Page 15 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“Understood,” she says in her ride-or-die tone, and I breathe a sigh of relief that she’s firmly in my corner. What would I do without her? “What do you need?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don't know.” My laugh is a puff of breath, disbelief still clinging to my thoughts and mind. This can’t be real. This isn’t reality. It’s a dream I’ll wake from. And then I’ll shake my head and go about my life as usual.

“Girl, I got you,” Shana says, a laugh in her voice. “Need me to be your baby's daddy?”

The laugh that bursts from me is real this time, and loud. “You'd look terrible with a beard.”

“Oh, please. I'd rock a beard,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Thanks, Shana,” I say, the weight on my shoulders easing an ounce. “For making me laugh when I feel like crying.”

“Anytime, Lara. Anytime.” Her promise wraps around me like a hug I so desperately need right now, and I’m grateful for her. I hang up, and my laughter fades, replaced by a quiet strength. I can do this.

“Whatever it takes,” I whisper to myself.

And I believe it.

I’ve got this.

Chapter Eight

Lark

Five years later…

Maybe I should be nervous, but as I adjust the cuff of my dark suit, I’m feeling nothing but confident.

I push the frosted glass door open and a waft of polished marble and wealth greets me. The air is cool against my skin, refreshing after being in the summer heat of the city. I step onto the gleaming marble floor, the click of my shoes echoing in the vast open space.

“Mr. Carlyle?” A receptionist looks up, her voice dainty.

“Yes. I’m here for the two PM appointment.” Of course, she knows that – there’s no way I’d get into this building otherwise.

“Right this way.” She gestures toward the corridor lined with towering potted ferns that sway ever so slightly from the air conditioning vent above. The other wall is glass, overlooking the city below.

The office is a maze of modern artistry, walls adorned with abstract paintings swirling like smoke, but touching some primal part of me deep within. I pass sculptures that twist into impossible shapes, metal glinting under the subtle overhead lighting. It's like walking through an upscale gallery where every piece feels like it costs more than an average person’s yearly income.

I’m stopped by another receptionist, who points to a sleek black sofa beside a low-set coffee table stacked with tech magazines. “Please, have a seat.”

I nod my thanks and sit, taking in the atmosphere of my surroundings. The room smells faintly of some relaxing combination of juniper and a hint of something floral, probably from a hidden scent diffuser meant to relax people. It's working.

“Miss Mills will see you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I say, but she's already gliding back to the other side of her desk.

I'm alone again, surrounded by wealth and ambition. The silence gives me too much time to think, to anticipate what comes next. So instead, I focus on the details around me—the way each plant is meticulously pruned, the absence of dust on any surface, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending seamlessly with the stillness.

This is where I belong. And I’m going to make sure they know that fact by the end of this interview. There’s no reason they wouldn’t hire me. In fact, it would be stupid of them not to hire me.

“Mr. Lark?”

I stand, turning to face the voice, ready to earn my place and make my mark.

Confidence surges through me as I follow the receptionist. Her heels click on the marble floor and the scent of her perfume seems upscale, just like her silk shirt and dark, pencil skirt. The office oozes wealth and success, and I can already imagine my name etched into the legacy of this company. I know tech; and innovation has been the cornerstone of my climb from the bottom. This job is mine.

I’m led into an empty room, and the receptionist nods her head at me before leaving the room.

I wander, looking at huge paintings on canvas, taking in the blue, gold, white swirls that remind me of the ocean. It reminds me of five years ago, on a specific beach with an incredible woman. But those memories have no place here. Still, no matter how hard I’ve tried to banish them over the years, I’ve failed every single time.

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