Millionaire Boss: A Secret Baby Romance (Freeman Brothers Book 1)

by Natasha L. Black

  Merry nodded.

  “I mean, I haven’t had a chance to really look through all of them, yet. But the ones I glanced at were really good, and I think I got some great video footage, too. I’ll post some tomorrow, and the rest I’ll send to you so you can see them,” she said.

  “Sounds great. Well, we’re heading to the bar. You’re coming, right?”

  I made it a point to look at both of them so neither would notice me giving more attention to Merry. They both nodded.

  When I got to the bar, it was already crowded and loud. The energy was pulsing through the space, and I immediately got swept up in the atmosphere. The team cheered when they saw I’d gotten there, and I waved my hands above my head to acknowledge all of them.

  “I’ve got the first round,” Vince announced.

  I often wondered why he wasn’t more involved in the racing company than he was. He loved the races and made suggestions here and there, but that was as far as his involvement went. He gathered up the beers the bartender filled and lined up on the bar, handing them out to the team gathered around him. Darren took his pint and climbed up on the nearest table. Holding his hand out over the crowd, he commanded their attention.

  “I just want to say a few words,” he called out. “Tonight was one of the best of my life. I’m pumped to have come in first, but I know I couldn’t have done it without the most amazing team in the industry.” He paused to let the crew cheer and shout for a few seconds. “I also want to congratulate Greg on his awesome first race. Coming in third is fucking awesome, and I can’t wait to see what else he’s going to be able to do. Congratulations, dude. If nothing else, having you out there is going to make me a better racer because I’m not going to be able to let up when I know you’re right on my ass trying to take my place.”

  Everybody laughed and we did a few toasts. A few of them guzzled down the beer and headed for the bar for another round. The bartender already looked thrilled. He knew his pockets were going to be lined with fat tips by the end of the night. Especially since I was there.

  But no matter how much I ended up dropping, I intended on having only one beer that night. There was still a half-hour drive ahead of me to get back to the complex, and then I had to unload everything and get it put away. Considering how fast most of the others on the team were pounding back the beers, it seemed I was probably going to be handling most of that on my own. The rideshares around town were going to be doing bang-up business when this was all said and done. Gauging by how things were going, it would probably be around three in the morning by the time I got home at this point.

  Feeling the rumble in my stomach that reminded me I hadn’t eaten much that day, I headed up to the bar to order some snacks. Greg came up beside me, and I patted him on the back.

  “Enjoying your celebration?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” he told me. “I could definitely get used to this.”

  “Well, if you keep on performing like that, you’ll have the chance to,” I replied. “You had a great run today. Keep it up.”

  “That’s the plan,” he said with a smile.

  A short-order cook came out of the kitchen carrying a basket of fries in one hand and one of mozzarella sticks in the other. I grabbed both of them and gave a nod toward Greg.

  “Relax and enjoy yourself. We’re not going to be getting started at work until after lunch tomorrow. Spread it around,” I announced, lifting my voice above the loud music now blaring over the speakers.

  Greg grinned and nodded happily before disappearing into the crowd. The late start was going to make sure I at least got a little bit of sleep after all this, but it was also just so everybody could kick back and have fun rather than worrying about having to get into the office early the next morning. They deserved to celebrate and then get some much-needed rest.

  Carrying the food with me, I crossed the bar, greeting and congratulating members of the team as I went. There were a few other crews there, and I made a point to talk to the riders. Having a competitive spirit was one thing, but there was no point in bitter rivalry. We all loved the same sport, and there was no telling how we might cross paths down the line. Events, autograph signings, and exhibitions often featured multiple teams and could be a boon for anyone involved. I liked to be a good sport, even if the others didn’t always follow suit.

  When I got through the main crush of people in the middle of the bar, I caught sight of my mother coming out of the restroom. She came up and gave me a quick hug, then led me toward the booths along the back wall. Merry and my dad were sitting across the table from each other but leaned close as they chatted. It seemed like an odd pairing, but they were getting along famously as Merry flipped through images on her tablet. She pointed at the screen and looked at Dad. They laughed together and I smiled as I made it up to the booth.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  I wasn’t sure where to sit, but Mom made the decision for me, sliding into place next to Dad. I sat beside Merry, worn-out and happy, if feeling slightly awkward being so close to her while my mind went through a series of emotions.

  “Merry was just showing me why she takes so many pictures of everything,” Dad said.

  “Oh?” I asked, setting the food down in the middle of the table so everyone could share.

  “Things like this,” Merry said.

  She turned the tablet toward me to show off a hilarious image of Darren’s face. It looked like he had just swallowed a bug and was falling off his bike at the same time. As far as I knew, neither of those had happened during the race, which somehow made the picture even funnier.

  “I guess you don’t always get the cover shot first, huh?” I asked.

  “Not even close,” Merry agreed, pulling the tablet back and flipping through a few more images. “Usually there’s one out of every ten or twenty that’s good enough to actually post.”

  “Have you chosen the ones you’re going to use?” I asked.

  “Some of them. I’m still searching for one that will be perfect for announcing the big win. This is a great chance to really boost followers and get people engaged with your new social media. If we can get this post to go viral, it would be huge,” she said.

  I sat back and ate, listening to her and Dad talk about strategies, surprised at how much he seemed to know. Merry reached over and grabbed a mozzarella stick, and I found a strange amount of satisfaction in her casual enjoyment of it. She was really settling in and becoming one of the team.

  12

  Merry

  I wasn’t really intending on staying out late after the race. When I heard they were all going out to grab a couple of drinks and celebrate the amazing showing of the team, I couldn’t reject the invitation to go along. It would seem rude and like I was trying to avoid them. Besides, I wanted to be accepted by them and feel like a real part of the team. It meant a lot to me when Minnie asked me to sit with her, and I was so pumped full of adrenaline and excitement I knew I couldn’t just go home and settle down for the night. I would just go to the bar, have one beer, say my congratulations, then bow out and head home to be a responsible professional.

  But then Quentin spread the news he wasn’t expecting anybody to show up to work the next day until after lunch. That gave me some extra wiggle room. I could grab a few extra hours of rest and be freshened up and ready to go. Which meant I could hang out for a little longer. That turned into getting into a deep conversation with Gus Freeman about the company’s social media and my approach. To say I was surprised at how interested he seemed to be would be an understatement. For all the resistance his oldest son showed, this man was fascinated and ready to be a part of the process. He listened to me explain the ins and outs of everything I was doing with the company, showed me his own personal platforms, and offered me suggestions from a fan’s perspective.

  Those were possibly the most surprising. I would have thought what he had to offer would be pretty much the same as what Quentin and I had already talked about. But I
quickly learned that while Quentin’s insights were valuable, many of them were definitely coming from the place of the owner of the company. There was a business slant to them, somewhat of a distance. Gus, though deeply involved in the company, was technically retired. He didn’t spend nearly as much time around the complex as his wife and sons and didn’t have the kind of stakes Quentin did. He was still very much a fan of racing and was able to let me see the postings through those eyes. It helped me to clarify my focus and figure out what pictures, videos, and captions to use to appeal to the full demographic.

  Which, of course, meant I went from one beer to two, bottomed out the basket of fries and went for another, and was lingering at the bar far later than I expected to be. The numbers glowing on my phone read two-thirty when I finally stumbled into my apartment. A key that already tended to be a bit sticky and temperamental was obnoxious as hell through my fog and exhaustion, but I finally managed to wrestle the door open and make my way inside. I dropped my purse and bag to the floor and peeled off my shoes, kicking them to the side. Just lifting my foot that way made me wobble, and I was glad for the rideshare Minnie had arranged to bring me home. It was going to be inconvenient and annoying to have to shell out the cash and listening to a driver make awkward small talk on the way to the office the next day, but it got me back to the apartment after the bar. That was the top priority for the night.

  Right up there with figuring out who the hell was sleeping on my couch.

  I crossed the dark living room toward the lump covered with my favorite chenille throw. I was just contemplating whether I should be afraid or not when I got close enough to realize it was my brother. He hadn’t told me he was planning on visiting, but he didn’t need to. We had always been close, and anytime I got a chance to spend time with him, I was happy. It was strange to see him sleeping there with no sign of his wife anywhere, but there would be plenty of time the next day to get to the bottom of that. I just needed to get to sleep.

  Turning around, I started away from the couch, trying to be as quiet as I could. Unfortunately, Brandon hadn’t picked up many housekeeping skills after the age of sixteen and his shoes were tossed in the middle of the path to the hallway. The sound I made tripping over them woke him up, and his head popped up from the pillow, his expression nothing short of dazed and confused.

  “Merry? Is that you?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I said.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, shifting to get up. “Are you okay?”

  “Shh. Go back to sleep. I’m fine. I’m going to crash for a bit. See you in a few hours,” I replied.

  My brother nodded and curled further down into the couch, pulling the blanket up over his head. I was still curious about the whole situation as I made it into my bedroom, but I was also crashing from the adrenaline high of the win, and the alcohol was making my joints feel rubbery. Not even bothering to change out of my clothes, I toppled into bed.

  I woke up the next morning to the uncomfortable reminders of why going to bed without bothering to go through any of the nighttime routines was not a good idea. Groaning, I rolled over and tried to pry open eyes glued together by old mascara while begrudging my unbrushed teeth. A quick glance at the clock beside my bed told me it was nine. That was plenty of sleep for me, and I knew once I managed to peel myself out of bed and get the remnants of the day before off, I’d feel much better.

  As I sat up at the edge of the bed, pain shot through one temple and out the other, and my eyes felt like they were held in place by ill-fitting cotton balls. I closed my eyes and rubbed the lids with my fingertips. The sound of clattering and footsteps toward the front of my apartment startled me.

  A shout and a few muttered profanities followed a crash from the direction of my kitchen, and I breathed a sigh of relief remembering that it was my brother. I went to the bathroom and climbed into a hot shower. The stinging water woke me up the rest of the way, and I felt back to normal by the time I got out, got dressed, and headed into the front of the apartment to find out what was going on. There was already a pot of coffee brewed, and I happily poured myself some. No matter how awake I felt, I would never turn down a cup of coffee in the morning.

  Brandon was at the stove, rattling several pots and pans around. I watched him for a few seconds before speaking.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Making breakfast,” he told me. “Omelets, home fries, cheese grits, and sausage.”

  There was definitely something bothering him. My brother loved to cook, but it was his coping mechanism. The more stressed and anxious he got, the more extreme his meals became. Considering there were only two of us and he was piling enough food on platters to serve a family of eight, this had to be serious.

  “It’s a really nice morning,” I pointed out. “Want to eat on the patio?”

  “Sure.”

  We each picked up platters and plates and carried them outside. I returned to the kitchen for coffee and juice, and he brought out glasses and silverware. When we were fully set up, I dished food out onto our plates as he poured juice. I waited for him to start the conversation, but he stayed quiet.

  “Thanks for cooking,” I said, trying to jump-start him into saying anything.

  “No problem,” he said. “So, you had that first race last night, right?”

  I took a bite of the grits and nodded.

  “Yeah, it was really good. The two riders came in first and third.”

  “That’s pretty impressive,” he said.

  “Yeah, it was. It was really fun.”

  It was a completely inane conversation, but I wanted to keep him talking so eventually he would get to the point where he would tell me why he was at my apartment. We went back and forth for a little while talking about the race when he finally broke.

  “Evelyn cheated on me,” he said. “Apparently it’s been going on for a few months. We’re getting a divorce.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can’t believe she did that.”

  “Neither can I,” he agreed. “I couldn’t even stand to look at her anymore. I just walked out after she told me with no plan and one duffle bag of old stuff. Sorry to crash your place, but it was the only place I could think of where I could just hang out and wouldn’t be alone.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you came here. This is where you should have come. And you can stay here for as long as you want. I have that spare room already set up so you don’t have to crash on the couch. If you want, I can go back to your old place and get you some more stuff,” I offered.

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to put you out. You already have enough going on with your new job and everything. You shouldn’t have to be worried about me.”

  “You’re the first thing I’m going to worry about,” I told him. “My job is just a job. You are my big brother and you’ve always been there for me. No matter what kind of ridiculous crap I was going through, you were the one who made sure I got through it. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

  He poked at his food with the tines of his fork and nodded, staring down at his lap so he didn’t have to look at me. I could tell he was fighting hard not to cry, and I got up to give him a hug. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I rested my head on his. He gripped my arm and let out a long sigh.

  “This fucking sucks,” he said.

  I laughed. “I think that about sums it up.” Going back to my seat, I sat down and dove back into my breakfast. “All right. Here’s the plan. I have to go into work for half a day, but when I get home, we’ll figure things out. We’ll get your stuff from the other house, figure out anything else you might need, order pizza, and watch terrible Japanese competition shows all night. Sound good?”

  Brandon nodded. “Yeah, it does.”

  “Great.”

  I finished eating and went to finish getting ready for work. It was shortly before eleven when I got to the complex and found it busier than I’d ever seen it. The energy was crazy with eve
ryone still riding the high of the win. I didn’t want to go inside the office building and sit behind the desk. The weather was so beautiful and sitting outside for breakfast had spoiled me for being inside for the entire day. Instead, I found a spot in the sunlight and sat down to work from my tablet. I started with making posts about the race the night before, then went back and checked on the other posts I’d been putting up to check for interaction.

  It took another hour for me to respond to the various comments, do some retweeting, and schedule more posts for later in the week. The next day I would check in on the numbers of engagement and really see how everything was doing. That would be the real tell. If my plan was working, the numbers would show more hits, more followers, and more click-through. From those numbers I could determine what was working out well and what was falling flat with the audience. This was the part that was really fun for me. I enjoyed taking the pictures and coming up with the posts, but it was seeing the benefits that really excited me.

  13

  Quentin

  Even though I told everybody they didn’t have to be at work until after lunch, by the time I got to the complex around eleven-thirty, it was already busy. That didn’t really surprise me. I was lucky to run a company with a team that really cared about what we were doing and wanted to put all they had into it. There wasn’t a question in my mind about what this day would have been like if there wasn’t such a good showing at the race the night before. Even if we had lost, the complex would still be busy and full of energy. Not the same excited energy—instead of an emotional high that was going to push them to keep going and stay on top, it would be a drive to redeem themselves and do better next time.

  Their dedication was nothing short of inspiring, and it made me want to do better in everything I did for the company. Even when I felt like I gave my all and couldn’t possibly push myself any harder, seeing them constantly reaching for that next goal made me look for any way I could improve and show them how much I appreciated their dedication.