Page 16 of The Baby Contract With My Hot Billionaire Boss

But those numbers flash in front of my face and I try to steel myself for what’s to come.

Those numbers are going to make a huge difference.

Chris thinks I’m going to buy myself fancy clothes and random junk, but that money … just a month will pay off the bills for Mom and Leann. And in nine months? By the time a baby could be here? They could have everything paid up. They could be finally doing more than just making ends meet.

And that’s why I’m doing this. To get them what they need.

Including the dialysis if Leann ends up needing it.

“You can do this, Emma,” I tell myself. “You have to. They’re counting on you. And what’s the big deal anyway? Okay, so you’re going to have a baby. You’re also going to live in a fancy house and have staff to take care of you and an allowance for anything you might need; it’s worth it.”

With that I put the car in reverse and head toward the club.

“And it doesn’t hurt that the sex is pretty good, too,” I add.

Of course, that thought makes me think about just that. The sex. And how much I really wish I hadn’t had to leave just now; or maybe I’m actually glad I had to leave because it means I got to leave him wanting more. And it put me in control … for once.

“Hey Emma!” I jump at the voice as I get out of the car but it’s just Maggie, another one of the waitresses. “You ready for the party?”

“What party?”

“The Mardi Gras party.”

“Why on earth would we have a Mardi Gras party here?” I ask, staring at her in confusion.

“No one told you about it?” She shakes her head. “Girl, you are in for a treat. This is the party of the year. Anyone who is anyone wants to be there and the drinks are definitely flowing.” She grins, “Which means the tips are definitely flowing.”

Now I’m starting to get more interested in the idea. A big party where everyone wants to be? And they’re generous? Sounds like my kind of event.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. They bring in the whole crew for the party. People are lined up hours in advance so you may want to get to work early. Oh, and there are special costumes to wear. Haven’t seen them yet, but they’re always super sexy.”

“As opposed to the nun’s habits we wear the rest of the year,” I retort, and she laughs.

“All right, they’re even more sexy than what we wear normally. Just wait and see.”

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that, but from what I do know about Mardi Gras, it’s coming up quick. Which means I won’t have to worry about being pregnant when it comes around. And I’ll have at least the possibility of making some good tips.

“Who picks the costumes?”

“Chris, of course.” She has that look in her eyes like most of the girls get when they mention Chris, and I feel a surge of jealousy shoot through me.

He’s mine, after all.

But no, that’s not true. There was nothing in the contract about exclusivity. At least, not for him. Though I suppose I thought that was implied. He moved me into his house and I’m supposed to be having his baby; that means he should be exclusive to me, right?

My brow furrows as I try to figure out just what all of this means and, more importantly, what I want it to mean.

“Come on, let’s get going. Shift starts in 20 minutes.” I glance at my watch and practically bolt for the door. Twenty minutes is not a lot of time to get into our uniforms and make sure we’re ready. And once again I wonder if it would be better to take my outfit home and show up ready rather than leaving everything in the lockers they assign everyone in the break room.

By the time we’re both ready and heading out onto the floor it’s, exactly on time. I breathe a sigh of relief when I glance up at the glass windows above and can’t see any sign of Chris or Ethan. “Whew, so no one knows we barely made it,” I laugh and she joins in, grabbing a tray from the bartender.

“Guess again, Sweetheart.” I jump and spin quickly to find Chris sitting at the bar, a glass of something in his hand as he watches me.

“I’m not late.” My voice is defensive and he tips his head to the side, an appraising look in his eye as he sips his drink slowly. But that calculated look definitely makes it even harder for me to maintain my composure. Because my body just wants to melt before him.

“Perhaps you should think about leaving earlier to avoid such a last-minute rush. Or your boss may have to let you go,” he replies and I shake my head with a frown.

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