Not the Boss's Baby

And if they got sixty-five dollars a share for the brewery...maybe he could walk into Helen’s lawyer’s office and make her that offer she couldn’t refuse. Everyone had a price, Matthew had said, and he was right. He quickly did the math.

If he liquidated a few extraneous possessions—cars, the jet, property, horses—he could make Helen an offer of $100 million to sign the papers. Even she wouldn’t be able to say no to a number like that. And he’d still have enough left over to re-incorporate Percheron Drafts.

As he thought about the horses, he realized this plan would only work if he did it on his own. He would get $50 million because he actually worked for the company. But his siblings would get about $15 to $20 million each. He couldn’t keep working for them. Serena had been right about that, too. If he took Percheron Drafts private, he would have to sever all financial ties with his siblings. He couldn’t keep footing the bill for extravagant purchases, and what’s more, he didn’t want to.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked this idea. He’d be done with Beaumont Brewery—free from his father’s ideas of how to run a company. Free to do things the way he wanted, to make the beer he wanted. It would be a smaller company, sure—one that wouldn’t be able to pay for the big mansion or the staff or the garage full of cars he rarely drove.

He’d have to downsize his life for a while, but would that really be such a horrible thing? Serena had lived small her entire life and she seemed quite happy—except for the pregnancy thing.

He wanted to give her everything he could—but he knew she wouldn’t be comfortable with extravagance. If he gave her a job in a new company, paid her a good wage, made sure she had the kind of benefits she needed...

That was almost the same thing as giving her the world. That was giving her stability.

This could work. He’d call his lawyers when he got home and run the idea past them.

This had to work. He had to make this happen. Because it was what he wanted.

* * *

After Serena watched Chadwick’s sports car drive away, she tried not to think about what the neighbors would say about the late arrival and very late departure of such a vehicle.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry. What had she done? Besides have one of the most romantic nights in memory. A fancy dinner, glamorous gala, exquisite sex? It’d been like something out of a fairy tale, the poor little girl transformed into the belle of the ball.

How long had it been since she’d enjoyed sex that much? Things with Neil had been rote for a while. A long while, honestly. Something that they tried to do once a week—something that didn’t last very long or feel very good.

But sex with Chadwick? Completely different. Completely satisfying. Even better than she’d dreamed it would be. Chadwick hadn’t just done what he wanted and left it at that. He’d taken his time with her, making sure she came first—and often.

What would it be like to be with a man who always brought that level of excitement to their bed? Someone she couldn’t keep her hands off—someone who thought she was sexy even though her body was getting bigger?

It would be wonderful.

But how was that fantasy—for that’s what it was, a fantasy of epic proportions—going to become a reality? She couldn’t imagine fitting into Chadwick’s world, with expensive clothes and fancy dinners and galas all the time. And, as adorably hot as he’d looked standing in her kitchen in nothing but his tux trousers, she also couldn’t imagine Chadwick being happy in her small apartment, clipping coupons and shopping consignment stores for a bargain.

God, how she wanted him. She’d been waiting for her chance for years, really. But she had no idea how she could bridge the gap between their lives.

In a fit of pique, Serena started cleaning. Which was saying something, as she’d already cleaned in anticipation of Chadwick possibly seeing the inside of her apartment—and her bedroom.

But there was laundry to be done, dishes to be washed, beds to be made—more than enough to keep her busy. But not enough to keep her mind off Chadwick.

She changed into her grubby sweat shorts and a stained T-shirt. What the heck was going to happen on Monday? It was going to be hard to keep her hands off him, especially behind the closed door of his office. But doing anything, even touching him, was a violation of company policy. It went against her morals to violate policies, especially ones she’d helped write.

How was she supposed to be in love with Chadwick while she worked for him?

She couldn’t be. Not unless...

Unless she didn’t work for him.

No. She couldn’t just quit her job. Even if the whole company was about to be sold off, she couldn’t walk away from a steady paycheck and benefits. The sale and changeover might take months, after all—months during which she could be covered for prenatal care, could be making plans. Or some miracle could occur and the whole sale could fall through. Then she’d be safe.

So what was she going to do about Chadwick? She didn’t want to wait months before she could kiss him again, before she could hold him in her arms. She was tired of pretending she didn’t have feelings for him. If things stayed the same...

Well, one thing she knew for certain was that things wouldn’t stay the same. She’d slept with him—multiple times—and she was pregnant. Those two things completely changed everything.

She was transferring the bedsheets from the washer to the dryer when she heard something at the door. Her first thought was that maybe Chadwick had changed his mind and decided to spend the day with her.

But, as she raced for the door, it swung open. Chadwick doesn’t have a key, she thought. And she always kept her door locked.

That was as far as she got in her thinking before Neil Moore, semi-pro golf player and ex-everything, walked in.

“Hey, babe.”

“Neil?” The sight of him walking in like he’d never walked out caused such a visceral reaction that she almost threw up. “What are you doing here?”

“Got your email,” he said, putting his keys back on his hook beside the door as he closed it. He looked at her in her cleaning clothes. “You look...good. Have you put on weight?”

The boldness of this insult—for that’s what it was—shook her back to herself. “For crying out loud, Neil. I sent you an email. Not an invitation to walk in, unannounced.”

Another wave of nausea hit her. What if Neil had shown up two hours before—when she was still tangled up with Chadwick? Good lord. She fought the emotion down and tried to sound pissed. Which wasn’t that hard, really.

“You don’t live here anymore, remember? You moved out.”

Then he said, “I missed you.”

Nothing about his posture or attitude suggested this was the case. He slouched his way over to the couch—her couch—and slid down into it, just like he always had. What had she seen in this man, besides the stability he’d offered her?

“Is that so? I’ve been here for three months, Neil. Three months without a single call or text from you. Doesn’t seem like you’ve missed me very much at all.”

“Well, I did,” he snapped. “I see that nothing’s changed here. Same old couch, same old...” He waved his hand around in a gesture that was probably supposed to encompass the whole apartment but mostly seemed directed at her. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”