Billionaire’s Missing Baby

by Kayla Watkins

  “What is my problem is how you actually thought it would ever be appropriate to come on to Dana,” Andrew’s teeth were gnashing together just thinking about it. “How… How dare you? Just how conceited can you be? You really think a woman that great would ever be interested in scum like you? Get over yourself. You’re not even fit to deliver her dry cleaning.”

  Louis’ face had grown very dark while Andrew spoke. Suddenly, he smirked. “Oh, you don’t get it, do you?” He crossed his arms.

  His smirk didn’t seem like a good response, and Andrew didn’t like it. “Don’t get what?”

  “So, let me get this straight,” Marcel asked, leaning comfortably on his desk. “You think I came on to Dana and she refused? Really? Is that what she told you happened?”

  Something cold and slithery coiled in Andrew’s gut. “Of course that’s what happened. Creep.”

  Marcel twisted his lips as if thinking. “And I suppose she left out the part where she was the one who started flirting with me?”

  The coils tightened, and Andrew tried to ignore them. “Of course she left that out. It didn’t happen. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Well, I’m thinking dumber and dumber with each passing minute, now,” Marcel answered, smiling. “I thought you knew. I mean, you seemed so mad when you came it, I thought you realized. When we met up on the subway, it was all smiles and jokes from Dana, teasing me about working out and my suit being tight. Uh, in particular places, I mean.”

  “That’s a damn lie,” Andrew snapped. Dana could never joke like that with a stranger. She got all blushy and shy over that sort of thing. Well… with Andrew anyway. “There’s no way she’d be flirting with you.”

  “You sure? How long have you been together?” Marcel chuckled. “It seemed to me that she was starting to get bored of you. I mean, I know how that feels, and I can see when a woman is interested. And Dana… well, her face starts to glow, and she just laughs at everything, like she’s the happiest woman on earth… She’s a spot of sunshine, that one. If we hadn’t come to her stop right then, I’m sure we might have gotten further along.”

  “None of that is true,” Andrew growled. But that cold and slithering feeling in his stomach was writhing, now, and he was no longer sure. And the very last thing he wanted was for Marcel to know that he wasn’t sure. “I’m leaving. My assistant will contact your people about the next step.”

  And without another word, Andrew let himself out of Louis Marcel’s office, and shut the door with a resounding slam that drew stares from across the floor of Westcorp.

  Ignoring the eyes on him, Andrew stalked around the edge of the office floor, minds buzzing. All of that was a lie, of course. There was no way that Dana had been flirting with filth like Louis Marcel. There was no way she would be flirting with him—the person they needed to convince of their engagement the most!

  Why was Andrew still thinking about this? Angry, he pushed his thoughts to the deal he’d reclaimed. It was all back on schedule. Once alone in the elevator, he carefully filed the contract in his briefcase. Everything was as it should be. The community center was going to be built, and Westcorp was going to help sustain it. As it should be.

  So why did his thoughts keep slinking back to what that slime-ball Marcel had told him? It was obviously a lie. Why would Marcel lie? Just to get inside his head?

  Furiously aware that this was exactly what Marcel had achieved, Andrew still couldn’t stop thinking about it. He and Dana were only pretending to be engaged—there was no reason why she couldn’t be looking at other men, and she knew it. She had better sense—and better taste—than to choose Marcel, but why was Andrew getting so mad over it?

  Because it hadn’t happened, Andrew tried to remind himself. Marcel was, for some bizarre reason, making it up.

  And still the doubt hammered at him. Why? Andrew simply couldn’t answer why. For what possible reason would Louis make up such a stupid lie? And the way he’d described Dana… he’d nailed her habits, her nature, perfectly.

  Maybe Louis had just misread her behavior. Andrew had reached the bottom floor and was walking out of the lobby, distracted, barely noticing where he was going. Maybe Louis had just perceived her behavior as flirting. Dana was friendly with everyone. That was it.

  But damn if that doubt wasn’t pervasive. It was unlikely, practically impossible, that Dana had been hitting on Louis Marcel. But then… why was she even on that train? She’d admitted to taking a different line to avoid Andrew, out of awkwardness from their previous encounter. What if she’d purposely taken the line near Marcel’s office?

  Now that was ridiculous. Andrew was aware that his thoughts were spiraling out of hand, but there were parts that seemed ominously accurate. Dana had taken a different train that day. And she had ended her encounter with Marcel when she got off the subway. And that was how she acted—Marcel had described her habits almost perfectly.

  What if it was true? A cold shiver ran down Andrew’s spine, a second before a hot, fresh wave of fury rolled over him. And why should he be angry? Because she’d been flirting with the exact person who they needed to deceive with their fake engagement? Because she had been dancing on the edge of blowing their cover?

  Neither of these reasons. Andrew rubbed his face and headed for the subway. Neither of these reasons.

  Chapter 17

  Six o’clock, finally! Dana had been waiting for the clock to strike the exit hour ever since Andrew had walked away that morning. All this business with Louis Marcel and Westcorp were not good for her creativity. She’d done little more than sit at her desk and stare at her blank easel, and scratch some half-hearted lines on the paper.

  Most of Dana’s day had been spent trying to force interest in work. She’d wandered around and helped out with some small errands, offered advice to Jacob in the next row, and then to Doretta on the other side of the floor. The latter had been struggling to pin down what was missing in her composition, and Dana had sat with her for half an hour, trying to puzzle it out. The hours passed a little more quickly when Dana managed to find things to do.

  But eventually, she had always found herself back in her own cubicle, sitting on her own chair, without anyone else to keep her mind occupied or on task. And without someone to anchor her, Dana inevitably found her mind—and heart—wandering.

  She’d used her lunch hour to scurry home—keeping a sharp eye out for Mr. Marcel, just in case he tried to catch her alone on the subway again. She was ready for him, this time. Maya had made her put a can of mace in her bag, but Dana had never used it. Honestly, the thought of having to hurt someone terrified her, but it was better than letting Marcel within spitting distance of her again.

  Whether it was luck or coincidence, Dana didn’t see anyone she knew on the subway, for which she was breathlessly grateful.

  But she did run into someone she knew at home. Maya had woken up from her late night shift, and eyed Dana with suspicion as she came bustling in the door in the middle of the workday.

  “Hi…?”

  “Oh, hey, Maya,” Dana greeted with a smile, trying not to make eye contact. Maya could read her like a newspaper headline. The girl was far too smart to be waitressing, that was for sure.

  Guilt speared through Dana’s chest at the thought. Maya was getting ready, gleeful and excited, for her semester to start in January. She’d missed all of the fall classes (there was no late-start entrance allowed), but the younger Deshaun sister was dauntless, and insisted that she could catch up between spring and summer.

  Was that still on the table? Without the deal, without the need for Dana to pretend to be Andrew’s fiancée, was he still willing to foot the bill for Maya’s school? He’d already paid her application fee, the preliminary costs of books and materials, and the first semester’s tuition. Would he refuse to honor his agreement to pay the rest?

  Dana couldn’t bear to mention that to Maya, not after the drama with Marcel, and Andrew’s confusing behavior.

  “What
are you doing back so early?” Maya asked from the next room, her voice chasing Dana back into their shared bathroom.

  Right where she’d left it, the emerald Andrew had given her glittered joyfully, as if it were happy to see she’d returned for it. Dana picked up the ring and slipped it on her finger.

  “I just forgot the ring,” Dana answered. It was the truth, though perhaps not all of it. Dana could see on Maya’s face that she wasn’t fooled. Sitting on the couch in her pajamas, a book open on the armrest, Maya narrowed her eyes and waited.

  She’s worse than Ma, Dana thought, exasperated. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said, and walked over to kiss the top of Maya’s head. “I’ll see you tonight, all right? There’s some stuff I want to tell you, but I don’t have time now.”

  Maya seemed to relax. “Okay. I work the late shift tonight, so I’ll see you when you get home.”

  “It’s a deal,” Dana promised and let herself back out into the hall of the apartment complex.

  And here it was, hours later, already time to go home again.

  There wasn’t much to clean up, since Dana had whiled away most of the time at other people’s desks. She packed away her papers, her art book, her pencils and erasers. In no time, her desk was clear and her case was shut and ready to leave. Dana put her red coat back on, grabbed her gloves, and headed out the door with everyone else.

  But instead of going down, she waited for an elevator headed upwards.

  Bellwethers was several floors above The Current, and Dana had never been there. But the directory told her which button to press, and so, nervously, Dana took a deep breath and tried to steady herself as the elevator carried her up to Andrew’s work. She was alone in the elevator. Everyone else was headed down, down to the lobby, down to their cars and taxis and trains. Monday night—no one wanted to linger around the office longer than necessary. No one except Andrew, hopefully.

  The doors opened, and Dana stepped out. This was the floor that the directory had led her to. Her own work shared a floor with another company, a small law firm across the hall. But Bellwethers was a large enough business that they could afford to lease the entire floor. And that meant there was an entire floor to search for Andrew’s office.

  Luckily, the first person she stopped knew the way, and pointed her along the wall to a row of office doors. Some were open, some were closed and dark for the night. Only one was both shut and lighted from within, and this was also the only door with an occupied desk out front.

  “Is this Andrew Poole’s office?” she asked politely.

  The young man looked up sharply. He’d been so engrossed by his computer screen that she seemed to have surprised him. He looked at her intently from under a mop of reddish curls and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Dana smiled slightly, hoping to dull his edge. It was like he was trying to poke holes in her, he was staring so hard.

  Suddenly, his eyes dropped to her bare hands on her portfolio. He grinned, relaxing a little.

  “You must be Dana,” he said, pointing at her hand.

  Dana looked down and saw what he meant. The emerald caught the office lights like a drop of the ocean. It would stand out across a football field, much less speaking distance. She swallowed and nodded.

  “I’m Nick, I’m Andrew’s assistant.” As he spoke, Nick rose gracefully and came around the desk. He was dressed sharply, and moved sharply, too, as if he was choreographed. Probably gay, Dana thought to herself. Straight men just weren’t that graceful.

  His voice lowered as he stood next to her. “I think it might be better to try and talk to him tomorrow. He went to talk with Louis Marcel, and he hasn’t said a word since he got back. Most unusual.”

  This news caused Dana immediate concern, and she found herself whispering back. “He went to talk to Marcel? What happened?”

  Nick shrugged. “When he came back, he just said the deal was back on and shut himself in his office. Doesn’t answer when I knock. I’ve never seen him act so moody.”

  “Oh, dear,” Dana murmured. “Did he tell you anything else about what happened this morning?”

  “No,” Nick answered slowly, eyeing Dana with a raised eyebrow. “This morning I took a call from Westcorp that our community project was off, no explanation. Then Andrew heads out in a mood and the next thing I know, the deal’s fixed and he’s a shut-in.”

  Dana could almost smell Nick’s curiosity, and smiled up at him. “It’s not really my place to say, but can I try to speak to him?”

  “Please do.” Nick gestured toward the door. “But don’t tell him I let you in.”

  “Thank you,” Dana replied in her quietest voice as she approached Andrew’s office door. It was wood with a big panel of frosted glass in the middle, but she couldn’t see a thing through it.

  “You’re welcome,” Nick mouthed, taking his seat behind his desk again.

  Dana knocked, heart pounding. She heard someone moving inside, but no one answered. Boldly (much more bold than her knees felt), Dana opened the door without knocking a second time and peeked into the office beyond.

  And there was Andrew, sitting behind his desk, staring right back at her. His blue eyes were burning in a placid face, and it certainly looked like he hadn’t moved in hours. Neither of them said a word, but Dana let herself in and shut the door with a soft snap.

  “Andrew?” she asked, testing. He didn’t seem right. The friendly, polite businessman she’d been riding the subway to work beside every day for months was gone, and he’d left this quiet shell sitting in this quiet office behind. She walked up to his desk. “Andrew, what happened with Marcel?”

  He looked at her—a blank page—for too long. Unease crept down her spine, and she wanted to tell him to cut it out. He was giving her the creeps.

  Finally, Andrew took a breath. Dana wondered privately if he’d been breathing all this time. “I went over the Westcorp and told him if he backed out of our deal, I was going to tell his bosses what he’d been up to. He changed his tune after that, and we were able to come to an agreement.”

  “That’s great!” Dana watched Andrew closely, waiting for him to smile. Waiting for him to do something, anything. But he still seemed far away, lost in thought. She kneaded the handle of her portfolio uncomfortably. “And?”

  Andrew raised his shoulders and dropped them, as if on strings. “And?”

  Dana was beginning to wish she’d listened to Nick. She raised her eyebrows and tried again. “Well, what happened after that? You’re not yourself.”

  “Nothing happened after that.” Andrew sat forward and crossed his arms on his desk. It was only now that Dana detected hint of heat to his words—anger. The hairs on the back of her neck sprang up instantly. She hated conflict.

  “Look, I’m not trying to start a fight here,” Dana said as gently as she could. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. It’s none of my business. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You seemed upset when you left earlier.” That was only partial truth. Andrew had left her in the hall outside The Current before either of them had really gotten to the root of their problem. She’d spent all weekend dreading having to discuss that kiss with Andrew. Now she felt she couldn’t go home without talking it over.

  “No one’s fighting,” Andrew replied, too civil. He shrugged again. “I went and told Louis what was going to happen. The deal’s still on, everything’s like it should be.”

  “Then what is your problem?” Dana asked finally. She set her portfolio down and crossed her arms.

  “I don’t have a problem,” Andrew insisted, his rising voice implying otherwise. He threw his hands up in the air. “Everything’s fine with me. What you do with Louis Marcel is not my business.”

  The air seemed to suck out of the room. There was absolute stillness. Dana stood there like a doorpost, stunned into silence, wondering if she’d understood that right.

  “What?”

  Who had said that? Dana hardly recognized her own voice, it h
ad jumped an octave. Was remaining calm still an option? After an accusation like that, Dana wasn’t so sure.

  “Look, it’s none of my business,” Andrew replied coldly, settling back in his chair. “But you could at least wait until after the deal’s set in stone. I mean, that was the whole point of all this. Unless you thought—I don’t know—you were helping the cause by buttering up that asshole. But really, you’re an adult. Do what you want, but you could probably do better than that slime, Marcel.”

  Dana’s head swam. She got this way when she was just too angry, too furious. Anger was not an emotion that came to her easily, and when it did, it swept her feet out from under her. Maya was the one who went on crazy rampages, Dana was more apt to faint. She breathed carefully, clasping her hands.

  The reality was, under the anger was pain, raw and unexpected. Where had all this pain come from? Why did it hurt her so sharply, to hear Andrew say this nonsense? He was wrong, obviously. Wrong, and mad about it. All she had to do was correct him, surely. Dana opened her mouth to try.

  But then she caught sight of his face again. Angry. Intent. Closed to her. In a moment, their situation resolved itself in Dana’s head, and she could see that there was no reasoning with Andrew now. He thought he knew what was what, and nothing she could say was going to change that.

  “I see,” Dana replied finally, in a tiny voice. “Is that what Louis told you? That I… that I was hitting on him?”

  “Isn’t that what happened?” Andrew scoffed bitterly.

  No, it isn’t. Dana didn’t bother saying it. Hurt and suddenly tired, she shook her head. “Nothing I say is going to change your mind,” she answered. “But since you’ve got Marcel where you want him, you don’t need me anymore. I’ll just give this back.”