Billionaire's Second Chance

by Claire Adams

  I didn’t turn around to look when I finally got the door unlocked, but I quickly slipped in and slammed it shut behind me. It was a heavy door, and part of me was expecting that his arm was going to snake through at the last second before it shut, but it didn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief and then walked through the small lobby to my own door. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was he completely undeterred by everything that I said?

  When my mother called the next evening, I felt for sure it was because she had some sort of sixth sense about my virginity, and she knew that I had lost it. Usually, more time elapsed between our interactions, especially when they ended as they had the last time we met up.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice as much as I could.

  “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “Am I interrupting your work? If I am, I’ll call back at another time.”

  I glanced at my laptop, which I’d placed next to me on the couch to answer the phone. Yes, I’d just been using it—no, it hadn’t been to work on any writing. I was on Facebook, looking at Ian’s profile, scrolling through pictures, wondering if I should friend him or not. Since we were sleeping together, the obvious answer seemed yes, but I wasn’t sure since we were keeping things hush-hush.

  “No, you’re not interrupting anything,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Quite good, thank you. I was just working on my own manuscript, as a matter of fact, but thought I’d take a little break to give you a call. I’ve really found momentum to be the key to productivity, but everyone needs a break now and then, right?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Glad to hear your writing is going so well.”

  “So everything is good with you? Have you resolved any of those issues that you brought up the last time we got together?”

  “If you’re asking whether I’ve quit my job or not, the answer is no. And I still have a stalker, and yes, I’m still considering moving.”

  “Well, do you remember how I mentioned that my colleague was writing a book about the quarter-life crisis? We were talking a little bit about your situation, and he said that he’d be more than happy to discuss things with you. He’s learned quite a bit from the research he’s conducted, and I think it would be great if you would get in touch with him and set up a time to meet.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said. “Listen, Mom, I am actually kind of busy right now, so I think I better go. If you want to meet up for coffee or something, maybe we can do that.”

  “That might be nice,” she said. “My schedule’s pretty busy though. So I don’t want to set anything up yet, but I’ll get back to you. And if you change your mind about Carl and letting him talk to you, just let me know! I think it’d be really good for you. Very helpful. Beneficial. Extremely—”

  “Okay, Mom, I get it,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with your writing.”

  “Same to you!” she said, a little too jovially.

  I tried not to roll my eyes when I hung up the phone. Sometimes my mother felt more like a competitive sister than a mother. Part of me was just dying to call her back and say I just lost my virginity to the hottest guy you have ever seen! but that would just start a whole conversation I didn’t want to have with her.

  And besides. Things were actually going really well for me. Aside from the fact that I still had a stalker, I could not remember a time when I’d been happier. Having sex had suddenly made the world seem like a whole different place, so much more exciting, so many more possibilities.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ian

  The next morning I was distracted, thinking about Daisy, as I was getting ready for work. I was sitting there at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal, replaying the sex in my mind. It had been hard to wait, that day we went out on the boat—I’d wanted to do her right then and there—but I was big into delayed gratification, so I made her wait. And it had been worth it. More than worth it. It was, of course, making myself wait, too, and my dick had been at about half mast ever since, her being the only thing that I could really think about. That’s exactly what I was thinking about when my phone started going off; I reached over and picked it up without looking at the screen.

  “Ian! Finally! Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

  I let out a big sigh, right into the microphone, so Annie would probably have to pull the phone away from her ear, it’d be so loud on her end.

  “I’ve been busy. I also thought I told you that I’m frankly not interested in having anything to do with you anymore. It didn’t have to be that way, but you knew from the beginning that it was casual, what we had between us.”

  “Who’s the new girl you’ve got working for you? I called; a woman answered. I know you’ve hired my replacement.”

  “Of course we did. What did you think—I’d start answering the phones there myself? That we’d erect some sort of shrine to you because you were no longer employed there? Give me a fucking break.”

  “It was fast, is all I’m saying.”

  “At the end of the day, we’re a business, so yeah, we’re going to hire a replacement when there’s a vacancy.”

  “I bet she’s hot. Probably not as hot as I am, though.”

  “You are hot,” I said. “But you’re also insecure and clingy. And don’t know how to let a good thing last.”

  “It’s probably against some sort of law to be sleeping with your employees, you know. You fuck this new one yet?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “But you’re going to.” I could hear the jealousy in her voice.

  “You turning green over there?”

  “Actually, I am, but not green with envy. Green with nausea.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Go have some ginger ale and lie down.”

  “You don’t want to know why I’m nauseous?”

  “I’m not interested in playing games with you.”

  But I knew what she was going to say, and I started feeling a little nauseous myself. Why did I pick up the phone? Why was I still on it right now?

  “I’m pregnant,” she said.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Would you like me to text you a picture of the test I just took?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Well, I’m sitting right here, looking at it, and there are definitely two pink lines. And my period’s late. And you shouldn’t act so surprised. How many of those times did you wear a condom?”

  My hand tightened around the phone, my shoulders rising up toward my ears. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I said. “I wore a condom once or twice. I stopped wearing a condom because you told me you were on the fucking pill!” (Also because I hated wearing condoms to begin with, but she didn’t need to know that).

  “I am on the pill. But it’s not one hundred percent.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my free hand across them. What a load of shit. “So what are you going to do?” I said. “What are you thinking?”

  There was a pause. I knew Annie had already decided what she was going to do, but she wanted to make me wait for it. Wanted to give me the glimmer of hope that I might not be genetically connected to her for the next eighteen years.

  “I’m keeping it,” she said. “Are you suggesting that I should get an abortion?”

  “I might be.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “How are you going to have a baby, Annie? You’re like the least maternal person I know.” That was true, but she probably didn’t care about that. I was going to have to appeal to her superficial side. “Do you know what pregnancy is going to do to your body? It’s going to destroy your body. Trust me. I’ve slept with some women who have had kids, and their bodies are wrecked. Stretch marks, cellulite, pancake tits, huge areolas. You push a baby out and your pussy will be so loose the next guy’s dick will be bouncing off the walls in there.”

  “That’s nice, Ian,
” she said. “I’m glad to see you have such respect for the miracle of birth.”

  “You really think you’re in the position to have a baby right now? You’re twenty-six. That’s pretty young.”

  “It’s not that young. There are teenagers who have babies.”

  “Yeah, sure, and they live at home with their parents, or they’re on welfare and live in subsidized housing. Is that what you’re telling me? You’re going to move back in with your parents? You’re going to go sign up for food stamps?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “I was hoping that this news might make you a little more willing to explore the possibility of the two of us getting back together—”

  “Hold the fuck up,” I interrupted. “We were never together. We hooked up and had a physical relationship. That was it. And when it became clear to me that you were after something more than that, I broke it off. I didn’t string you along like I could have. And now you want to call up and tell me this shit.”

  She started to laugh. “Wait—are you saying that you deserve some sort of medal or something? Some man of the year award, because you ended things with me when they started to get real? Holy shit, Ian, you’re stupid.”

  “Watch yourself,” I said.

  “Well, you are if that’s what you think. Listen, Ian. I wasn’t planning to get pregnant. I’m pretty good about taking my pills every morning. I may have missed a day or two here and there, but this is the first time this has ever happened to me.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just telling you because I want you to know this wasn’t something I planned. But it’s happening, and I’m not going to get an abortion. I’m actually very pro-choice, but I just can’t do it.”

  “You can, though. That’s what the service is there for. For unplanned pregnancies, especially when the mother is nowhere near ready to actually become a mother.”

  “I am, though. And I was hoping you’d say that you wanted to step up and be a father, too. That we could do this together.”

  I swear my blood pressure just shot up fifty points. “Listen, Annie,” I said. “This isn’t some fucking Lifetime movie where everything ends happily ever after. You don’t get to call up and announce this pregnancy and have me suddenly realize that I’ve been in love with you all along and that we should really be together. That’s not how it works. Or at least not in this case.”

  “I wasn’t expecting that. It’d be nice, of course, but I wasn’t expecting it. No, what I was hoping, Ian, was that you would realize you were at least willing to give it a shot. I don’t think that’s asking too much, considering there’s going to be a whole new life entering the equation in nine months.” I cringed. “I was hoping that you’d realize that you could actually settle down and just be with one person, and that maybe you and I—and our child—could have a really nice life together. We already know we’re sexually compatible, and that’s a big part.”

  Why had I answered the fucking phone? I stood up, so quickly that my chair almost toppled over.

  “That is not going to happen,” I said. “And honestly, Annie, from the sounds of it, I’m starting to suspect that you got pregnant on purpose. That you conveniently forgot to take your pills, not just for a day or two, but probably more like a week or two. Or maybe a whole month.”

  “That’s not true,” she said stiffly.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  The longer I had to think about it, the more I realized that that’s probably exactly what happened. I could picture her, standing in the bathroom, pushing the little pills out, dropping them, one by one, down the drain. Then having me fuck her six ways from Sunday. Women were always going on and on about how the world was sexist and they didn’t get a fair shake, but they had this power they could use whenever they wanted. They could be deceitful and manipulative and trap men by claiming to be on birth control when they weren’t. Fuck!

  “Fine,” I said. “I obviously can’t make you have an abortion. But listen to me now and listen good—I am not getting together with you. Notice I didn’t say back together, because we would have had to be together in the first place. You and I are not going to have some happy little family. You can go ahead and have a kid if you want. Ruin your life. Have fun with that.”

  “You’re such an asshole,” she said, and she sniffled, and she was probably crying. “This kid will be yours, too.”

  “Yeah, well, I want a paternity test when it’s born. How the fuck do I know you weren’t out banging half of Boston?”

  “I wasn’t. You were the only one I was with.”

  “Go ahead and do what you want. I don’t even know why you called me to begin with when it’s clear that you’ve already made up your mind. I’m telling you, though, I don’t want to have a kid right now, and I certainly don’t want to have a kid with you. So if you want to go ahead and become a single mother, then by all means.”

  “You don’t want anything to do with this baby? Really, Ian? Well, you’re at least going to have to pay child support. You’re right, I won’t be going on welfare or moving back with my parents—you’ll be paying child support, and don’t think for a second—”

  I threw the phone across the room, where thankfully, it shattered, ending the call. I didn’t know how long I stood there for, trying to take deep breaths, waiting to wake up because surely this was just a horrible fucking nightmare, but after a few minutes, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. My phone was still smashed on the ground, the cereal I’d been eating was a soggy mess in milk. I’d been feeling so good that morning when I woke up, eager to get to work to see Daisy, and now suddenly that had all been completely obliterated.

  God fucking dammit.

  I was not in a good mood when I got into the office, and even Daisy’s smiling face didn’t do much to improve it.

  “Good morning,” she said, and I tried to return her smile, though it probably came out closer to a grimace.

  “Hi there.” Jonathan, of course, was right there, next to her desk; they’d been talking about something when I walked in but had stopped when they saw me. “I’ve got some business to take care of this morning.”

  I strode on past them and into my office, closing the door behind me. I hadn’t shut the door since Daisy’s first day when I’d been changing my coffee-stained pants; I needed it shut right now, though. With it shut, my office turned into a controlled environment, almost a cocoon of sorts, and as I sat down in my chair and placed my hands on my desk, I felt a sliver of stress slide away. Only a sliver, but I’d take it.

  The feeling that wasn’t going anywhere was the fact that Annie had trapped me.

  I wasn’t sure exactly how much time had elapsed when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The door opened slowly and Daisy peeked her head around. “Are you busy?”

  “No, come in,” I repeated. She stepped in and closed the door behind her, though she didn’t push it all the way shut.

  “I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay,” she said. “You’ve been in here all morning.”

  “It is my office. I do have work to do,” I said. But I was touched, actually, that she’d come to check up on me. Which was strange, because if Annie had done the same thing, I would’ve found it completely annoying, overly cloying, kind of pathetic. I smiled. “There’s just some stuff I’ve had to take care of. How’s it going out there?”

  “It’s good. Jonathan had to take some stuff to the post office and then was going to meet up with Dan at the civic center, but he said to tell you he’ll be back late afternoon. There was something he wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t tell me what it was though.”

  “All right. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Sure.” She put her hand on the doorknob and started to pull the door open but then stopped. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem a little . . .
I don’t know, stressed, maybe.”

  She stood there, today wearing a slightly shorter, more form-fitting gray skirt, with a white short-sleeve blouse, the top button undone. There was nothing more I would have rather done at that moment than told her exactly what had happened on the phone with Annie, but that wasn’t the sort of news you shared with the woman you were planning to sleep with next. Was that even a good idea at this point? Maybe taking the path of celibacy would be better for right now.

  But no. I’d have to fire her if that was going to be the case, because there was no way I’d be able to have her around like this and not get with her. It was like I could feel it radiating off of her skin, this intense desire that she probably didn’t even know she had. What was it Jonathan had said when he was trying to get me to give her an interview? She’s a freak in bed. She probably was a freak in bed. I’d be the one to bring it out in her.

  “Yeah, you know, things can get a little stressful at times,” I said. “But that’s just how it goes. I try not to let it get me down.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Well . . . if there’s anything that I can do to help, so you’re not so stressed, just let me know.”

  The innuendo was there, but she didn’t realize it. I tried to hide my smile. I probably shouldn’t even go there at this point—my dick had gotten me into enough trouble—but there was just something about her that was completely irresistible.

  “You’ve already helped, actually. Thanks.”

  “But I didn’t do anything.”

  I wanted to get up from my desk, push the door shut all the way, and tear open her blouse, the little iridescent buttons popping off, one by one. I’d lay her across my desk and squeeze her ass a few times before—

  No.

  Not just yet.

  “I appreciate it anyway,” I said. And then the phone started to ring, and Daisy excused herself to go answer it.