Page 29 of The Billionaire's Bad News Baby

Still silent, Kayla leaned over against Liz, who immediately wrapped her arms around her and pecked a kiss on top of her head.

“Decisions don’t need to be made this second,” Liz said. “Take a break, have some more dry toast, and go to bed. Everything will be better in the morning.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

* * *

It took less than twenty-four hours for Kayla to come to the unshakable conviction that Elio needed to know about the pregnancy. She hadn’t slept at all, spending most of the night staring up at the dark ceiling of her bedroom before giving up on sleep altogether and getting out her computer to do some sleuthing. Semi-legal sleuthing, considering she was no longer employed by lawyers to give out court summons, but kind of, maybe, still had access to a certain Italian billionaire’s contact information in her notes.

She tried not to think about how this was definitely in some way a little bit illegal, found the number in her files, and typed it into her phone before she could chicken out. It would be early in Italy right now, but still a reasonable time to get a phone call. Especially for a businessman. But after just a single dial tone, an automated voice spoke up and dashed Kayla’s plans.

“The person you have tried to contact is unavailable.”

The call ended with a click, without even the opportunity to leave a voicemail. Kayla groaned and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, which was a bad idea as they got knotted in her curls, making things worse.

She didn’t have any other contact information for Elio. That phone number was her one shot. She didn’t have an email, a postal address… The only reason she’d known about the island residence in the first place was because of the information she’d scrounged from the lawyers hiring her. Great. She’d just have to try again later. Maybe his phone was just off or out of charge. That’s all. She could call again later. She would call again later.

She snapped her laptop shut and fell back on the bed with a huff, back to staring at the ceiling like some sort of sadistic meditation.

She needed to keep trying. It was the right thing to do. She knew all too well what it was like to grow up with a single mom, with no contact from her dad, a dad who had a different nationality, a different heritage, that Kayla was forever severed from. So if there was even the smallest glimmer of a chance that Elio would want to be involved with his child, then she was going to take it. No matter how awkward it would be to have that conversation. He was absolutely going to think it was about money. Was she stressed out of her mind doing all the math for having a baby? Absolutely. Was that Elio’s problem? No. She would figure it out, just like her mom had said. She just needed to know that she’d tried to give everyone the information they needed, for her future child to have their father in their life, and for Elio to have his child in his.

And what was the other option? Keep her mouth shut and make it all some weird secret? She screwed her nose up at the thought. No, that wasn’t right. It made her feel dirty for one thing, like she’d done something wrong, which wasn’t the case. And she could just imagine fast-forwarding twenty years when the kid, in a bid to get more information, turned up on Elio’s doorstep and told him that he was their father. That would go down like a lead balloon.

So every option kind of sucked. But just calling Elio and telling him outright was the least sucky version she could come up with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, do it fast and firm and she wouldn’t even notice the sting.

Now, the only thing she had to do was hope and pray that Elio would, at some point, answer the phone.

CHAPTER 11

ELIO

Elio had often wondered what it would be like to be able to sequester himself on Malbia for months on end: refusing calls, not leaving the villa, not having to go to in-person meetings or parties. It had been a sort of fantasy of his, being able to run away from everything like that. He’d always thought of it as the perfect life, being able to buckle down and do his job without having to show up in person anywhere it was too crowded or too loud, and he had to pretend he was having a good time. All he’d needed was a valid reason.

Well, now he had one. Marc, sounding like a caricature of a New York lawyer, had pretty much forbidden Elio from leaving the island. Noel Preston had not only become hell-bent on taking Elio to court over the olive pit incident, but he’d been prancing around New York telling everyone and their mother about what had happened. The gossip in those social circles was always a toxic affair, but apparently Preston had taken it to new heights. According to him, Elio was tantamount to the antichrist and he was digging up whatever scrap of dirt he could to prove his point. Marc had used the word litigious. Elio preferred some other words that weren’t quite as civil, which only proved Marc’s point that he needed to stay away from anyone looking to get dirt on him and keep his mouth shut. Marc assured him that Preston would fall on his own sword, but for that they needed to be patient. For once in his life, though, Elio was feeling anything but.

He’d taken to walking around the island several times a day, needing to get out of the villa and have the sun on his face. It was something he’d never been particularly drawn to doing; he was usually more than happy to spend hours at his desk without so much as walking across the room or stretching his shoulders. But now in order to function from hour to hour, he found himself walking outside no matter the time or the weather. Maybe it was a strange return to his childhood, where he’d hide out in the grapevines and on the beach for hours on end. He hadn’t thought about that in years, not until he’d told Kayla all about it, and now the memories had come flooding back, reminding him of why he loved Malbia so much in the first place.

But then his brain would hopscotch from thoughts about vineyards and shady naps in the summer straight over to the blond-haired American with the miraculous eyes. It had been, what, three days? Three days that he’d known her, which was really no time at all. It was nothing but a drop in the ocean compared to the rest of his life. So why was he still thinking about her after months had passed?

Maybe it was being isolated on the island. Maybe the stress of the pending lawsuit was sending him crazy. Either way, he kept his thoughts about Kayla locked away in the back corner of his mind where they belonged. The trouble was he was really terrible at keeping them there. All of his efforts to focus on reality, on the here and now, didn’t stop him from wondering about possibilities. The possibility of talking to her again, seeing her again… Kayla hadn’t left a number or address, not even an email. But she’d mentioned that she was from Newark, and he knew which law firm had drawn up the papers that she had passed on to him. It wouldn’t be impossible to find a way to contact her, not when he had the resources he did at his disposal. But then that would send him into a whole different sort of thought spiral that kept him walking along the beach in an effort to clear his head. Because that was stalking, wasn’t it? At the very least, it was creepy. Surely, a woman he’d known for such a short amount of time wouldn’t feel great about being contacted by him months after they’d had a one-night stand and then finding out the lengths he’d gone to track her down.

It was all the ingredients for a different sort of lawsuit and maybe a restraining order to top it all off. Even though the thought of trying still held a golden edge of appeal, just enough that Elio wasn’t able to forget about the thought of tracking Kayla down entirely. So he just continued his daily battle of shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind, beating them away whenever they tried to crawl back into the light. Not to mention, if he went about actively trying to contact someone in the States while he was supposed to be in hiding, Marc might literally kill him. And Elio wasn’t suicidal enough to test that particular theory.

He wandered in from the beach, taking the long way through the kitchen. Even now he didn’t particularly feel like going back to his desk and looking at spreadsheets and percentages. He’d thrown himself into work harder than he ever had before, which really was saying something. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d had anything else to do. He didn’t even go to the mainland; there was no need. With the weather steady and calm and the worst forecasts only predicting light showers, the staff that kept the island villa running efficiently came and went like a swarm of bees. And with a gardener, a housekeeper, and a private chef here most days, Elio didn’t even have chores to complete to distract him from the business. And seeing as he needed a distraction from thoughts of Kayla, the business was his only option. It was a perfect circle.

At least Oro was benefiting from it. He’d drawn up detailed plans for production for the next three years at least, designating his design and marketing teams’ duties via virtual meetings. Then he’d have a flash of a memory about long blond curls and it would mean he spent even more time at his desk trying to forget about things that really shouldn’t matter.

But even so… he was still a human being and needed to eat. While Gianna was somewhere upstairs, Isabella, the chef, was in the kitchen flipping through one of her cookbooks and taking notes. Planning a menu had always been one of her favorite things to do, and since Elio thrived on routine and predictability, their working relationship had been pretty much perfect from the start.

“Hello, Isabella,” he said, and she looked up with a warm smile.

“I was thinking of taking advantage of some beautiful lamb cutlets I saw at the butcher’s,” she said, continuing to scribble notes.

“Sounds perfect. You know you have free rein.”

“And I appreciate it, but any requests while I’m at it?” She looked up at him, pen hovering over her notepad.

---