Accidental Baby: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance Read online

  Accidental Baby

  A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance

  Lara Swann

  Copyright © 2018 Lara Swann

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogue and everything else are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to people or events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Want to be the first to know about new releases and Advance Review Copies?

  Join my mailing list!

  You can also find me on Facebook or Twitter.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Ava

  I raise myself out of the bath with a contented sigh, water and bubbles sliding down my legs as I reach for a towel and blow out the candles on the side.

  God, I missed baths.

  See, Ava? A bubble bath, a good book and some candles are better than a man any day.

  Or maybe just one man in particular.

  I shrug off the thought of Jackson before he manages to kill the nice warm buzz the bath has left me with, wrapping the towel around my body and tying my hair up with another.

  I’m still trying to give myself similar messages of self-encouragement as I step out of the bathroom - and straight into Mom’s path as she appears in the stairway with a basket of folded laundry.

  “Ah, sweetheart.” Mom starts talking immediately, her voice that familiar mix of warmth and concern I’ve come to know all too well over the last few months. “I know you said you weren’t hungry but I thought I’d set aside a plate in the fridge for you - just in case you change your mind. It’s waiting for you downstairs, and—”

  “Do you want some help?” I say, hiding a smile at Mom’s never-ending attempts to feed me. I reach for the basket of laundry while also trying to hold the towel tight against myself, but she pulls back with a small smile and a shake of her head, eyes crinkling as she looks up at me.

  “No, don’t worry about this, sweetie - this is just mine and your Dad’s. Your things are waiting for you on the bed - I wasn’t sure where you wanted them, so—”

  “Oh, Mom.” I shake my head, feeling immediately guilty. “You didn’t have to—I was going to—”

  “Nonsense, it’s no trouble. I’m just glad to have you back here with us for a bit.”

  She says that as if I’m here for some other reason than the total break down of my life as I know it.

  Dramatic, maybe, but also true.

  “Thanks.” I say softly, trying not to sigh. It’s the least I can do for how nice they’re being about everything.

  “Hey.” She says, blue eyes sparkling as she looks up at me. “You know, I was thinking maybe we should have a girls’ day out tomorrow - find a nice nail place, do a bit of shopping…that sort of thing.”

  “Um, thanks Mom, but…well, I should really be doing some work, I think.”

  And I’m not sure I can face another day of all that concern and pity. Or the idea that just because I don’t have a ‘real job’, I’m not working. Even if I guess it’s been pretty light recently…

  Either way, this is starting to get too much. All the days out and distractions and attention were okay at first, but it’s been three months now and I don’t like the idea that she thinks I still need all of that - or the voice in the back of my mind that secretly wants to agree with her.

  It’s not that I’m not over Jackson - really, I am. He had his reasons. They were kind of understandable, even though I still maintain he didn’t need to be a dick about it. But either way - it’s done.

  Maybe I think about him a bit - maybe every day - but damn it, who wouldn’t after nine years together?

  That doesn’t mean I want anything to do with him anymore.

  No, I’m over Jackson.

  I’m just not quite over…where it leaves the rest of my life.

  I feel a little bit guilty as I turn Mom down, but she nods easily.

  “Ah, yes, of course. Well, if you change your mind or need a break, just let me know - I’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I say again.

  “I’ve got a few things to get done tonight.” She continues, her eyes sweeping over me with something too close to sympathy for my liking. “But your Dad is downstairs if you want him. He’s buried deep in all those papers about the civil war - but if you’re looking for something to do, I’m sure he could be swayed by a few games of scrabble.”

  She grins at me and I try to smile back, something flip-flopping inside me as I do.

  “Actually, um, that’s okay…I think I already had plans with Vicki.”

  I squirm a little over the semi-lie but I’m pretty sure that within ten minutes I can turn it into the truth.

  I just can’t face the thought that this is what my life has come to: my parents trying to find ways to entertain me on Saturday night because they’re worried that I’ll be alone and miserable otherwise. Sure, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but right now that’s how it feels.

  “Oh, okay.” She smiles at me, and I wonder whether I’m imagining the relief there. “That’s nice. You two have a good time then - oh, and say ‘hi’ to Vicki from me.”

  “I will.”

  I manage a slightly more genuine smile as she turns toward her room and I continue walking down the hallway.

  When I make it to my bedroom, I sag against the door with a sigh of relief, looking around at the home I’ve come back to. It’s still painted a slightly garish pink from when I was a teenager, with fluffy white pillows and rugs thrown around, but at least I’ve taken down the slightly embarrassing posters of boy bands.

  Not that I’m complaining about the pillows. My teenage self had that right at least - you can never have too many pillows. Everything else though…it all just slams home that I’m right back where I started. Only this time, I’m older and have less to look forward to.

  I flop down on my bed, still cocooned in the towel, and reach for my cell phone before I can dwell on any of that - more than I already am, anyway.

  Me: ‘Please tell me you’re not doing anything tonight.’

  I barely have a chance to put the cell down again before it buzzes in my hand.

  Vicki: ‘I have a feeling I’m about to be…wine, chocolate & Bridget Jones’s Diary again?’

  Thank god for Vicki. A real smile finally tugs at me, relief loosening some of the awkward knots in my stomach.

  Me: ‘Anything. I just need to get out of here.’

  Vicki: ‘Ooh, sounds bad…don’t tell me, your Mom tried to force too much food on you again?’

  I roll my eyes, not bothering to answer. For as long as I’ve known her,
Vicki has teased me about how ridiculously nice my parents are - even more so when I dare to utter a complaint. Nothing like the girl I’ve known almost all of my life to keep me grounded that way - even if, just occasionally, it’d be nice to be able to grumble the way everyone else seems to get to. Though I guess I do that anyway.

  Me: ‘I’ll see you in 45.’

  I roll off the bed, pulling on a simple top and jeans as I start to feel better already.

  Relaxing bath, fun night ahead with a great friend, caring parents…you’ve got a lot going for you, Ava. Think of that.

  It mostly works.

  I say goodbye to my parents and let them know I might crash at Vicki’s tonight - something I do frequently enough that it almost feels like I’m living between her place and my parents’ at the moment. Being on her couch isn’t exactly the same as having my own space, but sometimes it’s easier to deal with having her around than Mom and Dad.

  I catch the bus toward her apartment in Central Fresno and I’m at her door within the hour. I knock even while unlocking it with my own key, calling out as I walk in.

  “Hey, Vicki!”

  “Hey babe, with you in a minute - I’m in the middle of a very…delicate…operation…”

  Her voice floats to me from the kitchen and I laugh softly to myself.

  “Do I want to know?” I ask, starting to walk in that direction.

  “You will in a minute - go on, there’s snacks in the living room.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  I’ve known her long enough to hear the unmistakable ‘if you try to come help, you’ll get in my way’ tone to her voice, so I head into the living room with a shrug.

  I sling my bag down beside the couch and flop into it with a sigh, the deep leather seats threatening to engulf me as I do. She got this thing in a thrift store a couple of years ago and it’s a worn old thing, the leather cracking and making its age obvious…but it also might be the most comfortable couch I’ve ever known.

  “So…”

  I look up to see Vicki appear in the doorway, curly dark hair bouncing around her face and sparkling green eyes looking back at me from her slightly larger figure. The summer dress she’s wearing swirls around her curves in a way that makes me envious, the splashes of color as much a part of her as the enthusiastic gleam in her expression.

  “What’s the emergency this time, babe?”

  She folds her arms as she leans against the door frame and I twist on the couch, bringing my feet up onto it and laying back against the arm rest to look at her.

  “Were your parents being too nice again?” She continues in mock-sympathy, not giving me a chance to answer. “Too much food? Or attention? Ooh, or was it something else - please don’t tell me you were starting to get stupid thoughts about that dick again, not after all the times I’ve already set you straight on that, girl.”

  I laugh, her teasing tirade making me smile. It’s impossible to take myself too seriously around Vicki - which is something I need more than I’d like to admit.

  “No, no, none of that.” I shake my head before putting on a deliberately mournful voice, sinking my head into my hands. “My Dad suggested I spend the evening playing scrabble with him.”

  Her eyebrows rise even further.

  “And just what’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s Saturday night! I’m twenty-five - not sixty!” I exclaim as she saunters toward the couch, pushing my legs over so she can take the same position as me on the opposite end. Our feet slide up against each other in the middle as I continue, only half joking. “Just what do you think it says about me if I’m playing pity scrabble with my Dad on Saturday night, Vicki?”

  “Hey, nothing wrong with scrabble. I’m quite addicted, actually, ever since they brought out that app version, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do know.” I grunt. “I’ve got enough notifications inviting me to download that app and play with you.”

  She grins, nudging me with her foot. “Well, you should. Then you’d be playing scrabble with me on a Saturday night, and that would solve all your problems, huh?”

  I roll my eyes at her.

  “You know what I mean, Vicks."

  “C’mon…” She nudges me again, eyes smiling with a light that has never failed to lift my mood, even through all this shit. “It’s not that bad, Ava.”

  “Isn’t it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow back at her. My tone is half-despairing - and only because it’s impossible to be fully despairing around Vicki. “My relationship of nine years is over - I have no boyfriend, no apartment, and my job barely even counts as one.”

  The last comes out with a little more bitterness than I intended - and if I’m honest, it’s the thing that’s weighing me down the most at the moment. I’m mostly over Jackson, but if I really want to start my life over again and get out of my parents’ house, I need a job that actually pays. I’m starting to wonder how long I can cling to creative graphic design that no one wants to pay for.

  “Heeyy…”

  She swings around, pulling me up too until we’re sitting in the middle of the couch together and her arm is wrapped around my shoulder. I lean my head against hers with a sigh.

  “What’s that about your job, babe?”

  As always, Vicki picks up on exactly what’s really bothering me.

  “I’ve been working at it for years now, you know that, and I’m still not really any further than when I started. I don’t get enough jobs or interest - certainly not enough to live on.”

  “But what about that company? The marketing agency you signed on with - that was a huge breakthrough, Ava—”

  My stomach twists. That’s what I had thought too - I’d done a little work for Two-Bit Designs and they’d liked it, enough to invite me to sign on as a freelancer for when they need additional support. It made me hope I was finally getting somewhere, but…I shake my head and force myself to face the truth.

  “That was months ago - and I haven’t had any work from them since. I thought it might go somewhere, but…” I shrug, suddenly wishing I’d never started this conversation. Now I’m probably just bringing us both down, and I hate that I always seem to come around here to complain. “Hell, maybe Jackson was right—”

  “Ohh no.” She pulls back to scowl at me, her hands landing on my shoulders. “We’re not going there again. What have I told you, girl?”

  “He was a dick.” I repeat dutifully. “But that doesn’t mean—”

  “It does mean that. Forget that idiot. I’ve seen your work - you’re great at it, and that agency obviously saw it too. You didn’t work this hard for this long just to give up now, Ava, I won’t let you. And you won’t let yourself either, I know it - you couldn’t stop trying for it even if you wanted to.”

  I sigh, but some part of me is smiling inside at her intensity - and the ever-present support I need more often than I’d like to right now. I squeeze her arm in silent gratitude.

  “I know. You’re right. It’s just that…everything I thought I would’ve achieved by now…none of it’s worked out, Vicks. I’m going nowhere. I just feel stuck. Even my idea of a ‘life’ right now seems to be eating ice cream, drinking wine and watching movies with you about people dumber than me who somehow manage to achieve their dreams, just to reassure myself that if these fictional people can do it, then maybe I can too.”

  “Well that one, I can fix.” She grins at me, suddenly jumping up from the couch. “In fact, I’m already four steps ahead of you, babe.”

  “Four?” I repeat, but she’s already left the room.

  I blink in confusion - it’s impossible to follow Vicki sometimes - before slowly standing, wondering whether I’m supposed to be going after her. Before I can call out to ask where she’s going or what she’s doing, she comes back into the room with the same grin on her face - and two margarita glasses in her hands.

  “Here, babe.” She hands me a glass and I take it carefully, the liquid sloshing against the edges precariously. “My
delicate operation from earlier.”

  “Margaritas, huh?” I smile automatically, catching onto some of her enthusiasm. “Well that’s definitely a step up from wine.”

  “Uhuh.” She takes a sip of hers. “Ooh, Ava, this is actually nice.”

  The surprise on her face makes me laugh, even if I know exactly where it comes from. I wouldn’t have thought margaritas were that hard to make, until Vicki managed to ruin them so thoroughly. Again and again and again.

  Too much salt. Too much lime. Too much alcohol. There was always something.

  If it hadn’t been for an amazing little cocktail bar downtown, I would have thought they were just supposed to taste terrible.

  Of course, anyone else would have moved onto a different cocktail after the third failure - but not Vicki. If she can’t do something, she won’t stop until she’s got it right. So, yeah, these days bad margaritas are our go-to drink.

  Very cautiously, I take a tentative sip myself. And my eyes flare open with my own surprise.

  “Hey, you’re right!”

  Her grin gets even wider.

  “What did you put in these?”

  “Lots of alcohol. Lots and lots.” Her eyes sparkle back at me and I laugh. “And I made a jug. Maybe that helped?”

  “So tomorrow morning is going to be interesting then, hm?” I raise my glass, not really objecting.

  I’ll take a hangover the next day for enjoying a very drinkable margarita tonight.

  “In more ways than one.” Her smile turns saucy as she clinks her glass against mine, somehow managing not to spill either of them. “We’re going out tonight!”

  I try not to splutter on the sip I’ve just taken.

  “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me.”

  My stomach flips.

  “Vicki, I’m not sure—”

  “C’mon, Ava, it’ll be fun! A little drinking…dancing…maybe a bit of flirting…who knows what could happen, right?”

  I’m pretty sure my eyes bug out of my face as I shake my head quickly.

  “Vicki! I don’t think—I’m not ready for that.”

  “Oh, c’mon, I thought you were over him!”

  “I am!” I exclaim back. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for…all of that yet. I only just got out of one thing, launching myself into another—”