Knocked Up by the Billionaire's Son: A Secret Baby Romance

by Lilian Monroe

  “She told me she’d rat me out, tell the guidance counsellor at school that I was working as a male stripper and make sure I never got an internship unless I stopped dancing. Either way she was backing me into a corner, forcing me to give up being a doctor.”

  “Oh Clay,” Val breathes. “That’s awful.”

  “Then she cheated on me. I found her in bed with my best friend.”

  Hot tears roll down my cheeks and for the first time in almost five years, the betrayal I felt comes to the surface. Val holds me and lets me cry, cooing soft words into my ear. Her voice pierces through the sadness and the betrayal and lifts me up. I feel lighter until my throat opens up and I can speak again.

  “I have photos, Val. I can show you the bachelorette party where Caroline and I met. I swear on everything that is holy that she knew what I was.”

  “Clay, I believe you. I believe you.”

  “When I saw Emma at the restaurant, I… Val. You have to believe me. I know how it feels to find your partner with your best friend and I never meant to hurt you. I would never do that to you.”

  “Clay, stop. Emma is my best friend, and she told me to make up with you that day. I was mad and jealous, I hate the thought of you with anyone else. But I know it was before us and I believe you when you say you wouldn’t do that to me.”

  We both lay there in silence, letting the words we’ve been speaking sink in. Val opens her mouth and starts speaking softly.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, didn’t let you speak to me and explain everything.”

  I shake my head.

  “I should have tried harder,” I say. “After Caroline, I vowed to never let someone else in, to never compromise my plans for the sake of a relationship. So when you ignored my calls I just gave in. I gave up.”

  Val’s eyes are watering again. “Why did you come back then?”

  I breathe deeply. Val’s skin is so soft next to mine, her heat is like a healing balm on my heart.

  “I came back because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was working my dream job in Seattle but I dreamt of you every night. Val, I love you.” My voice catches in my throat and I force myself to continue. “I need you. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

  Val puts her delicate fingers over my lips to silence me. Her voice is barely louder than a breath, and her eyes are sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight.

  “I love you too, Clay O’Neill,” she whispers, and then brings her lips to mine. My heart soars and I grip her tight against me. I’m never letting her go again.

  Epilogue – Valerie

  Eight months later…

  I’m pacing up and down the apartment, impatient for Clay to get home from work. He disappeared this morning, saying he had to go into the clinic. He didn’t listen to my protests about it being Sunday, just took off. Then he called me this morning saying he has a surprise for me, and to dress for dinner.

  Another one of his surprises.

  We’ve been living in New York, in his apartment in Soho. He decided not to go back to Seattle, saying it was too rainy. I’m not sure that’s true, I think maybe he just missed the buzz of NYC. They’ve been the happiest months of my life.

  I don’t know why – I’m jittery and excited, I can’t wait for him to get here. I keep checking the clock and then my watch and then my phone for the time, and they keep crawling by at a snail’s pace. I’m dressed in a silky long black dress that hugs my figure. My hair is down, and I’m wearing the simple diamond pendant Clay got me for my birthday a couple months ago.

  Finally I hear the elevator door ding, and I rush to the front door and swing it open wide before he can get to it. He’s wearing a suit and carrying a bouquet of flowers. Tiger lilies, my favourite.

  His shock at the door flying open turns to a tender smile. He scoops his arm around my waist and brings his lips to mine. He smells of musk and spice and his lips taste sweet. I melt into him and breathe in his scent. I could kiss him all night.

  Ignoring my insistent kisses, he pulls away and presents me with the bouquet of flowers.

  “These are for you,” he says with a smile.

  “They’re beautiful, Clay! What’s the occasion?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he says with a wink. “Now put those things in water and let’s go.”

  We head down onto the busy street. Clay has his arm around my waist, holding me tight to him. I love how our bodies just seem to fit together perfectly, like all his crooks fit into my crannies.

  Clay sets the pace to an easy stroll, even when I try to speed us up. He lets out a deep, baritone laugh.

  “Are you impatient or something? You keep trying to drag me along.”

  “I’m just wanting to get to where we’re going! You know how I hate surprises.”

  “You love surprises. Don’t even pretend like you don’t.”

  He gives me a sidelong glance and my cheeks blush. I roll my eyes in an exaggerated motion but I know he’s right. I love his surprises. Almost as much as I love him.

  I resign myself to his slow stroll. His arm around me fills me with warmth, knowing that I’m walking next to the man I love. Next to the man who loves me.

  “Do you know what today is?” He asks me as we walk.

  “Umm.. Sunday?”

  “Very astute,” he says sarcastically. “No, it’s one year since you walked into my office. One year since you walked into my life.”

  My heart flutters. He’s right.

  “You remembered,” I breathe.

  “Remembered? It was the best day of my life.”

  We walk for ten minutes and then Clay pulls me down a street. Halfway down the block he slows to a stop.

  “We’re here!” He says with a smile.

  I look up at the building and my jaw drops. Gallant’s. It’s New York City’s most popular new restaurant. It’s booked up for months, you basically need to be an A-list celebrity to get a table.

  “Clay! How…?”

  “The owner was one of my patients. Owed me a favour. Doesn’t matter because tonight we have the best seat in the house.”

  He’s not wrong. The Maitre D sits us down at a table on a dais, away from most other people. There’s a small privacy screen halfway around the dais so it feels like we have our own little area of the restaurant.

  It’s nothing if not grand. The lights are low with candles on every table. I glance around the room at the couples, businessmen, socialites, and wonder how we got to sit where we are.

  “Good evening, Dr. O’Neill. So glad you could join us tonight,” a booming voice says. “Ah! And this must be Miss Brooks.”

  I turn to see a portly man with ruddy cheeks and long grey whiskers.

  “Mr. Rickshaw! Thank you for having us.” Clay stands up and shakes his hand. Mr Rickshaw reaches over to me and takes my hand in his, bowing slightly over it and brushing it lightly with his lips. I blush and nod my head, not really knowing what to do in response.

  “It’s my pleasure. I won’t take any more of your time. I trust you will enjoy our nine course degustation. The wine is paired specifically for each dish. Enjoy your evening.” And with a wink, he’s away.

  What follows is one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever experienced. Each dish is more delicious than the last, and the waiters keep our wine glasses full. Clay’s eyes are sparkling in the candlelight, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s an extra sparkle to them tonight.

  The ninth course is dessert. A decadent dome of chocolate is placed in front of me and Clay raises his glass.

  “To us,” he says simply.

  I smile, starry-eyed. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and there’s no one I’d rather be here with. There’s no one I’d rather be anywhere with.

  “I love you,” I reply.

  “Should we tuck in?” Clay asks with a grin. “I know you’re dying to eat that.”
>
  I giggle and pick up my fork. I try to slice through the dome of chocolate with my fork but instead just break the shell. I try again, clearing parts of the shell away to reveal a small box. I look up at Clay, brows furrowed in confusion. He’s beaming at me, and his eyes are definitely sparkling.

  I pick up the box off the plate and open it up. Inside is a beautiful, gleaming diamond ring that’s sparkling just as much as Clay’s eyes.

  Without me realising what he’s doing, he appears next to me on a bended knee and gently takes the box from me.

  “Valerie Brooks. You’ve made me a happy man. I never want to be apart from you. Marry me.”

  Just like the movies, my hands fly up to my mouth. My vision is blurry from the tears that appear from nowhere in my eyes. I’m speechless, all I can do is nod my head and hope I’m not ugly-crying. He slips the ring over my finger and wraps me in his arms, twirling me in a circle on the dais.

  I hear applause and realise the entire restaurant has witnessed his proposal. We stand and smile, me more bashfully than Clay. He’s beaming, and look up at him and know that I’m the luckiest person in the world.

  A waiter appears with a bottle of champagne for us. “Compliments of the house,” he says.

  We drink a toast together and I turn away from Clay, knowing if I keep staring at him I’ll start crying again. My eyes sweep across the room as I try to compose myself.

  In the back corner, I notice a face that looks familiar. Her eyes are shooting flaming arrows at me, and her perfectly straight, long black hair is once again pushed behind her with long, red-nailed fingers. The hatred emanating from that woman takes me aback, until she stands up and walks out of the restaurant.

  I glance back at Clay, who hasn’t seen anything. He’s too busy staring at me. The love in his eyes brings me back to him, and I realise that her anger, her jealousy, are a speck of dust in comparison to our love for each other. She’s gone, and all that matters is me and Clay, together. Forever.

  “I love you, Clay.”

  “You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world, Val. I love you too.”

  He leans over and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. It’s tender and soft, it’s a hint of desire wrapped up in pure, true love.

  The End

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  Doctor’s Orders Series: Book II

  Doctor D:

  A Single Dad Romantic Suspense Novel

  Lilian Monroe

  Description

  Emma

  Doctor Davis. Doctor Dad. Doctor D**k!

  Dr. Elliot Davis is a total jerk. Completely, utterly rude. Uncivilised.

  The fact that I have to work with him is my worst nightmare.

  So why do I find him so completely irresistible?!

  If I don’t stay away from him, he might find out my darkest secret…

  Elliot

  Emma Thompson is a knockout. I’m practically salivating whenever she walks by. All I want to do is tangle my fingers into her brown curls and feel those luscious curves pressed up against me. And those red lips…

  I can’t.

  I’m a father.

  I have responsibilities.

  Until we go on a business trip together and I finally give in to the urges that have been torturing me ever since I met her.

  It seems like a perfect love story until an old friend turns out to be my worst enemy. Will I be able to get away from the people that want to ruin my life and rip me away from my daughter? Will Emma be there for us when this is all over?

  Doctor D is a steamy standalone romance and book 2 of the Doctor’s Orders Series. HEA guaranteed, no cliffhangers, and no cheating!

  Chapter 1 – Emma

  Insecurity doesn’t look good on anyone, I tell myself. I’m not usually like this, but the stress from the past few months has been building up far too much. I tuck a strand of my ridiculously curly brown hair behind my ear. I square my shoulders: I’m the girl with the big hair and the bright red lips that can light up a room! I’m the one that people look at, the one people walk up to. I’m not the one that’s crippled by debts and insecurities.

  I take a deep breath. It’s just first day jitters. The first day at a new job is always the roughest, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. I’m nervous, but so far everyone I’ve met has been nice.

  I’m staring at the coffee machine in the office’s kitchen like it’s about to start talking to me. It might, for all I know – this thing has more buttons than my TV remote. All I want is a nice strong cup of coffee and I feel like I’m face to face with some sort of IQ test. There’s a basket of pods beside the machine but I haven’t figured out how they actually turn into the liquid gold I’m craving. I glance around. No one’s here to help me.

  I desperately need a coffee already, and it’s not even 9am. I need this job. Badly. I’ve got debts that need to be paid, and collection time is coming around faster than I’m comfortable with. I try not to think about it right now, but the thought of what I need to pay back creeps into my mind and I’m nervous all over again. There’s a lot riding on this job.

  I’m working the reception desk at New York’s most prestigious plastic surgery office, and so far I’ve seen a stream of gorgeous men and women walk in and out for their consultations. I look down at my own clothes, a white shirt and grey pencil skirt, and I can help but notice the lumps and bumps on my body. I never knew how self conscious I could be until I was surrounded by an industry that is based on superficiality.

  I just need a coffee, and I need to relax.

  I open the cupboard above the coffee machine for a mug. None in this one. I try the next cupboard over. Nope, not that one either. I’m on to the third cupboard when I hear – no, I sense – him come into the kitchen. I turn my head as he slides in next to me and then reaches down to the cupboard near my legs. His hand extends towards the handle and my heart starts beating faster.

  My eyes drag along his arm, noticing how muscular his forearm is, how broad and strong his hand looks. His white doctor’s overcoat is pulling at the shoulders, betraying how wide they are. He bends down and his dark brown hair falls across his temple. He opens the cupboard and pulls out two mug, finally standing up and handing one of them to me. Our eyes meet and my throat tightens. I struggle to swallow, suddenly my mouth feels as dry as the Sahara.

  He extends the mug towards me and I reach out to take it, still staring at him wordlessly. His eyes are an icy blue, set off by his thick, dark lashes. They look like they’re a thousand miles deep, as cold and unreadable as the ocean in the wintertime. I can feel the heat from his body radiating towards me and it’s making me almost dizzy. Our fingers brush each other as the mug exchanges from his hand to mine. My skin sizzles where it touches his fingers, making my cheeks burn even hotter. The touch of his skin sends a thrill through my arm and I look away from him, trying to hide my embarrassment.

  My knees feel weak, and an empty, gnawing feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. I know what it is: it’s raw, unbridled desire. I can feel the blood rushing between my legs and the heat rising in my cheeks.

  “Thanks,” I croak, struggling to find my voice. I glance back up at him and his eyes are still trained on me, studying me. “I’m Emma.”

  “Doctor Davis,” he responds curtly. He nods to the machine. “You done?”

  “I.. uh. Yeah,” No. “Go ahead.” I shuffle out o
f the way as he steps towards me, one eyebrow raised expectantly. Rude. Typical arrogant surgeon.

  I step aside and he puts his mug under a spout. My eyes drift over his arms, his chest, up his neck to his stubbly chin. He’s handsome, and obviously strong. I need to stop staring. I clear my throat, trying to think of something to say.

  “I’m new here, I work the reception.”

  He glances over at me without responding, and then looks back to his cup. The machine is rumbling to life, spurting out some coffee into his mug. He says nothing, and keeps his eyes on his coffee. What an ass! I’m just trying to make casual conversation, the least he could do is make small talk.

  I roll my eyes and lean on the cupboard, looking towards the door. He finishes with the machine and steps aside. I glance over at him and then look away again, staring at the machine in front of me. My heart is beating fast and my cheeks feel flushed. I’m trying not to think about the curve of his chest, or the way his eyes raked along my body sending an electric thrill through me.

  I take one of the coffee pods from the basket next to the machine and clutch it between my fingers. I put the mug underneath a spout and… shit. I should have watched what he was doing instead of staring at his muscles.

  I poke one of the buttons at random. With a high-pitched whistle, a burning hot jet of water and steam starts shooting out of one of the spouts on the side. I yelp, jumping back as the counter and half the cupboards are engulfed in the column of steam.

  Without a word, the doctor jumps over and presses the button again, stopping the column of steam from spraying any more. He says nothing, instead turning around and stalking out of the kitchen. I watch him turn the corner and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  I’m stunned, shocked, like the ground is unsteady underneath me. The embarrassment is red hot inside me, my cheeks burning even after he’s left. I’m not actually sure if it’s embarrassment or desire, I just know I feel flushed and weak. His eyes read me like a book. His obvious lack of interest in me did nothing to stifle the warmth that blossomed inside me as soon as I saw him.

  I turn around slowly, facing the coffee machine again. I feel like I’m in a stupor. I stare at the buttons again, still having no idea how to extract the black liquid from the machine.