Secret Baby (Book One) (Billionaire Secret Baby 1)

by Layla Wilde

  Contents

  TITLE: SECRET BABY

  Stephanie

  Damian

  Stephanie

  Damian

  Stephanie

  Damian

  Stephanie

  Damian

  Stephanie

  CONNECT

  SECRET BABY

  (BOOK ONE)

  By

  LAYLA WILDE

  COPYRIGHT © 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  Stephanie

  “What are you going to do now?”

  Darla Moore’s question rang in my mind like an echo, repeating over and over at a maddening rate. I felt my chest tighten with anxiety. What was I going to do? I’d just completed my master's degree in Educational Leadership and intended on getting a teaching job at one of the local high schools if I could. Thus far, though, my hunt had come up with nothing.

  “Why do you have to ask such hard questions?” A short huff parted my lips as I brushed a strand of blonde hair behind one of my ears.

  Her laughter erupted. “Because,” Darla said, “someone has to. Who else is gonna keep you in line, Steph?”

  I rolled my eyes at her and gave her a playful shove, then looked down at the brochure in my hand. We were supposed to be looking at apartments in the area, but we’d been sidetracked by Darla’s boyfriend. He played in a band nearby, and despite her prodding, she hadn’t been able to convince me to listen to him play. I hated public places, preferring quieter atmospheres. I had no idea why we couldn’t have gone to hang out at the library or maybe taken a walk on the waterfront. The Oregon coast was beautiful in the spring.

  “So…” Darla pinched my arm playfully. “Want to go out for dinner? I know some great—”

  “No… not really. I think I’ll head back to my parents’ place.” I shrugged as I walked toward the bus stop. “I’m kind of played out today. We looked at a lot of apartments.”

  “Stephanie! We looked at three! Three places. That’s it! Come on, be adventurous for once in your life.”

  “I’ll catch you later, okay?” I was still walking, sort of going sideways so I could keep my best friend in view. “We’ll go out tomorrow, I promise. There are some good places on my list.” I turned away before I could see the usual manipulative pout on Darla’s face. She didn’t like the word 'no.'

  As the number nineteen bus pulled up next to the stop, I pulled out my bus pass and showed it to the driver. “Go ahead,” she mumbled to me.

  Offering a fake little smile, I tucked the pass into my wallet and moved to the back of the bus. I preferred the back of the bus to the front or the middle. Hardly anyone sat there, which left me alone with my thoughts.

  What was I going to do?

  That question continued to plague me. I had already sent a number of résumés and cover letters all over the state months ago. Even after some serious follow-ups, no potential employers had contacted me. It was disconcerting and difficult to swallow, especially since I had dedicated six years of my life to my education.

  Buzzzz. Buzzzz. Buzzzz. I flinched a little in my seat as my cell phone vibrated in my back pocket. Blinking several times, I checked the number.

  “Darla?” I pressed the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, Steph! Where are you right now?”

  “Um…You saw me get on the bus a few minutes ago.”

  I heard her laugh. “I know, but some of my friends and I want to come hang out with you at your place. Your parents are still gone for the weekend, right?”

  I groaned internally. “Darla, I told you we can go out tomorrow. Besides, I have a lot of stuff to do. I haven’t heard anything from the places I sent résumés to, so I need to get some more out.”

  “You can’t be serious. We just graduated three days ago. Give yourself a chance to rest, relax, and party!”

  This time I groaned loudly so she could hear it. “Beth and Jacob had jobs before they graduated. And how am I supposed to help pay rent without one? Answer me that.”

  “It’ll come, okay? But in the meantime, let us come over. Please? We want to celebrate with you.”

  I recognized that tone of voice. Darla adopted it when she was determined to win an argument or get her way. Thus far, I hadn’t figured out how to stop her, but I could slow her down. Maybe. “Can we touch base in a few days? I just… need some time to settle, okay? I promise we’ll do something soon.” After a pause, I said, “You can pick.”

  “Grrr. Okay, fine! But I’m holding you to that, Stephanie Sanders! You are bound by Darla’s law!”

  I managed to suppress a giggle, rising slowly as the bus slowed near my parents’ house. “Yes, yes. I’m bound by... whatever law you just made up. But I have to go, this is my stop.” Barely hearing Darla say goodnight, I ended the call, slid my phone back in its pocket, and made my way to the middle doors. When the bus stopped, I gave them a push and stepped off.

  The walk to my parents’ house wasn’t far, and I thought about what I would do if I couldn’t get a job in Oregon. I could always move to a different state or a different country, but I loved it here. A large part of me never wanted to leave.

  My brow pinched with worry as I reached the front steps of the house, and I could feel my lips shifting into a tight frown. It had been six years since I had set foot on this property, and my parents weren’t even here. I felt like an intruder.

  “Ugh, lighten up, Stephanie,” I whispered to myself. “You’ll be fine.” The keys jingled as I pulled them from my purse.

  Two days later

  Not having homework to do felt strange. For eighteen years, my life had been all about school. First, of course, had been elementary and middle school. Then high school, and after graduation, I had gone straight to college. I had worked here and there between classes, but I’d never had a full time job except during the summers. Those jobs, however, had been temporary.

  Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap went the back of my pen as I browsed online search engines for jobs. Teaching positions were oddly hard to find and even harder to land. It looked as though I was going to have to physically go to some local schools in order to inquire about work.

  I could just give up on a board job and get one in another similar business, I thought. Maybe some sort of outdoor kids’ program or a summer camp. As I heaved a quiet sigh and mulled over my options, I thought about what I had told Darla two days ago. Had I really committed to letting my insane best friend choose an activity? Knowing her, we would be going to some fair or maybe a nightclub.

  As if on cue, my cell phone rang, buzzing and vibrating in my pocket. When I looked at the caller ID, the screen showed ‘Darla.’

  “That’s just freaky,” I muttered. I answered the call and placed the phone to my ear. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Hey, chica! Me too. Guess what?” She sounded excited. She sounded too excited.

  “Do I even want to know?” Dread prickled inside my chest, and I had to swallow my nerves. All my friends knew I had social anxiety, but for the most part, they didn’t seem to care. Maybe they thought that getting me out into the great, big, busy world would help. So far, it had just scared me.

  “Yes! I got us tickets to go see Black Marauders at the new Cherry Pop Nightclub. Can you believe it? They’re gonna Rip. It. Up! And we’re going! Wanna know the best part?”

  I drew in a deep breath and held it. “No?” After a moment, I added, “Darla, you know I hate crowds. Why couldn’t you have just come over and played some games with me or something?”

  “It’s tonight, so it won’t be too busy! And honey… I picked a nightclub because you need to get out. Aside from colleg
e, you never go anywhere. I’m surprised you actually go out to buy groceries when you can just buy them online. Besides, I specifically snagged tickets for tonight because, as I said, it won’t be too busy. Not like a Friday night when the place is so packed that you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with everyone and the music is so loud you’re deaf for a week. I know you, Steph, and I know you can handle this.”

  Darla’s words surprised me. Had she really bought those particular tickets just for me? I blinked a few times and smiled tightly. It felt fake. I was actually going out tonight? To a nightclub? Was I completely crazy? “Okay… so tonight?”

  “Yep! I’m picking you up at five, and you’re going to be ready at five. You hear me, Sanders?” Before I could answer, Darla continued, “Make sure you wear the robin’s egg blue shirt—the one with the ivory buttons—and that cute little skirt I got you for Christmas last year. Oh, and the blue-and-white heels you said you could actually walk in. Make sure you put on a necklace or a bracelet… something to spice up the outfit. And keep your hair down. You look prettier like that.”

  I could feel my chest growing tighter, and I rubbed at my sternum. My face flushed. I was nervous. “Got it. Um… What exactly are we going to do for the hour before the band?”

  My friend laughed. “Oh, Steph. You’re too much sometimes. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? Love ya, bye!”

  Before I could get another word in, I heard a soft click and she was gone. I bit my lower lip and slid the phone back into my pocket before I turned toward my closet. My chest still felt tight. My stomach was in knots. Did I even have the clothes she’d described?

  Damian

  I glared across the desk at a woman who naturally grated my nerves. For the next several weeks, I was supposed to be covering for my father at Future Tech, a multi-billion-dollar technology firm that specialized in computer consulting and tech support for medium-to-large businesses. This really put a damper on my style when it came to my modeling gigs, but my father was not a man I could refuse lightly. He held my future in his hands, and I know he didn’t like what I did on the side. Years ago he’d told me as such, but since I was his only heir, he had to accept it; he’d been cranky with me ever since.

  “Damian.”

  The sound of her voice made me clench my nails into the palms of my hands, and my brain was sucked back into reality. My jaw tightened so that I could feel the pressure as my teeth ground together and my nostrils flared when I drew in a deep breath. Mauve Andre was staring back at me with an infuriatingly unimpressed expression.

  “You know, I hate the hand soap you have in the employee bathrooms. And the air conditioner in this building is atrocious. It gives me hives. Your employees wear perfume and cologne, even though it’s against the rules, but you never do anything about it. And I swear, you haven’t updated the air conditioning in here for decades because— “

  “I’m going to stop you right there, Mrs. Andre.” As I spoke to her, I held a hand up in a ‘stop’ gesture. When her lips looked ready to move again anyway, I snapped my fingers, the sound of my digits like the crack of a rifle in the small office. She stared at me with wide, offended eyes, so I spoke again. “I think you have me confused with my father, who is the owner of this company. When I am here, it’s because he’s off gallivanting in some far away vacation home or because he just wants to be a pain in my ass. In this case, it’s the latter, so I’m a little cranky. Which is why you’re fired.”

  I watched her jaw drop, and she stood abruptly and pressed her fat, meaty hands against my desk. “You—you can’t do that! You don’t have that kind of power!”

  “Fine, go see my dad. I don’t care. But until then, you’re fired. Bye.” I leaned forward a little and watched her. “And if you don’t leave—right now—I’ll get security to help you with your directional issues. I hear this building is like a maze, with one door leading into the hall and straight to the elevator. Such a challenge.” I injected as much sarcasm into my voice as possible, and I could feel it as my upper lip curled. I hoped my tactless, mocking attitude was enough to drive her away. She was an idiot, and I was sick of her passive-aggressive games.

  “You really are a little shit, aren’t you?” Her chest puffed up, and her face reddened. “I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never…” Her eyes glittered with tears. “Your father is going to hear about this immediately!” As she turned and ran out of my office, I could hear her sobbing. I doubted her emotions were real.

  “Sociopath,” I muttered as I rolled my eyes.

  I leaned back into my chair and glanced out the large window encompassing the entire north wall of my office. I absolutely hated covering for my father, but I earned some extra cash doing it. Being here also gave me a chance to check out some new prospects. A lot of the women in my life were starting to get old. I needed some new blood. I had a different woman on my arm every other day or so, but they were always the same. They were always classy and always perfect. Even the sex had become boring, and I often found myself wishing for more. The only problem was, I had no idea what ‘more’ meant.

  A knock on the door shattered the silence of my thoughts, and I invited whomever in without much thought. A short man with a bald head entered. He carried a small package about the size of a breadbox. “I have a delivery for a Mr. Masters?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” I held up a hand to take it, a pen in the other to sign. The courier handed me a clipboard with some paperwork, and I signed it quickly. The package might possibly be for my father, but no one needed to know that. As soon as I handed the signed paperwork back to the courier, I lifted the package, feeling its weight. It was light for its size, but no sound came from it.

  Interesting, I thought. I shrugged my shoulders, took a seat at my desk, and used a pair of scissors to cut away the tape. I slowly pulled the box open and peered inside. All I saw were layers of thin packing paper. I reached in, pushed the paper aside, and my fingers came into contact with something firmer. I tilted my head, gripped the object and drew it out. As soon as I saw it, I promptly dropped it.

  “Holy shit.” My eyes widened as I stared at the contents of the box.

  The plaque was made of wood and had an engraving on it that had been sealed with some kind of precious metal. There were little hearts and stars all over it, and in writing it read, ‘Damian Masters, I Want To Be Your Wife.’

  “You have got to be shitting me... What psycho sent this?” My skin felt hot and tight, and I began to gasp. There was a reason I was never seen with the same woman more than once. There was an even bigger reason why I would never have sex with the same woman twice.

  “Hey!” I trotted around my desk to my door. I looked down one hallway, then the other. When I spotted the courier, I strode quickly toward him. “Hey… Who sent my package? There’s nothing on the box.”

  The courier looked a little startled when he turned. I watched as he gathered himself before he pulled out the paperwork I had just signed. “A… um…” he paused and squinted at the paper, “Patricia Lovestruck.”

  Lovestruck. Seriously? Patricia Lovestruck. I felt like I was going to explode on the inside with a flare of anger. I pressed my lips together in a thin line and nodded to the courier before I walked back to my office. I was stomping more than walking because I was angry. Everyone knew my preferences, yet, at least once a week, I got ridiculous fan mail and gifts from women who begged me to marry them or have my babies, or something equally humiliating.

  My father was all about marriage, kids, fighting with his wife and having affairs. That kind of life was pointless to me. It was confusing and stressful. Who needed that when the world had so much more to offer?

  I shook my head slowly back and forth and stared down at the atrocious object in the box. Upon closer inspection, I could see that there were little pink sparkles all over the wood, stuck there with some kind of lacquer or glue. My upper lip curled, and I snorted before closing the box. I felt agitated and uncomfortable enough to press a button on my inter
com, which dialed my assistant.

  “Susie speaking.”

  “This is Masters. I have some trash for you to take out.”

  “I’ll be right in to get it, sir.”

  Within moments, the door to my office opened. A perky, classy woman dressed in shades of blue walked in, a big fake smile on her lips. Her hair was done up in a neat bun, her make-up was far too heavy, and she smelled like watermelons. My office was going to stink for days.

  “That,” I said, and pointed at the box which harbored the terrifying plaque. “Get rid of it. And if anyone named Patricia Lovestruck comes anywhere close to this building, call security. Or better yet, call the police. She’s banned indefinitely.”

  “Yes, sir.” That fake smile of hers grew larger as she walked over to the box and picked it up. I watched as she took it away, and I sighed in relief as soon as it was gone.

  Silence encompassed the room, but I felt restless. I glanced up at the clock and realized it was nearly five. There was a decent band playing the Cherry Pop Nightclub at six tonight, which I had to go to anyway since it was opening night. Called the Black Marauders, they were a modern-day rock band all the girls were going crazy over. There would be a lot of choice for me there, from young, naïve virgins to bat-shit insane chicks who just wanted to have a good time. I wanted something special. Something I had never had before.

  I gathered my things and glanced at the clock again. If I left for the club now, I could go up to the second floor and have dinner while I watched the people down below. I would have the perfect view to scout out some ladies without being too obvious. After that horrific ‘gift,’ there were certain kinds of attention I wanted to avoid.

  My long strides carried me swiftly out of my office, and I locked the door behind me. “Susie, I’m leaving early today. If Dad needs me, tell him to text.” I paused a moment before I turned to look at her. “You got rid of that package, didn’t you?”