any man, not any idiot who asks or who spends a bit of money on her or who says beautiful things to her in the dark of the night.”

  “Her man.”

  “Yes. The one she takes to her heart. The one who consumes her even as she consumes him. There is only one, and to him she will give anything.”

  “And what does he give her in return?” Celia asked, aware that her voice was trembling. In all her twenty years, she knew that she had never felt like this before, as if she wanted to burst out of her own skin. Something about this mysterious man made her mouth dry, made her want to run and come closer.

  “He gives her everything,” he said simply. “What any decent man offers to the woman that is his. He gives her everything.”

  The man rose to his feet, revealing himself as tall enough to tower above her. The smile he gave her was bright and amused, as far from the solemn things he had been saying as it could get. Celia lurched back, wondering if he had been making fun of her, but his hand came out to steady her.

  “My name is James,” he said. “I came in here to get a bit of a rest from my troubles, and who should come along but you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “The perfect cure for all that ails me.”

  “I’m not a bottle of aspirin,” she said, startled, but he only grinned.

  “You’re a beautiful girl who I would very much like to take to dinner,” he said. “Come on, I was thinking of sushi.”

  ***

  Celia thought that sushi would be all that happened between them. He took her to a beautiful restaurant where they were seated on gorgeous tatami mats, the fish in front of them an incredible display of the chef’s art. She had had supermarket sushi before and found it dull, but now she discovered the difference a four hundred dollar dinner could make. When she protested the cost, James grinned.

  “What’s the point of having cash if I can’t use it for what I like?”

  “What is it you like?” she asked without thinking, and he touched her hand again.

  “You.”

  The food was delicious, but her anxiety only mounted over the next hour or so. When he walked her back to her car, Celia finally turned to him.

  “I’m not sleeping with you,” she murmured desperately. “I mean this is lovely, and the sushi was great, and you are so handsome, but I am not going to just fall into bed with you.”

  She had been braced for all manner of reactions, but she was still surprised when James laughed and nodded.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” he drawled. He had said that his accent was pure Dublin, and to her ear, there was a lilt to it, as if he were singing each word, just a little. “Very sorry indeed, but that is of course your choice. I always want it to be your choice.”

  She felt a rush of emotions then. There was relief of course, but there was also what felt like a tide of regret, and a part of her couldn’t stop looking at his mouth, how beautiful it was and how wicked.

  “My choice,” she echoed, and his eyes darkened slightly.

  “Of course. But I would like to offer you another choice now.”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you like to kiss me?”For some reason, his words hit her like a gale. Her entire body felt suddenly as if it was too warm, and her skin prickled as if with lightning. The answer was yes, but before she could even shape it with her lips, her body was moving forward, almost falling, and she was caught in James’s arms. They closed around her with an utter certainty and strength. When Celia lifted her face, he kissed her, his mouth moving over hers with a sensuality that took her breath away.

  Celia felt the immovable bulk of her car at her back, and in front of her James seemed just as solid, just as strong. Instead of feeling trapped, however, she relished the press of his body against hers. His mouth lingered over hers, gentle and light until her lips parted. His tongue slid over the fullness of her lower lip, sending a cascade of pleasure through her. With her gasp, she swallowed his kiss, took it deeper until his tongue was sliding inside her mouth in blatant imitation of what they both wanted.

  “Oh God, James,” she murmured, and the soft sound he made, somewhere between a moan and a groan, curled red-hot through he
r body.

  She might have kept on kissing him, but then she felt the bulge in his trousers pressed against her belly. It didn’t alarm her. Instead, it was the opposite. Feeling his need for her made her own need shoot high into the night sky. In that moment, Celia knew that she could not trust herself around James, that if he asked her to come to his bed, she would not say no.

  The lack of control over her own instincts shocked her, and she pushed him away. For a moment, James didn’t budge, and then with a soft regretful sigh, he pulled away from her, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets.

  “So, we are done with each other for tonight?” he asked, and Celia felt a tide of regret as she nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, a red blush coming up to stain her cheeks. God, she could be such a child sometimes. Other women would have no trouble taking such a handsome man to bed, but her…

  Before her self-deprecating thoughts could get out of hand, however, James reached forward and touched her chin, making her look up at him.

  “Never be sorry for telling me what you want,” he murmured throatily. “I will always want to hear that. Perhaps some day, you will say something that will make us both smile.”

  He kissed her, this time on the forehead. For a moment, Celia thought he was simply going to disappear into dimness, but he pulled out his phone instead. “I want to see you again,” he said softly. “May I have your phone number?” For a moment, she stared, and then she fumbled for her own phone.

  “Of course,” she said.

  Her own contacts were astonishingly small. There was her estranged mother, and a handful of co-workers that she had contacted for various professional reasons. When James texted her, she smiled immediately at seeing his name on her screen.

  “Well, that’s that for tonight then, little love,” he said. “I’ll see you again soon, all right?”

  Celia felt strange as she returned to her own tiny apartment. Everything felt brighter, new. It was as if the world had changed, but she knew that wasn’t it. She was the one who had changed instead, and when her phone chimed gently, she knew why.