Baby Fever Bride: A Billionaire Romance Read online

  If that's your baby with her, I know you'll make it right. I'll walk away believing you're a good man, or at least you want to be, despite your mistakes.

  Love always,

  Penny

  Grant senses the bitter, animalistic howl building up inside me before I'm halfway done reading her note. Hell, I think the seismic labs across the country can feel it, too.

  It doesn't rip loose until I reach back in the envelope, feel the little bulge inside, and pull out Penny's ring.

  My brother grabs me just in time, pushes me through the door, and gets me outside before I go berserk. Then I'm screaming, punching, swearing. Cursing Brie, Kayla, and life itself for ripping her away, giving me this fucked up ultimatum I can't possibly honor.

  “It's okay, Hayden! Stop before you hurt yourself, brother. Breathe.” Grant holds me up, keeps me from going face first into the snow.

  I'm already on my knees, thrashing the white stuff with open fists. Pain blisters on my knuckles, and I see they're raw, leaving rusty blood stamps in the snow.

  I want to keep going. If I touch the ice, throw it around enough, maybe it'll numb the tremendous loss rising up like a wave.

  “What in Rudolph's ass up antlers is going on out here? It's Christmas Eve, and it sounds like I'm watching Uncle Sam's boys set up their latrines again!”

  Grant and I do a slow turn toward the familiar voice. I'm already retching. Melody Silvers is about the last person in the world I want to see right now.

  “Oh, it's you. The jackass who wrecked my little girl.”

  Ouch. I stand up, fully aware my face probably looks like a bright red tomato. “Hello to you, too, Melody.”

  “Really? Is that all you've got to say? After the way you let that little trollop curse her up and down on that Tweety bird web thing? Priscilla really loved you, boy.”

  Ouch again. Like I don't know.

  Grant steps forward, smiles, and sticks out his hand. “Don't think we've had the pleasure. I'm Hayden's brother, Grant Shaw.”

  I wonder if she's going to whack him in the face with her cane first, before she comes for me. “Charmed. Because you've got some balls, and I'm not just talking about the scratch on your chin. Learn to use 'em when you should, and you'll be doing a lot better than your damned big brother here.”

  They shake hands. The feisty woman looks past him, into my soul. Much as I want to walk away, I can't. Not while she thinks I'm Lucifer himself, standing on her doorstep.

  “Now that the introductions are out of the way, I didn't just come here to make a snow angel in your daughter's yard, Melody. I came to talk to Penny, and win her back.” I'm reaching into my pants pocket, brushing off another dusting of snow on the way. I pull out the envelope I meant to show my woman, the one I thought would fix everything, or at least start putting the pieces together again.

  “What's this?” She snatches it out of my hand, rips it open with her teeth, and pulls out the single page statement inside. She murmurs to herself, quickly scanning over it, and then clucks her tongue near the end, shaking her head. “My, my, my. I'm not sure what's worse, Mr. Billionaire. Your choice in gals before my Priscilla, or your timing. Your ex is a real piece of work.”

  “Tell me about it,” I growl. “Listen, do you know where Penny went? I still need to find her. Track her down. Spill my guts and everything else, soon as I've sued the bitch doing this into the ground.”

  She looks at me over the top of her bifocals. “Sonny, you're sweet. Really. But if she wanted to talk to you, she would've left us some way to get you two in touch.”

  I tense up. “What're you saying? That you don't know where she went?”

  “I have an idea,” she says coolly. “You read the letter she left behind. May not be right, but she's entitled to storm out and stay away as long as she likes. When she's ready, she'll hear you out.”

  “Respectfully, you're not helping,” I say, watching Grant turn. He walks to the car and leans on it, slouched down like he can't wait for this to be over.

  “I'll make you a deal. You wrap up the baby mama drama plus the piranhas chomping at my girl in the press, and we'll talk. I might give you a way to get in touch, or find out how to visit her. She needs space, Hayden. There's plenty of chances for you to fix things up real tidy, and then show her you're the man she needs you to be, worth putting up with psychos threatening to tear her a new one.”

  “I have bodyguards, you know. Jesus, Melody, anybody who made good on their threat to hurt her or anybody else in your family never would've made it to the front door. I would have personally beat the asses of anybody who came within ten feet of us.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're tough as a lion underneath that suit.” She doesn't know how right she actually is. “Anyhow, it doesn't change anything. It's not the fear that's eating at her. Not really. Forget the excuses in her Dear John. It's the doubt. She doesn't know if you're worth the trouble. Doesn't know who you really are. It's up to you to settle this, put the bitch slinging mud in her place, and then figure out how you're going to bring your wife home. This note from your little spy seems like a good start, but you've got a lot of work, boy. I'm rooting for you.”

  “You are?”

  She shrugs. “Haven't pushed you off my doorstep yet, have I?” Melody taps her cane once, cracking the sheet of ice next to her. “Now, go. Don't come back before you've cleared your name, and hers, too.”

  “I will be back, Melody. That's a promise.”

  I stand there for a minute, watching as she turns around, walks inside, and slams the door shut.

  She's right. It's amazing how much wisdom I've just had dropped on my head by this crazy old firecracker.

  Later, when I'm back at the wheel, letting the car warm up, Grant looks at me. “Shit, Hayds. What'd you say to calm her down? Thought I'd have to get between you two like a human shield a couple times. Haven't seen a stare down like that since the guys trying to short oil stocks after OPEC spit in their coffee.”

  “Told her I'd do the right thing, Grant. In the right order. I'm going to fix this, starting with Kayla and Brie. I'll live in court the next few months if that's what it takes.”

  “Aw, come on. You're still clinging to clean and legal when your ex is fighting dirty?”

  Weaving through a break in the noontime traffic, my eyes shift over, seeing the mischievous disdain in his face. “What're you saying? That I should show up on her doorstep and march a pregnant woman off to the doctor in handcuffs to get the results I need?”

  “Well, not a doctor. There's a vet who's willing to do house calls. No worries, he'll look the other way when things get weird.” I'm starting to remember how much I hate my brother's grin.

  “Vet. As in...animals?” I wonder how much longer I'm going to be suffering this torture before he goes home. “Let me guess, you know this guy?”

  “Nah, Luke told me about him a couple times. It's his contact. Knows a guy who knows a guy.”

  Wonderful. I was fucked before, but I'm not sure there's even a term for how ludicrous, out of control, this flaming wreck is getting.

  My hands tighten on the wheel for the first time since climbing in the car. I think about Penny, alone in her undisclosed location, heartbroken and ringless. Before I left, I tucked it into my breast pocket. It's already burning a hole there, my desire to fix this cast in gold and diamonds, and it's not going to stop until I've put it back on her finger, where it belongs.

  I can't believe I'm about to say the words that come, but I do. “Get me in touch with this person by tonight. I'll talk to the lawyers, and find out how we can attack Kayla legally. I don't think the marriage and heir clause in the trust matters anymore. If I prove she helped fund Brie, hit me as hard as she could with slander, she'll be looking at prison instead of owing every fucking penny dad left her.”

  “Damn, brother. No risk assessment with the paternity test plan?” He grins. “Never thought I'd see the day when my kid brother grew a pair to break the law.”
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  “I'll break heads if that's what it takes to get her back, Grant. Anything.” I look at him, watch as his eyes widen. He's realizing this is deadly serious. “I'll crash heaven and hell. Whatever it takes to bring her home, get the hyenas off our backs, and give us the future we deserve.”

  “Starting to think you deserve it, brother,” he says, slapping my shoulder with a brotherly thud.

  This time, I don't stop him.

  13

  Alone (Penny)

  It's the snowiest, loneliest, longest drive of my life. I take my time across the plains and into the mountains of Wyoming, then into Idaho and Oregon, heading for the little town outside Portland. My aunt has a vacation home there that's not in use during the off season.

  There's hardly any traffic on Christmas day. Just big rigs that pass my little Corolla so close sometimes it makes me grip the steering wheel and grit my teeth before I'm blown off the road. They make me think about accidents, too.

  One wrong move could be the end of me. I've rarely had road trips like this, especially so far from Chicago. My nerves would be on edge anyway. Under the circumstances I left, they're killing me.

  I can't believe I left my man.

  Can't believe I lied to him.

  Can't believe I wouldn't give him a chance.

  No, it wasn't the social media lunatic making the threats I told him about in the letter. He would've protected me, had he known. I would have risked life and limb to stay with him if it was just a flap over his business, or some old scandal dredged up for clickbait and views.

  It's the uncertainty that got to me. The shame, the doubt, the fact that I didn't know who to trust, or what to believe, over this deadbeat daddy accusation.

  Of course, he would've come running after me, doing everything he could to prove it wasn't true. But if it was...God. I'd never survive it.

  How could I ever look him in the eyes again, knowing he'd be attached to her? How could he ever love me, and the baby he's possibly put in me, if he's chained to the past, split between two families thanks to an unexpected gift from one of the shittiest women on earth?

  I refuse to burden him with me, and my child, if he's knocked her up, too. I won't be involved in anything involving Brie, or her disgusting claims. If he got her pregnant, then the only thing we're guaranteed is a never ending circus.

  And still, I wonder if I made the right choice. I have a lot of time to think about it, to doubt, to cry. About 2,100 miles to Oregon. Long enough to leave me a gibbering, shaken mess by the end.

  I don't get to the vacation house until late on the day after Christmas, after pulling ten hour days on the road.

  I'm exhausted, scared, and I could really use a shower that's better than the ones I've been using in the cheap hotels on the way here. Instead of calming me down, the steam flows around my skin, heightening every sensation. Every emotion, too.

  I miss the life I only started back east.

  I miss Murphy, who I'll have to get by talking to Reed about shipping procedures.

  Inevitably, I miss Hayden. I miss thinking there was going to be an us, instead of two lost souls torn apart.

  It's a cozy, cabin-like atmosphere in the vacation house. I text my sister to let her know I made it okay. Then I curl up next to the fireplace with a book, glad I swapped my smart phone for a cheap pay-as-you-go basic model with an unlisted number.

  That'll keep him from tracking me down by GPS if he talks to the right people, at least.

  I don't realize I've missed Christmas until I'm in bed. The timing absolutely sucks. It would've been our first together, one I'd never forget. If only the bitch had waited a few more weeks to drop her atomic bomb. I'd have walked away with one more beautiful memory – possibly the only thing I'll have from my time with Hayden.

  Except for the baby that might be growing inside me right now, of course.

  Somehow, I resist pulling the pregnancy test from my purse, and taking it right now. I'm too exhausted, too hurt. I need time to stop the bleeding.

  There's no agony in my dreams. Just dreamless sleep. A dense, dark place where there's no Hayden, no Zeno virus, no pretend marriage that's sent me running from my life.

  No love either.

  Maybe that's why I wake up the next day feeling more empty and defeated than ever before.

  “Mom, no. I'm done thinking about this. I wouldn't have put two thousand miles between him and me if I didn't want to get away.” I wish I hadn't picked up the phone. Several boring days since I got here, and I guess I'm willing to accept a call from the devil's favorite advocate.

  “Nobody's saying you can't lick your wounds, honey doll. I'm telling you not to write him off just yet. Wait.”

  Easy for her to say. “I don't like where this is going. For all I know, you've already given him my address.” There's a long pause on the end of the line. “Mom, seriously? After I told you not to? After I showed you the note?!”

  “I haven't told him a thing, Priscilla. It's not my place to get between you and the man who's turned your starry eyes sour. All's I'm saying, I think you ought to wait. Give it time. Don't do anything rash, like send away for a lawyer or divorce papers.”

  I don't say anything. Obviously, that's going to be the case if Hayden and I are done for good. It hurts like hell thinking about it. Every time I imagine signing my name on any legal document that dissolves us for good feels like wiping him away.

  No, we weren't together long. But it was plenty to mourn this marriage if it ends in a heart wrenching disaster. Blame the passion, the kisses I still taste when I see him in my dreams.

  “I'm not stupid, mom.”

  “Duh. Didn't raise no fool, hun. You're hurt. A sad place for any young lady. Hell, I remember it like my one 'clock tea after brunch when I was your age. Pain makes a girl do things she shouldn't. Maybe your Hayden's the lying, cheating, deadbeat rat bastard everybody says he is, I don't know. But he's worth a chance to find out. He wouldn't be chasing you like a fox on a rabbit if he didn't feel something deep down, Priscilla.”

  If her goal is to remind me how torn between two worlds I really am, she's succeeded. “I know,” I say slowly. I'm not giving her the satisfaction of hearing me cry while the tears are welling up, prickling at the ends of my eyes.

  “Rest, baby girl. Rest and wait. That's all you're there to do. Don't need to figure out what's in that man's heart until he proves it, and I'm not gonna let him show you until he's clean and clear. It's his job to make it right.”

  “At least we agree on one thing.”

  We make small talk a little longer about her latest eye appointment, and then she's gone, returning me to my wintry solitude. It's cold here, but there's no snow here in Oregon. I'm staring out the window at the dead, brown grass and shades of dark green in the forest.

  I've brought my old laptop. Haven't bothered to get the internet until now.

  I tell myself I'm ready to read the news without crying. I don't dare log into any of my social media accounts. I'm not ready for another five hundred psycho messages blowing up my inbox, or calling me out for enabling a rich pretty boy who thinks he's above the law, running from his destiny with Brie and her kid.

  There's a baby being hoisted up on my home news page. Not Brie's, thank God. It's the royal baby from Sealesland, the happy little cherub King Silas and his Queen have given the world. The glowing couple are standing in a palace courtyard, telling everyone they owe this kid to their love.

  I remember their whirlwind romance, the fake love turned royally real that held several million lovestruck ladies vicariously enthralled for months. I know, because I was one of them, back when I thought fairy tales with larger-than-life men were impossible.

  They're real. It's the happily ever afters that might be fantasy.

  My laptop cord catches my purse, sitting on the tiny chair next to the counter when I shift the computer over. My bag tips over, unzipped, of course, spilling its contents across Aunt Ophelia's spacious floor.

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sp; “Shit!” I'm down on my hands and knees a second later, collecting everything, grateful my polish hasn't exploded all over the floor.

  Something in a small pink box catches my eye. It's the test, taunting me like a neon middle finger.

  I grab it, cradling the tiny thing in my palm.

  There are no answers coming from the media or Hayden himself yet. But there's one question this little stick can wipe away in screaming clarity.

  Do I want to know?

  If it's negative, then there's a small relief. I'll be free from Hayden in all but memory, if we're meant to go our separate ways. I'll walk away childless, listening to the tick-tick-tick of my burning biological clock growing to a roar.

  If it's positive, I'm doubly screwed.

  I'll have a son or a daughter, sure. And I'll remember the man who took my heart through hell every time I look at them. Worse, I won't be able to hide it if and when he shows up, and he'll have even less incentive to walk away, whether Brie and her spawn are in the picture or not.

  Death by fire, or ice? Or just by my own chattering need to know where things stand that won't shut up for anything.

  I sigh. Taking two tentative steps toward the bathroom, I grab my water, and close the door.

  As soon as I start ripping into the box, there's no stopping this date with destiny.

  14

  Going, Going, Gone (Hayden)

  I can't believe I'm going through with this. That's what I get for saying I'd do anything to bring her home, and meaning it.

  I'm waiting outside the warehouse with Reed and the veterinarian Grant and Luke put me in touch with, before my older brother flew back east. I turn around and look at the wiry man in the back seat, Dr. Plarr.

  “You're sure you've done this before? And you're certain it won't hurt her or the baby?”

  “Mr. Shaw, please. It's just a little pinprick. I'll have you know genetic testing was my specialty in grad school. You'd be surprised how many rich people pay good money to know their pure bred stallions aren't counterfeits. Very important when they're going to the racing track, and there's money on the line. No offense intended.”