Page 51 of The Damaged Billionaire

“I let my guard down. I could have stopped this. There were signs that this woman was up to something, and I missed all of them!” I say, exasperated with myself.

“Willow, are you even listening to yourself? Maybe you could have, maybe not. But I am not talking about work now, Willow. How are you and Tennyson?”

“He is having a baby with another woman. How do you think we are?” I say with a bite, not meaning the venom. Her lips purse a little, and I feel bad for a moment.

“I understand your pain, but it was before you two even got together, wasn’t it?” She makes a good point, and that is what I can’t reconcile. It makes sense that, yes, it all happened before I met Tennyson, but it doesn’t make the pain in my chest ache any less. The sane part of my brain knows that these things happen, and he probably needs me now more than ever. But the hormonal part of me wants to slap him, eat a tub of ice cream, and drown in my tears.

“You know I can’t give him that,” I mutter to Saide and see pity in her eyes.

“Maybe he doesn’t even want kids. Maybe he is not father material?” Saide offers.

“But if he does, I can’t give him that. I will never be able to give him that.” Pain intensifies in my chest as the reality sets in.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Saide says angrily.

“I know I may be young on the outside, but my insides are so traumatized that nothing can survive in there. The doctor said it was a one in a million chance,” I reiterate what she and I already know. There is no way in hell I can have a baby, or even if I am lucky enough to conceive, chances are I can’t carry to full term. PCOS is debilitating, at least it was for me, and although I feel more settled now, on good medication, and have a healthy lifestyle, the dark cloud always hangs over my head.

“But there is still a chance,” Saide says, her eyes glassy. We have talked about this many times before. She knows how badly I want kids. Ever since I was one myself, we always played moms and dads at home. I was always looking after everyone. I have always been maternal.

“You live in fantasyland, Saide. No one is that lucky. Now at least Tennyson has that chance to have a family with someone. I mean, this pain was coming for me eventually.”

“That’s why you don’t date, isn’t it?” Saide says, like she is coming to a known conclusion.

“Don’t be silly. I date,” I say, scoffing off her accusation.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You don’t date. You are a workaholic. You bury yourself in making other people happy and successful because you don’t want to meet the man of your dreams and—” I cut her off.

“Disappoint him? Tell him I am barren and can’t give him the very thing that, deep down, we as humans are put on this earth to do?” I finish for her, and her lips thin.

“Surely, a man who gives you nine orgasms in as many hours can put a baby in you,” she quips, and I huff out a laugh.

“Somehow, I don’t think that is enough, Saide. If this baby is Tennyson’s, then it is his chance to have a family. I don’t want to stop him from achieving that. This woman was a one-night stand, but so were we, and we nearly made it work. Maybe he can make it work with her,” I offer, coming to the conclusion that whatever Tennyson and I had needed to stop eventually.

“I can’t believe you. It is clear as day that you have strong feelings for him. I am reasonably confident that he feels the same. What if he doesn’t even want children? Have you thought of that? Because he is just as big of a workaholic as you, it appears, and given how much sex you two have, I don’t think either of you would have time for kids anyway!” Saide protests, and I roll my eyes.

“Want some ice cream?” This conversation is going nowhere and we are both exhausted. I know she is still hurting over the pain of her own relationship failure, even if he was married and she should have known better.

“I can’t believe we were both with men who are now having babies with other women…” Saide remarks, and I sigh.

“I will get two tubs.” I walk to the kitchen, grab two tubs of ice cream, spoons, and a blanket from the cupboard on my way past.

“Titanic? Leo never lets us down,” Saide asks, flicking through the movie choices.

“Sounds perfect,” I say, slumping next to her, and we both get comfortable. Under the blanket, with our ice cream, we get lost in Rose and Jack and their true love story that was never meant to be.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - TENNYSON

I have been working for twelve hours straight. My eyes blur, they’re so dry. I haven’t slept in days, I’ve lost my appetite, and my body burns for Willow. It has been a week since the bomb exploded in my life. Ben and his legal team are dealing with Katerina, and I haven’t spoken to her again. Everything goes through Ben and the firm. We have hired independent doctors, me wanting to get this paternity issue sorted ASAP and Katerina being hesitant to allow anyone to conduct tests. She is saying it is too early and might harm the baby. I am calling bullshit.

As I send off another email to Singapore, firming up our expansion plans, I look around Ben’s library, which I have now overtaken as my office. I spot a tub of books and toys in the corner. A pink box overflowing with Rosie’s things that she loves to play with. All high sensory toys, noise makers, and tactile toys she can feel and touch and immerse herself with. I sigh and lean back, staring at the box. I still can’t believe I could be having a kid. A child of my own. I scrunch my face and rub my eyes. It is the last thing I want. I just want Willow.

I hear footsteps and look up, spotting Harrison as he struts into the room, looking like the leader of the free world that he is meant to be. I haven't seen him for a few days, as his work has only gotten busier. It has been Ben who has been managing me and Eddie who has been keeping me sane. But Harrison calls me every day.

“I’m surprised to see you,” I say, my eyebrows rising as I lean back, watching him. It is just dusk outside, and the two of us should be somewhere either having dinner or with our women, but here we are. Locked inside because that is what my sexy reputation manager is telling me to do.

“Willow told me we need to have at least one of us boys near you at all times. Help keep you sane while you are locked up in here,” he says, taking a seat and looking at me. “She is a drill sergeant. She is so good at her job. I knew she was, of course, but seeing it in action, I am astounded. She not only gets everything handled, dots every ‘i’ and crosses every ‘t’, but she does it three times just to ensure it is right.” He gushes the words so fast they tumble out of his mouth.

My teeth grind as I listen to Harrison tell me exactly how wonderful my woman is. I have called her. Multiple times per day just to hear her voice. She always answers, tells me updates, gives me direction, but it is all professional. The few times I have broached the subject of us, she stops me. She needs to focus. I get that. But I need her.

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