Billionaire's Secret Babies (An Alpha Billionaire Secret Baby Romance Love Story)

by Claire Adams

  We went our separate ways, and I didn't look back until I reached the end of the block. I had hoped I felt her eyes on me, but when I looked over my shoulder, Corsica was halfway up the sidewalk towards my house.

  It took all I had to pull out my phone and keep walking. "Phillip? Yeah, I'm on my way. Order me a whiskey."

  Phillip pushed the double shot towards me when I slumped into the seat across from him. "Why do I think you could use this more than me? I thought I was the one who just got dumped."

  "You got dumped?" I tossed back a heavy gulp and let the whiskey burn my throat. "I thought it was usually the other way around."

  "Nah," Phillip said. "I only dump the ladies who are just after my family jewels. Or my fortune."

  I gave him a wan smile. "So what happened?"

  "Turns out she wasn't after anything but me. And I turned out to not be good enough."

  I flagged down the bartender and ordered another round. "So, what's the plan? Find someone with longer legs and a lower IQ who only wants what you have?"

  Phillip laughed, but it was short and harsh. "No. I'm sick of gold-diggers. Maybe I'll take your route and pretend I'm poor until some nice girl actually falls for my bullshit."

  "Not fair," I said, but I punished myself with another burning gulp. "Besides, I think Corsica might be a gold-digger. The subtle, smart kind, but still the same species."

  "Or are you just paranoid? You think she's finally figured out who you are and how much you’re worth?"

  I shook my head. "She's more interested in outlining her little, multi-million-dollar ideas."

  Phillip snorted. "Sounds like the perfect match for you. Until she finds out you lied. That's how I got dumped. She found out I lied about remembering her birthday. She wasn't impressed by how good my personal assistant is, even less so when she found out how much I pay him."

  "My problem is that Corsica will probably be over the moon when she finds out my lie. She'll think she's Cinderella and I'm Prince Charming."

  Phillip hiccupped and sipped his whiskey. "No one's going to make that mistake with you, my friend."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "So, what do you think will happen when she finds out I'm loaded?"

  "She'll be mad. Probably throw something. See this cut on my forehead? It was a vase. Ugly damn thing, and I'm glad it's gone, but it hurt like hell."

  Phillip swirled the last dregs of his whiskey. "But then I bet Corsica will relax. You said she's scrambling to take care of herself; maybe she'll relax when she realizes you can take care of her millions of times over."

  The thought of Corsica letting me foot every bill made me laugh. "She won't go for that. I bet she'll storm out and not come back until she's worth more than double what I am."

  She really wasn’t a gold-digger like I had said. Emotions had just overtaken me.

  Phillip's eyes swam. "How's that a bad thing?"

  "Come on," I sighed. "You're drunk, and I'm calling your driver."

  "Just admit it, Penn," Phillip said as we wove our way outside. "You can't predict what Corsica will do, and that just proves she's not like all the others. You should give her the benefit of the doubt."

  That sage advice from my drunk friend kept my spirits up. The whiskey didn't hurt either. I trotted up the front steps in the mood to make up and hoped to find her singing over the piano. Instead, I found her on the phone, and the first words I heard out of her mouth made me cringe.

  "The best part of the day was the dress. You should see it, Ginny. It even made Kara jealous. Yeah, Versace, can you believe it?" Corsica sat on an armchair facing the ocean and didn't hear me come in.

  "That was the best part of your day?" I snapped.

  Corsica jumped and swiveled around in the armchair. "Gotta go, Ginny. Yes, and thank you!"

  I didn't wait until she hung up her phone. "Sounds like you’re more excited about some blue dress with a fancy name than you are about your singing gig. And who got you that audition? Doesn't matter unless it costs money, huh, Corsica?"

  "I only tried on the dress because you made fun of me for looking at it in the window." Corsica jumped up from her chair and marched to the kitchen. "I didn't ask you to buy it for me, so don't come whining to me about your depleted bank account."

  I stopped myself just before I told her the astronomical state of my accounts. The whiskey was pumping hot through my body and into my brain. "That's why it's so easy for you to pretend with me, isn't it? You couldn't possibly be interested in someone as poor as me."

  "Poor? For someone who keeps trying to cry poor, you look like you're doing just fine to me." Corsica gestured to the wall of custom-made windows with ocean views. "I bet this has nothing to do with money; you're just feeling guilty for using me for sex."

  I had to hold onto the kitchen island for support. "What?"

  Corsica grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator and slammed the door. Then, she cracked open the can so it sprayed across the kitchen island at me. "You heard me. This whole thing was just an easy way for you to get sex without the complications of a real relationship. And you call me shallow."

  The warm effects of the whiskey fled, and I was stone-cold sober. "You think I'm using you for sex?"

  "Oh, are you going to try to tell me it was just the magic of the solstice or the influence of the starlight?" Corsica slammed the soda can down on the counter. "I thought it was really something. I thought we were done pretending. Then we got back here, and you've been jumping on every little thing I do and accusing me of things like using you, of all people, for your money."

  "I'm not accusing you-"

  "Then I am," Corsica snapped.

  I held onto the counter and shook my head to clear it. I marched around the kitchen island and grabbed Corsica by the shoulders. "I wasn't using you for sex. I was trying to get you out of my system. You're all I can think about. This is all I can think about."

  I crushed her angry retort under a kiss and held tight as she tried to push me away. The struggle sparked the passion between us. Corsica growled under her breath, but stood on her tiptoes to give me every bit of the kiss right back.

  "See?" I ground out against her lips. "It doesn't work. I can't get enough of you, and it's driving me crazy."

  "Then this might help," Corsica said. She slapped me hard across the cheek and stormed away. At the stairs, she flashed me an angry look. "Pull yourself together; we're having dinner guests over. Ginny's coming from Santa Cruz, and your father will be here soon."

  She disappeared down the stairs, but I still felt her vibrating against me. I still tasted her lips on mine. And I couldn't deny that I deserved the stinging handprint on my cheek.

  All I could do was swear, one long, vicious string of all the curse words I could muster. Then I took the soda can she'd left and pressed its coolness to my cheek.

  "Pull yourself together, Penn," I mimicked her, but the advice was sound, and I ended up laughing at myself. I needed to get a grip before Corsica made me lose my mind, or worse, my heart.

  It was a relief to see Ginny at the front door a few hours later. Her smile was direct and guileless, and then impish when she saw her friend.

  "So, how are the lessons in spontaneity going?" Ginny asked.

  Corsica rolled her eyes. "Not well. Ask Penn."

  I slipped an arm around Corsica's waist. "She's resistant, but I'm willing to keep working with her."

  Corsica looked relieved that I was still talking to her, but she still retorted. "You were the one who turned down paddle boarding in favor of happy hour."

  Ginny smiled. "I like seeing you two together. This is a strange deal, no doubt, but you're making the best of it."

  Corsica and I watched as Ginny took in the highlights of the impressive shoreline mansion. Then, her eyes flitted back to her friend, and Ginny grinned. "Did you seriously dress up to greet me? I'd be impressed, but I know exactly what little hole-in-the-wall thrift store you got that skirt from."

  I chuckled as I reali
zed that treasure-seeker was a more fitting title for Corsica than gold-digger. "Please, come on in and make yourself at home. The guest suite is just down there, first door on your left."

  "That's my room," Corsica hissed to me.

  "Xavier will be here tonight, maybe late. Better that Ginny stay there and you stay with me."

  Her expression darkened to stormy, but Ginny just laughed. "I'm good with an old-fashioned sleepover, but we can decide all of that later. First, make sure I brought the right stuff. I didn't have another suitcase. Sorry."

  My heart sank as I saw that Ginny had arrived with more of Corsica's wardrobe and accessories. The ladies hefted the laundry basket and hauled it to the guest suite. Corsica glanced back at me from the doorway, but my phone rang at that exact moment.

  I took the call, and she took the hint to spend some time with her friend.

  "Jason, I swear to God if this is something you can handle without me, I'm going to break this phone," I snarled at my assistant.

  Jason's voice was cool, as always. "Then perhaps the first thing we should discuss is the details of your work delegation. I have some suggestions."

  "Thank fucking God," I muttered.

  "New product searches would best be handled by Roberston, since he organizes all the product testing."

  I rubbed my forehead. "He had a good run last year with finding new carabiners. Fine. What else are you subtly implying that I'm neglecting?"

  Jason sighed. "I'm not implying anything, sir. You deserve to take a step back and give others a hand. Your company just reached the Forbes list. No one expects you to keep it up yourself."

  I hated to admit that my assistant was right, but it was a relief to hear. I couldn't stand the idea of work taking me away from Monterey, getting in the way of seeing my mother or interrupting anymore moments with Corsica.

  Once the quick business conversation was through, I immediately marched down the hall to the guest suite.

  "I don't know, Corsica. It wasn't nothing I felt when I walked in," Ginny said.

  I paused and heard Corsica sigh. "That doesn't matter. He's just not my type, and that's how I know none of the rest of it is real."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Corsica

  "I still can't get over how great it went last night. You were fantastic!"

  I shook my head. "You have to say that; you're my friend."

  "That doesn't mean it's not true," Ginny assured me. "Everyone else was saying it, too. And your blue dress was absolutely perfect."

  "Yeah, I'm glad I didn't return it."

  Ginny laughed. "I wouldn't have let you do that, no matter how much Penn annoyed you."

  Just the mention of his name was enough to drive a fog over our morning coffee. Standing on stage at the little lounge had felt so good that I told myself it didn't matter that he hadn't shown up. His friends, Phillip in particular, tried to assure me that Penn had been called away on business. I wanted to believe them, but I had a feeling it was more than that.

  "He's got a right to be on edge," I sighed. "His mother's treatments are intensifying, and she's going to be tested this week to see how things are progressing."

  "So now you're defending him?" Ginny asked. "That's interesting. You used to just lift your nose in the air if someone snubbed you."

  "Penn didn't snub me. He was just busy with other things," I grumbled.

  "Well," Ginny laughed and poured us more coffee, "then explain to me why you are not positively bouncing off the walls with excitement? Last night was your big break, and baby, it was huge! I wouldn’t be surprised if a video of your singing went viral by noon."

  I gave my friend a dark look. "And how exactly would that happen?"

  Ginny blinked wide, innocent eyes. "I have no idea. Come on, Corsica! Admit it. Your singing debut was a huge success, and you should be celebrating. At least admit that you're happy."

  I swirled the coffee in my mug and thought about that. Despite the confusion over Penn's absence and the nagging feelings it had saddled me with, I felt like my blood was still humming the tunes from last night. "You're right. I am happy. Last night felt so great."

  "And Joshua wasn't around to ruin any of it with his grand life plans for your life."

  I laughed. "He was there if you count seven messages. Wait. Looks like I just got another one."

  Ginny snatched up my phone. "Ugh. He's reminding you to practice before your interview. He even made a bullet point list of techniques. The man has some real control problems."

  I took my phone back and saved Joshua's messages. "He has a point, you know. Singing in some tiny lounge is not going to pay the rent. It might be fun now, but I need to think about the rest of my life."

  "No," Ginny said. "You need to live your life. Stop spending all your time thinking and planning, and just live it! Let's get back to the part where you admitted you're happy. It's not just the singing, is it?"

  "Monterey is a nice place," I offered.

  She jabbed me with a sharp elbow. "There's more going on here in Monterey than just nice scenery, and you know it. Spill!"

  I laughed and mopped up the coffee I had sloshed on the counter. "I don't have time for this. Joshua's right. I have to go and get ready for my interview."

  Ginny blocked my way. "I'll help you prep; I'll even look at that obnoxious list Mr. Uptight sent, but not until you admit there's something else going on with you. With you and a certain man you claim is not your type."

  I flopped back onto my kitchen stool. "We already talked about this. Penn is not my type. Not only is he shaggy and tattooed, but he's unmotivated. He's been shirking work for weeks, except when he uses it as an excuse to escape my company. He's got no plan for his future and doesn't seem to care. That's not someone I can picture myself with."

  "I'm not asking you to picture yourself with him," Ginny said. "I'm asking you to remember what it was like when you were with him."

  My cheeks flooded with color. "I'm not giving you any details!"

  "Oh!" Ginny grinned. "Never mind. That blush is telling me everything."

  I scowled. "I have to get ready for my interview. We've got to get on the road soon."

  "You can't be serious," Ginny groaned. "After the taste you got last night, I was sure you'd wake up and come to your senses. Please, Corsica, think for just a second. Is this interview, this job at the Ritz, really what you want?"

  "It doesn't matter if it's what I really want. It's a job that utilizes what I learned in college. It's a job that has upward mobility. It's a regular paycheck. I can't turn my back on it without some kind of parachute, and singing for a tiny cut of the door is not going to save me."

  Ginny grabbed my fingers and squeezed them tight. "Your parachute is the people who care about you, really care about you."

  "Joshua cares about me," I said, showing her the incoming phone call.

  "Joshua cares about what part you can play in his life. He doesn't want you to go off script, and you two aren't even dating. Now, if you were going to decide about this job without worrying about anything else besides your own deep-down opinion, what would you do?"

  Ginny wouldn't let me look away. "I know you, Corsica, and you're happy here. As soon as you mentioned the interview, your whole face fell."

  I pulled my fingers free. "So what, Ginny? What am I supposed to do? Cancel my interview and cross my fingers that the whole singing thing keeps happening?"

  Ginny grinned, snatched my phone, and held it out to me. "Exactly. Call and cancel that interview. Then let yourself be happy."

  I took the phone and paced back and forth before heading downstairs to make the call in private. The human resources director answered as I was still on the stairs, and that's when I saw Penn. He was standing in front of the downstairs windows.

  I stopped short on the stairs and kept my voice low. "Hello? Hi, yes, I'm sorry to call with such short notice," I said. "My name is Corsica Allen, and I won't be able to make my interview today. No, thank you, but I won'
t need to reschedule. Something else has, ah, come up."

  Penn's eyebrow lifted as he noticed me on the stairs. "Good morning."

  "It's nearly eleven," I said. I shoved the phone and my trembling hands into my pockets.

  "So, you're probably off to some fancy brunch place then, right?" Penn asked.

  I scoffed and looked down at the rumpled, black, cotton skirt I was wearing. "Do I look like I'm going out to brunch?"

  "No," he sneered. "I guess you'd have to find a new outfit. Is that blue dress too fancy for croissants?"

  "I wore the blue dress last night. Not that you would know," I snapped.

  He looked away. "I was busy. I heard you were wonderful. Good for you."

  I marched down the stairs, burned by how he dismissed me. "Good for me? After all the times you pushed me into singing. You were the one who got me that audition, for God's sake. And you just happened to be busy?"

  "I thought you, of all people, would respect that work came first." Penn folded his arms across his chest and still did not look at me.

  Maybe he really had gotten me out of his system. The thought had my stomach crashing to the floor. Was that it? I gave myself to Penn, and now he was done with me?

  My skin got hot as I stalked over to where he was standing. If he was going to stand there all ice cold, then the least I could do was try to make him sweat. "I'm just sorry for you. I put on a good show. Though, I suppose, maybe if you begged, I'd reprise parts of it for you."

  Penn's eyebrow lifted as I trailed a fingernail along his arm. When he shifted and loosened his arms, I slipped my hand around his waist. My other hand stopped on his flat stomach, and I let my fingers walk up his chest to tug at his beard.

  "Go ahead," I whispered, shock adding a sultry vibration to my voice, "you can beg if you want to."

  When Penn opened his mouth to protest, I pressed two fingers to his lips. Then, I slowly dragged them down. His eyes were riveted on me, and I made the most of it by licking my lips. His mouth parted, but no words came out. Though, the flexing press of his hands around my waist told me everything I hoped to hear.