Billionaire Baby Daddy

His face had taken on a dark, intensely pained expression.

“I appreciate that, Lilah. But, that's not the end of the story,” he said softly. “I didn't tell you how my mother died.”

I reached over and placed my hand over his instinctively. The agony in his eyes made me want nothing more than to comfort him, to shoulder the burden of the pain I saw there just so that he wouldn’t have to carry it any longer.

“He killed her.” The words drifted out in nearly a whisper, and his gaze fell to the cup in his hand. “In a fit of drunken rage, my father murdered my mother.”

“Oh my God,” I nearly gasped. I knew that Asher’s mother had died when he was young, but I hadn’t done that much research into his background. I was shocked and horrified for the hurting man sitting across from me.

“I was too young to remember, thankfully. But he robbed me of having a mother. The only times I've talked to my father have been the few times I've visited him in prison. I still can’t seem to bring myself to fully forgive him. He's going to be there for the rest of his life.”

“I don’t know what to say. I'm so sorry.” I squeezed his hand, and his gaze turned up to meet mine.

“It's a sad story, I know. But—” a slight smile pressed over his lips. “Thank you. For listening. I feel better talking about it, as dark as it is. I’ve never told anyone about it. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off my chest.”

I offered a faint smile in return, still not sure what to say. “So what about your mom’s family?”

“She was an only child. Her parents had her later in life and passed away before she graduated college. So, the only relative I had after my mother died and my father went to prison was my grandfather. He raised me—he made me the man I am today. And, of course, now that you know the story, you can see why he refused to give his company to his son. He bypassed him entirely and left it all to me.”

“That's just tragic, Asher,” I said. I could feel tears starting to burn the corners of my eyes.

“It had a happy ending, though,” he said. His lips were smiling, but I could see there was a deep aching bubbling in his eyes. “I do miss my grandfather terribly. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him.”

“I can understand. I feel the same way about my mom. And, I don’t even know much about her. I imagine it’s stronger when you have so many memories.”

Something passed between us when he looked at me—something powerful, something I couldn’t explain if my life depended on it. But whatever it was, it was intense. I looked away and Asher stood and stretched.

“Thank you, Lilah. For dinner, for listening, and hanging out,” he said, his tone different—more business-like. “I enjoyed it, but it's getting late, and I need to have a productive day tomorrow. I think it's about time to call it a night. Keep those ideas about the French campaign rolling around your head, all right? I'll see you in the office on Monday.”

“I enjoyed it, too,” I said as I stood to walk him out. “Thanks for the company.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said with one more smile. He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

And then, he was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Asher

I drove home in silence. Unusual for me, as I always liked having tunes playing in the background when I drove unless I was in one of my more vocal cars, like the Lamborghini, in which I preferred to listen to the sound of the motor. Tonight, however, I was lost in thought and contemplation.

How had I opened up so readily and completely to Lilah? I'd just spilled the beans about deep family secrets, about my father and mother and grandfather, and told her things that, well, I don't think I'd told anybody before. There hadn't even been alcohol involved.

Part of me immediately regretted saying such personal things and exposing myself like that. However, another part of me was completely at ease about it. It had been liberating; there was no other word for it, really. I suddenly had gotten the burden of carrying those secrets off of my chest.

She'd seemed surprised, shocked even, when she'd learned the truth about my family. But then again, who wouldn't?

I'd wanted to tell her more—and there was much, much more, even beyond the shocking details I'd revealed to her—but I'd felt my walls creeping back up again, fortifying the protective barriers once more after temporarily letting them down.

I pulled over to the side of the road, a little overwhelmed with it all. I'd always been immensely strong and stoic in the face of the quiet adversities I'd faced behind closed doors—but everyone needed to open up once in a while, to be vulnerable. Only, I had never allowed myself to do that until tonight—and with someone I couldn't get off my mind.

What the hell was happening?

I couldn't just go home. I needed to come down from this ledge and unwind about this situation with someone—with a friend.

I opened the folder on my Maserati's media center labeled Contacts and started scrolling through it. I soon saw a name that jumped out at me—someone I thought would be able to help, to give it to me straight without pulling any punches and offer some decent advice: Bryce, my personal trainer.

I tapped on his name and waited as the dial tone rang through the car speakers.