Possessive Baby Daddy

Rick stands. “Well, Aldo, thanks for your time.”

Aldo stands and they shake. My father puffs on his cigarette and walks the young executive to the door.

I sigh and clean up the conference room. Aldo is a goddamn mess and he’s going to ruin this good thing for us, I just know it. I need to be on top of my father at all times making sure he’s not saying something stupid or making some awful deal that’ll sink everything.

The Divas franchise really is going to be a hit. Divas in Space is already killing the ratings, and the mini spinoff episodes we’ve put out online are getting huge views. There are talks of expanding into multiple different formats, including prime time network TV.

Aldo comes back and looks at me. He’s an older man in his sixties with wrinkled tan skin, big black hair pushed back in an obnoxious wave, and thick dark sunglasses. He’s wearing a light gray shirt and a black leather jacket over top of a pair of black jeans.

“All right, daughter of mine,” he says. “Did I embarrass the family?”

“Yes,” I hiss. “You have to stop drinking at meetings. It’s not even two o’clock yet.”

He laughs. “That little twerp is nothing,” he says. “Just a test. And I think we passed.”

I hesitate. “Test… how?”

Aldo grins at me. I know my father is a drunk and a creepy asshole… but he’s been in this business a long time. The man knows a thing or two about this whole game, as much as I hate to admit it.

“They want to make sure we’re willing to take a meeting at any time, with anyone they want. Me being drunk is no big deal. That little twerp will dutifully go report to his bosses that we were both in the office and ready to work.”

I stare at him. “Are you kidding me? They’re just… checking up on us?”

“You’d be surprised how much shit goes down in this town. They want to make sure their investment is sound. And we, my darling child, we are a sound investment.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re drunk. I’m a sound investment.”

He laughs and shrugs. “I can’t argue.”

I push past him and out into the hall. “I’m going to my office. Let me know if you’re going to do any more work today. Otherwise, don’t fall asleep at your desk again. Get a cab home.”

“Yes, daughter,” he says, saluting me.

I glare at him but I don’t take the bait.

Doing business with my father is a pain in the ass. Putting aside the fact that I’m his daughter, he thinks that the phrases “business meeting” and “doing coke” mean the same thing. He’s from a different time when drugs and laughter and sex were the central ways things got done around this town.

Things have changed. I want to run a legitimate business here, and I’ve taken a lot of pains to get us halfway there. Despite how badly he wants to tear all this down, I’ve managed to keep it all going, and even found the Divas in Space idea. All this success is because of me, and I think he knows it.

And yet he still shows up to meetings drunk and insists on being an asshole.

I sit at my desk and let out a long sigh. I close my eyes and try to push my frustrations away. I need to try to keep calm.

Apparently, stress isn’t good for a pregnancy.

I groan and shake my head. For a second back there, I forgot that I was pregnant with a total stranger’s baby.

Shaun Lofthouse. Gorgeous bachelor. Notorious playboy.

I did some research into him. After I found out I was pregnant, I asked around town about him, trying to be as discreet as I could.

I heard some things. I heard he’s a party boy, loves to sleep with women, even had multiple girlfriends at once. I heard he’s dated singers, actresses, models. Women so far beyond my league that I don’t even know how he decided to take me home that night.

And yet here I am, pregnant with his baby.

He’s the exact kind of man that I don’t want involved in all this. He’s just like my father, and if I’m going to have a baby, I need more stability than that in my life.

I never should’ve told him. But maybe he’s right, maybe I do want him around. I mean, I could’ve just had this baby and gone on with things on my own. Maybe there is some part of me that wants him around.

God, I’m so stupid. This is such a mess.

I want to take over this production studio… but I have no clue how I’m going to do that with a baby.

I spend the rest of the day answering emails and getting some work done. When five rolls around, I leave the office and sit in traffic for an hour. But I make it on time and park near the Mexican food truck. I’m nervous as I check myself in the mirror, then stop before I can primp too much.