Page 3 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

He sounded like his own father and that was unacceptable.

Bo stood up and slid his hands into the pockets of his casual grey trousers, bunching his fists. ‘And you say that he looks like me?’ he asked, hoping she heard the apology and embarrassment in his voice. He rarely apologised, and he also didn’t want this woman thinking badly of him, but he suspected that ship had sailed.

‘What is his name, by the way?’ Bo added, thinking that he couldn’t keep calling his son ‘him’.

‘His name is Matheo, spelt in the Danish way. And he looks exactly like you,’ she told him. ‘Same eyes, same, nose, same chin. He’s a big boy so I suspect he’ll also have your height.’

Bo blew air over his lips and tried to find some moisture in his mouth. ‘I genuinely don’t know what to think or say.’

For the first time, Mrs Daniels smiled. ‘I’ve just handed you life-changing news—it’s a lot to take in. But, unfortunately, we do need to move forward as quickly as possible. Matheo needs to get settled in a permanent environment. His needs are the only ones that matter.’

Yes, he got that. But he was rocked to his core. This stranger was telling him he had a child, something he’d never planned. He was the product of a horrible marriage between two wholly unsuited people. He’d vowed that he’d never risk putting a child through the trauma of being caught between a cold mother and a volatile father. The only way to guarantee that never happened—accepting that anyone could change their minds about having children at any point—was to stay single, unmarried and unattached.

But now he was a father, something he’d never considered. He’d discovered the delights of a female body in his mid-teens but, even as a young man, he’d understood that babies were a consequence of sex and he’d been ultra-careful about using protection. He’d never trusted any of his sexual partners enough to leave the issue of contraception in their hands, so he made sure to protect them both. Damn, howhadthis happened? Well, he understood the mechanics, he just didn’t understand why his life had gone off-piste like this. Though, to be fair, so had little Matheo’s.

‘I have a photograph of him, if you’d like to see it,’ Mrs Daniels offered.

He nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Bo waited, the fire ants of impatience crawling under his skin as he watched her look in her bag for her phone. She pulled it out, took another few minutes to find her glasses and then it took her ten years for her to find the picture she was looking for. Mrs Daniels thrust the phone at him, and he took it gingerly, hauling air into his lungs as he looked down.

Bo’s world stopped as he looked down into that all too familiar face. He didn’t need the DNA test; Matheo looked exactly as he had at the same age. As the social worker had said, his son looked a lot like him, and he could see little of Dani in his face. He was a Sørenson through and through, with eyes as deep a green as his.

‘If you put our baby photographs together, I would be hard-pressed to tell you which one was of him and which one was of me,’ Bo admitted, shoving a shaky hand into his hair.

‘Do you need to sit down again?’

He managed a small smile. ‘No, I’m fine. What’s the next step?’ He needed to focus on the practicalities, what happened next. He could panic later.

‘So you want to do the DNA testing?’

‘No, it’s not necessary. The dates are right, and he looks exactly like I did as a child. I’ll take him.’

Bo winced, knowing he’d made Matheo sound like a puppy left out in the rain. He hadn’t meant to; it was just so difficult to think, to wrap his head around this stunning news. He was a father—he had a baby son. He didn’t know anything about babies or being a dad. His dad hadn’t been much of a father, and he did not doubt that Malte would say that he hadn’t been much of a son either...

Now wasn’t the time to dig into his complicated history with his father; he needed to focus on the here and now.

‘Do you know how to look after a baby, Mr Sørenson?’

He didn’t have the first clue. ‘No,’ he admitted.

‘Do you have any family members who could help you?’

Bo thought about his mother trying to change Matheo’s nappy, dressed in Chanel or Balenciaga, her blonde hair perfect and her nails freshly painted. Nope, that wasn’t going to happen. Bridget would be horrified by the latest addition to their family. Well, ‘horrified’ was a strong word—uninterested or unaffected would be a better choice.

‘No.’

‘Then I suggest you hire a nanny; there are several reputable agencies who can send you some help.’

Right, that was a good suggestion. He would need someone not only to look after Matheo but to teach him how to look after Matheo. How to make bottles and bath a toddler, how to put on a nappy. It couldn’t be that hard, but having someone show him the ropes would make life so much easier. ‘I have money—I could hire the best in the world,’ he told Mrs Daniels, not caring if he sounded like an over-confident git. ‘Where do I find the best nanny I can?’

‘Sabine du Foy runs a very good agency out of Paris,’ she replied. ‘Expensive but, so I’ve heard, worth every cent.’

Bo walked over to his draft board and scribbled the name onto his drawing. He’d just ruined his work, but that was the least of his problems. ‘Would they be able to get someone here quickly?’

The social worker shrugged. ‘Call her and find out. When you have a nanny in place, I’ll arrange to bring Matheo to you.’

Right—bring Matheo. To him...to live...for ever.

Bo felt the need to sit down again.

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