Baby Daddy, Everything I Want : (Billionaire Romance) Page 2

  The damn thing wasn’t even signed! I slammed the letter onto my desk before I leaned back in my chair. Boulder. A name I hadn’t been called in years. Not since my youth, when I was young and dumb and looking for anything to fill that nasty hole I had gaping for the world to see. If those fuckers thought for one moment they could threaten me into paying whatever sum of money they thought I owed them to keep their mouths shut, they had another thing coming. I did what I had to do to create a life my family would be proud of, and those assholes weren’t gonna rob me blind because they thought they had some kinship right to me.

  Not on my watch.

  “Knock knock.”

  “Hello, James.”

  “That bad of a day, huh?” he asked.

  I turned my chair back around and slid a bunch of things into my desk.

  Including the letter.

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Care to talk about it?” he asked.

  “It’s not important. More personal than anything.”

  “And here I thought our goals for this coming year were finally getting to you.”

  “You mean the development of personal home security and our own line of smart-home technology? Nah. Not one bit,” I said with a grin.

  “I just approved the prototype to be sent for testing. I should know by the end of the day tomorrow what the first round of issues are we need to fix.”

  “I knew I made you COO for a reason,” I said.

  “And here I thought it was because of my rugged good looks.”

  “You have rugged good looks like I have boyish charm.”

  “Fuck you. I have rugged good looks when I grow my beard out.”

  “Which is never, because your wife hates it,” I said. “I told you that would happen when you got married, James. First it was your wardrobe, then it was your facial hair. Pretty soon, she’ll be wanting you to quit, invest in a houseboat, and move to Michigan.”

  “You’re the one that put it in her head that the suits I wore weren’t nice enough,” he said.

  “Because they weren’t. I pay you seven fucking figures to do all the shit I don’t wanna do and you walk into work with baggy suits and coats not fit to your body? The hell you doin’ with all that money I’m giving you?”

  “Investing so I don’t have to work my whole damn life.”

  “That’s… actually very smart. I commend you for that,” I said.

  “Hey, look at that. You’re on the news. Again.”

  I turned my head to look at the television running silently in the corner of my office. It was video footage of me and the girl I had taken out last night. She was hanging off my arm as the two of us walked into some restaurant she liked. I grabbed my remote and unmuted the television, smiling every time the reporter mentioned my name.

  I loved hearing my name in the news. It was like free advertisement for my company.

  “You know, I think she’s a good thing for you,” James said. “It’s the longest you’ve ever been with someone. Four weeks. Hell of a milestone for a man like you.”

  “Then I hate to break your heart, but I ended things with her this morning,” I said.

  “Fucking he-... Robert. What did you do?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what did I do?’? Why don’t you ever ask what she did?”

  “Because the last time I asked that question you actually tried to sell me on the fact that a woman not liking steak was a bad thing.”

  “I don’t trust women that don’t eat,” I said.

  “She didn’t not eat, Robert. She just didn’t eat steak.”

  “Anyway, what’s done is done.”

  “Okay. Robert. I’m getting a little concerned-”

  “I know that tone of voice, and I’m not having this conversation now.”

  “I’m worried about this path you’re traveling,” he said.

  “Why, James? Are you jealous? I’d be jealous. You got married and your best friend is still prancing around with the finest pieces of ass in New York City. You’re the one who… decided to relegate yourself to one pussy the rest of your life.”

  “And it was the best thing to ever happen to me. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It added a dimension to my life that no amount of work or money or sleeping around ever did.”

  “You’re just saying that to justify the fact that you secretly hate that your wife hates your facial hair.”

  “You’re missing the point,” he said. “You’re thirty five years old. You have everything you could’ve ever wanted out of life.”

  “Nu-uh-uh. Not true. I have not purchased my crimson red Lamborghini convertible yet.”

  “Seriously?” James asked.

  “Seriously,” I said with a grin. “It’s my next major purchase. And it’s going to be the sweetest ride on the road. You wait and see.”

  “If you weren’t my best friend I’d think you were absolutely pathetic.”

  “Apology accepted. Now, what are we getting into tonight? You told the wife at home I had you for the night, right?”

  “I did. She’s not expecting me back until much later. But I figured I would choose what we did tonight.”

  “Long as you’re not dragging me to the symphony, I’m good.”

  “Trust me, I’m not dragging you to the symphony. Not after what happened last time,” he said.

  “It’s not my fault it was boring.”

  “You were snoring so loud the maestro stopped the damn concert!”

  “Then you should’ve woken me up!”

  “I did! Twice!”

  “Are you still mad at me because I won’t listen to your whole ‘you should settle down’ speech? Because this seems like a tense way to start off our guys night,” I said.

  “No, I’m waiting for you to shut up so I can give you the news,” he said.

  “What news? There’s news? I was just on it. Were you on it, too?”

  “We’re pregnant, Robert.”

  “I knew I should’ve worn a condom on our last date. I thought you said you went and got Plan B?” I asked with a grin.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “And you’re going to be a great mother.”

  The two of us chuckled as I embraced my friend. I couldn’t believe it. The man who had been with me since the inception of my company was going to be a first time dad. At forty two years old. I couldn’t imagine being a father. And I was never going to have to. Family was leverage. Something people could hold over someone else’s head. They were people that sank into the very marrow of others and created emotional connections as deep as the universe and as expansive as the layout of the stars. Family meant leverage, and leverage meant emotions.

  But family also meant you had something to lose.

  And I had lost enough.

  “You know you’re going to be sixty years old when that child graduated high school,” I said.

  “Fuck me, Robert.”

  “You’ll probably be wheelchair bound with the way you eat. All those chicken wings and ranch sauce’ll catch up to you. Might make you blind.”

  “You’re an ass,” James said.

  “Hearing aids. If your child joins band in college, you’ll need hearing aids. You got enough money invested for those? I hear they’re expensive.”

  “Fine. You can make all the jokes you want. But Delilah and I are very happy, and you were the first person I could think of to tell.”

  “Not… your parents or anything?” I asked.

  “After my parents, you asshat.”

  “And here I thought I was supposed to be the first,” I said with a wink. “Okay. Hit me with it. Where are we going to celebrate the fact that sex has consequences?”

  “Turandot.”

  “Come again?” I asked.

  “Turandot.”

  “Is that a… new club in town? Or something?”

  “It’s an opera. By Puccini?”

  “Vladimir Puccini?”

  “That’s Puti
n.”

  “I know that, you asshole. I told you that you weren’t dragging me to the symphony.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m taking you to the opera,” James said.

  “It has a symphony,” I said.

  “It has a pit orchestra.”

  “What the hell’s the difference?” I asked.

  “About forty different musicians and their placement on stage. Now come on. I have two box seat tickets to the most sought after operatic performance of the season. The lead soprano is supposed to be out of this world.”

  “Hot? Out of this world hot?” I asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “No, she’s not hot? Or no, you don’t want me pursuing her?”

  “No to both,” he said.

  “Getting a little jealous that daddy might need some rebound sex?”

  “You’re keeping it in your pants and going with me to this performance. You’re going to stay awake, you’re going to enjoy it, and then we’re going to talk about how awesome it was afterwards.”

  “You know what would make this awesome for me?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “If I was drunk beforehand. So let’s hit up that place you like so much for food and drinks, then we can head to Tarantula.”

  “Turandot.”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  I grinned at James before the two of us embraced one last time. I was happy for him. I really was. I knew there were men out there that wanted this for their lives. They wanted the wife and the home and the children. They wanted the picket fence and picking strawberries with their kids and going to their terrible flute recitals. I’d watched many of the men I knew in the businessworld get married to women that were good for them.

  But it wasn’t something I wanted. I had a family once, and I lost them.

  And I wasn’t going to build another one only to lose it to the shadows that still reached out for me.

  Joanne

  The frenzy of the backstage was something I would never get used to. I hoarded myself in my dressing room, listening to the stampede of feet as dancers and the chorus and set props were dashing left and right. I enjoyed relaxation before my performances. A lone room, some dim lighting, and one last cup of hot green tea with honey and lemon. It helped me to prepare myself for the vocal warm ups I would do, and I would take exactly fifteen minutes to warm up before taking my place. It was a routine I had set over the first four shows of the tour, and it was a routine I had consistently stuck with to place myself in the right mindset for the show. Turandot was a beloved opera with so many beautiful pieces, and I wanted to make sure I was doing my character justice.

  But before I could finish my tea, a knock came at my door.

  “Joanna? It’s me.”

  I opened the door for Lacey and she came walking in, a glass of wine in hand.

  “I still don’t know how you can drink that stuff right before a performance,” I said.

  “Rest those chords. You know why I’m here,” Lacey said. “So, if something happens within the next hour and you can’t go on, I’ve got my costume fitted and ready. I’ll be in the wing to feed you lines if something happens to your memory on stage, and if you need help of any sort all you have to do is look at me.”

  “You know I-”

  “Ah, ah, ah. Rest those chords. There’s been one change to how things are working on stage, but it has nothing to do with you. But I want to update you on it anyway so it doesn’t take you by surprise,” she said.

  I nodded to let her know I understood.

  “This stage is much deeper than the ones we’ve performed on. So the stage crew is stacking the stage props rather than sliding them as necessary. That means less commotion during the acting portions, but during two of your arias there will be movement behind you. Don’t let it startle you, but it is different and I wanted you to be aware of it.”

  I nodded as I took another sip of my tea, then I watched Lacey recline back into the couch.

  “I’m going to use talking to warm up,” I said.

  “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Lacey asked.

  “Of course I’m nervous. This is the Metropolitan Opera for crying out loud! New York’s elite will be out there. People who could make or break our careers.”

  “You mean your career. And come on, The Met called us for this show. They beckoned for you, not the other way around.”

  “It’s one of the largest stages in the nation,” I said. “Possibly in the world.”

  “Maybe not the world, but it is certainly one of the most popular and well-known. Look, Joanna. You can’t get your head wrapped up in those kinds of things. If you’re going to make a career out of this like you want to, then you have to start getting used to that kind of thing. Especially if you wanna travel Europe.”

  “We don’t know who’s going to get offered that position,” I said.

  “You can play dumb all you want, but I know they’re gonna offer that position to you.”

  “How are you so confident in all this?”

  “How are you not?” she asked. “I’ve watched you walk out onto stages night after night with your head held high. I’ve listened to you toss your high notes to the rafters and blow the damn toupees off the old men in the front fucking row. How can you be this insecure but be so confident on stage?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The stage, it… fuels me. Breaths a fresh sort of life into me, I guess.”

  “Your performances up until this point have been spot-on, and I haven’t had to go on as your understudy once. The maestro has praised you, the critic’s reviews in every city have been nothing short of ‘galliant’.”

  “‘Galliant’?” I asked. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means. Actually, I don’t think that’s a word at all.”

  “What’s the word for ‘totally awesome but you’re being a dick about it’?” she asked.

  “I don’t think there’s a word for that,” I said.

  “Whatever. The point is, you’re going to do just fine. But if you psych yourself out about it, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  “Hey, you were the one that wanted to use talking as your warm up. I tried to get you to rest,” she said.

  I watched the clock tick down as Lacey and I sat in silence. She was finishing off her wine and I was finishing up my tea, but my mind was wandering elsewhere. I allowed myself the ability to dream about Europe. When the two of us auditioned for the traveling show, we didn’t understand what would be sitting at the other end for us. We figured we would travel and perform for a few months, then use the performance footage as a catapult into our own careers. We didn’t know a European touring company would be offering a few select of us the chance to tour with a professional opera act.

  My mind wandered about, dreaming of the life I could create for myself. I could perform in all of the wonderful opera houses around the world and settle down in a place where I could leave my entire life behind. I could start fresh. Possibly in Germany. Or even London. I could get away from all the heartache of my childhood and plant my roots in a place I could be proud of. A place I could call home that didn’t automatically bring tears to my eyes.

  “Joanna? You okay?”

  I felt a tear sliding down my cheek and I wiped at it quickly.

  “Just thinking,” I said.

  “About what?” Lacey asked.

  “About how I’m going to demand the company take you to Europe if they offer me the position. I won’t be able to do something like that without you.”

  “One, that’s awesome and very kind. And two, you’re much stronger than you think. Even if they do offer you the position and they don’t me, it’s not going to shock me. I haven’t once stepped into your shoes for a performance, so no one knows what I can do. And that’s fine with me. I like the chorus line for this show. Well, the parts I’m in, anyway. But this is your time to shine, Joanna. It�
��s your time to step out of the shadows and claim the spotlight that’s so rightfully yours.”

  “I want you to come to Europe with me. I want us to find a place where we can be happy,” I said.

  “So that’s what you’re thinking about.”

  “What?”

  “Home. You're thinking about home.”

  “I’m thinking about how I could make a home somewhere that makes me happy, yes,” I said.

  “Why don’t we get through this performance tonight, then we can go get some food, celebrate a job well done, and daydream all we want?”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “It’s ten minutes until showtime,” she said.

  I set my tea cup down onto the edge of my vanity before I stood up from my seat. I opened the door and Lacey threaded her arm with mine, then the two of us started for the side of the stage. It was time for both of us to take our rightful places for what was going to be the biggest performance of our musical careers thus far. Lacey left me in the wing before she trotted off to go join the opening chorus.

  But then, the backstage manager approached my side.

  “Hey there, Joanna. You need any water?” he asked.

  “No thanks, Barry. I’m good.”

  “Okay, listen. I don’t wanna trip you out or anything-”

  “If you’re going to tell me something that’s going to make me nervous, please don’t,” I said.

  “But you wanna know about the critics in the audience, right?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. Them. Are there critics tonight?”

  “Many of them, but there’s only one you need to pay attention to. Martie Blackstone is here, and he’s sitting in an aisle seat about halfway back on the left-hand side.”

  “Wait a second. Martie Blackstone? Isn’t he the critic that has his own television show?” I asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  “He’s one of New York’s greatest critics,” I said.

  “That he is. I figured you would want to know.”