Page 17 of Secret Baby for a Damaged Billionaire

With a deep sigh, the words tumble out once more. “Nothing’s working,” I repeat, the bitter edge to my voice more pronounced. The walls of the gym suddenly feel too confining, like they’re closing in, suffocating me. “I need some air,” I manage to say, my eyes already darting toward the exit.

A trace of a smile lifts her lips, not quite reaching her eyes, but it’s there. It’s like she’s read my mind. Her intuition is uncanny, always seeming to guide me through the storms.

For a moment, I hesitate, my eyes never leaving hers. There’s a warmth in her company, a comfort that I’ve come to lean on during times like these. But do I want to drag her into my turmoil, and shade her mood with my frustrations?

She seems to sense my inner struggle, her smile widening just a bit. And suddenly, the answer is clear.

“Sure,” I respond. There’s a small nod of my head, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. It’s an acceptance, an acknowledgment of her offer. And with it, the realization that her company, far from being a burden, might just be what I need right now. “I could use the company,” I add, my voice rough around the edges but sincere. It wouldn’t just be “not terrible”—it would be a welcome relief.

Without hesitation, we grab our jackets, their familiar weight comforting against the light chill of the late afternoon. We vacate the gym, the well-worn doors creaking shut behind us as we step into the brisk Downtown air. It’s a refreshing contrast to the heavy, sweat-laden atmosphere of the dojo we’ve just left behind, humming with the high-tension grind of grit and determination.

As we walk, the sun is dipping low in the sky, its fading light casting a radiant golden hour over the cityscape. It washes over the historic buildings lining the streets, their time-worn bricks glowing, their shadows stretching long and soft on the cobblestone paths. The scent of old stone and fresh evening air mingles with the faint aroma of street food wafting from a nearby vendor, the rich smell of grilled meats and onions tantalizing our senses.

As we navigate the labyrinth of streets, our strides naturally fall into sync. Our conversation flows easily, a mix of words and laughter that helps to soothe my frayed nerves. It’s a reset, a grounding moment amidst the swirl of my nagging anxieties.

“Look at that,” Emily exclaims. She points towards the Common where a street performer is juggling flaming torches. The firelight dances off his face, illuminating his features in an erratic, mesmerizing display of shadows and light.

“That guy’s completely nuts,” she says, shaking her head. The crackle and hiss of the fire cut through the cool evening air and just miss his hair every time.

“Definite insanity,” I reply with a smirk. “Not all that different from what you do on a daily basis. Particularly with me as your boss.”

Her laughter rings out, and I can’t help but join in, feeling something inside me returning to life.

We continue our leisurely stroll along the cobblestone paths of Beacon Hill. The old gas lamps that line the streets flicker to life, their soft glow casting a romantic charm over the historic neighborhood. The faint aroma of fresh bread from a nearby bakery wafts up to us, mixed with the musty allure of old books from a tucked-away bookshop.

“Isn’t it amazing how something so simple can be so beautiful?” she murmurs, looking up at the gas lamps. I nod, but I’m not really looking at the lamps anymore.

We eventually reach the edge of the Public Garden, where the Swan Boats lazily glide through the water. We watch a group of tourists excitedly clamber aboard, snapping pictures and waving. I roll my eyes.

“Have you ever ridden on one of those?” I ask with a straight face. “I know how much you like to live on the wild side.”

“Lucas, please,” she scoffs. “I’m more of a Duck Boat Tours girl.” Her lips pull into a grin. “I assume you’re the same, being a Navy SEAL and all… you know, the amphibious thing.”

“True. True,” I agree, our laughter filling the air between us.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot Carlo, the local competitor threatening to poach my prized fighters from the gym. He saunters over with an infuriating smirk plastered across his face. My jaw clenches, adrenaline flooding my system as he approaches, eyeing Emily like she’s prey.

Every instinct in my body screams at me to protect her, but I know that if I move too quickly it will only make matters worse. Instead, I keep still and focus on staying calm during what could easily become an explosive situation.

“Hey, Lucas. Taking a break from the business?” he drawls, barely sparing me a glance before turning to Emily. “And who is this lovely lady? Your new master negotiator I’ve been hearing about?”

She hesitates, sensing the tension in the air and carefully choosing her words. “I’m Emily, helping Lucas with some business matters.”

“Ah, such modesty,” he coos, stepping closer to her, invading her personal space. I clench my fists so tightly my knuckles turn white, every instinct in my body screaming to protect her.

“Carlo,” I hiss, my fists clenching tight. Taking a step closer to him, I glare and clench my jaw. “Get the hell away from her. I swear to God if you don’t show her some respect….”

He takes a step back, but it’s too late—his smug smirk has been firmly planted on his face. His gaze lingers on Emily for longer than necessary before he finally turns away. Something about the way he looks at her sets off alarms in my brain, making me want to take a swing at him even more.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to come between you,” he sneers. He leans in closer to her, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Emily. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon.”

I feel my blood boiling as he turns and saunters away, that smug grin never leaving his face. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, knowing that reacting with violence would only serve to give him what he wants.

Emily’s face contorts into a look of contempt as she watches him walk away. She crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “What a dick,” she scoffs.

And I burst out laughing, releasing the built-up tension. “Exactly,” I say. “Total dick.”

She smiles and her hand gently brushes against mine. “Let’s not let him ruin our afternoon, alright?” She gives me a small encouraging smile, and I know she’s right. Carlo isn’t worth our time or energy.

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