Stripped Bare (Vegas Billionaire 1)

“Please don’t take her from me.”

“Is that why you think I’m here?”

I shrug, not knowing much of anything lately.

“I’m going to lose my patience very quickly, Macey. Tell me what I want to know.”

I look down at my hands and my worn-out pajamas as tears well in my eyes. “Morgan is your daughter,” I tell him, my voice breaking by the time I get to the end. The sob that takes over is gut wrenching, yet so welcome. I’ve been holding on to this secret for years, unable to tell anyone for fear he or his father would take her away from me.

If I expect him to hold me, tell me that everything is going to be okay, I’m sorely mistaken. The distance between us is even wider and when I hear him growl and bang on something, I know he’s not even near me.

“Why? Why did you keep her from me?”

“It’s not what you think, Finn.”

“No? Tell me what I think then, Macey, because I’m having a very hard time here trying to wrap this in a nice little bow before I go back to Vegas. You led me to believe that Morgan was your boyfriend or worse, your pimp, when you knew the entire time that she’s my kid. You came into my club dressed like a damn whore and lost so much fucking money . . . money that I have no doubt was meant to feed her and then you . . .”

“I what? Huh, Finn? I what?” Now I’m standing and facing him. I don’t care what I look like or how he feels. He called me a whore despite the fact that when I referred to myself as one, he told me I wasn’t.

“You let me buy you for a week.”

“You’re right, I did, and do you know why? Because of her.” I point behind me in the direction of her bedroom. “Because she needs a damn life that is worth living and not like the one I had. So yeah, I let you pay me instead of telling you because I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t look you in the eyes after you saw me like that, defeated and being thrown out of your casino, and tell you that the night you made my dreams come true, the night I thought I had finally found my Prince Charming, you knocked me up. I couldn’t look you in the eyes and not remember the stupid girl I was back then for believing that the pull-out method would fucking work. You were . . .” I step away from him and wipe angrily at my face, smearing my makeup everywhere.

“I was what, Macey? Go ahead and finish.”

“It’s not worth it,” I say, shaking my head.

“It’s not, or I’m not?”

His question is a double-edged sword and something I’m not willing to answer.

“You hid her from me.”

“I tried to tell your mother. I went to your house.” I swallow hard, remembering the day that I finally knocked on the door. For weeks I had taken the bus over there, standing out in front, waiting. I never had the courage to knock until the day I felt Morgan kick. I had no one to share the feelings with and foolishly thought his mother would care.

“My mom was sick,” he says. “Dying of cancer. It had spread everywhere like wildfire.”

“I remember. I gave her the sonogram and asked her to call you; she mentioned me wanting their money. She stood there staring at me before closing the door. When I didn’t hear from you, or her, I figured I was on my own.”

“I didn’t know, Macey,” he whispers into my hair as his arms wrap around me.

“What would you have done if you had known?”

He steps back and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was a rotten fuck back then, not that I’m much better now, but you and I, we’re different.”

“Are we?”

“Yes, we are.”

Moving back to the couch, I sit and pull my legs up to my chest. When he sits, he’s next to me with his hand snaked between my legs. There’s nothing sexual about this, but caring. I want to mold into his side and dream of an alternate reality where we could’ve been a family.

“I’m going to take care of her.”

Her lingers in my mind. He’s going to take care of Morgan, not me. Not that I deserve anything from him, but damn if I don’t want it all, even the life he’s not willing to give me.

“You don’t have to. She’s okay here.” I say here because I don’t want him to think she’s moving to Vegas, even though it would be good for us.

“No child of mine is going to live like this.”

I push him away, offended by his words. “This,” I say, spreading my arms out wide, “is our home. I work hard to put food on the table and make sure she’s taken care of. I know waiting tables is beneath you, Finn, but I’m going back to school. I’m going to make something of myself. I’m going to be someone that she can be proud of.”