The Princess and the Player

But the first text message that popped up was from Will.

Chelsea is here. You better come talk to her. She’s camped out in the lobby disrupting business.

What the hell? He swore, dove into his Lamborghini and then drove to Rowling Energy at double the speed limit. The harrowing hairpin turns should have put a smile on his face the way they normally did, but Will’s text message had effectively killed any cheer he might have taken from the thrill.

If only he’d called Chelsea back yesterday, when he’d seen the missed calls on his phone, the ensuing fiasco could have been avoided. But Bella had been nervous about confronting her father and he really didn’t want to talk to Chelsea in the first place. So he’d ignored her. What could they possibly have to say to each other?

Apparently that had irritated his ex-girlfriend enough for her to go to Rowling Energy and bother his brother. James had dated her for...what, four months? Not long enough for her to remember that James hated Rowling Energy so much that he rarely set foot in the place. It had taken something as important to him as Bella to get him through the door last week.

His phone beeped. Will had texted him again. Hope you’re almost here. Your ex is a piece of work.

Still fuming, James screeched into a parking spot and stomped into the elevator. Why in the hell had she taken it upon herself to disrupt an entire company in order to speak to an ex-lover she’d had no contact with for almost two years? When a bloke didn’t ring you back, it meant he wasn’t into you.

But when he arrived in the reception area, some of the pieces fell into place. Chelsea, looking less glamorous and far more worn than he recalled, sat on the leather couch bouncing a baby.

A baby.

Obviously she’d been busy since they’d broken up and was clearly hard up for money. What, did she think James was going to fund her for old times’ sake? How dare she bring a kid in here as a sympathy ploy? His ire increased exponentially. She was a piece of work.

“Chelsea.” She glanced up. “Can we take this outside please?”

She nodded, hoisted the baby to her hip and followed him out of the building to a shaded courtyard around the side of the building where employees sometimes ate lunch. It was thankfully deserted.

“You have a lot of nerve barging into my father’s company to extort money from me,” he said by way of greeting to the woman he’d had only marginal affection for once upon a time.

“That’s not why I’m here and besides, you didn’t call me back,” she reminded him as she settled onto a bench with the baby. “How else was I supposed to find you?”

He bit back a curse. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I’m going to give you a dime out of the goodness of my heart because some plonker knocked you up and you’re short on cash.”

That would explain why she had a bargain basement fashion statement going on. When they’d dated, she spent thousands on clothes and jewelry, usually with his credit card.

“Not someone.” Chelsea peered up at him, totally cool. In her element because she’d gotten his attention after all. “You. This is your daughter.”

His vision blacked out for a moment as all the blood rushed from his head.

I have a baby daughter. None of those words belonged in the same sentence. Blindly, James felt for the bench so he could sink onto it before the cramp in his stomach knocked him to the grass.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded hoarsely over the street sounds floating through the privacy bushes. “I haven’t even seen you in almost two years. That’s a baby and they only take nine months to make.”

Chelsea smirked and flipped her lanky brown hair behind her back. “She’s almost a year old, Daddy. Do the math.”

Daddy. His brain couldn’t—could not—keep up, especially when she insisted on throwing inflammatory monikers onto the woodpile. And now she wanted him to do subtraction on top of it all?

“Why...wha— How...?” Deep breath. His tongue couldn’t seem to formulate the right questions. “Paternity test? I want one.”

Okay, now he was on top of this situation. Get to the bottom of this pack of lies and toss her out on her no-longer-attractive rear end.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll arrange one as soon as possible. But there’s really no question.”

The little girl picked that moment to turn her head, peering directly at James for the first time.

Aqua eyes the exact color of his beamed at him through fringed lashes. Not only the exact color of his, but both Will and their late mother shared the rare shade.

His world tilted and slid quickly off the rails. The paternity test would be superfluous, obviously.