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

by Layla Wilde

  “Yes, sir. I will tell him if he calls.” She scribbled down a few notes and gave me an uncertain look. “Um, yes. I had it sent down with one of the janitors.”

  “Good.” I gave her a halfhearted wave, calling back to her as I headed for the elevator: “Have someone bring my car around.

  Stephanie

  I stood in front of my mirror, staring at myself with morbid curiosity. Was that actually my chin? It looked so small on my face. And what was happening with my nose? Why was it so long? My lips looked pouty, but I supposed that was because I was petrified about tonight. My hair was in a loose bun, and my make-up was light. Some people would say it was barely there at all, but I had never really been one for glamour. I preferred to read books or watch old, black-and-white movies with no sound.

  A soft sigh parted my lips, and I curled my fingers around the strap of my purse. What was I doing? I should call Darla and cancel. My chin dipping in a small nod, I set my purse down and pulled out my phone. Just as I dialed her number, my doorbell rang.

  “No. No, no, no.” Now I would never wiggle my way out of this mess.

  Cancel anyway, I thought. Just… Go down there and say you’re sick or something. Say you have homework for—no—say you have a job interview. Say something!

  My shoulders slumped. College was over, and I’d never heard of a school-related job interview that happened after five p.m. I was, in a word, doomed. Absolutely doomed.

  “Coming!” As I tucked my phone back into my purse, I slid the strap over my shoulder and walked briskly to the front door. The shoes I wore were uncomfortable and strange. Used to running shoes or sandals, these heeled things weren’t helping my already awkward gait.

  After a brief moment to catch my breath, I opened the door. Darla stood there with a bright smile on her face. Her make-up was perfection, and there was a kind of glow in the way that she carried herself. More than ever, I wanted to be just like her. I couldn’t stop myself from comparing my assets to hers, and I realized that going with her to a nightclub was probably a huge mistake. My throat felt dry as I admired her outfit, knowing mine was only decent because she’d told me what to wear. What a disaster I would have been had she not helped me. I hadn’t even known these clothes were in my closet!

  “You look fab, chica! Didn’t I tell you that you’d look smashing in that outfit?” Darla stepped inside and hugged me briefly, kissing me on the cheek as she did.

  “Yeah… I guess you did.” Trying to smile back at her, but not sure if I succeeded, I pushed some imaginary hair behind one of my ears. My heart beat so hard in my chest I could feel it, and my palms felt sticky with sweat. I really hoped I didn’t throw up.

  “Come on, lighten up! What are you so afraid of?” She gripped one of my shoulders and squeezed it. “You have a hell of a lot more stamina than you think you do, I promise.”

  Squaring my shoulders a little, I steeled myself against the voices in my head. They wanted me to slam the door in Darla’s face and hide in my room. “Okay. I’ll deal. Are you driving? Or are we getting a cab? Or… What about a designated driver?” The questions piled up in my brain, but before they could pour out all at once, Darla stopped them.

  “I’m driving, and then we’ll figure it out at the end of the night. You got everything?”

  “I… uh… yeah.” I held up my purse as I stepped out the door. Keys jingled as I went through the motions of locking the house, and I felt even more wobbly in these insane shoes. The heels were three inches high and way out of my comfort zone. I missed my flat-soled runners! As I controlled my breathing, I climbed into the front passenger side of the car and strapped myself in. Now, more than ever, I wanted to be back in my parents’ house and not on my way to a nightclub.

  There was music. There were lights. There were so many people! As I walked with Darla and two of her friends toward the entrance of the Cherry Pop Nightclub, I felt anxious and excited. Back at the house, all I’d wanted to do was turn around and hide. A part of me wanted to know what the inside of the club was like. The closest I had ever been to a place like this was the college's pub, which wasn’t saying much.

  I blinked in surprise when Darla touched my arm, and I realized I had been staring at the door, my body motionless. After a brief little smile, I swallowed my nerves and walked toward the door. The music grew louder and louder, and I could feel it thumping in my bones. My heart vibrated with the bass.

  “Hey, girl.” A big man, taller than any I’d ever seen, stood at the front door. “Got an ID?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. I bit my lower lip and pulled out my driver’s license. With it came some cash, which I also gave to him. There was a sign next to the door that stated the entry fee to the club and the Black Marauders concert was ten dollars. After he checked my ID, he handed it back to me and pocketed the money. I moved in through the front door and immediately side-stepped next to the wall to wait for Darla. She came through a few seconds later, her brown eyes lit up like fire. She looked absolutely electric tonight, and I wished again that I was more like her. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so out of place.

  “You’re frowning again.” She pinched one of my elbows gently.

  “What?” I could barely hear her over the music.

  “You’re frowning! You have that pout on your face you get when you’re upset. Just stay close to me and smile. This’ll be fun!”

  Yeah, for you, I thought. I smiled falsely, trying to focus on the excitement I felt earlier in the parking lot. Wringing my hands, I followed Darla further into the club, which was, in a word, massive. On the far end, diagonal from the door, was a long, classy bar, glossy and dark under the lighting, and I was surprised almost no one was there.

  The floors were slippery and black, and the flashing, pulsating lights near the stage lit up in stark contrast against it. Walls were just as black, and there were little multi-colored lights spangled across them. There was a stage, too, and it was lined with brilliant LED lights that pulsated with the sound of the music. Tables were relatively small and could probably seat only three people comfortably. As I glanced up, my eyes widened at the sight of lamps in the shape of cherries. They glowed red from the inside out. There was so much more to take in, but I felt cramped and squeezed by the club’s crowd.

  People, a lot of people, swarmed around. Darla had told me it would be a relatively quiet night, but at just five p.m. the place was already packed.

  “Darla,” I called as I tugged on her elbow. “You said it would be a quiet night!”

  “I thought it would be. I’m sorry, hon, guess I was wrong.” She shrugged and pulled me closer to the bar. “But we’re here now, right? We may as well see what the night holds!”

  I sighed and lifted my chin toward a staircase that led to a floor above. “What’s up there?”

  “It’s a little restaurant or café or something. I’ve heard the food is good, but it’s pricey. And people like us aren’t allowed up there.”

  “People like us? What do you mean?”

  “We’re regulars. Only managers, owners, and VIP members can go up there.” She smiled and sat down on a bar stool. “I forgot to mention that it’s the club’s opening night. That’s kind of why I thought it would be quieter, especially since the Black Marauders are awesome but aren’t hugely popular yet. Most of the club openings I’ve been to have been loud and fun, but not too crowded. Not like this. We don’t have to—oh my God, it’s him.”

  I felt a rush of confusion as Darla suddenly changed subjects on me and I tried to follow her gaze across the club to the door. I didn’t really notice anyone at first because there were so many people, but a gorgeous face caught my eye. He was tall and lean, like a jungle cat. His suit had to be custom-made, specially tailored just for him. Dark hair was slicked back, shining silver black under the lights. I wasn’t close enough to see every detail, but from this distance, I could tell that his face had the perfect amount of shadow over his jaw. No one was with him, though people crowded around h
im, taking pictures and trying to get into his personal space.

  “Who is he?” I asked as I stared at him. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. When I realized what I was doing, my cheeks flushed with heat. I looked away quickly and tried to focus on Darla.

  “That’s only the sexiest man ever! His dad owns Future Tech, and rumor has it he’s getting everything when the old man retires next year. The company, the assets, everything. He’s already swimming in cash because he’s a famous model, but oh my God, he’s also hotter than any level of hell.” She fanned a hand in front of her face.

  “Okay, but who is he?”

  “His name is Damian Masters. And I would have all the babies he wanted if he would have me.” She sighed, and I thought my best friend was going to melt into a puddle of human goo.

  After a few seconds of staring at her, I raised both eyebrows and returned my focus to the man. People were trying to crowd around him, but what looked like bodyguards were keeping them at bay. “If he’s so popular,” I murmured, “why is he here by himself?”

  Darla shook her head slowly, still staring at him. “I have no idea.”

  I watched as Damian Masters was guided toward the back of the club, closer to Darla and me. She shifted and made the most interesting squeaking sounds I had ever heard. She pointed at him as though I didn’t see him, and one of her hands gripped my shirt so tightly I thought the fabric might tear. As he moved closer, I noticed the hard lines of his body through his suit. His clothes accented narrow hips, broad shoulders, and a powerful chest. My mouth went dry, and my hands clenched around my bottle of beer. He was, hands down, the sexiest man I had ever seen.

  He moved closer and closer. Men and women in suits looked far too happy to have him there. They pointed out things to him, like the bar, the stage and the VIP area. I noticed, though, that he kept looking in my direction. For the briefest moment, our eyes met. I felt a flutter of panic and instantly looked away, down at my beer.

  “Here, have another drink.” Darla giggled and shoved strange-looking shot glasses at me. They were full of different colored liquids—all of them alcoholic, I was sure—though none of them looked at all appealing to me.

  “Darla, I really shouldn’t. I mean, the beer is fine. I’ve only had two and I already feel weird.”

  “Come on, just take one. Ooone! It won’t kill you, I promise. You’ll love it.” She smiled brilliantly at me and pushed one of the shots closer to me.

  The smell of it made the hairs in my nostrils curl. “Okay… okay, fine. Just one, though. And no more. Just one.” Wondering what the hell I was doing, I lifted the shot, clenched my eyes shut, and drank it as fast as I could. The taste hit me like someone had punched me square in the face, and I almost dropped the glass. My eyes wide, I stared down at the shot glass. My throat burned, and heat flooded my entire body.

  “Whoa.” I coughed and blinked.

  “Are you okay?” I heard Darla’s little giggle.

  “I… uh… think so. How do you drink so many of these?”

  “Stamina, girl. You have to build it up.” She grinned at me as she wrapped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me. “It’s way better than beer, though, right? More flavorful, more kick, more everything?”

  “More alcohol?” I raised my eyebrows at her.

  “But of course.” She changed subjects abruptly. “Oh! The Black Marauders are coming on soon!” She pointed and wiggled one of her hands toward the stage. The lights dimmed, and I could just barely see people working on the set up in the dark. “If you want to go to the bathroom, do it soon, Steph. You don’t want to miss even a minute of the show!”

  “Okay, but maybe one more of these shots first.”

  Darla stared at me in surprise. Truth be told, I was surprised at myself as I chose the glass from which I wished to drink.

  Damian

  For an opening night, the Cherry Pop Nightclub was absolutely hopping. I couldn’t believe the number of people, and my insides clenched with excitement. If I was going to find my perfect prize, this was definitely one of the better places to look. There were a lot of people here, and many of them were beautiful women.

  The club owner, Kale Something-or-other, was leading me on the most boring tour in recent memory. He was going on and on about numbers and technology potential, and all sorts of other irrelevant things I couldn’t possibly care less about. I only pretended to pay attention while my eyes scanned the crowd for the kind of woman who would make this night worth its weight in cash.

  A flash of robin’s egg blue caught my attention, and I paused to look toward the bar. After a brief search, I located the source: a blonde woman of about average size sitting at the bar. She was drinking beer and honestly didn’t look like much. I’d been with so many blondes I’d lost count, and they really weren’t all that great in bed. I preferred redheads and black-haired beauties. Brunettes were okay, but they tended to be more on the prudish side. But there was something about the blonde with the bottle of beer.

  “Mr. Masters.” Was someone talking to me? “Mr. Masters?” Yes. The owner. He was calling my name.

  “Yes?” I looked away from the blonde and turned to focus on him.

  “We’re heading up to the VIP section now. Would you join us? Hors d'oeuvres and drinks will be ready for you shortly.”

  “Ah. Yes. Let’s go up then.” As I headed to the staircase that led up to the VIP section, the blonde looked away from her friend and toward me. Our eyes met, and I felt an immediate thrill rush down my sternum and straight into my belly. A sensation of emptiness ripped away that thrill as soon as she looked away, and I took a step in her direction.

  “Sir, it’s this way.”

  I forced myself to follow the owner. As I walked, I glanced in the direction of that robin’s egg blue shirt and the woman wearing it. She was classy, but not in a way that screamed rich. There was more authenticity to her. Something far more genuine than fake, which was what I wanted. Day in and day out, all I heard was my parents complaining about how nothing in their relationship was real. I had avoided that reality my entire life, but look what had happened—fan girls begged me to marry them with pathetic plaques that probably cost less than a bus pass.

  Then again, did I really want to delve into the real kind of territory? Was it even possible without the need for commitment? My mind asked itself these questions and more as I walked up the stairs and into the posh restaurant above the club.

  Gold lights laced the edges of the walls and along the railings, and the number of people was significantly less than down below. High ceilings and chandeliers ensured the place was beautifully lit, and the waitresses were dressed in black with gold jewelry and low-heeled shoes. Although I always enjoyed a good heel on a woman’s shoe—the higher the heel, the nicer their legs looked—I also enjoyed the practical shoe. I didn’t know any woman who could comfortably move around on their feet all day in high heels.

  “It’s nice. I like it.” I nodded to one of the waitresses.

  “They’re lovely, aren’t they?” The owner gave me a rather lecherous smile when we reached the table that overlooked the stage as well as offering a fabulous view of the rest of the club.

  “They are. You can order for me… I have other things on my mind.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  I could feel the owner staring intently at the back of my head as I looked out over the crowd, but I didn’t care. My mind was on that blonde with the robin’s egg blue shirt and the cute little skirt. Her heels had been low, too, but I had convinced myself her legs were smoking hot. All I wanted to do was lay her down on my bed and—

  “Your drink, sir.”

  My body flinched at the waitress’s voice, and I turned to stare at her. I must have looked offended because she spilled the drink all over my brand new, custom-tailored pants when she jerked back from me. My jaw slackened, and I stood quickly, my eyebrows furrowing into something more akin to a glare. “What the hell? Don’t you pay attention to what you’re
doing? The drink goes in the glass, not on me.”

  “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll clean this up right away! Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” There were tears running down her cheeks, dark streaks of mascara running with them.

  As she reached for me with her towel, I stepped away and reached up to adjust the collar of my jacket. After giving the horrified waitress my best sneer—it even made the club owner look away—I headed to the VIP bathroom. There was, of course, a line, so I went back down the stairs alone. The band was about to start, and most of the people flocked toward the stage and didn’t pay nearly as much attention to me as they had earlier. I hurried stealthily into the public washroom.

  When I left the bathroom, my fingers were busy smoothing out any wrinkles at the front of my suit. As I turned back to the stairs, I saw the young blonde woman dressed in a robin’s egg blue shirt wandering aimlessly toward me.

  I stepped deliberately into her path. “Well, hello there.”

  “Oh. Hey. Um… I’m a little lost. I’m looking for the bathroom.” She sounded as lost as she looked and stepped almost too close to me.

  Now, I thought, is my chance. I could, of course, take her to the bathrooms just behind me. If I did that, though, I might never see her again. The better choice would be to invite her up to the VIP section and let her use the washrooms there.

  “They’re up that way.” I pointed toward the stairs. “These down here are usually so crowded.” I touched one of her elbows gently and tried to guide her to the stairs.

  “Okay.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she refused to look at me. “So the bathrooms are upstairs?”

  “Yes, dollface. Upstairs.” I watched as her face reddened, and I winked at her before I walked up the stairs. She moved ahead of me, and every time she turned her head to look at something, she reminded me of a stunned rabbit. When I reached the top, I touched one of her elbows again. “Just walk straight by the bar and take a left. You can’t miss it.”