Kidnapping the Billionaire's Baby (A BWWM Romantic Suspense)

by Mia Caldwell

  Raneesha opened the glass-paned front door, smiling broadly as she usually did. While her mother’s smile usually put Amara at ease, today it only underscored how drastic the change would be if the agreement she had with Quint was discovered, or if she slipped up.

  Amara had practiced her story a few times on the way over — simple business meeting with a potential shipping representative to secure low rates for the farmers she was helping. It wasn’t unreasonable that such an important meeting would be held at the Forsythia.

  “Hey, baby.” Raneesha’s voice was hushed, but her smile only grew wider as her daughter made her way to the front door. “I’m so glad you called. It’s been too long since little Hampton has visited Grandma.”

  Amara returned the smile as well as she could. “What? Two days? Ha!”

  “Two days too many,” Raneesha countered.

  “You only have Sundays off, and you’ve been over at my place after work how many times this week?”

  Raneesha leaned down and took Hampton’s tiny hand in her own, sighing softly in satisfaction and pride. “Amara, he’s such a beautiful, little baby. He’s gonna be a real ladies man when he grows up, I bet.”

  Amara cleared her throat softly and motioned with her head toward the house. “Can we head on in? The traffic’s getting kinda loud, and I don’t want to wake him up yet. You know I can’t stand to say goodbye to those beautiful baby blue eyes.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know exactly what you mean.” Raneesha stood and waved Amara in, closing the door gently behind them.

  The house smelled as it always had, from Amara’s earliest memories on. The fresh, bright scent of eucalyptus filled the air, and she couldn’t help breathing in deeply every time she stepped inside.

  For a woman who worked as much as she did, Raneesha’s house was kept absolutely immaculate. Without any husband or boyfriend to speak of, she lived alone in the three-bedroom home. Amara’s room remained decorated as it was when she left for college, and the third room had recently been converted into a playroom and bedroom for Hampton.

  Raneesha painted the room blue herself when she found out Amara was having a boy, and slowly added toys and decorations for the room in secret as the birth approached. Only when she was done did she reveal it to Amara.

  It made Amara feel extremely uncomfortable. Her mother had known that Amara planned on giving Hampton up to an adoptive couple, and had been absolutely heartbroken when Amara told her she’d made up her mind. Yet Raneesha made the room for Hampton anyway. It was eerie how things had worked out.

  Amara walked quietly, her heels clicking lightly against the polished wood floors, echoing through the living room and adjoining dining room. She felt Raneesha’s hand at her back as she leaned over to see Hampton again, absolutely beaming with pride.

  “Let me get him on upstairs in his crib, honey. He’ll make it known when he’s done sleeping. He always does, at the top of his tiny little lungs.” She chuckled good-naturedly as she unbuckled Hampton and took him upstairs.

  “Thanks, Momma.” Amara made her way to the living room, her hands clasped lightly behind her back.

  How would her mother take it, learning that her daughter was a surrogate for some single man’s child? It didn’t feel good to lie to her, but Amara rationalized that it was the best for everyone, considering that Quint had been presumed dead.

  Her maternity leave was set to come to an end soon, and she’d have to start leaving Hampton with a sitter during the week — a thought that filled her with unease. She couldn’t even stand the thought of leaving him with his real father, let alone some stranger, no matter how qualified or experienced they might be. She’d heard plenty about the protective instincts of a mother, but they still took her by surprise.

  The experience made a lot of the things Raneesha went through all the more relatable and understandable. She had always been confused about why her mother was so overprotective of her when she was growing up.

  Everyone from kindergarten playmates to high school friends were subject to Raneesha’s scrutiny, though she never stopped Amara from associating with anyone. Amara liked to think it was because she made good choices where friends were concerned, but it wasn’t entirely true. She’d made a few missteps along the way, Frederik chief among them.

  The one constant in her life had been Kari. They shared absolutely everything, and each spent nearly as much time at the other’s house as they did at their own. Kari helped Amara, shy and almost skittish by nature, to let go of her anxieties about herself and open up to new people. And Amara kept Kari tethered to reality, providing a stable base and security.

  While other people had come and gone, Kari was never far away. She’d even turned down a teaching position at a prestigious art school upstate to stick around their shared hometown. The two women enjoyed teaching at the university together.

  Kari always said she never had time for kids, though she always wanted them. Their little inside joke was that Kari would be the one with a giant brood of creative, gifted kids, and Amara would end up with one grumpy cat and a garden bigger than her house.

  Considering how absorbed she was in her work, it was a prediction that, until last year, seemed all but guaranteed. Since Hampton’s birth, she discovered that while motherhood was a careful balancing act, there was nothing that couldn’t be accomplished with a little patience and persistence.

  The realization that a baby wasn’t any detriment to her professional life only made her feel worse when she thought about the prospect of letting him go with Quint. Not only that, but the idea of Raneesha finding out about the arrangement was unnerving.

  It was far better that Raneesha think her daughter was in the same situation she’d been in, and still was in. Single motherhood.

  Raneesha’s father fought and died in the Korean war when she was too young to remember, so Raneesha knew intimately not only the struggle of raising a child on her own from her memories of her own mother, but of keeping a steady job that gave her enough time with her own new baby girl.

  Amara’s father was out of the picture not long before she was born. The relationship wasn’t workable for one reason or another, and Raneesha avoided the subject when it was brought up. The far-away look in her eyes when Amara asked about it, no matter how much she thought she was ready to hear the truth, told all there was to tell. It was something Raneesha obviously intended to keep to herself forever, and eventually Amara decided that she must have her reasons and left it alone.

  While Amara never knew her father’s name, she never felt his absence. Raneesha didn’t date much, so there was no introduction of instability. Amara was well taken care of, and to hear her mother tell it, she couldn’t have been a sweeter baby.

  She felt lucky that Hampton seemed to share that, and it became more and more obvious with every day that passed — Quint chose her because they had those traits in common.

  They were both cool, level-headed people. They were intelligent, driven, and curious. Hampton had the best possible start. Already he seemed to be showing interest in the world around him, and he’d reached important milestones far sooner than he should have.

  Amara might have been a tad biased in her opinion of her son, but she could be forgiven her doting mother’s prerogative.

  Chapter Fourteen

  RANEESHA DESCENDED FROM UPSTAIRS, unaccompanied by the tell-tale cry that meant Hampton was awake. Instead of making her way directly back to the living room, she headed into the kitchen to get water for them both. When she strolled back into the living room, aglow with the joy of seeing her grandchild, her expression changed into a slight twist of confusion and amusement.

  “Amara, baby, what are you doing still standing around like that? Sit down. You have somewhere to be so soon that you can’t visit with your momma for a little while?”

  Amara turned to her. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I just have a lot on my mind. It’s been a little rough lately.” She walked back to the couch then, and eased her
self in as Raneesha slid into her favorite plush chair.

  “So what’s on your mind, sweetheart? Is Hampton giving you trouble? Babies can get willful when they figure out they can get what they want by crying.” She smiled broadly, knowingly, her brow jumping up a bit in insinuation.

  “Hey, don’t look at me. I was a perfectly well-behaved girl, from what I remember, anyway. Which isn’t much. I’m surprised he stayed asleep the whole way up the stairs and into the crib, though. He’s usually as easy to wake up as he is to put to sleep. You do have a way with him.”

  Raneesha smiled broadly. “I’ve had practice, and not only with you, either. Trisha’s boy, Janine’s twins … you remember playing with them, don’t you? You were a good bit older than them, but you babysat so well, even as a young one yourself. I knew right then you were gonna be wonderful with children. That’s why I was so confused when you said you were going to give this baby up for adoption. I couldn’t understand how you wouldn’t feel the joy of a son of your own, not after the way you interacted with those boys back then.”

  Amara shifted, uncomfortable with the direction of the discussion.

  Raneesha went on. “Now that you’ve had him so long, I’m sure you’re settled in now. You know, gotten into a schedule. You could probably use a little break here and there too, huh?”

  Amara shook her head. “I’ve still got a month left on my maternity leave, and I have you and Kari helping me out. Jaslene helps when she’s in town, too. I don’t need any break, Momma.”

  Raneesha sighed, placing her water aside and then folding her hands in her lap. “I know. It’s just, a boy needs a father, and I keep thinking about Frederik. You two seemed so perfect for each other when you first brought him over to meet me. Tall, handsome, smart, from a good family. I thought it was going to last, and I’m still not sure why you let such a good man go because he got a little lazy with the work you two were doing.”

  “It was more than that. He was treating the Nigeria trip like a vacation. He never cared about those people. When I confronted him about it, he got defensive, and crazily possessive. Yet he was content to run off and leave me to do the work by myself. He couldn’t stick around to help, and then he wanted to chastise me like a little girl because I wasn’t hooked to his side 24 hours a day? I’m a professional woman. I’m not an accessory, and I’m not a trophy.”

  Raneesha nodded firmly. “That’s right, Amara. You’re not.”

  “And he tried to ruin my work with his lies. I could never forgive him for that.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s right. I like to think he didn’t mean it, or realize how badly it would affect you.”

  “Oh, he realized, Momma. He’s not a good man.”

  “You didn’t talk about it so much when it happened, but it was pretty obvious there were some things that you couldn’t work through. I never asked about Hampton’s father, but are you sure he’s out of the picture entirely?”

  Amara’s blood pressure kicked up a notch. “Momma, I don’t think there’s a future for me with him, either.”

  “I don’t see why not. Maybe if you confided in me … is he not a good man, either?”

  Amara wanted to tell her mother everything, but the truth wouldn’t come out. “He’s fine, Momma. He’s a good person, I think. I just … I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well, if that’s how it is then that’s that. I hope, though, that because I raised you alone you don’t think that was how I wanted it. I didn’t. I wanted a father for you, Amara. It just didn’t work out that way.”

  “You’ve never told me why not.”

  Raneesha took a deep breath. “Your father was a decent boyfriend, and I was gonna marry him, but the closer your delivery came, the more things started falling apart. He and I couldn’t make it work. So I raised you on my own, and I’m proud of that.”

  “See? You did it on your own. So can I,” Amara said.

  “Nobody can tell me not to be proud, because I worked hard to give you everything you needed and as much of what you wanted as I could. I’ve tried to be a good mother. But Amara, baby, you gotta understand that Hampton has different needs than you did. He’s a boy. He needs a father, a man who’ll teach him what it means to be a man. Someone to guide him through those trials only men know about and experience, same as how I got to guide you through those pitfalls of being a growing girl.”

  Amara found it impossible to argue the point. “I get that. But my situation is complicated.”

  Raneesha sat forward. “Any decent father might be better than no father, Amara. He doesn’t have to be perfect. If this man has made mistakes with you, remember that people can change.”

  Amara shook her head. “No. No, I’m sorry. Momma, I can’t talk about this right now. I have a dinner to get to.”

  She stood quickly, grabbed her purse, and then made her way toward the door without a word of parting. She was stopped by a gentle hand at her shoulder.

  Raneesha spoke softly, and reassuringly. “Whether somebody else raises that boy with you or not, he belongs to his father as much as to you. People can change, Amara. I simply want Hampton to have a chance at a life with two parents.”

  This was the moment, Amara thought. This was the moment to come clean, to admit everything to her mother, all she’d held back, all she hadn’t said.

  Tell her, tell her now that you lied, and that you made a devil’s bargain with a billionaire.

  She looked into her mother’s gentle brown eyes, so caring and earnest, so well-intentioned. How could Amara do it, break her belief in her daughter? Amara couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever. Damn.

  She gently slipped out from under her mother’s hand, turned and blinked the tears away as she headed to her car. She waved goodbye. There was simply no acceptable way to explain what was going on. Not yet anyway.

  She hoped everything would become clear after the meeting with Quint.

  AS AMARA MADE HER WAY TO THE front desk of the Forsythia, a wave of dizziness overtook her. The relatively low chandelier-light of the room where she knew Quint sat seemed so far away, though she only stood across the lobby from the door. It seemed like another world entirely, and one she was having a very hard time convincing herself to enter.

  The suited front desk clerk leaned in toward her. “Are you okay, Ma’am? May I help you with something?”

  Amara’s lips moved silently as she stared through the large glass panes of the ballroom door. When she realized she hadn’t answered, she turned to the kind-looking young man and nodded. “Yes, I’m here to meet someone. I’m Amara Davis.”

  The man smiled brightly. “Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Let me call someone to escort you to the ballroom.”

  “That’s not necessary. I see the doors right there.”

  “As you wish. Enjoy your meal, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  Amara strolled slowly toward the doors, unconsciously slowing down the closer she got. That glittering room wasn’t her world, and never could be. Aside from a single short dinner with a sponsor of her work, the closest she’d come to it before was the handful of board meetings she’d attended in one of the hotel’s conference rooms.

  Even with all the nice restaurants in town, the hotel’s dining room was constantly booked for out-of-town businessmen, ambassadors, wealthy citizens, and upper-crust professionals of all stripes. With the soft accompaniment of a symphonic quartet, the place had an air of not only sophistication, but secrecy, with the tables spaced out as far as they were.

  She stepped through the doors. Several beautifully dressed couples waltzed on the large, parquet dance floor. The small string ensemble was seated to one side, playing what Amara thought was a Strauss composition.

  The room was sumptuously appointed in its original art deco style. The only detail missing was joyful flappers shamelessly flirting with men in tuxes.

  Quint was easy enough to pick out in the corner even from so far away. His hunched posture and dark, gle
aming hair drew her notice immediately.

  She hovered in the doorway. She hardly acknowledged the maitre’d who stepped up beside her. She told him her name, and with a brief bow, he led her toward Quint.

  Quint’s eyes were firmly trained on the wine menu in front of him. He sighed. Had she kept him waiting? After all he’d been through, she could have at least given him the courtesy of being punctual, whether she wanted to be there or not.

  He’d shaved and changed into a better-fitting suit since his appearance on the news, but it was more than obvious that he’d suffered a lengthy ordeal. The light from the singular candle on the table illuminated his high, prominent cheekbones, and deepened the hollows around his eyes. His cheeks were gaunt. She wondered how much weight he had lost. It had to be significant.

  Even in the orange glow, his skin was starkly pale in contrast with his hair. The silvery-toned suit he wore didn’t do much to dispel the perception that she was looking at a ghost.

  As Amara approached, she noticed quite a few local big shots and society types scattered around the room. Dean Wilson himself was seated near the head of a long table, no doubt full of influential wealthy alumni. Their eyes met, and they exchanged nods in greeting. Amara turned quickly away, not wanting to be drawn into introductions, and nearly ran into a waiter carrying long, thin-stemmed glasses of champagne on an opulent silver platter.

  While Amara hadn’t grown up poor in any sense of the word, there was nothing in her life quite like this. She’d never so much as held a diamond choker or donned a shimmering ball gown for some Cinderella-like dream date at a place like this.

  Even in her most expensive clothing, she felt like she might as well have been wearing a t-shirt and flip-flops. She’d never craved or longed for the rich life, but breathing the rarified air of a wealthy, old-world establishment convinced her it might not be such a bad thing. That is, it would be if — and that was a big if — she could ever learn how to feel a part of it.