Page 9 of The Baby Contract With My Hot Billionaire Boss

“I don’t … I don’t want anyone to know anything. At least not at first. I want to keep going exactly the way that I have been. I’ll work here and everything that happens between the two of us will be kept private. No one needs to know.”

I remember the one constant thing I heard from everyone I asked about her was that she was a very private person. They didn’t know much about her or her family because she kept it all very quiet. And this is more proof of that.

She doesn’t want people to talk about her. Doesn’t want them to know she’s with me.

Well, I can accept that. Though it’s certainly not something I’m used to. I’m very much used to everyone wanting to be around me. And women certainly want others to know that they’re with me. But not this one. She’s an enigma, that’s for sure.

“Fine. You may continue to work.” For now, I think but don’t say the words. “But you come to my house as soon as your shift is finished and we will get you moved in.”

“Okay,” she agrees, though at that she looks a little anxious again. Still, she turns and quickly heads back out of my office while I lean back in my chair and think about just what’s going to happen next.

She’s going to be mine. Entirely mine.

Because in order to have a baby, I’ll have her whenever I want. It’s going to be in the contract that I have drawn up. And in fact, I pull out a piece of paper and begin drafting the conditions and requirements of the deal we’ll make.

I have a lawyer, one who will be discreet and who can take care of putting this together for me officially. Not that he’s likely to understand the reasoning behind this particular contract, but that doesn’t matter. As long as he can make sure everything is legal, it’s going to be enough.

I lay out everything I can think of before I call him but even still, he has additions and changes as we create the contract. I’ve never wanted to be tied down. And I don’t really care for the idea now. But I don’t have a whole lot of choice.

He doesn’t ask questions, other than making sure that I know who this woman is that I’m preparing to move into my home. But that’s not something that I’m concerned about. From everything I know of Emma, I don’t think there’s a physical danger to me. And there’s no danger to my home either.

“I can have the contract prepared for you by this evening,” he says finally, when we’ve had the chance to go through all of the details several times and fleshed out the main purpose of the thing.

“Good. I’d like to present it to her as quickly as possible.”

“Of course, you’d like to get to the pertinent parts, wouldn’t you?” He smiles and I can’t help but grin back.

Oh yes, being able to have sex with Emma whenever I want it is certainly a major perk to this contract. But also, I like to get all of the details nailed down when it comes to this kind of thing.

“I’ll bring it back to you when it’s fully drafted,” he says and I watch him leave the club. This is definitely not how we normally meet, but he knows how I make my money and he’s drafted a great deal of legalese for the club as well, so he might as well see what he’s been contributing to.

I relax in my chair yet again, watching through the glass as Emma makes her way around.

Yes, she really is something. And she’s going to be the mother of my child.

The thought is … strange, for sure.

Having a child is something I had assumed I would do. At least, somewhere in the back of my head the thought has always been there. But it’s not something that I’m overly interested in. Still, it will make my parents happy and at least this way I can control when it all happens and with whom.

By the time I leave for the evening it’s starting to get late. Emma should be finishing up soon and she’ll be coming to my house to go over things and get started on fulfilling our agreement.

I’m already more than ready to get this going. To have her actually in my bed instead of just at the club. Because the things that I can do to her there …

Heat fills my entire body at the thought of undressing her there. Of taking my time exploring every inch of her. By the time I get home I’m hard but all I can do is wait. And wait. And wait.

The fact that I have to wait for her, that she’s still working … I don’t like it. I want her here, want her to be available to me at all times. And available to our child at all times. Which means that I need to convince her to quit.

I could fire her, of course. But I don’t want her to resent me for it. So I need to make her see that it’s best to quit and stay home. I can support her, care for her better than she may even realize. And I’d rather that than have to explain to my family why the mother of my child is working as a cocktail waitress.

I sigh and glance up at the clock. I know when her shift is over but an hour later she still hasn’t shown up. And two hours later she’s not here either. I’m getting frustrated, wondering if she’s changed her mind, if she’s decided that she’s not going to fulfill our agreement after all.

I grit my teeth together and try to focus on something else. Anything else. Because if I don’t, I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do. Instead I turn on the TV, hoping it’s going to distract me. And then I pull out some of my files from the club, thinking that it might help.

Nothing seems to be helping.

All I can do is sit there and keep staring at the clock.

I keep glancing up from whatever I’m doing and two minutes have passed.

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