Billionaire Baby Daddy

I leaned across the table and squeezed his hand. “I know, I know. You've been the best brother—and friend—you could possibly have been all my life. And, I love you for that.”

“Thanks, sis. You know, you're the only one in the family who ever got me—the only one who really cared. And, you always

believed in me when everyone else was telling me I was crazy trying to follow the path of a rocker, when everyone else was saying I'd end up homeless in the streets, you were the one who kept telling me: 'I believe in you, Ed. You're my hero. You can do anything you want, if you really believe in yourself.' And you said it with such conviction—”

“Because I was just a kid,” I interrupted. “I believed it.”

“Yeah, exactly! Your childlike faith got me through many dark times. And now look where I am. I made it!”

I looked at him as pride swelled in my chest. “You really did make it, Eddie. I'm proud of you.”

“And, you have no idea how proud I am of you. Hell, you stormed into that company, what's it called, Sinclair whatever, and you gave them hell! You blew ‘em outta the water with your ideas. You're gonna get right to the top, and nobody—especially not billionaire boy—is gonna stand in your way.

“You don't need his help. You don't need anything from that guy. You don't even need a dime from him. Because it's all you, you understand? Your talent, your ambition, your drive, your hard work—they've got you this far. And if that guy thinks he can play you, well . . . well, he can just go jump right out of his damn skyscraper and be done with it. Because there's no stopping you, whether you're working for him, or working for someone else. You're gonna be at the very top in just a few short years, sis, just a few short years. I can feel it! I know it!”

“Aww Eddie, you're just . . . You're the best. Seriously.”

I stood, walked around the table to where Ed was sitting, and gave him a big hug.

“I'm just gonna go to the little girls' room. I'll be back in a sec.”

“Sure thing. Hey, do me a favor, grab me one more beer from the bar when you come back?”

“Will do.”

I went off to the bathroom, feeling recharged and energized after Eddie’s inspiring speech. When I returned, I made a beeline for the bar. As I waited for the bartender to turn my way so I could get her attention, I caught sight of a strikingly handsome man, dressed impeccably in an Italian suit staring intently at me. His perfectly styled, blond hair was combed back in a side part and dark stubble peppered his powerful, square jaw. Ice-blue eyes gazed at me from beneath imposing eyebrows.

For a few moments, I couldn't take my eyes off of him—but then I felt suddenly uneasy and broke my trance. He, however, maintained his interest in me. After a half smile, he picked up his martini and sidled up to me at the bar.

“Hi,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “You don't know me . . . yet. But I’m hoping to change that. I would certainly like to get to know you.”

“Really? And who do you think I am that I might be so interesting to get to know?” I’d seen his kind before. They think they’re smooth. If you call them on it, one of two things will happen: you’ll either trip them up and they’ll have nothing, or they’ll feed you some bullshit line and you’ll at least get a good laugh. Either way, they are full of it. I expected nothing different from this one.

“I believe you are the lovely and talented Lilah Maxwell, rising star of the Sinclair Agency. It's a pleasure to finally see you in the flesh. You're every bit as gorgeous as my . . . assistant . . . says you are.”

I was immediately taken aback. Who on earth was this devilishly good-looking stranger, and how did he know who I was? I was both intrigued and slightly frightened.

“And how, precisely, do you know who I am?”

“We work in the same field, you and I,” he replied.

“Oh, really? And who might you be?”

“The name's Savage. Brendan Savage. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lilah. Very, very pleased indeed.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Asher

I stared up at the starry sky as I sipped on my Glenfiddich 40-year-old whiskey. I enjoyed coming up to the turret of my home to think. I'd set up a moderately powerful telescope because of a lifelong interest in astronomy. Out in the hills beyond the city, the sky was clear and mostly free of the light pollution, which made the city sky murky and orange-tinted at night and blocked out most of the stars.

Here, the sky was dark, and stars were spread across it from horizon to horizon. Of course, the stars weren’t what was on my mind. That would be Lilah. We'd barely said a word to one another in the office the whole week. She had responded to my texts, but only with short replies that seemed evasive. It was looking as if she had reverted to keeping a cool distance between us. I hadn't pushed things at all, just like Colonel Tanaka had suggested, even after getting that cold reply to my heartfelt message.

I’d given it a lot of thought before she even returned from Paris and had decided to leave the ball in her court. I was sure that she knew what my feelings for her were. I felt I'd made them pretty clear. If she was willing to reciprocate, well, that would be wonderful. But if not, I wasn't sure if I could keep playing this game. Falling into my arms one minute, then acting as if we were nothing but acquaintances the next—it was not only confusing, it was draining, psychologically and emotionally.

I took another sip of my whiskey, savoring its dry, woody flavor. There was nothing in the world quite like properly aged single malt whiskey. It reminded me of my grandfather. It was the first taste of alcohol he’d shared with me.

I stood and headed over to my telescope. There was a full moon, and it was bright and clear in the sky. I leaned over and pressed my eye to the eyepiece, then moved the telescope around until I was focused on the moon. I zoomed in, as close as I could get without losing focus.