Page 52 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

Lara looks up, her expression a mixture of surprise and something unreadable. I’m taking a gamble, because she could be furious I’m doing something so brazen and obvious here at work. “What's this?” Her voice is quiet as she speaks, but I see her lean closer to the jasmine, her gaze inspecting the incredible flowers.

“Flowers.” I state the obvious in a tone heavy with humor, and she gives me a playfully annoyed look before reaching out to touch a petal gently. “And food.” I place the bag on her desk, then gently slide it toward her. This is my silent acknowledgement that I know she never eats enough.

She accepts the bag, peering inside with genuine amusement. “How did you know I forgot to eat?” There’s something so warm and pure in her eyes I want to pull her into my arms and never let her go. One day, I plan to do just that, but for now, I’ll settle for making her happy and taking care of her.

“Lucky guess,” I say, but we both know it's more than that. I watch her, I know her routines, and I know that she’s not great at taking care of herself. And there’s where I come in. I want to be the one to care for her, not just because she’s my son’s mother, not even just because I’m in love with her. But because I don’t ever want her to feel unimportant, unloved, or alone ever again.

“Thank you,” she whispers. But I’m not here to intrude, not really. So, I take a step back and speak.

“Anytime.” My reply is gruff, an attempt to preserve some semblance of professionalism that’s long gone. I turn and walk away, each step taking me further from her office but not from what's growing between us. I can't help but glance back once, just in time to see her face, still turned toward me, framed by flowers and lit up with a smile that tightens the muscles in my stomach.

And hours later, while I’m sitting at my desk trying to work but thinking of her instead, I think about the next steps I plan to take.

Until the door to my office swings open and Shana stands there, her eyes locking on mine. She jerks her head toward the hallway. “Come with me.”

“Sure, I say, pushing back from my desk. I follow her lead, trying to read the situation from the set line of her shoulders, but I’m left with nothing. That old tinge of fear I’m about to get fired fills me. I did break some rules today, I think, and even if I’m skirting them, I could be facing discipline or a warning to be more covert in my wooing of Lara. I’ll take things as they come if that’s the case, because I can’t give Lara up. Not now. Not ever again.

We move through the office, past the break room, beyond people talking in small groups of two and three, discussing work, ideas, and even some personal information; and I notice the way conversations hush as we pass. Either something is going on, or my imagination is working overtime. Then again, maybe everyone knows what’s going on between Lara and me and are afraid to say anything.

Shana doesn't speak until we reach Lara's office. She knocks once, sharply, then swings the door open and gestures for me to go inside as she steps away and waits. I walk inside and she follows, the door clicking shut behind us.

“Have a seat,” Lara says, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Her expression is unreadable, and my heart begins to thump harder than I’d like.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, taking the offered seat. My palms are suddenly damp, but I hide them under the table, running them down my slacks to get rid of the incriminating moisture.

“Everything's fine,” Lara says, but something in the way her gaze flicks to Shana has me even more worried. Something big is about to happen. But is it a good big or a bad big?

I sit up straighter, preparing for whatever comes next. Being fired is unlikely; my gut tells me that much. But what else could have this level of formality and secrecy all mixed up in one?

“Thanks for picking up Win today,” Lara says, breaking into my thoughts. Her voice is steady, as if she has none of the tension I feel.

“Anytime,” I say. “He's a great kid.” And it's true—Win has become the center of my world in a way I'd never expected.

“Good.” Lara nods, her lips curving into a smile. “Anyway, we need to talk about some things.”

I sense Shana sitting down in another seat, her gaze staring holes into me.

“Okay,” I say, bracing myself for the worst. Whatever it is, I'm ready.

The silence stretches out as Lara and Shana seem to speak a silent conversation I’m not part of. Then Shana shifts in her chair, a rustle of fabric breaking the stillness before she turns to me. She takes a deep breath and I find myself wishing they’d just get it over with, whatever ‘it’ is.

For now, I study them. They're two sides of the same coin, brilliant minds in sleek business attire, their gazes sharp and assessing. The deep blue dress Lara is wearing leaves my mouth watering, and whether they intended to or not, Shana’s wearing a blouse in the same shade and a dark fitted skirt that’s all professional.

“We've been looking for a third business partner,” Shana says, her voice crisp, but not cold. It's a statement, direct and confusing. Why are they telling me this? Unless…a ripple of surprise courses through me.

“Really?” It’s not so much a question as a statement designed to get them talking faster, otherwise we might all die of old age before everyone’s intentions are made clear.

Lara leans forward, planting her elbows on the desk and pressing her palms together while lacing her fingers.

There's a sparkle in her eyes; she looks both determined and amused with the turn of events. “We all have the same goals for the future,” she says, her gaze locking on mine with a steadiness that feels safe. “And you’re trustworthy and always seem to have the company's best interests at heart. So you're a smart choice.”

To say I’m shocked is an understatement. They’re offering me a chance to become a partner?

I blink, processing her words, the gravity of what they're proposing settling on my chest like a stubborn elephant refusing to move. Trustworthy. Smart choice. When she and I had talked about the future on my yacht, I thought we were being more personal. That we were discussing the future in a way that hinted at living together, being together, in a relationship. Not a business sense.

Had I read that whole situation all wrong? Was she just thinking business while I was thinking about our future together? The thought stings, but I push it aside because they’re both looking at me like they’re expecting some kind of response or answer.

“Thank you,” I say, the words almost sticking in my throat. “That means a lot.” I clear my throat, watching their expressions but seeing no change in either of them.

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