The Baby Contract

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Bran

Whipped cream on Anne’s tits was divine and not something I should be thinking about while in my office.

But ever since we agreed to indulge in this unexpected although not unwanted attraction, I’d felt lighter, freer. My dick was in heaven and had the events of last night’s dinner and dessert on an endless loop.

Anne had insisted on learning how to cook from my chef and then be allowed to make dinner. I’d agreed and given my chef the night off after the lesson.

God, Anne worked so hard on the French meal of duck with some sort of cherry sauce. Unfortunately, the end result was inedible.

She teared up and it broke my heart.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, wiping her tears. “It’s hormones. I should have made chicken and mashed potatoes. I know I can make those.”

My solution was to take her to the kitchen to make ice cream sundaes, which was how I knew whipped cream on Anne’s tits were divine. I’d never fucked in my kitchen before, but after last night, I hoped it wouldn’t be long before I did it again. Hell, I’d already taken a mental tour of my home scouting for other locations to fuck Anne.

I smiled at the memory, but it was bittersweet. The truth was, I liked having Anne around and not just for the sex. She’d infused life into my dull existence.

She called me on my bullshit, which kept me on my toes. And while she didn’t always agree with me, I think she understood me.

I hated that this thing between us had an end date.

We indulge our urges, but only until the baby comes.

Those words had excited and bummed me out at the same time. I wanted to be free to express my feelings around Anne, but she’d been clear that this little affair had an end date.

When the baby came, our contract would end, and she’d leave. With twenty-five million dollars, she could do anything. Go anywhere. My heart ached that I wouldn’t see her again.

Of course, even without the end date, it was clear Anne would eventually move on because she didn’t want Harper to know about us. That tidbit of reality hurt.

“Mr. Erickson, Mr. St. Martin is here to see you.” My secretary’s voice over my desk phone interrupted my reverie.

“Send him in.” I rose from my chair, buttoning my jacket wondering why Noel St. Martin was here. As he walked in, I greeted him with a handshake.

He didn’t look like a man who was the primary owner of the largest security firm in the country, probably the world. He wore jeans and t-shirt; his hair was nearly to his shoulders.

He definitely didn’t look like a billionaire businessman.

“Noel, good to see you. Did we have an appointment?”

“We don’t. I apologize for dropping like this, but I had something I needed to discuss with you.”

I gestured to a chair for him to sit. “Can I get you coffee, water…”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

I sat at my desk. “How can I help you?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “Archer was going to come, but considering your history with him, I decided to meet with you.”

Clearly something was up.

“We’re concerned about an issue that came up in Dax Suffolk’s report.”

Oh shit. I suppose Dax told them how I manhandled him out of my house.

“We’re worried about Ms. Francis.”