Page 50 of Sebastian's Baby

“I’ve left a room key for you at the hotel,” I say quietly as we stand near the exit of the doctor’s office, and she nods. “We’ll talk back there, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” she smiles at me.

When we were planning today, I insisted on this. If she leaves before me, people are less likely to pay attention to her. It sounds weird, but they’ll be focused on trying to catch a picture of me and gloss over anyone who leaves that isn’t me.

Lita’s phone pings with a notification that her rideshare has arrived, and she waves at me before walking out the door. I watch her go and wait in the office for another ten minutes and for another two sets of patients to leave, fully aware of the people in the waiting room that are looking at me the whole time.

When I leave, there are three reporters waiting for me, as I expected.

“Sebastian! Why are you visiting an obstetrician? Are you having a baby?”

My media training tells me I should keep my mouth shut, but I can’t resist smiling at the person as I say, “I think you’ll find that’s biologically impossible for me.”

“Okay, is someone you know having a baby?”

“Quite possibly. I know a lot of people.” I shrug my shoulders and am grateful that we’re approaching the car.

“When do you think Victor Salfinger will be sentenced?” a different reporter asks.

This question has been popping up more frequently lately. As if we have any insight into the Californian legal system.

“I don’t know anything about that,” I say calmly.

“Where are the rest of the band?” the first reporter asks.

“I keep them stashed in a closet at my estate and only pull them out when I want to record an album or go on tour,” I say with a cheeky grin.

The third reporter catches my gaze, looking intensely curious as she asks, “Why were you seeing an obstetrician today, though? Did you get someone pregnant?”

I kind of want to congratulate her on finally asking the right question, but I don’t.

“I have been told that I have the ability to explode ovaries, so maybe.” I wink at the woman who asks the question. “Well, this has been a real treat. I’ll see you guys later.”

I slide into the SUV, and Daryl shuts the door behind me. He gets in the driver's seat and leaves quickly, but the reporters follow us, and I sigh. I’m glad Lita is safely out of here. They take some more pictures of me and ask more questions when I get to the hotel, but we make it inside okay.

When we get to my hotel suite, Daryl says, “Stay here, Mr. Fox.”

I nod because I’m used to him sweeping the suites when we arrive. I’m surprised that Lita isn’t anywhere to be seen, though, and I’m concerned she’s somehow gotten lost on the way here.

I’ve just opened my text messages to her when Daryl says in a horrified voice, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Miss Ciccone.”

He backs out of the bedroom and closes the door quickly, turning to look at me with his face beet red.

“What on earth happened?” I ask in surprise.

“Um, Miss Ciccone is in the bedroom. She’s, um, naked.”

“Had she just got out of the shower or something?”

“No, she was lying on the bed.” He won’t look me in the eye as he turns impossibly redder. “She appeared to be waiting for you.”

I burst into laughter because poor Daryl seems mortified, and Lita obviously wasn’t expecting him to be the person who walked in on her.

“I see. Well, I’d better not keep her waiting then. You can have the evening off for your troubles. We’ll be staying in tonight.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Fox.”

Daryl leaves as quickly as he seems able to, and I chuckle again. My cock stiffens as I think about the sight he must have been presented with, and I walk toward the bedroom, excited to see it for myself.

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