Keeping His Secret: A Secret Baby Romance

by Kira Blakely

  “You don’t have to look so sad,” Mrs. Johnson said as she set my suitcase down on the bed. “Drake is many things, and while he’s sometimes too brash and too cocky, he’s a good man. When I first started as his personal housekeeper, I hadn’t been here more than a year when he came to my rescue, like an angel.”

  “How so?” I asked, my interest piqued.

  “When my granddaughter was born, she needed a heart transplant, and he arranged to get her to the top of the list, no questions asked. Little Sabrina’s sixteen now and talking about prom and college.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I never thought that I’d see that, not when we first got the news. He’s done similar things for so many of his employees and the children in L.A., his charity work. His gifts go beyond what you could imagine he’s capable of. He paid to move Leonard’s family to the safety of the United States from Haiti and has an apartment set up for them as well. Like I said, Drake may come off as gruff or strutting his stuff, but it’s a front. I think you’ll grow to understand that.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the grease in it from the flight and wishing for a shower before dinner. A seven-hour flight, no matter how luxurious, was a pain in the ass. “You don’t have to give him the hard sell. It’s not an infomercial, Mrs. Johnson.”

  “Penelope, please, dear,” she said, patting my shoulder. Her eyes were kind and lined with age, which for some reason made me tear up. I think it was because I was scared I’d never see my mom grow that old. And she wouldn’t, not if we couldn’t afford the right treatment. “Are you all right?” she asked, pulling an actual handkerchief from her pocket.

  I took it gratefully and dabbed at my eyes. “It’s just… you know why I’m here, that we need this deal to go through so the company can survive in some form—even merged with his—and my mom can keep her health insurance. It’s so hard.”

  “Shh, I know this is going to work out. You need to get a nice hot bath, and I’ll set out your clothes. Don’t worry about anything tonight. Just enjoy dinner with Drake, and you’ll see. He’s a good man. I promise that.”

  ***

  I felt like a princess.

  That was a stupid thought. I should feel violated. I’d practically been sold to Drake in exchange for a better deal for my father’s company. And yet I felt like I was in a fairy tale. The diamonds hung at my throat and my fingers trailed over the thick, heavy stones. The dress was a light pink silk that hung low over my breasts and stopped at mid-thigh on my legs. I was showing far more than I intended, but it was so very hot on the island, and it felt amazing to have the light fabric over me after a cool shower.

  Leonard helped me out to the back veranda and then led me over the boardwalk to where a table was set up on Drake’s private beach. Out there, it was just him, me, the food set out on the table, some twinkle lights and an actual string quartet set out on a platform for me. That was quite the showstopper, and I hadn’t expected to see anyone else out on the beach.

  “You got me string players?”

  “I wanted to be classy for you,” he said, standing and pulling out my chair as best as he could on the sand.

  As soon as I pulled up to the table, I kicked off my flip flops and leaned with my elbows against the surface. “This is so beyond what I expected.” I gestured to the diamond necklace I wore. “Mrs. Johnson… Penelope was kind enough to pick this out for me for the night. She has a whole case of choices, and she doesn’t have to do that. This is supposed to be business.”

  He reached out and squeezed my hand. “You know that it’s not just about business, and that it never has been. I want so much more from this month.” He chuckled, a low rumble that made warmth flare in my belly. “If I only wanted to talk business, you know I’d have invited Maurice. As it is, he’s really not my type.”

  His eyes, so like warm chocolate, shone back at me under the moonlight. I couldn’t stop staring at them, just as I hadn’t been able to back in the boardroom. He was mesmerizing, and there felt like so much lay beyond those depths, beneath that scar on his left eyebrow, that left him looking like a dangerous Jason Mamoa.

  When we were younger, Carol used to joke with one of her loser high school boyfriends that chicks dug scars; maybe she was right.

  “I know, but it’s all so much.”

  “Afraid I’ll kick you to the curb when we’re back in California?” he asked, pulling the silver domes off our meals of excellently prepared salmon. The scent of dill made my mouth water. “Isn’t that what you think?”

  I picked up a fork and poked at my meal, at the flaky morsels that I was probably too nervous to eat much of. “I know that you’ve gone through most of the Hollywood roster. Any starlet under thirty has been on your arm. I don’t want to do that. I… romance should be special.”

  He laughed, and suddenly that sound didn’t appeal as much. Drake dug into his own meal and chewed a bit before he finally answered. “Princess, how much more special could this be? You have a private villa to yourself, your own servant for a month, and anything you ask for, I can get.”

  “I’m sure you do this for all your conquests. But you can’t give me anything I truly want. My mother—” I cut myself off, unwilling to divulge my mother’s illness and the true reason why I agreed to this trip.

  He frowned. “Right, your mother. She doesn’t actively engage with the company, so I didn’t do much research on her.”

  I stilled; it was probably too much of a weakness to admit to her illness in front of him. He might talk a confident and cajoling game, but he wasn’t necessarily safe, wasn’t a man I could trust any part of myself with, let alone my heart.

  “Mom isn’t made for business,” I said. It was technically true now. I poked at some rice, and then nodded up at him. “So, why the Bahamas? I assume you have houses in every corner of the planet. Luxury compounds from Thailand to Chile.”

  “I don’t travel as much as you’d think,” he conceded. “Oh, I do for business, but I love L.A.”

  “The smog, traffic, and everyone posturing for position?” I was incredulous. “L.A. drives me crazy. It’s why I had to get away to college at UC San Diego and why my family liked to get away to the lake when times were good. It’s too hard being there all the time, too fake.”

  “Travel can be hard though,” he admitted. “I’m always on call for premieres or emergency client consultations. I like the personal touch for some of the biggest hitters.”

  “I can’t imagine J-Law or Tom wait much.”

  He chuckled. “Depends which Tom. I… I don’t always like traveling if I don’t have to. Adjusting to new surroundings, not knowing all the angles. At home, I keep to certain routines, the clubs I know, the eateries, that way I know how to exit fast.”

  I frowned. “You think that crowds of dissatisfied customers will come for you with pitchforks?”

  He shook his head. “Back in Iraq, things were rough.”

  “Oh,” I replied, not sure of what to say.

  He was opening up a bit, abandoning some of the cockiness that turned me off, giving me just a glimpse of the man Penelope trusted. At least he was giving me something, but I was afraid if I pushed for anything more, he’d clam up. Maybe he wasn’t even aware of how much he was putting out there.

  “I had enough surprises for a lifetime,” he said, pulling up a large velvet box from his lap. It was necklace size, and that confused me. After all, Penelope had been sent with the right one for my outfit already. “It means,” he continued, setting his fork down, “that I crave control in everything I do. So, I have a few retreats, but I prefer to stay a creature of habit.”

  “All right,” I offered, frowning at the box. “I don’t know if I understand.”

  He cracked it open, and I gasped. A stylized dog collar, bejeweled with rubies and diamonds, with a few silver studs sticking out from it. “Do you know what it is?”

  I stood up but stayed when he grabbed my wrist. “Is this a joke? Do you what? Want me to wear that?”

>   “I’m a Dominant, Belle, and for this month, I hope that you’ll be my sub. I won’t force you to go that far, perhaps we’ll work up to everything, but this is a promise.”

  “Oh. it’s definitely a joke or you’ve gone Looney Toons,” I snapped, pulling my arm away from him.

  “No,” he said, standing, and the ocean breeze carried his scent to my nose, that mix of rugged cologne and masculine musk that was pure sex and pure Drake.

  Would it be so bad? A traitorous voice whispered in the back of my mind, even as my clit throbbed between my legs. For one month, the most wanted bachelor in the world wanted no one but me. Maybe it could be more. Maybe…

  No.

  I deserved more. I’d waited long enough for a good relationship, for more than the few disappointments in college. I wasn’t going to throw so much away to be a flavor of the month for him. I might have to do some things, but I wasn’t putting on a dog collar, no matter how many diamonds adorned it, and letting him just do anything with me. I’d read a few novels in my day and I could imagine the rest. I wasn’t willing to give him that much control over me. None of it was what I wanted to sign up for.

  “What type of promise?” I snapped. “God, I understood negotiations meant more, but this is far beyond the pale, Drake.”

  “Princess,” he said, setting the collar on the table. “I want to work up to everything. Honestly, in public, I filter through with the dates and the publicity stunts. But I pick my subs far more carefully, and only offer this to the few private women I feel I can trust. They aren’t just disposed of. I’m saying I want to see if we mesh well this month, see where it might go from there…”

  “But why? Why did you want any of this when you were going to walk before when we wouldn’t take your insulting deal?”

  His nostrils flared, and I could tell Drake was fighting down his own anger. “First, I was offering far more than anyone else would. I was the only company to take a meeting with you, and I expected you to act reasonably and accept that. Second, I saw you, really saw you in that room.” Drake punctuated his point by pulling me flush to his torso, so close that I could feel the ridge of his erection against my body. “You’re amazing, Belle, and I want you.”

  “As a submissive,” I hissed. “As some degenerate game.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s about trust and about honoring what everyone needs. You’d have all the power with our play; the sub always does. Just think about it. You don’t have to answer now. We can always deal with the actual negotiations and other, milder, things. But just think about it,” he said, his lips now were perilously close to mine. So close that I could reach out and taste him.

  Forcing myself to stay sane, I pulled away from him. “No, I’m not doing this. I… Goodnight, Drake,” I said, storming back across the beach, leaving my date and that damn collar behind me.

  I was no one’s pet, and no one, not even Drake McManus was going to fully own me.

  Chapter Five

  Belle

  I couldn’t believe what he’d done. I couldn’t believe any of it. Tears burned down my cheeks as I huddled in the four-poster bed that ass had given me. Who cared about lilac walls and beautiful marble accents in the bathroom, when Drake McManus was actually everything they’d said he was? For a moment, even with the forced nature of our “negotiations,” I’d thought that we could learn to build something. What an idiot I’d been, a complete fool. There wasn’t anything else beneath that scarred brow and those brown eyes but a man like so many others. He was probably just like George, no matter how he denied it.

  A collar?

  A diamond-studded monstrosity?

  How did he think I was going to react? Was I supposed to clasp it around my neck and then demand more? Maybe I was supposed to rush to his bedroom before we finished the fish and let him spank me or… I couldn’t even think what else he wanted. I wasn’t naïve. I’d been busy the last few years taking care of my mother, and I hadn’t dated as widely as I liked, but I’d read my share of books and seen movies. I could guess what kind of weird Dom/sub games he wanted to get into.

  I knew I had to take care of my mother. I’d do anything to keep her alive, or at least I thought I would. Now, over three hours since I’d left my half-eaten plate and that damn collar behind, I wasn’t sure anymore. It was completely possible that there were lines even I couldn’t cross, no matter how badly my mom needed this. Dad hadn’t asked me—in fact, he’d begged me more than once not to go, even right before I left for the airport—but this was our best chance. Drake wasn’t wrong; no one else would even return our calls, let alone sit down to negotiate or offer funds. This was what I had to do.

  I could talk business. I could even go on dates or have sex with him, but I wasn’t putting on a dog collar and getting down on all fours. I wasn’t having him whip me or anything else. He seemed so handsome, so powerful and mysterious, but I’d seen that beast inside of him, and I had no interest in being dragged that deeply into his world.

  Shaking my head and pulling the covers over my knees, I tried to ignore the frantic growls of my stomach. The salmon had been excellent, but I’d only had a few bites before I’d run off, and now I was starving. Surely, if I snuck out to the kitchen, assuming I could find it, and ate in my own wing then I wouldn’t have to run into Drake before morning. The house was big enough to have its own zip code… or two. Or maybe it was too big a risk. Then my stomach rumbled again and I felt like it was about to digest itself, lining and all. That settled it; I had to get something to eat.

  Slipping from the bed, I rummaged through the closet and found a pair of jean shorts and a flowy baby doll top. Even at night, the muggy temperatures soared high and sweat stuck to my skin. Steadying myself, I slipped from the room, my bare feet quiet on the marble floor beneath me. Mrs. Johnson was my guide beforehand, and without her, I never would have found my room. This estate had rooms on rooms and a new, twisting turn around every corner. I was struggling badly now to find anything, wishing I’d even stumble upon a flight of stairs since there was no way the kitchen or any food would be on the third floor. I was lost.

  Turning the corner, I thudded into a thick pair of shoulders. I jumped back and brought a hand to my mouth to muffle a scream. The last thing I wanted was to run into Drake when I was still this shaken up. While I believed that he believed he’d take things slow—whatever that meant when collars were involved—everything this evening had been too embarrassing. As my eyes squinted in the darkness, I let out a sigh of relief. The broad man before me had skin almost as dark as night and an open, earnest smile. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but his short hair was highlighted by the moonlight that came in through the few windows on the hall, reflecting small flecks of gray.

  He chuckled a little and gave me a little bow. “Miss Fontaine, it’s a pleasure. Enchanté,” he said, the French tripping easily over his tongue. “My name is Leonard St. Croix. I’m—”

  “You’re Drake’s personal valet,” I supplied. “Mrs. Johnson told me.”

  “All around guy in the know is how I like to think about it,” he said, winking at me again as he regained his posture. “Now, Miss Fontaine, what are you doing up? It’s getting close to one a.m.”

  I blushed, feeling the heat flare through my cheeks and positive I was glowing like a beacon for Leonard. “I was starving. I thought I could find the kitchen and sneak some food from the fridge before anyone noticed. I… you aren’t going to tell Drake I’m up, are you? Am I in trouble?”

  Will there be whips in my future?

  I blew out a short breath at the thought.

  Leonard narrowed his eyes at me but considered my questions before he spoke. “Penelope and I work for Drake, but we also have been told to do whatever you need to make you comfortable. I know this has to be hard. I can’t even imagine. I know that you’re all swept up here and far from home. I believe that Drake—”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but Mrs. Johnson did the same thing before dinner and
then he showed me who he really is. I was so wrong to even think we could work together this month!”

  Leonard’s jaw tensed before he spoke again. “He has a hard time being honest with anyone. I think he lets his guard down with me and Penelope because we’ve been around the longest, but he’s always closed off and it makes him fumble in weird ways around women he cares about.”

  “He offered me a gift I so didn’t want, Leonard. It’s more than that. But… I… is there food?” I asked, batting my eyelashes back at him. “Even if it’s just some cold cereal; I can manage.”

  Leonard brightened and a wide smile spread across his lips. “Cherie, I can fry up some mean conch fritters before you blink. Be my guest; I’m going to serve you up right.”

  ***

  The soft, succulent meat of the fried conch melted like butter on my tongue. I couldn’t help but moan a little as I bit into my fourth fritter. “Leonard, I think the Cooking Channel is missing a star. You’re amazing.”

  He laughed and sat down next to me at the small table in the corner of what he called “the informal kitchen.” I think that had to mean this was the kitchen for staff to cook and serve themselves, but what did I know. Again, when I’d been younger, we’d had some money but not really a staff. Mom even stayed home with us so there was no need for nannies or anything like that. It floored me to be in a house, well estate that had wings, more than one kitchen, and its own sections just for staff to retire to. It was mind boggling.

  “I like my job. I wouldn’t have gotten my family out of Haiti if it weren’t for Mr. McManus. He helped get them all, even my aunties and cousins, out after that big earthquake years ago.”

  I sighed and offered a pinched smile. “Mrs. Johnson said something similar, not just about how he’d helped your family, but also how he’d helped hers.”

  Leonard nodded. “I can’t talk about deals with you, Ms. Fontaine, but there is more on the table here than just profits or your father’s company and estate.”

  “My freedom for a month,” I said bitterly.