Making His Baby: A Billionaire Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  “I lived here for four years. That has to account for something.”

  “This is college. A dorm room doesn’t count.”

  “Ali,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “I’ll be fine. I promise. It will just take some getting used to. That’s all. It can’t be that much different. Instead of a pasture full of cows, I’ll be dealing with a parking lot full of cars.”

  “Yeah, but the cows here don’t try to run you down.”

  “You’re being melodramatic.”

  “Only because I care about you. Promise me that you’ll call me when you get there?”

  “Of course, I will.” I wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly, almost not wanting to let go. I have to admit, the security of Ali and this small dorm room held onto me. I’m nervous but I am good at hiding it. When we finally let go, I force a smile and before the stinging of tears fill my eyes I am turning away from her, picking up the last of my bags and jetting out the door to a new chapter in my life.

  With my culinary arts degree still crisp in my portfolio, I board the plane bound for the Big Apple. As the flight attendant goes over the take-off procedures, I look out the window to the gates and wonder if I am doing the right thing. Maybe it is a mistake moving to the city that never sleeps, when I have never slept with anyone to begin with.

  “Stop second guessing yourself, Maddie,” I tell myself. “You can do this.” I close my eyes and clutch my bag as the plane begins to move forward.

  ***

  The city traffic is insane, and the taxi driver weaves in and out of the lanes, coming dangerously close to other taxis and bicyclists. I learn quickly to keep my eyes in my lap and trust that nothing will come into contact with the bright yellow taxi before it pulls up to my new apartment.

  “Forty-two ninety,” the driver says as the cab comes to a jolting stop.

  I look up for the first time and notice buildings with the occasional tree planted under cement. No grass, no open spaces and definitely no farm animals.

  “Um, is this the Seaman Apartment Complex?”

  “Yes,” he says abruptly. “Forty-two ninety.”

  I dig through my purse and pull out fifty dollars. Once he has it safely in his grasp and has handed me my change, he quickly gets out and pulls my bags from the trunk.

  “Can you help me take my bags into the building?”

  Without a word, the cab driver sets the last of my bags in the road next to the parked cars on the side of the road and gets into his cab.

  “Sir?”

  When he drives off, I look around and begin to believe the rumors.

  “Be careful, Maddie. New Yorkers are nothing like the people back home.” I can still hear my father’s voice over the phone when I called and told him about the job I accepted. “They aren’t nice or friendly. They move way too fast, they keep to themselves and they live in their own world, which is what I highly recommend you do.”

  And, although my father tried his damnedest to talk me out of moving here, he knew I was going to make up my own mind. And here I am, in the middle of the busiest city in America with all my belonging stacked up in front of me.

  I shoulder what I can and drag the rest of my bags, as I struggle to make my way between two parked cars. Dad is right. Out of the sixty-some people who pass me as I grunt and drag my things, not one person stops to help or even ask. No one looks in my direction, except for one older woman who scoffs at me because she has to walk around me.

  “I’m sorry,” I called out. “I dropped my case.”

  She continues on her way without looking back.

  “Have a good day,” I say, shaking my head.

  My apartment is quaint. A small bedroom off a slightly larger room that looks to be my kitchen/living room/dining area. The bathroom is so small I can pee, while putting my feet up on the side of the tub, as long as I don’t lean over and hit my head on the sink.

  I plop down on the bed and look around. “Yes, quaint. We’ll go with that.”

  I pull out my phone, double check that I have the right directions to Bistro Italiano, take a deep breath and begin my new life.

  ***

  “Hello?” I walk into the restaurant between meal hours, I am hoping it isn’t too busy to meet my bosses and get familiar with where I’ll be working. A waitress looks at me as she neatly rolls two forks, a knife and a spoon into a dark blue cloth napkin.

  “Welcome to Bistro Italiano,” she says with a smile as she stands. “Will there be anyone joining you this afternoon?”

  “Um, no. I’m here to see the manager? Is Mr. or Ms Santoro in?”

  She loses her smile and sizes me up. “What about?”

  “I’m starting work here tomorrow.”

  “Waitress?”

  “No. I’ll be in the kitchen. Pastry chef. I kind of wanted to get a feel for the place before I start.”

  “I bet you do.” The woman smirks at me before walking away.

  What just happened? I’m starting to feel like I made a bad choice coming here. Maybe New York City isn’t the right place to start my culinary career. I look around the dining area. I do have to admit, the place does have a certain high-class feel to it. The deep blue curtains are gorgeous against the creamy white walls. Tables and chairs made of a dark wood and beautiful lighting accentuated the art on the walls. I am definitely in the right place. I just need to learn to adapt.

  “Joanne just popped out for a moment and Rocco is busy.” The woman returns from a hallway and sits back down to resume her silverware wrapping.

  “Would it be possible to let me look around the restaurant? I would like to…”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” she says with sarcasm.

  “I’m… sorry.”

  “He said you can go back. He’s just finishing up.”

  “Oh! Thank you.”

  “You got it.” The way she purses her lips gave me a red flag but I didn’t heed it. “Down the hallway, second door on the left.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy.”

  I’m hesitant but I feel my legs carry me in that direction, my eyes still on her. Why is she so bitter, so angry? What did I do that was so bad? Not all New Yorkers can be so cold, can they?

  I walk down the narrow hallway to the second door with a nameplate that reads Rocco Santoro. I stand in front of it, straighten my blouse and put on a nice smile. Lightly knocking on the door, I step back and wait. Someone mumbles from behind the door. Did he tell me to come in?

  I hesitate with my hand on the door knob. Oh, God. Should I go in? Should I knock again? I quietly turn the knob and open the door. I’ll just apologize if he is busy and wait in the hall.

  Opening the door, I freeze at the sight before me. They don’t notice me there. Yes, I said they. A man and a woman, half-naked and having sex on the chair behind the desk.

  Turn around and walk away, Maddie. Why am I not moving? Something stirs within me. I am entranced by him, the way he touches her, his fingers grabbing her, her head falling back as he pleasures her. I like watching him. I want to watch him. They don’t notice me. But I notice myself, me. I’m breathing a little heavier. My lip is between my teeth. My body tenses and my toes curl. I hold on to the doorway and press my body against it.

  He looks up at me, his eyes directly penetrating mine. My breathing stops. Turn around! Leave! What am I doing?

  He smiles and keeps going.

  Chapter 2

  ROCCO

  I will admit, Tasha is hot. One of the hottest pieces of ass in the joint. I didn’t hesitate hiring her years ago and it’s been fun ever since. I knew by the way she presented herself she was going to be a lot of fun. Her waitressing skills, or lack thereof, could be vastly improved, but she is fun to look at. And now, here she is once again, riding me and pleasing me the way a woman should. I grab her hair and yank her head back. She likes that. It makes her gasp, which makes me harder. I drive into her again, ignoring the knock on my door.

  “Come here,
my pet.” I slide my hand around the back of her neck and pull her to me, exposing her neck so I can suck on her tender skin. Just as I lean forward to taste her, I notice a young woman standing in my doorway. Her eyes are wide as saucers and she wants to run but something keeps her there.

  I smirk. She is sweet, pure, innocent, definitely not a native. I like her already. Do you want a show, good looking? I kiss Tasha’s neck, my eyes still on the damsel in my doorway. There is something about her that draws me to her. I can’t stop looking at her. Tasha sits up and blocks my view, pushing her mouth onto mine. I try to be attentive, but I’m distracted now. Grabbing her by her long blonde mane, I pull her to the side and look back to the empty doorway. Something in me changes. I try to concentrate on the luscious babe on my lap but I no longer want her.

  “I can’t do this. Get up.”

  “That’s not what you told me last week, baby.” Her teeth bite into the side of my cheek. Her breathless words were true. I tagged her last week leaning over my desk, or maybe it was at my apartment after work. Ours is a very informal relationship. She lets me know when she is lonely and I do the same. No strings, no messy knots. She is one of the better lovers I have been so fortunate to experience, however, my mind is now on the mystery woman; that look, the purse of her lips and the innocence in her eyes.

  Tasha climbs off me, more understanding than I expect. Her body is gorgeous, curvy, well maintained.

  “Perhaps we can continue this another time.” I stand up and put myself back together, kissing her one last time before escorting her out of my office.

  I look around the dining room and notice Mary sitting at a table, rolling silverware, a smirk on her face. Sneaky. I hesitate before walking into the kitchen, my eyes glued on her, making her aware that I am onto her little game.

  “Nice timing.”

  “I’m sorry, Rocco. Were you busy?” Her words are saturated with sarcasm.

  “Jealousy will not get you any further, Mary.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “I believe you do.”

  I turn to the kitchen, spotting the mystery girl making herself at home alone in my restaurant. A wave of arousal flows through me as my eyes are filled with her again.

  “You are still here,” I say with a smile. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m, um, I want to apologize for…”

  Her innocence radiates through her as her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink.

  “No need. What can I do for you?”

  “I am… I start work here tomorrow.” Her struggle is so cute. It makes me want to comfort her. “I’m Maddie Levere.” She straightens up and holds her hand out to me. I slide my hand into hers, touching her palm with my fingertips and sliding them up until I have firmly imprisoned her delicate hand in mine. Her touch electrifies me.

  “Ah, yes. The fresh graduate from the west.” My eyes are glued to hers and surprisingly, she keeps contact.

  “Yes.”

  “Quite the small town, if I recall.”

  “It is, yes.”

  “How do you like New York?”

  She lets out all the air in her lungs. “It’s definitely a change. Very busy and…” I watch her as she searches for the words she is looking for. “Rude.”

  “Rude?” I repeat, my eyebrows in the air.

  “So far, yes. My father warned me. I didn’t want to believe him, but I see that he is right. New Yorkers are very crass and undeniably full of themselves.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her impression of the people I love. Born and raised in New York, I suppose I am somewhat biased, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “I think you need a little more time here. There is nothing like it.” I watch her face soften. “It is truly alive and pulsates with energy. You just have to give yourself to the beautiful culture of this city and it will give back to you.”

  “I will try.”

  “Let me take you out sometime.”

  “No,” she says, stepping back from me. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You are my boss, for one. Also, I don’t think your wife or girlfriend would approve.”

  “Tasha?” I laugh. “She isn’t my wife or girlfriend, I assure you.”

  “But…” she looks away, “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I’m not sure why I’m here. I don’t know if this is the right place for me.”

  “How do you know if you don’t even give it a chance? Do you give anything a chance, Maddie? Or are you used to watching from the sidelines and making up your mind to walk away before experiencing what life can truly give you?”

  She opens her mouth to defend herself, but closes it before saying a word.

  “That’s what I thought. You were one of the top students in your class. My co-owner and I hand-picked you because we feel you can give this place what it needs. And maybe this place can give you what you need. Don’t be scared before you find out what that might be.”

  She looks around as if trying to validate why she is still here. Nodding in agreement gives me hope that I still have a chance with her. I just have to play it cool.

  Chapter 3

  MADDIE

  My mind tells me to leave, to find employment elsewhere. If they chose me to be part of Bistro Italiano, I shouldn’t have a problem getting a job someplace else, right? So why am I still standing in front of this man? This gorgeous Italian who seems to look directly into me? He isn’t like any of the guys back home. He is clean cut, the blackest of hair slicked back to show his dark features. His eyes are penetrating, his jaw chiseled and strong, flawless dark skin, his lips. I force myself to pay attention to his words and wonder if this is honestly something I should be doing. I feel so out of my league.

  That woman he was with is not his girlfriend, so what? He randomly sleeps with women for the hell of it? Where is the love? Where is the romance? Is chivalry really dead? I’m thinking it was never discovered in New York.

  I convince myself to give this a chance, trying to prove to my boss and to myself that I can try something before walking away from it. I can do this, I just need to keep my mind focused on my career and not on Rocco Santoro.

  “I’d like you to meet my colleague, co-owner of the business and older sister,” he says. “This is Joanne Santoro. Joanne, this is Maddie Levere. She will be starting tomorrow.”

  I realize it is the first time he takes his eyes off me since we have officially met. Deep down, I feel a sense of abandonment. It is something I had never felt before. What is it? Why do I feel the need to have his attention? I force my hand out and smile.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” I say. “I like to put a face with a voice.”

  “Yes. We have spoken over the phone several times. Welcome to Bistro Italiano.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ll be starting tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “I look forward to seeing what you have to offer. You’ll have to pardon the many changes that will be going on here. We will be revamping the look as well as the staff.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “I’ll start you off at the salary we had discussed and review in three months. Does that sound fair?”

  “Absolutely. Thank you, again, for this opportunity. I am looking forward to it.”

  “We have strict rules here as well. They are set in place so we continue to run a successful business and take care of our customers. The best advertising is word of mouth and with so many high-end restaurants to compete with in Manhattan, we have to stay on top of our game.”

  “I completely understand.”

  “So, as with most places of employment, if you are late more than three times without sufficient notice, you are fired. If you screw up a dish more than three times a month, you are fired. There will be no relationships within the company.” She glances at Rocco before continuing. “This includes heavy petting and casual sex.”

  It’s my turn to gl
ance at Rocco. Did that apply to everyone?

  “Some of these rules are fairly new, but will be adhered to. Here is an employee handbook,” she says, handing me a thin booklet. “Inside are other health and safety regulations, contact information, benefits and other information. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “One other thing. If you want to work here, don’t call me ma’am. Call me Joanne, please, and welcome on board.”

  “Thank you, Joanne.” I smile at her.

  ***

  It was a good meeting, I think to myself. I turn on the water in my new tub and wait for the warmth to infuse with the cold. Joanne is so nice. I pull up my top over my head and look at my image in the mirror. I’m not so sure about the waitresses. It worries me as I wonder if it will be a game to try to win over their friendship. I couldn’t imagine working in an environment where everyone hated or was jealous over someone else. I pull off my skirt and let it drop over my top.

  My thoughts then go to Rocco again. He was all I could think about on the way home. What I saw in his office and how he spoke to me afterwards have stayed with me. I think he could see straight inside of me.

  “Rocco,” I whisper, watching my lips in the mirror. They stay parted. My fingertips glide down my neck as I imagine his face, his hands, his body in my mind. I bet you get lots of women, don’t you Rocco? I glide my hand over my bra, my nipple taut and sensitive. I bet they swoon over you and fall at your feet, don’t they?

  My finger slides into my bra and over my nipple causing a sensation to radiate through my chest. I take off my bra and panties, discarding them in the same pile and step into the steaming water as it cascades from the large shower head. The water causes a goosebump effect all over my skin and I let a small steady stream that has escaped the natural flow to run over teasingly my nipple. I bring my hand to my breast and roll my nipple between my fingers causing electricity to flow through me.

  A fresh bar of soap fills my senses as I run it underneath the water and then glide it across my stomach. “Rocco,” I say again, closing my eyes. I push the soap between my legs, allowing it to slide back and forth causing the thoughts and sensations from my body to target directly between my legs. The soap falls from my hand, clunking into the tub.