Baby By The Billionaire - A Standalone Alpha Billionaire Secret Baby Romance (New York City Billionaires - Book #3)

by Alexa Davis

  “Getting there, Paul. I did talk to my new lawyer, and he’s the best—Andrew used to say so all the time.” Paul nudged her with his shoulder and she gave him a wry smile. “There has to be a better reason than just selfishness in how Andrew left us the way he did. Tucker Hargrave will figure it out. He’s already been thinking about it on his own, so he should be up to speed quickly, don’t you think?”

  The recess bell rang and Paul herded children toward the door, and I called Olivia over to me. She was pink and breathless, her eyes glowing, and happily, she still smelled of the sunscreen I sent with her daily. I brushed her off and she ran away, then came back with her hat, before I had a chance to chastise her for not wearing it.

  “You burn easier than other children, Olivia. You need to wear your hat, okay?”

  “D’Ante doesn’t need a hat.”

  “He should wear one, to prevent heat stroke.”

  “I wish I looked like D’Ante.” Her pout was so sincere and disappointed, I bit my lip to keep a straight face for her.

  “Well, D’Ante is very handsome, but I like you looking like you. You have your daddy’s eyes, and your Aunt Lisa’s hair, and Mommy’s nose. I like that you look like your family.” Those eyes turned up to me, pale green as sea glass, and she scowled at me.

  “I still wish I looked like D’Ante’s family. D’Ante looks like chocolate. I look like milk. I hate milk.” I hid my chuckle with a cough and stared into those defiant sea green eyes.

  “Fair enough. But since you are you, maybe we can find a name that isn’t something you don’t like? Hmmm, how about vanilla ice cream, or marshmallow, or sugar cookie?”

  “I love sugar cookies!” The corners of her little rosebud mouth turned up, and her eyes widened.

  “Sugar cookie it is. I think we should go get some lunch, just us girls. What do you think?” In answer, Olivia scampered to the cubbies along the stucco wall outside the school house, straight to the one with her name printed in large rainbow letters. She pulled out her Minnie Mouse backpack and her drawings from morning art class, and carried them over, stopping to pick up papers as they scattered from her little dimpled fingers.

  I helped her get all her art into her bag, and we walked together to the car, holding hands. I strapped her in as she sang a song about safety in the car, and we headed toward this month’s Olivia-favorite: a salad buffet called Sweet Tomato, where she could pile all her favorite fruits on a plate with some yogurt and feel like a grown-up as we talked about our days.

  “Olivia, can you guess who I saw today?” She looked up at me with her cheeks full of strawberry, juice dribbling from the corner of her mouth as she tried to answer. She gave up and, chewing solemnly, shook her head. “I saw Uncle Tuck. You remember him, right?” She nodded and smiled so big more juice slid down her chin. I wiped her face and waited for her to finish her mouthful. “Would you like to see him and say ‘hello’ sometime?”

  “Of course, Mom. He’s my favorite outside-the-family uncle.” I had to smile. The name godfather had seemed too weighty for a little one, so Tucker had insisted on just being “uncle”—but with two uncles on her father’s side, and one on her mother’s, she seemed confused by where he belonged. Andrew had defined him to her as our “outside-of-the-family,” special uncle, and it had stuck.

  “I have to meet with him tomorrow. Maybe I should ask him over to dinner with us sometime.” I knew he was right, that two consenting adults spending a night in the refuge of each other’s arms wasn’t noteworthy in the annals of most relationships. But I had felt something so strong when he touched me, that I was still coming to terms with it. What was I supposed to do, when my husband’s best friend made me feel loved and cherished in a way my husband never had?

  “Mommy, where did you go?” Olivia’s voice broke through and I smiled. I’d said that to her when she was daydreaming since before she could talk. She was such a little mimic; it made me careful what I said in front of her.

  “Sorry, honey. I was thinking about Uncle Tucker, and if he thought I was being rude for not having him eat at our new house.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek, an unfortunate habit she’d picked up from me.

  “I don’t think so. Remember, he’s very busy, like Daddy. He can’t always eat dinner, or even breakfast.” Her four-year-old lisp made breakfast into ‘brask-fucst,’ and I hid a smile behind my cheat-day glass of Dr. Pepper, an instant before my heart clenched tightly, thinking again of all that her father was missing of his sweet, brave, audacious daughter. She felt my mood change, and I felt her watching me. I looked back at her, chewing slowly, her eyes glued to my face.

  “You were thinking about Daddy.” She made it a statement, and I nodded my agreement.

  “I miss him, too. But you miss him more. I bet Uncle Tuck misses him, too. Maybe he can come tell me stories like before!” She exulted in her own brilliance and, kicking her little legs under the table, happily resumed eating. That was enough for me to look past my own misgivings. There would come a time when memories and stories of her father wouldn’t stanch the tears or ease the heartache as much. If that was what she needed now, I would have to keep my feelings to myself and welcome Tucker back into our lives.

  Once lunch was finished, and my soda craving had been assuaged, we drove to the townhouse we now called home, and changed into our swimsuits before heading down to the pool. I started to pack my laptop, hoping to squeeze some work in, but accepted that probably wouldn’t happen, not unless Shaunte was out sunning. I glanced at my phone. Preschool was over, so into the bag went the computer, and with sunscreen and computer bag in hand, we headed down to enjoy the sun from the clubhouse just across the playground from our home.

  The water was warm in the afternoon sun, and soon, Olivia was splashing around as she floated in her pint-sized life vest, shooting a water gun that D’Ante and his sister were sharing with her. I still hadn’t taken out my computer, letting the sunshine and the sounds of the children playing together lull my anxiety for a little while.

  I had been too young to know better when I was swept off my feet by a decent, though controlling man. I’d worked my fingers raw cleaning offices at night, and sold lady’s underthings at a boutique during the day, all so my pre-law husband could finish school and be a corporate attorney. Once he was established, he promised, I’d get my turn. So, I’d drawn designs for my friends’ businesses, and done it for free, because Andrew had thought it would reflect badly on him for me to beg our friends for work.

  Now, I was almost a decade behind in the game, trying to make up for lost time with no education, a daughter to raise alone, and my younger, sleazier replacement doing her best to prevent me access to the money that could make it all easier.

  Sleepless nights were taking their toll, I told myself as much after I’d broken down in front of Tucker. But it only ever seemed to happen with him—and then I couldn’t stop it from happening. I shuddered to think of how he must have seen me, broken and weak. I ignored the hitch in my chest and promised myself: never again. I had let a man make me too weak to be the mother I needed to be, because I trusted him and catered to his ego and his whims. Never would I let a man come between me and my priorities, ever again.

  Chapter Three

  Tucker

  I went over the file almost a dozen times, looking for loopholes or clauses that the new will hadn’t locked out of the older versions. Piper had been thorough. He’d done a good job making the will as airtight as possible. Which left me two tasks. First, to pray for a judge who would give a rat’s ass about a little girl who had just lost her father, and her future. Second, to ask Steve Piper what the hell he’d been thinking, writing a will to deny a four-year-old even pictures of her dead father, without blinking.

  I picked up my phone to check the time, and realized I’d never taken it off silent mode. Not only had Caroline called me back, I had missed a call from Steve as well. His message was short. He knew I was going to represent Libby, and he wanted to meet with
me to talk about the will, and what he thought I might be able to do to help Olivia. I breathed a sigh of relief and kicked back in my seat, waiting for Kennedy to notice, and jump up, which she did with a little doggy grunt and the sudden addition of almost eighteen pounds to my lap.

  “I think you’re putting on weight, little sister,” I groused, while she inched up my belly to lick my face. My stomach rumbled, she jumped and stared at me like I’d bit her. “All right, all right. Let’s get your food bowl filled, then I’ll take a chance on whatever I’ve got in the fridge.” I sat up and she slid down my legs, landing with a thump, and stared up at me with her tongue lolling out. After I mashed a can of dog food into her bowl, I looked in the fridge, expecting the worst. Sure enough, it was a food desert. I pulled out one of the last two beers, and shut the door. It would be take out for the third time in a row.

  I ordered enough Chinese to feed me for a couple of days, and sat back down at the table. It had been hard enough not thinking about Libby over the past couple of months, without being thrust headlong into the mess Andrew had made of his life before he had the bad form to die and leave the people who loved him behind. I sighed heavily, rubbing my eyes. I’d call Steve first thing; an early riser, he was always in the office before anyone. I hadn’t been away from my former colleagues long enough to be comfortable with my intimate knowledge of their habits, and I felt a twinge of guilt that I had walked away. But with Andrew gone, there had been no reason to keep banging my head against the brick wall that had been the senior partners of Cripke, Cripke, and Stokes.

  It burned me to know that I’d had such a reputation for my successes, and I’d wasted so much time on loyalty to people who didn’t deserve it. There had to have been more to Andrew’s choices than simply trading in his young, beautiful wife for someone even younger. He’d been closed off, guarded, and even secretive in the months before his marriage ended. I hadn’t seen him happy in so long before he died, I hardly remembered the man who had once been the first to make a joke, who had believed that the sun had risen and set in his daughter’s sweet face.

  I made notes in the margins, unable to concentrate long enough on the paperwork to get anywhere with the memories of Libby’s smooth skin chasing my more intelligent thought processes out the window. I could still feel her soft fingers as she’d run them over my chest and stomach, her mouth following hungry and wet, everywhere she’d touched. My pants pulled tight across my stomach and I stood up to shake it off.

  “Glad it’s just you and me right now, Kennedy,” I scoffed as she glanced up from her cushion and thumped her tail on the floor. I stretched and paced the floor, trying to reconcile the things I’d felt for my best friend’s ex-wife with the loyalty I’d had for Andrew. No matter how hard I tried to forgive him, I was still angry at him. Mad that he’d left the woman of my dreams for a pale shadow of her grace and beauty. Furious that he’d let down that little girl. The sun dipped further down, and the shadows grew longer across the condominium. I grabbed my phone and texted the nearest Hargrave, my younger brother George.

  George was married and getting used to life with their sweet little adopted daughter, Lilly-Jade. He wasn’t one for carousing anyway, but I’d tried to leave him and Callie alone for a bit as they adjusted to life as parents. I knew I was desperate for company the second I picked up the phone, still thinking of Libby, and I’d brave an infant and an Afghanistan veteran-with-PTSD-turned-stressed-out new father, before I’d chance making Libby even more uncomfortable about coming to see me for help.

  He texted right back and begged me to bring beer and food. I told him I’d already ordered Chinese and I’d bring it with me and I’d stop for beer. The food arrived right as I emerged from my bedroom in jeans and a graphic t-shirt depicting the Incredible Hulk and the phrase “I don’t people well” that my youngest brother, Jackson, had given me the Christmas before. Kennedy jumped and whined when she saw her leash in my hand, and I grabbed the dog treats and stuck them in the take-out bag for her to share with her fur-cousins, George’s service dog, Xavier, and Callie’s little love-sponge lap dog, Slinky.

  Their house was lit like Christmas as I pulled up the driveway, and when no one answered, I let myself in, only to wonder if I should leave the food and go. Somewhere in the house, there was a crying baby, and my brother was on his hands and knees looking under sofas and chairs for something, as the dogs jumped and played over and around him.

  In an act of mercy, I let all three dogs outside and looked for Callie. She was in the nursery bouncing little L.J. in her arms, begging her to stop crying. When she saw me, all she could do was shake her head, while I tried not to smile. I held out my hands for the baby, not because I wanted to hold her, but I figured whatever George was looking for, Callie was more likely to spot it and stop the noise.

  “She lost her binky. You know, the cute one you gave us with the moustache, that said ‘I moustache you a question' on it?” I immediately handed Lilly-Jade back to her mother.

  “I had bought two at the time, but one fell between the seats. Let me see if I can dig it out.” I said, jogging to the front door. I looked at George, who had finally noticed my arrival. “You know a dog probably ate it, right?” I asked. He didn’t respond, but the look on his face was reply enough. I dug around under the passenger seat of my Lexus until I felt the cardboard that held the pacifier between my fingers and yanked it out, scratching my arm on the springs and drawing blood in the process.

  Pacifier in hand, I quick-stepped back into the house and tossed it to my brother, who peeked around the corner to see if his wife was watching, before giving it a quick rinse under the tap and limping it in to the nursery. I heard him say something that sounded like, “desperate times…” and he walked back out, just as the screaming came to an abrupt stop.

  “You okay?” I asked. He laughed and reached for the bags of Chinese food.

  “She is damn particular about her binky.” He snorted and held up the dog treats, arching an eyebrow, then tossed the bag to me and started filling plates. “Callie was worried ‘cause we didn’t boil it first. I suggested not waiting was worth the risk.” I popped the caps off a couple of beers and handed him one.

  “No kidding it was. Is she going to be okay now?”

  “Yes, I mean, now she might sleep right through the night.” He shrugged. “I cannot believe that stupid pink mustachioed thing is not only her go-to soother, but the only one she’ll take.” I grinned.

  “That makes my day, at least, now that I got to be the hero and it’s quiet in here.” Callie scoffed at me as she rounded the corner, sans baby. She rubbed her temples and accepted a plate heaping with chicken lo mein, with a look of gratitude on her face.

  “Tucker, I owe you. I thought my biggest problem tonight would be to get Xavier to let me trim his nails, but after the last hour, I’m going to let one of my groomers handle it at the shop tomorrow, and call it good.” She took a bite of food and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “I will make you enough enchiladas to feed you for a month, just for having that stupid pacifier in your car.”

  “I bled for that binky,” I complained, showing her the long deep scratch down my arm. George laughed and shook his fork at me.

  “He’s angling for tamales, you know that, right?” He scoffed.

  “Tamales are for the biggest acts of heroism, it’s true. I think you’ve earned a few spicy pork tamales to go with that tray of enchiladas. And the tamales, you can have tonight.” I fist pumped and gave my brother a wink.

  “Totally worth the loss of blood.” George let me finish eating without asking why I’d suddenly needed company so bad, but I could see him waiting for me to tell him. Callie, on the other hand, was happily ignoring the heavy silence between us, likely just enjoying that there was silence at all.

  She motioned us into the living room with a new beer for each of us, cleaning up the mess we’d made. Meanwhile, George let our furry friends in and we gave them the treats I’d brought. He settled in, still watch
ing me, waiting, while I pointedly ignored him. Finally, Callie rejoined us and broke the silence.

  “Oh, for the love of God, Tucker, what is up with you? Usually, you’ve shared three stories about how someone from your old firm called up threatening you because they lost another client, or something ridiculous that Jackson and C.J. are up to, trying to make up their minds about whether to move back to Texas, or something. What’s eating you?”

  “Libby came by the office today. Andrew wrote a new will before he died, and cut her, and worse, Olivia, out of it.” I downed some beer and shrugged. “Another colleague handled it and did everything exactly the way it needed to be done, so that stripper would get everything, and a little girl would lose her father, and everything that could remind her of him.”

  Callie sucked in a breath and leaned forward in her seat, and George clenched his jaw. They both knew how important it had been to me when Andrew and Libby had asked me to be her godfather. I’d made it to church for a couple of months ahead of time, just to make sure I was prepared for the responsibility of being there for her if her parents couldn’t be. At the time, the worst thing I had thought possible was when Libby had come to me as a teen, looking for advice on how to elope.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Callie asked quietly, pain evident in her voice even as she pulled Slinky up into her lap.

  “I’m going to find out if Steve really has a soul, or if he wants me to call him so he can gloat about his handiwork. Then, I’m going to have coffee with Libby and either give her hope, or tear her heart out and stomp on what little is left.” I lifted my beer in salute and drained it, and waved Callie back to her seat when she tried to get out from under Slinky.

  “If you’re getting up, I wouldn’t mind a bottle of water,” George asked. His face was tight and strained around the eyes. I nodded and took his bottle from him and headed toward the fridge.