Billionaire’s Missing Baby (A BWWM Romance)

by Kayla Watkins

  It was tough not to cry as she pulled the ring off her finger. Dana was not the sort of woman to be scornful, and although she was tempted to throw the rock right at his head, she resisted. Her mother hadn’t raised a hooligan. Calmly, she placed the ring on the desk and picked up her portfolio.

  “Goodbye,” she muttered, already halfway out the door.

  Dana hadn’t looked Andrew in the face when she put the ring in front of him. When she burst out of Andrew’s office, she caught sight of Nick’s surprise out of the corner of her eye. But Dana strode out of Bellwethers as fast as she could without running, almost holding her breath to keep the tears locked in. She wasn’t going to storm out of his office crying. Absolutely not.

  She kept it together through the whole elevator ride. Her eyes were shiny and bright, but Dana walked out of the lobby and into the darkening New York evening without shedding a tear. She took it in small steps. First she devoted her attention to putting her gloves on. Then to buttoning up her coat to the neck. Small things, one after the other, until Dana reached the subway, where she was able to push Andrew from her mind a little longer while she boarded the train and found a place between a student and an exhausted-looking older woman with an enormous carpet bag.

  Dana felt as if she were a thousand pieces of glass, all precariously leaning against one another. For the half-hour commute, she focused on anything else. To think of Andrew, to think of the ring glimmering a sad goodbye as she walked out of Andrew’s office… it would knock all the pieces into chaos.

  When Dana finally disembarked onto her platform, she was still resolutely holding herself in one piece. The station was several blocks from her apartment, and the cold helped to sting her back to her senses. Diamond stars were blinking and gleaming in the autumn sky overhead, watching her trudge home. And by the time Dana got there, she had almost fooled herself into thinking that she wasn’t going to cry, after all.

  Chapter 18

  For several minutes, Andrew sat alone in his office, staring at the ring Dana had left behind.

  In his head, it made perfect sense that she would leave it. He knew the sort of wonderful, proper person she was, and knew she would never try to make off with the ring after she’d broken off the engagement—the arrangement. Arrangement. They weren’t really engaged, after all, and it seemed Dana had remembered that better than Andrew himself had.

  Here he’d gotten all worked up over an imaginary engagement. Something that wasn’t real—and he’d gotten all flustered and furious over it. Worse, he’d taken it out on Dana, the person who deserved it the least. Whatever Louis Marcel had said, Andrew knew, guiltily, that Dana would never do anything she perceived as wrong. Whatever had happened, it had made sense to her at the time. Because they weren’t really getting married. Andrew was having a harder and harder time keeping that in mind.

  He dug his fingers through his hair, stretching his face back, as if he might tear it off and throw out the frown that had been carved there since he’d heard Nick’s news this morning. Why the frown? Dana was right—he should be elated. He had Marcel right where Andrew wanted him, stuck in this deal whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t exactly honorable business, but it got the job done. He should be celebrating. He and Dana should be going out for drinks.

  They’d made a great team, after all. And Dana was right. He didn’t need her to act like his fiancée anymore.

  Andrew tried to figure out why, then, he still felt like she should be.

  The emerald flashed accusingly at him, catching the lights of his office and shooting them back in his eyes. Unless he was quite mistaken, he’d seen the instant Dana had pulled off the ring and considered hucking it at him. Maybe if she had, he wouldn’t feel so damned angry at himself.

  There was a knock at his door, and Andrew leapt to his feet. “Come in!”

  Nick edged in around the door cautiously. “So,” he drew the word out, looking around the office innocently. “You heading home soon, or what?”

  Andrew’s shoulders sagged. He’d thought for a crazy minute that Dana had come back. Not that he knew what he would do then. What could he possibly say to her now?

  “Don’t look so happy to see me.” Nick crossed his arms and stood in front of Andrew’s desk, just where Dana had been minutes before. He was trying to look casual, but Andrew knew Nick well enough to see through that nonsense. Nick was dying of curiosity, and doing a poor job of hiding it. “It’s getting on towards six-thirty, and you’ve been here all day. Well, except for when you took a couple hours to go for a walk… and came back with Westcorp back in hand… I still have no idea what happened, there, but hey, if you don’t want to tell me…”

  “I went to see Marcel at Westcorp,” Andrew answered. Still standing, he rested his hands on his hips.

  Nick leaned against Andrew’s desk. “Why go to Marcel directly? I’m surprised that tack went over well with him. He seemed more of a ‘pamper and flatter’ sort of partner—”

  “I didn’t go to talk about the partnership,” Andrew admitted, cutting Nick off. How to say this? “I went there because when I tried to call Marcel, he called Dana a whore, and hung up on me.”

  Nick’s mouth dropped open. Speechless, he stood there so long that Andrew picked up the story again without waiting for a response.

  “After he hung up on me, I went downstairs to talk to Dana and try to figure out what the hell he was going on about, and she told me that on the subway this morning, he came onto her, and she had to get rough with him to get away from him.”

  “Oh. My. God.” Nick pulled up the chair that Andrew had sitting out for visitors, but didn’t sit in it. He just stood there, flabbergasted, mouth moving as if trying to suck in oxygen. It wasn’t every day that Nick resorted to hysterics, but his reaction was satisfyingly over-the-top and matched Andrew’s rumbling fury over the whole scenario.

  “When she told me that,” Andrew continued, “I went to Westcorp. I was so mad at that point, I walked right into his office and told him what was going to be happening. I told him if he didn’t put his signature back on that page, I was going to the chairman and CEO of Westcorp and blowing the lid off. That seemed to convince him that Bellwethers was worth his time.”

  “Oh my God,” Nick murmured again. “I can’t believe he said that! I can’t believe he did that! Oh, poor Dana! Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Andrew lied quickly. He dropped his arms. “Look… When I went to Marcel, he told me that Dana lied. He said that she was the one doing the propositioning on the train.”

  Nick made a high sound of disbelief, a sort of derisive snort. “Yeah, right.”

  Andrew just stood there, staring at him. His face was blank, his posture neutral. Still, Nick read him easily, and his jaw dropped again. “Don’t tell me you believe that lying jerk?”

  Nick had only ever met Dana once, and he had more faith in her that Andrew did. But before Andrew could say a word in protest, the phone on his desk rang, making them both snap their jaws shut. It was after six. Who was calling after business hours? Andrew had his cell phone. Most people just called that if they needed anything after hours.

  Automatically, Nick picked up the phone. “Andrew Poole’s office, how can I help you?”

  Someone answered, though Andrew couldn’t hear them clearly from across the room. It sounded like a woman. His hopes soared, irrational and silly though they were.

  Nick nodded. “Uh-huh. Of course. Hold just a moment.”

  He held the receiver out to Andrew. “It’s for you. I think you’ll want to take this.”

  Carefully, Andrew took the phone and held it to his ear. “Andrew Poole.”

  “Mr. Poole? Hello, it’s Lauren. Lauren Marcel.”

  There was literally no one else on the face of the planet who Andrew expected to hear from less than Louis Marcel’s wife. It was a day full of surprises. What, was she calling to insult his fiancée, too?

  “Uh… How can I help you, Mrs. Marcel?”

 
; “Please, just call me Lauren.” Her voice was just as sharp and precise as he remembered. The rage in it was gone, though, and her tone was a little friendlier than last time.

  “Okay, Lauren. What do you need?”

  “I’m calling to apologize,” she blurted, as if trying to say it as fast as possible, to get it over with. “I’m terribly sorry about how I acted towards your fiancée. I know you noticed. I can’t apologize enough. Louis just came home, and he told me about what happened and I—I just—when you two were here the other night, I thought—” She took a deep breath.

  “What’s she saying?” Nick mouthed.

  Andrew shrugged.

  “What I mean to say,” she continued, slower, “is that my husband has a history of sleeping around—he does it all the time, half the time with his business partners’ wives, and when I saw your fiancée, I assumed… Oh, I can’t even say it. I just assumed the worst. I can’t expect you to understand, but I just couldn’t think straight. I was so mad. And so jealous.”

  Stunned, Andrew stood there and listened and understood perfectly. Mad and jealous were exactly how he felt right now. Over Dana. Bizarre.

  “But he came home just now, and he was yelling and cussing about your fiancée and you and… Well I realized that I’d been wrong, and I treated her so badly. Could you give her my apology? Please?”

  “Of… Of course, Mrs. Ma—Lauren.” Andrew ran a hand through his hair again. “I’ll let her know, Lauren. Thank you for calling. It means a lot.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Poole.”

  “Call me Andrew,” he replied.

  She laughed once, and it sounded like a woman much younger. “Thanks, Andrew.”

  Still a little dazed, Andrew set down the phone. Nick was waiting, impatient. “Well?”

  “You’re not going to believe this.” Andrew crossed his arms. His mind was spinning.

  “Well stop making me guess and tell me!”

  So Andrew did. With a dawning sense of realization, he related the conversation, as close to word for word as he could remember. He hadn’t quite caught Nick up on the details of the weekend—Andrew found himself explaining the dinner party, Lauren’s hostile behavior, and the disastrous kiss that had led Dana to walk out Saturday morning. His assistant’s face grew more and more astonished—Nick was a very good audience—as Andrew told the tale, culminating in Marcel’s behavior towards Dana on the train earlier today.

  At that point, Nick actually gasped, as if scandalized.

  “What a scumbag!” Nick hissed when Andrew had finished. “It’s bad enough he came onto Dana like that! But he does this all the time? If I were his wife, I’d divorce him and take half his shit in a heartbeat.” Nick crossed his arms dismissively, as if his opinion were the general consensus.

  But still, Andrew stood there. It seemed stupid to say now, but still, in the back of his mind…

  “But he told me Dana hit on him,” Andrew pointed out. It even sounded lame, and he’d chosen too smart of an assistant for such an asinine mistake. Nick levelled a droll glare at him.

  “Are you serious? Are we being serious? Tell me you don’t believe that bottom feeder.”

  “Why should he lie?” Andrew asked. This was what really bothered him – what did Marcel have to gain by lying?

  “He’s an asshole, he’s lying because he gets off on it,” Nick answered, slowly and deliberately, as if Andrew were none too bright and needed things spelled out. Truth be told, Andrew was starting to feel like that was exactly the case. “He’s mad that you caught him, and he’s mad that Dana hit him and told him to hit the road. He’s spiteful. He felt like lying. The list goes on. Why would you believe a word out of his mouth, especially after you know how he is?”

  Andrew had no answer. Why on earth had he believed Marcel for an instant? Had he really thought Dana would flirt with someone so slimy? Nick read his silence, and his eyes widened.

  “You didn’t tell Dana you believed him, did you?”

  Sheesh, but Nick could read minds! Andrew was beginning to see that he’d made a horrible mistake. “She didn’t deny it, though!”

  “She didn’t deny it because if you were stupid enough to believe a shit stain like Marcel in the first place, she knew there would be no arguing with you!” Nick shook his hands frantically in Andrew’s direction, as if this were an emergency and he was not able to stay calm. “No wonder she ran out of here!”

  “But he told me about her, about how she acts.” Andrew was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t completely dumb. It was getting harder by the second. He scrabbled around the inside of his brain, frantic, but the more he searched, the less he found. Believing a word out of Marcel’s mouth was looking more and more like the work of an idiot, and Nick wasn’t making things any easier.

  “What does that matter?” Nick asked in disbelief. “He probably just watched the way she acted around you! She’s obviously in love with you!”

  “What?!” Andrew’s heart gave an anxious stutter at the ‘L’ word. Dana? In love with him?

  “Why else would she be so upset that you thought she was catting around with Marcel?” Nick insisted. “Why else would she forgive you for kissing her? Because she feels the same way!”

  “Why didn’t she just say so?!” Andrew was beginning to feel cornered, not by Dana, but by the fear that he’d screwed up worse than he thought. If Dana had really cared for him, then how badly had it hurt when he accused her of flirting with Marcel? And so soon after the confusion of their kiss the other night…

  “I’ve really messed this up,” Andrew said out loud.

  “You think?” Nick shook his head and grabbed Andrew’s coat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you out the door!” Nick threw Andrew’s coat over his shoulders. “You’re going to go catch up with Dana and you’re going to beg her forgiveness! And ask her to marry you for real!”

  At that thought, Andrew felt dizzy. He pulled one arm through a sleeve, half-numb. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I’d say,” Nick replied, snapping Andrew’s briefcase shut. On second thought, he threw it on the desk and tried to force Andrew’s other arm through the remaining sleeve. “If you don’t get her to forgive you, you don’t have to worry about being engaged!”

  Nick threw open the door and picked up the desk phone. “Go! I’m calling you a car right now.”

  Andrew hesitated, like a sheep that hesitated before the open pasture gate. This was all happening too fast. He’d barely admitted to himself how much he felt for Dana, much less Nick’s claims that she felt the same. There was too much speculation…

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Go!”

  That was the last push Andrew needed to get out the door. With a jump, he scampered out into the deserted office floor, hearing Nick’s voice calling up a company car as he went. And then Andrew was punching the button for the elevator. The elevator doors were hissing open, closed again… They were descending to ground level…

  The lobby of the Seven Diamonds Tower was fairly deserted at this time of night on a Monday, so there weren’t too many people to stop and stare as Andrew bolted across the floor, coat flapping behind him. Outside, the requested car had been brought up from the garage structure under the building—Nick had asked for the Jag, shimmering fire-orange in the glow of the city lights.

  It could have been a 1996 Suzuki and Andrew would still have seized the keys. He had a terrible impression that time was short, and that he had only a little time to repair the damage he’d done.

  Chapter 19

  Dana finally reached her apartment, and found herself afraid to unlock the door and go in.

  She was drained. She’d spent all weekend fretting and turning herself in circles, worrying over what she was going to say to Andrew. That had been quite enough to leave her exhausted by the time she had to wake up for work on Monday—there was really no need to add in the drama with Louis Marcel and the train. H
er brain would have been a mess all day if that had been the end of it.

  But she could hardly believe what Andrew had said on top of it all. When he came to see her that morning at her office, Dana had thought, just for a crazy moment, that maybe their kiss wasn’t a drunk mistake. When she’d stood with Andrew today, she’d felt something new and thrilling, something like chemistry between them. For a heartbeat, she’d even thought that maybe what they needed was to try that kiss again, just to check.

  He must have stormed off to confront Marcel after that. It only made sense, with everything that happened later after work. What Marcel had said to him, Dana could only guess, but it had poisoned Andrew’s mind.

  How could he actually believe she’d been hitting on Marcel?

  Dana leaned her forehead against the frame of her front door. All she wanted was to walk in and crawl into bed. Get some rest, maybe even forget a little of the heartache she carried with her. But she’d promised Maya an explanation, and Dana doubted her sister would have the patience to wait until tomorrow.

  So tired… Dana dug through her purse for her keys. She could just knock and have Maya unlock it for her, but even another minute of peace was worth the delay.

  She turned the keys in the lock, and sighed. She’d held back tears all the way home. She would end up crying if she had to explain things to Maya, but she would just have to deal with it. Dana opened her front door.

  Between her living room and kitchen, Andrew Poole was standing, arms crossed, talking to her sister. He looked like he had come here straight from the office. Maya looked about ready to leave for work at the restaurant. Both of them turned to look at Dana, who quite forgot everything and stood stock still in the open doorway for a minute too long. Maya put her hands on her hips.

  “Dana, Mr. Poole has some things to say to you. Close the door—come here.”

  Her arm moved itself to obey, shutting the front door and moving robotically to turn the lock. What was Andrew doing here?