Page 5 of The Billionaire's Secret Child

Laura exhaled as the last of her energy departed, replaced by clear and utter exhaustion. “I have to be, for my daughter. Right now, I just need to get home with Jeanie.”

With an understanding smile, her friend hugged her once more. “It’s going to be okay.” She gently grasped her shoulders. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

Weary yet grateful, Laura traveled to the sleeping girl and did something that made everything better – she held her baby. And all on the way home, as she entered her tiny but comfortable apartment, placed the child in an ornate fairy-tale bed that had been the biggest splurge of her entire life and lay down herself, the mysterious Mr. Bancroft infiltrated her thoughts.

At first, he seemed so cruel, so starkly unforgiving, but once reasons were revealed, his actions were completely understandable. What he must think of her… a reporter who would resort to blackmail. At least he appeared to be honorable, as he proclaimed any child of his would know her father. Would he show the same possessiveness to a woman he deemed his? By the way he looked at her for that brief instant, the answer was clear.Yes.

He refused to leave her thoughts, even as she drifted to sleep. Who was he beneath the public façade? What caused the mysterious desire that hit like a tsunami? If he discovered the truth and decided he wanted in on her little family, would she have the strength to resist him? Or would she submit to his every desire?

He was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. If that included her family, she might just have the fight of her life.

* * *

Naked savefor a tiny cloth covering the essentials, Aidan lay on his stomach on the firm massage bench while Jennifer, his masseuse, worked the tension out of his muscles. Jennifer was his fourth masseuse in as many weeks; despite seeming professional at the interviews, the others had given subtle and not so subtle hints of interest in him. Jennifer, seventy if she was a day, had been happily married for fifty years and talked about her beloved Frederick incessantly.

Jennifer expertly kneaded his sore calves, overtaxed from the two-hour exercise session he succumbed to after the reporter's departure. He had worked twice as hard as normal, and still hadn't eradicated the restlessness her visit wrought.

Or the attraction that struck like lightning.

Aidan received more than his fair share of attention. Drawn by his wealth, power and appearance, women chased after him, with respectable and not-so respectable offers arriving with startling regularity. He accepted few, instead preferring discreet affairs with sophisticated women who weren't after anything long term. Unfortunately, emotions sometimes strengthened, and when they did, he broke it off immediately. He just couldn't imagine risking another relationship, not after losing his wife… his baby.

But for a moment’s whisper, when he looked at that soft, sweet reporter, whose soulful eyes and inexplicable turnaround told of a story far more complex than she admitted, he wanted something more.

Who was Laura Blake? Why had she come to him with such damning information, and then backed out so suddenly? Although he had known she lied from the first, she had stirred up memories and anticipation long thought dead, feelings from when he and Leanne had first gotten pregnant, the unparalleled joy of impending fatherhood. What if his child had been born? What if he were a father? The thousands of stockholders, board members and employees he commanded would be shocked if they knew how much he yearned for it.

Of course, he was not a father – he had been careful enough to know that no unclaimed child of his roamed the earth. Although he wanted a family, he couldn't bring himself to start a real relationship that could yield such a result. How could he ever take a chance like that again?

He could see the questions in the reporter’s eyes, confusion as to why he had reacted so strongly when she mentioned the fertility clinic, why he had granted her access into his home, into his bank account. She didn't understand, but how could she? He couldn't go through it again, see the vivid photographs of the crash in every newspaper, on every website, in everynightmare.

The proof he killed his wife and unborn child.

They all claimed it wasn't his fault, his friends, his family,herfamily. But they didn't see her face when they argued that night, a fight in which ironically he had been trying to protect her. She wanted to go on a physically-demanding excursion, claimed it was completely safe, but he had fought her on it, fearful for her and the baby. They had quarreled like never before, and finally she stormed out. But it was no time to be driving, on a night of what would later be called the storm of the decade. He told her not to go, but she ignored him, venturing out, taking the precious little life with her into the dark and windy night, into the small and vulnerable compact automobile.

He should have done more. He should have stopped her from going.

But he didn't and she did, and through the icy rain and bullet-like hail, never saw the 18-wheeler that swerved into her path. Never had a chance to brake, to avoid the inevitable collision, the fiery crash. And him…

He never had the chance to say he was sorry. Never had a chance to say good-bye to his baby.

They said two people died that night, but they were wrong. He died as well, and he continued to die every time he saw the pictures that appeared for months in the newspapers, endured the pitying looks, the comfort others strived so hard to give but that only reminded him of his culpability. Fate's only kindness was that they hadn't known she was pregnant; they thought he only lost a wife.

If the press found out about the fertility clinic, the nightmare would begin anew. The headlines. The sorrowful whispers. The reporters knocking on his door at 5am. He couldn't go through it again, couldn't deal with it a second time around. For his sanity, the secret must remain buried.

His thoughts returned to Laura, and suddenly his anger morphed into something else entirely. Her behavior didn't make sense. She had to be hiding something – something important. Anger turned to curiosity, and curiosity to interest. What she started was not yet over. Not by a long shot.

The board of directors had been after him to find a pleasant, all-American small town to build a satellite office of Bancroft Enterprises. They worried the company's image had become too exclusive, toohoity-toityas they phrased it, alienating potentially lucrative business opportunities. From what he remembered of Pine Ridge, it contained good people, hard workers and some of the most gorgeous land in the country, perfect for photo shoots and corporate logos. It could very well be the perfect location for Bancroft Enterprises' new country home. Of course, he would have to go there to investigate the suitability for such an office. And while he was there, he would investigate something – or rather someone – else.

He would discover the truth of how Laura found out about the clinic.

He would discover why she came to blackmail him, and why she changed her mind.

He would discover why she affected him so.

Hopefully, Ms. Blake was ready for him, because this time he was coming after her.

Chapter 2

Sunday morning dawned in brilliant glory, an artist’s brush of bright yellow sunshine through white eyelet curtains, illuminating the cozy apartment. Birds called out their morning song, urging the world to rise and shine, while fluffy-tailed squirrels chased each other through winding trees, pursuing their fruit and nut breakfasts. Laura lifted heavy lashes, as an incessant ringing pierced the peaceful atmosphere. Who set the alarm on a Sunday morning? She moved to hit the snooze button, or better yet, toss the contraption out the window, until she realized she lay on the sofa, not in her bed, and the guilty culprit wasn’t an alarm, but the telephone.

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