The Billionaire's Secret Babies

by Penny Wylder

  “Oh, I—” My cheeks flare red-hot. “We’re not… Uh. I’m Mr. Anderson’s assistant,” I finally managed to stammer.

  She stops in the middle of preparing the stroller to blink. Clearly she’s surprised, though she’s too polite to say so. “My apologies,” she says, after a long pause. Then she glances back and forth from me to the kids and the car again, doubtless wondering the same thing I am—why is Mr. Anderson’s assistant coming to his house at night with her children, clearly ready to spend the night?

  Lady, I wish I could tell you.

  “I’m Manila, by the way,” I tell her as I lift Luca out of the car and buckle him into the stroller. “What’s your name?”

  “Amy.” She smiles. “You’re lucky—you’ve got a good boss. Mr. Anderson is my best tenant. Not to mention the most attractive.”

  I flush again as I lean across the backseat to grab Lucie. I’m glad my head is buried in the car so she can’t see my face just now. When I slide back out with Lucie in hand, I’ve gotten the blush under control. “He’s good looking, I suppose,” I agree, reaching for the twins’ overnight bag.

  Amy beats me to it, and shoulders the bag, leading me toward the elevator. “Oh, you more than suppose.” Her eyes catch mine, twinkling with amusement. “That or you must not swing his way, because anyone with eyes can tell he’s a catch.”

  I swallow hard. Here it is. My chance to ask her about Cassius’s life. Maybe there isn’t a woman involved. If his doorwoman thinks I’m the new girl, then he must have gotten rid of the old one by now. Or maybe Amy is just too professional to break the news to one girl that he’s got another on the side. He could be a regular player, the kind of guy with a different girl every week, plus a few bonus chicks in different zip codes…

  Before I can decide how to broach the topic, or even what to ask Amy, the elevator doors ping open, and Cassius steps out.

  “Finally,” he says, glancing between me and Amy.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Amy greets him with a broad smile as she hands over my overnight bag, “I was just getting to know your charming new assistant. She’s quite lovely.” Amy grins up at him, and oh my god, is she pulling the same thing on him that she just did on me?

  What a little mischievous matchmaker.

  “Thanks so much for your help,” I say loudly, interrupting any potentially embarrassing announcement she was about to make. “See you tomorrow!”

  Amy takes the hint, though not without winking at me as she leaves. “Enjoy your night,” she calls over her shoulder, one last parting shot as she leaves for the front door, and we step into the elevator together, the twins’ stroller between us.

  “That took quite a long time,” Cassius says as the elevator leaps upward.

  “Well, it takes a minute, packing for twins,” I counter, annoyed. I went through all this trouble, came all the way back here at the end of the night just to stay in the room he’s decided he must have me live out of, and he’s complaining about how long it took?

  “You needn’t have worried,” he replies as we reach the top floor. I open my mouth to ask what he means, but he’s already striding away up the hall.

  No matter. My question gets answered a minute later, when I roll the babies into the spare room.

  Cassius has been busy while I was gone.

  The room is full of stuff. A second crib, slightly larger than the first. Clothing, sized perfectly for the twins—everything from adorable little matching pajamas to going-out outfits—a dress for Lucie and a miniature suit and tie for Luca. There are play clothes, shoes, socks, a stack of diapers… Even some clothes sized a little larger, presumably for them to grow into.

  I stand on the threshold, gaping, open-mouthed with shock. I don’t know what to do.

  I never had a baby shower. Everything the twins own, I bought myself, because God knows my mother wouldn’t even consider buying them a single present. “Nobody helped me with you,” she said the day they were born, even though I know for a fact that’s a lie. My dad was right by her side every step of the way, taking care of everything—taking care of me and her, right up until the day he died.

  Staring at this room feels like stepping into the surprise baby shower I never expected. Everything I need is here, and then some. My surprise only grows when I open the closet and find the old clothes I’d worn this morning gone. Brand new dresses, skirts, shirts and pajamas hang in their place. Even some jeans, which are laughably fancy. I guess that’s Cassius’s idea of casual pants.

  More shocking, they’re all exactly my size. A shiver races down my spine, as I realize what that means—how closely Cassius must have been paying attention to my body.

  I can’t help imagining his eyes all over me, devouring me, studying me. Figuring me out, better than I know myself.

  Fuck.

  Luca fusses quietly, which is the only thing that drags me out of my stupor. I unwrap the brand new diapers and change him, then Lucie, dressing them both in duckie pajamas with little footies that are too damn cute. I take my time, tickling them, playing with them, as we get ready. Moments like this, I can’t believe the twins are real—these are my babies, and this is my life. How did I get so lucky?

  I feed them with formula I find in the empty kitchen, a better brand than the kind I was using. Once they’re both sleeping soundly, I tiptoe out of the room and to find Cassius.

  His study is empty, and his bedroom door is wide open, but when I peek inside, ignoring a little thrill at the sight of his broad king-size bed, and all the thoughts that provokes about the things he could do to me in that bed, it’s empty.

  I pace back to the kitchen and find him at the stove, stir-fry sizzling in a pan before him.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, noticing how much food is in the pan.

  “What does it look like?” he responds, his back to me, not meeting my eye. “Making dinner.”

  “Why?” I spread my arms. “Why all of this?”

  “You made breakfast,” he replies simply, dodging my question, pretending he thinks I’m only asking about dinner. “Can’t I do something nice for my new employee?”

  “Thank you for dinner.” I raise an eyebrow. “But…”

  “But what?” he prompts.

  I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. I should just roll with this, take the dinner, not ask too many questions. But it’s all so damn confusing. The way he’s hot and cold on and off. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, after a long pause, during which he waits, patiently, watching me. “You don’t even like me much.”

  “Don’t I?” His eyes meet mine. Searing gray eyes that bore holes through me.

  I straighten my back, square my shoulders. I won’t let him distract me this easily again. “You sure don’t act like it. You tell me I need to stay here to be worth hiring, you keep dismissing me or ignoring me—anytime we do talk I barely get two-word sentences out of you.”

  He just watches me quietly, until I sputter into silence. Then he turns back to the stove. “With kale or without?”

  Frustrated, I collapse into a chair at the kitchen table. “With,” I reply, defeated. Clearly he’s not going to explain what’s going on, why he dislikes me. I guess I just have to appreciate his kind gestures, and ignore his cold-as-ice attitude. Could be worse…

  Except that I don’t want coldness between us. I want heat. I want fire. I want his hands all over my body, pulling me to him, his lips crushing mine and his hard body running along my length…

  He sets a plate in front of me and I force myself out of that impossible fantasy. I take a bite of his stir-fry, though I can already tell from the scent that this will be frustrating.

  It’s delicious, damn him.

  Hot, wealthy, a great cook, generous when he wants to be, great with kids… This man has everything.

  Which is why I am not convinced he doesn’t have a partner, too. Some lucky woman must have snatched him up years ago. I think about the clothes I found in the spare room this morning, as I pi
ck through the food. “So, Cassius.”

  He just looks at me, expectant. God, I love the silent type, but he’s intimidatingly so.

  I swallow a bite of stir-fried mushrooms for courage. “Do you live alone?” I ask, once I’ve washed that down with a sip of water.

  “I do, yes.”

  Hmm. A good sign toward singleness. Then again, if he’s just a playboy…

  I’m still debating whether I should outright ask if there’s anyone in the picture when, to my surprise, he speaks up.

  “You do too, Manila.”

  The sound of my name on his lips makes my chest ache and my groin tighten. But then I register what he’s said, and laugh bitterly. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only because you said you don’t have a partner, earlier.”

  Oh. Right. Duh. My cheeks flare again. “Yeah, well…” I shrug one shoulder. “Guess I’m not the partnering type.”

  Cassius leans forward, a furrow of concern between his brows. “Why do you say that?”

  “Just…” Inadvertently, I glance toward the twins’ room. “Anytime I’ve tried the whole relationship thing, it always seems to go badly. Maybe it’s just not meant to be for me.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment,” he replies, with more heat in his voice than I’d expect. When I glance up again, he’s staring at me, intense and caring all at once. “What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  I tilt my head to one side, confused. “What happened with what?”

  “Your ex.” He, too, glances toward the twins’ room.

  I frown. “Which one?”

  He blinks, squirming a little in his chair. “I… Well, I assumed there had been someone in the picture. When you had Luca and Lucie.”

  I shake my head, laughing a little again. “I gave up on relationships long before they came around. Luca and Lucie don’t have a father.”

  His face visibly tightens as I say that, his eyes narrowing and his mouth clamping tight.

  Oh god. I can already imagine what he’s thinking. That I just had some one-night stand or… I hold up my hands, as if to tell him to stop. “It’s nothing weird. I just really wanted children, and I was at a point in my life where I had a stable job, and enough income to support—well.” I laugh softly. “To support one child, but I got lucky with a bonus prize.”

  He’s still watching me, so intently that the air starts to do that magnetizing thing again. Every hair on my body rises, even as my shoulders turn toward him and I seem to gravitate toward him, leaning in slowly against my will.

  “I was artificially inseminated,” I explain. “They’re test tube babies.” I smile sideways. “Best decision I ever made, no matter how difficult it might get.”

  “Would you consider letting a man into your life now?” he asks, and I swear I nearly fall out of my seat in shock.

  Why is he asking this? Is he actually thinking about…

  But no. I’ve seen the way he is. Hot and cold. On and off. He’s just making small talk. Dinner conversation.

  So I tell myself. But I also notice that neither of us has continued eating. Fine, if he wants to play this game… “What about you?” I reply, and I’m gratified by the slight startle in his eyes. “Why are you still single? You’re rich, you clearly love children, not to mention you’re hot as hell.”

  To my satisfaction, his cheeks tinge the faintest pink at that last comment. “We’re talking about you right now,” he counters, and I notice that he’s leaning in too. We’re just inches apart, his breath on my cheeks, only the tabletop between us. “So come on. Would you consider lifting your ban on men, or have you sworn them off for good?”

  His foot brushes mine under the table, and I jolt at the electric shock that sings through me. “I—I don’t…. Um…”

  He grins slightly, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

  I shake my head to clear it. “I haven’t sworn them off forever, I just… It would have to be the right man. You know. Someone who cared about children, someone who understood the responsibility that comes with dating a woman with kids. Someone who I can tell likes the twins, who would make a good father, like—”

  I freeze, stopping myself dead.

  He’s barely an inch away from me now. Those gray eyes of his are flecked with yellow at the centers, like tiny sunbursts. I can’t look away. “Like who, Manila?” he whispers.

  “Like you,” I hear myself say, and I swear I can already feel his lips again, kissing me, claiming me…

  But he doesn’t move.

  I count breaths in the silence, listen to the racing pulse in my chest. He’s breathing faster too, I can feel it against my cheeks, hot as flames.

  But then his eyes break from mine, and he glances down at the table between us. “You don’t need to lie to me,” he murmurs faintly, pushing away from the table. He picks up our plates, but I catch his wrist and stand beside him, holding him there, my fingers burning where they wrap around his wrist.

  “I’m not lying. I’ve seen you, the way you are with the twins. I would never lie about that. You’re a good man, Cassius.”

  His eyes snap back to mine, white-hot, wide with surprise.

  “Even if you act cold sometimes,” I add, smirking slightly.

  Then I can’t say anything else, because he grabs my chin in his fingers and tilts my head up toward is. When our lips finally collide, it feels like the kind of kiss I’ve spent years waiting for. Hot and cold at once, all consuming.

  He wraps his arms around me, hands on my hips, and I arch onto my tiptoes, kissing him back with everything I have. His tongue parts my lips, tastes me, and I breathe in his heady scent, unable to get enough.

  “Manila,” he groans, and just like that, I’m a goner. He grips my ass, lifts me slightly to slide his feet under mine. We walk like that, me balanced on his feet, backwards out of the kitchen. “I need to fuck you,” he says, his voice low and guttural.

  “Take me.” I look up at him, arms around his neck, feeling every inch of his sinuous body against mine, including his cock, thick and hard where it digs into my stomach. “Do whatever you want to me, Cassius, I want you.”

  I think he’s headed toward the bedroom, but clearly neither of us can wait to make it that far. At the living room couch, he tosses me down backwards, then lies down over me, his hot mouth tracing down my neck, my chest, his hands sliding underneath my shirt. His teeth graze my collarbone lightly and my whole body shivers in response.

  “God, you are fucking gorgeous, Manila,” he breathes.

  I press my hands flat to his washboard abs and push his shirt up out of the way. He breaks contact with me for a second to yank it over his head and toss it aside, then he’s back, kissing and sucking at my neck, his tongue caressing my skin.

  “Mm, and you taste amazing…”

  I run my hands up to his shoulders, along the sides of his jaw to tilt his head toward mine. “I want to feel your body against mine,” I say.

  He slides my shirt off, unclasps my bra almost before I have time to blink, and bends to flick his tongue across my nipples, one after the other. I arch my back and gasp, digging my nails into his bare back.

  He growls softly at that, a low, animal sound, and slides back up to claim my mouth in a deep kiss again, his chest digging into mine. My nipples are hard as diamonds, rubbing against his solid, muscular body. I can’t stop running my hands along his back, his sides, his abs, savoring the feel of his muscular form. Fucking hell, he could be a GQ model with this body.

  He grins down at me, knowing the effect he has on me, enjoying it. “I can’t wait to make you beg for me,” he whispers.

  He’s touching me everywhere, his hands exploring every inch of me, like he’s trying to memorize me. His hands knead my breasts, circle my nipples, teasing, building my anticipation until every brush of his skin on mine makes me shiver.

  “Cassius…”

  Then he flattens his palm against my chest and slides his hand under the hem of my jeans. H
is fingers delve under my panties, circling my mound, as he kisses me again, harder. We both moan into the kiss, as his fingers inch ever closer to my clit, the red-hot center of my body. It feels swollen and heavy with want.

  Like the torturer that he is, he slides right around my clit and parts my pussy lips with his fingers instead, trailing his fingers along my slit. I can feel how wet I am, and he grins, his lips smiling where they’re still pressed to mine. He pulls away just far enough to gaze down at me, eyes lidded with desire.

  “You feel how wet you are?” he murmurs.

  “For you,” I whisper, arching up to meet him. His cock digs into my hip, and I grind against him, desperate, needing him.

  But I won’t beg. Not yet.

  He pushes me back to the couch, smirking. “Ah, ah. You think I’m going to let you come that easily, my dirty little girl?”

  I swallow hard. “Maybe?” I try, catching his eye with a spark in mine.

  His grin widens. “Oh, Manila. We are only just getting started. I am going to drive you wild…” His finger circles my lips again, then up across my mound. Everywhere but my clit, everywhere but the throbbing pulse begging to be touched. Damn him.

  I gasp faintly as he spreads my pussy lips wider, and slides one finger inside me, an inch at a time. “Yes, yes, right there…”

  He stops halfway inside me and licks my lips. “Tell me, Manila, have you fantasized about me?”

  “Yes,” I gasp, my back arching.

  His finger slides deeper inside me, all the way in. “Good. Because I have fantasized about you, too. All night. All day.” He nips my neck, just hard enough for a pleasant sting of pain.

  He slides another finger into me and I groan louder.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. About all the ways I want to fuck you. The things I’m going to do to your beautiful, sexy little body…”

  He adds a third finger, filling me, and I feel the stretch all throughout my body, my toes curling with sheer pleasure. Then he crooks his fingers, and presses hard against the front wall of my pussy, raking down my pussy until I cry out faintly, when he grazes my G-spot.

  “I want to make you come until you can’t even remember your own name. Until you beg me to stop—and then I’m going to make you come again. How do you like the sound of that, Manila?” He leans up to watch me again, drinking in my pleasure like a drug as he fingers my G-spot, making my hips rise up off the couch and my mouth part with a gasp.