Baby Fever Bride: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  I'm a shaking, raging mess by the end of our frenzied search. I'm at the breakfast bar eating my bacon and eggs when I feel it kicking in. The piping hot brew Reed set next to my plate turns my vision dizzy when I'm on my third sip.

  He's behind me when I start to slip out of the chair. “Master Hayden, please. Walk with me to the bedroom. You need sleep, before you burn yourself out. I'm sorry, this was the only way.”

  “Asshole! Every second wasted...away from her...I swear to holy God I'm going to...” Every word is getting heavier, turning my tongue to mush.

  “Rest, sir. I promise, I'll keep working while you're down. I have a few leads.”

  Leads? Christ, he should've come to me this morning, laid them out in front of me. I would have made it a few more hours. Anything while it's Penny on the line, poised over the cliff, slipping away from me on cancerous lies.

  There's no fighting the drug. It's impossible to swing my fists when he starts dragging me away. Several seconds later, I'm plunged into the deepest, darkest sleep of my life.

  I wake up with a start. It's Reed again, standing over me, pushing a big stainless steel water bottle into my hands. “Drink this. It's just water this time, sir, I promise.”

  “Bullshit,” I snap. I only manage to pour the stuff down my throat because my tongue feels like it's been wrapped in cotton for several hours. “My days of trusting you are over, buddy.”

  He smiles, his wiry mustache turning up like a cat's lips. “I think you'll change your mind when I escort you down the hall. Security's holding her now, sir. But just in case my word isn't enough...there's someone else you ought to hear.”

  “Her?” I look at him while I suck down water. Whatever he gave me to sleep must've dehydrated every cell. It feels like I'm waking up from a desert fever.

  He doesn't answer me. Reed walks to the door, opens it, and I see a silhouette about as big as me come through.

  “Damn, brother. Reed told me you had it bad, but I didn't think he meant you'd gone back to drunken benders.” Grant stands over me in his navy blue suit, his beard as wiry and lumberjack-like as ever. “Will bringing her back fix this?”

  “Oh, so now you approve of the wedding?”

  “Let's not go that far.” He snorts, folding his arms across his broad chest. He looks at me and smiles, his perfect white teeth outlined by his beard. “I'm here to help family. Plus I wanted to find out if Reed was just putting me on when he said she had you shook up bad. Christ, it's real, isn't it?”

  “About as real as your Mainer lumberjack act,” I growl, throwing my legs over the bed, onto the floor. The throbbing in my temples weakens.

  Grant shrugs, smiling. “Gotta do something to stand out on the exchange floor. Besides, it's not my money or my reputation on the line with all this crap. Nobody fleeces my brother dry and fucks him over with a kid that isn't his.”

  While I appreciate his anger, I didn't need to remember the threat from Brie just now. His presence here means I'm going to feel like an even bigger jackass on the off chance it's more than hot air, and bad money from Kayla supporting her tricks.

  “We're going to fix this,” Grant says, throwing a brotherly hand onto my shoulder. “Then I'm going to meet your woman, and see if she gets the Shaw stamp of approval.”

  “Thanks. More to look forward to.” I roll my eyes and stand up, shaking off the sickly feeling needling my skin.

  “As soon as you're ready, sir.” Reed opens my door and stands by it while I find my shoes, slide them on, and walk out with Grant, combing down my hair with my hand.

  I've only seen the little dark haired maid a couple times, a new hire. I can barely remember her name. Reed stands next to the door, blocking it off, giving us full reign for the interrogation.

  “Rachel?” I try.

  “Rhonda,” she whispers, trying so hard to look away from me, it's like it physically hurts to be in the same room.

  “Reed? What's the story?”

  “Yeah!” Grant chimes in. “Why're we holding this little honey prisoner?”

  “Because she's your bug, sir. This is the reason Brie knew how to tangle you up in your own words.”

  My fists clench. I walk toward her, closer and closer, watching as she tries to shrink away from me.

  “Brother...” Grant whispers behind me. I cut him off at the dirty look he's giving me.

  I'm not going to hurt her, for God's sake. I'd never lay a hand on a helpless woman, even one who just fucked me over, twelve ways from Christmas. “Look at me,” I say, steel in my voice.

  It takes her more than ten seconds. When she does, the tears are falling, and her hands are twitching, her fingers tangled together like worms. “H-honestly, I didn't mean to, Mr. Shaw. She offered me so much money. More than a new car. I couldn't –“

  “Who offered you the money, Rhonda?”

  “Mrs. Shaw. Kayla, I mean.” Her face turns torpedo red. “She asked me to report back anything I heard on the night shift. I was there the other night, with you and your wife. I heard you in the bedroom. What you did, and what you said. I heard the sweet things you said to her. Recorded them with the little sensitive speaker device she gave me, and had me send to back up my words.”

  Livid meets rabid in my blood. Grant hovers over me, ready to restrain me if he needs to.

  I'm pissed, but I'm not giving anybody the satisfaction, or going back on my word of peace. Still, it stings like fuck to know she was there, her little ear pressed against the door, listening to the first night we really felt like husband and wife, hearing us making love and pillow talk.

  “You spied on me. You tried to ruin my marriage. You fucked me over.”

  “Hayds –“ Grant lays his hand on my shoulder, a warning that I'd better not let the venom do anything except drip from my mouth.

  She's crying. The poor thing looks so soft, so innocent, younger than the woman I'll do anything to win back. Doesn't give me a shred of pity. In fact, it just makes my blood seethe more, knowing I'm about to lose it all thanks to someone who looks so goddamned harmless.

  “Where's that recorder now?” There's nothing I can do except keep this professional.

  “It's in Kayla's possession. I guess she must've passed it off to your ex, told her what to say to your wife, so she'd think you were just leading her on. That's what I understand from everything Reed told me. Please, sir, I didn't –“

  “You didn't use your brain, or your heart,” I snap. “But we'll get to that in just a minute. I want you to take a piece of paper, and write down everything about what you did for my step-mom. Then you sign it, hand it to Reed, and pick up anything you've got left in the employee lockers.”

  “Sir?” Terror fills her eyes. “One more chance. Please. I'll do whatever it takes to make it right. I know, I fucked up, but I don't want to lose this job. I have a boy, two years old. Our rent is too much. I can't make it out there if I –“

  I turn to Reed, pushing my brother's hands off my shoulders. “How did you find out it was her? Did she come to you?”

  He looks past me at the small, shaking woman, his eyes dark and sad. “No, Master Hayden. I'm afraid she was on the late shift the last night you and Mrs. Shaw spent together. The only employee, outside security, and we know they're thoroughly vetted. I questioned her, and she confessed.”

  I do a slow turn, letting the girl who stabbed me in the back see the rage boiling in my eyes. Grant catches the look on my face from the side, and gives me a disapproving hand sign.

  Ironic how Paul Bunyan the investment banker, who's got arms about as big as mine, turns into a total softie when he sees a damsel in distress. I grit my teeth, more tired than ever of the sad puppy act. “Stand up,” I say.

  When she's on her feet, I walk over, look her in the eyes, and pull the trigger. “Rhonda, you're terminated. I still want a statement, plus a fresh NDA about this incident, and an agreement to come to court if you're called. In return, I'll give you the whole five figures Kayla offered you as severance.
That's plenty of money to get you through the next year, until you're able to find another job. I promise, I'll make sure you're given a firm recommendation, if you just cooperate. Understood?”

  Slowly, she nods, wiping more tears from her eyes. “Yes. Yes, thank you for being fair.”

  “Reed, show her out. Get her some coffee, or water, whatever she wants. Then get the statement.”

  My valet walks her out, and I'm left alone with Grant, who stands next to me, shaking his head. “That was fucking harsh, brother. Harsh, but I respect it.”

  “You'd better. We don't have time to settle the score with anybody except Kayla and Brie. I've got to get them off my back, but first I need to find Penny. She hasn't been taking my calls, or responding to my texts.”

  “You'll bring her home, Hayds,” he says, slapping me on the back. “If there's anything I've seen, it's how you don't let anything get you down when you're wearing that look. I wasn't sure about this at first – thought you were just screwing with me and Luke, chasing her down so you'd hold onto dad's real estate. Now, I see it's more than that. She's changed you.”

  “Yeah, she has. You're not wrong about the way it started. Our whole wedding was a sham.” I watch him cock his head when he hears my confession. “That's how it started, but it's turned into something more. I really love her, Grant. Love her like I never thought I'd love any woman. I need to bring her back, put all this behind us, and move on. I'm going to have her as my wife again, and next time, it's real.”

  “Okay! Enough with the sappy stuff.” He sighs, and I wonder if he's about to chew me out for lying. “I feel you, brother. Looking forward to meeting her.” He smiles his huge, jovial grin.

  For once, through all the heartache, I let myself smile back. I'm glad I'm not alone, going into the most important battle of my life.

  My brothers aren't always my friends, but they've never let me down when it counts. I'll take all the help I can get to send Kayla packing, deflect Brie's ridiculous claims, and carry Penny home.

  Another night slips by. Grant and I catch up over drinks. He tells me about his New York deals, tearing through the legacy firms with his wunderkind trades, but it's hard to listen.

  I'm already thinking about tomorrow, when we're heading to Katie's house. I'll break down her door if I have to, and pay for the damages later, if it gets me face-to-face with my girl again. By then, I'll have the signed statement from Rhonda, the one that proves my bug theory wasn't just noise.

  It's a hot, fitful sleep. I stay up too late reading the crap on social media. The blogs aren't helping my case. They're slinging the usual mud, calling me public disgrace number one, the deadbeat billionaire daddy who won't come forward and do the right thing.

  I never thought it was possible to hate a fucking hashtag so much.

  I do, and I hate what they're saying about Penny a hundred times more. They're calling her a mistress, a whore, a human ornament I picked up while I trashed my 'real' family. Rumors take flight before they crash and burn in a matter of hours.

  She's everything from an Irish mail order bride, to a longtime escort I had while Brie and I were together, one I dumped her for after I found out about the baby, hoping to flee the country.

  Eventually, I grit my teeth and turn it off.

  I'm no angel. My past with parties and living fast with women means there's ample fodder for them to dredge up, and a lot of it is true. That much, I deserve.

  Penny, on the other hand...my poor, sweet, suffering wife doesn't deserve any bites from these jackals. If I save the family fortune, I make a solemn promise to sue every last one of these sorry fucks into the ground for going after her this way, tracking down her friends and bosses, trying to make them talk.

  Paparazzi trash hurts. Especially when she hasn't had a lifetime getting used to it like me, always in the public eye, everybody's favorite billionaire bad boy who wouldn't settle down.

  They loved me for the press I'd generate because I broke the rules.

  Now, they're raking me over the coals because I tried to play them. Tried to fool them with my make believe marriage. Playing with media fire is a guaranteed burn.

  It guts me knowing she's reading this crap, can't even go out in public without risking them swarming, getting in her face with their cameras, their questions, and their jeers.

  I promised her better.

  No, I won't go back on my word. Not if the gossip rags burn me alive.

  When my phone's alarm blares the next day, I spring up and race through the shower.

  There's a quick call with my lawyer, and then breakfast with my brother, before we're in our car, heading downtown. I want Reed keeping an eye on sell out Rhonda, so I go alone with Grant, driving the shiny new Maserati I've barely touched all year.

  It takes us half an hour to beat the traffic. I pull up outside Katie and Will's house. Grant nods to me before we pop the door, heading up the short sidewalk, our shoes crunching fresh snow.

  I ring the doorbell and wait. It takes three rings before a shadow fills the glass pane next to the door. I recognize Penny's sister from the dinner. Only, the warmth and tepid jealousy are gone, replaced by outright hostility.

  “Hello, Katie. This must be Chris.” I look down at the little boy in her arms. Probably the one thing keeping her from slamming the door in our faces.

  Seeing Penny's baby nephew hits me between the eyes with more pain I'm trying to suppress.

  Is this what our kid might've looked like?

  “And this must be the asshole who broke my sister's heart.” She glares at me.

  I raise my hands. “Yeah, about that, can I please come inside? I'm ready to explain. I need to talk to Penny. It's not what they're saying on the news. I've got proof. Katie, please.” I hold up the envelope with Rhonda's statement tucked inside, signed by her and a notary we brought in late last night.

  “You're too late.” Dark relief bristles in her voice. “Penny left town yesterday.”

  “Left town?” I'm floored. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I take a step forward, halfway through the door. Grant reaches for me, puts his paw on my shoulder, and squeezes a warning. Careful, brother. There's a kid.

  No shit. I'm not stupid. I just need answers.

  “Hold on. You two can come inside, but you're staying on the rug.” She moves aside, and points to the big floor mat near the door. “Let me put him down and go find what she left you.”

  She disappears down the hall. It's excruciating, standing in this stranger's house with my brother, my mind going a thousand places when I wonder what she means by left.

  Penny can't be gone. She had a life here, a future with me. If she's fled the city, or the state, on nothing but lies...fuck.

  Katie comes walking back a couple minutes later, the baby in her arms replaced by a pink envelope, about the same size as the one I'm holding. I don't feel the knot protruding from it until she pushes it into my hands.

  “It's just a letter. I'm not sure why she thinks she owes you any explanation, but she told me to give it to you. She had a feeling you'd show up sooner or later. Read it, and go. I'll let you boys see yourselves out.”

  “Katie,” I start, but she's got her back turned, heading upstairs. This time, she isn't coming back.

  My finger slides into the corner of the envelope, and I rip it open. Whatever's inside can't be good. I've already lost, failed to get what I came for, because I'm holding this goddamned thing instead of my woman.

  There's a note on blue lined paper inside. I recognize her handwriting. I haven't begun to decipher the words before Grant throws his hand on my shoulder again.

  “Stop touching me, asshole,” I growl, stumbling off the floor mat, several steps into the house to get away from his hand. “I'm a grown man. I don't need a damned chaperone.”

  “Brother, not here. Let's go to the car. I don't think you can handle reading that in here.”

  “I'll handle it just fine.” Sure.

  A
s soon as I have the note unfolded, I'm trembling, ice and lava running together in my blood. It's short, sweet, and brutally to the point. My eyes scan over her writing, taking it in, desperate to deny every last word.

  Hayden,

  This is goodbye.

  Don't come after me. I'm gone. It's not just the scandal, or the fact that I don't want to wait for whatever you're going to show me as proof to support your side of the story.

  I've realized something important. I'm not cut out for this. I'm not like you. I don't want to be in the spotlight. I can't handle being torn apart by the media and their groupies.

  You've seen the knee jerk reactions, the slurs, the things they say.

  Whore. Gold digger. Mistress. Bitch.

  It hurts. It scares me.

  Last night, a woman called from an untraced number. She told me she'd make sure her husband and his friends got an answer and a divorce out of me one way or another. She said her deadbeat father and the slut who broke their home ruined her, and she's not going to let me do the same, just because I'm another “rich billionaire cunt.”

  Oh, and did I mention her husband's “friends” were his knife collection? She texted me the pictures, one by one, swords and daggers and crap I can't even describe. She said he'd flay me alive before I stopped that poor girl from getting what you owe her.

  It broke me, even after I blocked her. It's too much.

  I don't know how you handle the crazies, but I know I can't.

  Don't wait up for me. I'm returning your ring. I want you to forget me, forget the deal, and get on with your life. If we need to make our divorce official, I'll sign the papers anytime.

  You deserve someone more comfortable with the high end, high attention lifestyle than I'll ever be.

  And no, I haven't taken the test yet. I don't care what it says. If there's a baby, it's mine, and I won't hunt you down.

  I'm raising it my way, going alone, and I'm asking you to do the same.

  I'll always appreciate the passion we had together. I won't forget. Even if you turn out to be the cheating, arrogant asshole everybody says. I don't believe you're a deadbeat.