Page 1 of The Billionaire's Secret Child

Chapter 1

It was the type of house you pointed at as you drove past in your squeaky, middle-aged sedan. The one that made you gasp – just a little – as you stared at its soaring stories, expansive lawns and pristine gardens. The home you'd never own, no matter how many extra hours you put in at the office or how many promotions you scored. The one your boss couldn't afford, nor his boss and probably not even the one above him.

It made you wonder who could afford it. If you knew this person to be a business tycoon and a self-made billionaire, as was the case with this particular man, then you automatically knew aspects of his personality: Strong. Powerful. Intelligent. In control. Yes, indeed, Aidan Bancroft was all of these. Plus, one other moniker, which even he didn't know:

Father.

Laura Blake’s heart slammed against her ribs, stealing the oxygen from her lungs, as she pulled into the engraved stone driveway of one of the largest homes in Miami. Close up, the house loomed even larger, powerful and massive, just like its owner. Three stories tall and quadruple the width, the building seemed better suited for a dozen families than a single man. White surfaces gleamed in the slanting sun, with rounded pillars, majestic turrets and lush, manicured lawns stretching for acres. Ten, twenty, thirty, who knew how many rooms the mansion possessed? Yet she could not let the size of the home intimidate her from dealing with the man inside. For her child, she would engage with anyone, no matter how ruthless. Of course, Aidan Bancroft wasn’t just ruthless.

He was a famous, powerful billionaire businessman, member of the fabledBillionaires of Miami. A man who got what he wanted – whatever it was.

Laura stopped at a huge white gate, its bars etching a majestic lion, a fitting symbol for the authoritative man. Four security cameras recorded her every move (How many were hidden?) as she cranked down her window to expose the brass intercom system. Silencing the instincts urging her to flee before it was too late, she reached out and pushed the button on the intricate device.

“May I help you?” A professional female voice spoke crisply through the air.

“I'm here to see Mr. Bancroft.” Laura fought to keep her voice emotionless, her tone even, yet an edge belied her efforts.Stay strong.

“Do you have an appointment, ma’am?”

“No.” Laura exhaled slowly, refused to even consider failure. Straightening, she launched into the speech she’d planned, one that would hopefully pique their curiosity enough to allow her entrance. “I represent someone very close to Mr. Bancroft, a person who lost touch with him. Seeing him could literally mean life or death. It will only take a moment.”

The first two assertions were true, the last an optimistic gambit. Hopefully, the woman wouldn't ask for details.

“Ma’am, are you a reporter?”

Laura closed her eyes at the question she’d hoped they wouldn’t ask. For although her job had no relation to her visit, she was indeed a reporter. And everyone knew the reclusive Mr. Bancroft spoke to very few reporters.

“No,” she lied, since an affirmative would shatter any chance of admittance. Her daughter’s future bore more weight than total honesty. And, in this case, she didn’t play the role of reporter.

“Your name, ma’am?”

“Laura Blake.” He would not recognize the name, should never even know she existed. Of course, everyone knew him: Aidan Bancroft, billionaire founder and CEO of Bancroft Enterprises, an international conglomerate with dealings in dozens of industries. Unlike many men who ran such companies, Aidan Bancroft was in the prime of his life, gorgeous with the body of a movie star. The combination of good looks, charm and power had propelled him to superstardom, as well as the cover of half the business and popular magazines and every social media site. He hobnobbed with television stars, presidents and royalty, with practically every single woman on the planet (and probably some on neighboring planets) hoping to become Mrs. Bancroft.

Likely, they would assume she was here to give a proposal, decent or indecent. They would ask more questions, or just refuse her outright. Thus, she started in shock when a low buzzing sounded, and the gate began to open. “Drive through,” the voice commanded, then clicked off.

Could it truly be this easy?

Not likely.

Yet she did not hesitate, as she shifted the car into gear and slowly glided to a storybook palace come to life. Emerald green vines and lavender flowers twined around its gleaming sides, framing stained glass windows with rich brocade curtains and intricate crown molding. Curved walls sketched whimsical features, an architectural delight that rose like a masterpiece against the cerulean sky. The scent of gardenias drifted through the air, as birds sang their melodies, darting between the densely flowered bushes.

At any other time, she would have stopped, taken minutes or hours to stare in awe, but now she noted the beauty only briefly, as she approached the challenge ahead. She parked next to a gleaming new Porsche, which was next to a gleaming new Jaguar, which was next to a gleaming new Ferrari, which was next to something that looked like it could probably fly. Fortifying herself for the inevitable, she exited the car and strode to the front of the house. She stood straight in front of the two giant oak doors and rang the bell.

Undoubtedly, she would be greeted by a secretary or assistant, someone who would ask questions, examine her intentions and then turn her away (with or without laughter, teasing and/or pity). Just because she gained admittance to the grounds didn’t mean she would actually see the master of the domain. Thus, when none other than the infamous Aidan Bancroft himself, international business mogul, America’s top bachelor andfather of her child, opened the door, the world froze.

Or at least she did. She had seen pictures, read about him on the Internet, heard countless stories, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual man, flesh, blood and a whole lot ofmuscle.

He was gorgeous – no, not merely gorgeous – stunning. With thick brown hair and sea blue eyes, he boasted a model's face, chiseled and flawless, perfection defined. He towered to well over six feet, with a muscular build that cast him above the average man and far beyond Laura’s petite stature. Hidden strength loomed beneath the crisp three-piece suit, power present yet controlled. He drew her in, for more reasons than his appearance. Whereas in the photographs his strength had been apparent, now it was all but overwhelming. No wonder millions fawned over him, hoping for a small piece of him.

A piece she had.

Laura met his gaze. Awareness shot through her, electrifying already over-stimulated senses. Her skin tingled as pinprick goose bumps formed, as he held her captive in a gaze as secure as iron shackles. A mixture of cologne and sandalwood assailed her, intoxicating her senses and capturing her attention. And suddenly, an altogether shocking sensation assailed her.

Attraction.

Fighting for focus, Laura pushed aside the traitorous feeling. Of course, he attracted her like a gourmet cupcake (the type with freshly whipped cream and drizzled chocolate) – he would affect any sane woman – but that couldn't play a part in her mission. Her daughter was all that mattered. She needed something much simpler and far more important than unbidden lust.

“Mr. Bancroft, I assume.”

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