The Boss Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Romance) Read online

  Her fucking loss, I thought, taking another drink. I emptied my glass and motioned to the bartender to fill me back up. I scanned the crowd again. Rumor had it that she was coming. I had heard one of the camera guys, Sam, saying something about that. I wanted to see whether he was telling the truth or not. She might have quit, but we weren't done. It wasn't done till I fucking said it was.

  About a quarter through my fresh drink, I finally saw her. I had seen the woman almost every day for about a year now, but that meant nothing seeing her walk into the party tonight. She always dressed nicely for work: fitted skirts, blazers, and blouses that showed off her curvy frame but were workplace appropriate. Guess this wasn't her workplace anymore, so she didn't have to care about the dress code.

  Her dress was red, and if the neckline dipped any lower, it would be pornographic. She kept the girls covered for work, but I knew she had a nice pair on her, I just hadn't known how nice exactly. She had luscious, round tits, C cups at least, if not better. Her dress had no sleeves and came down to about her knees. The skirt of the dress flared over her round, shapely hips. She always wore heels, but the black stilettos she had on tonight screamed fuck-me. Looking at her, I realized why I thought she looked so different: I had never seen her with her hair down. It was long, falling over her shoulders and down her back in bouncy curls. Shelby Aster, that was what you had under those fucking suits all this time?

  I shook my head, taking another drink. She was pretty, that wasn't news to me. I fucking knew that, but we had never seen each other outside of work, ever. Her private life was a total mystery to me. She wore rings sometimes but not the one on the finger that meant she was someone's wife, I thought. That meant she was available. She was hot, so what? Couldn't I say it if it was a fact? No. The way things were between us, probably not. Looking at her now, all those nights working late together… I could have—

  "Jason, I almost thought you didn't make it."

  Someone's voice broke me out of my thoughts. I turned and saw a woman in the spot next to me that had been empty since I had sat down. I looked at her and fuck if I was supposed to know who she was. We worked together apparently, but I had never seen her in my life. If I had, I hadn't been paying attention, like now. She looked kind of short, and her tits were too big for her top, but she had caught me on a bad night. I wasn't interested. I looked back over my shoulder to see if I could spot Shelby again.

  "Uh-huh," I said to her, distracted. She put her hand on my arm, and I moved it reflexively.

  "Do you mind," I said pointedly, looking at the stool she was sitting on.

  "Oh, were you waiting for someone?" she asked, playing dumb. I smiled tightly at her, but she took it as encouragement. "Lucky me, I beat her here."

  "Hm, nice try, sweetheart," I said, looking back at the crowd, trying to get a lock on Shelby.

  "Who do you keep looking for?" she finally asked. Shelby was standing in a small group, two men and two women besides her. They were holding drinks, and she was listening to one of the men talk with a wide smile on her face.

  "Not you, do you fucking mind?" I snapped. She got up, looking hurt but I didn't care. I was still watching Shelby. The man she was standing next to put his arm around her shoulders to tell her something in her ear. She laughed, and it made my blood boil. What the hell was so funny? Why'd he have to hold her like that to talk to her? I caught myself, turning back around in my seat. What the hell, Bowman? She's here to have a good time with her ex-coworkers. Relax. I had been bored before she had shown up, but now I was... I didn't know what I was. I was on edge, but I didn't know why. She had the nerve to walk in here looking like that after quitting on me, cozying up with all these motherfuckers she barely saw day to day. Not so much as even a fucking hello my way?

  I downed the rest of my glass and got up. She was still in the group, chatting. I ran a hand through my hair, composing myself, and walked over. I zeroed in on her; everything stopped around us as I approached. She noticed me walking up and looked at me. A woman next to her had been talking and fell silent when I got to them.

  "Shelby," I said, smiling at her, "it's great to see you."

  "And you," she replied, politely. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She had on more makeup than usual, but in a good way. Pink lipstick and dark eye shadow that made her look less like the Shelby I wanted to talk to and more like the Shelby I wanted to fuck. "I'm going to get another drink; anyone want anything?" she asked suddenly. Everyone said they were okay so she started walking over to the bar. I followed her, grabbing her arm to make her stop.

  "Shelby—"

  "What the hell are you doing? Get off of me," she said, shaking me off.

  "I need to talk to you."

  "Oh, do you?" she asked sarcastically. "That's nice, but newsflash: the only reason I ever listened to you was because I was getting paid to do it."

  "Shelby, don't argue with me."

  "Then leave me alone," she snapped.

  "Come here," I said, reaching for her arm again. She jerked away like my hand was a flame and she was trying to get away from it.

  "Oh no, you want to say something to me, say it here. You had no problem yelling in front of the whole crew when I worked for you," she said.

  "Still can't listen to simple instructions. Glad to see you're taking your same tireless work ethic somewhere else," I sniped. “All I want to do is talk to you. Can’t we at least do that?” The answer to that question, looking at her face was a big fat no, but she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

  “You have five minutes,” she said shortly, turning on her heel and making her way towards the exit. I had won, kind of. She probably just didn't want to make a scene. I had almost forgotten how feisty she was. That had always been one of the things that I liked about her the most. It had come through in her work. We exited the room and found ourselves in a hallway. The control room was the closest room to us; I tried the door and found it unlocked.

  “Here,” I said, opening it and walking in, waiting for her to do the same before closing the door.

  "You fucking psycho," she raged. She swung and her palm made contact with my cheek. My hand went to my face, touching my cheek. It stung but mostly it was the shock.I knew better than to think she liked me, but I never thought she hated me.

  "Calm down; I just wanted to talk to you."

  "Eleven long, thankless months I did nothing but listen to you talk down to me; I doubt you have anything else that I could possibly want to hear."

  "Jesus Christ, I just want to apologize, Shelby."

  "For what? Being an asshole, an impossible person to work with, talking down to me at work, making ridiculous demands because you're bored?" she listed. I cringed a little. She was mad. I had never seen her this upset with me.

  "For everything. I was wrong. You were a valuable asset to me that I recognized too late. I know you quit, but I hope you can reconsider." She scoffed and crossed her arms.

  "Incredible. Now you want me back? Now that I don't work for you anymore I'm a valuable asset?"

  "You're good at your job, Shelby. Honestly one of the best I've met."

  "That's sweet, but it's a little too late for that."

  "I said I was sorry; what else do you want?"

  "You can be as sorry as you want, you're still too late. You're not the only one who thinks I'm a valuable asset, Jason."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I mean I got another job," she said, smirking. She scoffed again, a harsh, short laugh. "Don't look so surprised, Jason; you said it yourself. I'm good at my job." What had it been? Less than a week since she had left and she already had another job? There was no way she had sent in an application and they had gotten back to her that fast. That had to mean... she had had other offers. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had underestimated her. She had been getting offers while we had been working together, and that had probably been why she hadn't hesitated to quit; she already had work lined up. I had worked her hard because I had
known that she could take it. Good job, Bowman, you just trained her to work for someone else.

  Chapter Four

  Shelby

  I looked at him. Jason Bowman, the man who hadn't shut up for the eleven months that I had worked for him, was finally speechless. His face completely drained and his green eyes widened. He opened his mouth then closed it again, struggling to find something to say. I laughed in disbelief. What the hell had he thought would happen to me once I quit? Well, I knew the answer to that. This was Jason Bowman we were dealing with: ego so big it needed its own MetroCard when he took the train. He had most likely thought to himself that after I had walked out on him, I would realize what a horrible mistake I had made. Right, how would I ever work again? Working for him was already the top; where would I go from there?

  Unbelievable. He had probably thought that I had been crying on my kitchen floor wondering what was next for me, thinking about how I would do anything to go back to working for him.

  "What?" he finally sputtered.

  "I said," I started smugly, "I got a new job. Aren't you happy for me?"

  "No... you're lying to me."

  "Of course. I don't have another job. I was waiting in my apartment for the day that I could come back on my knees and grovel for my old job back. You got me, Jason. That's it."

  "No," he repeated. “You can't... you have to come back."

  "I don't have to do anything. I don't work for you anymore."

  "No, I need you to... you have to come back."

  "This isn't a discussion, Jason. I quit already."

  "You have to stay," he said again raising his voice. What the hell was wrong with him? There most likely wouldn't be any shortage of people wanting to work under Jason Bowman. As good as I was at my job, I knew realistically that I wasn’t irreplaceable. Jason was the dashing Ken doll of WRTC. Perfect smile, perfect hair, ace reporting, and his star only rose year by year.

  "Where was this during all those months you were ungrateful, difficult, and demanding?" I asked him. "Why would I ever come back to work for you?" He came forward and wrapped his hands around my arms, looking down at me.

  "Victoria is still at the party. We can go to her together and tell her that—"

  "Oh my god, you're impossible," I said, shaking him off. "I'm leaving, Jason. You want to beg me to stay, do it, but it won't work." I turned and started towards the door, but he grabbed me again, pulling me back.

  "Shelby, wait," he said desperately. I whirled around to face him. He pulled me into him, so close we were almost touching. His other hand cupped my face, and he leaned in to kiss me. I jerked back, freeing myself from him, almost knocking into a chair behind me.

  "Jason Bowman, have you lost your goddamn mind? How much have you had to drink tonight? Do you need someone to hail you a cab home?" I asked, wondering for a second whether I was the one dreaming. Jason had just... no, but he couldn't have; this was Jason we were talking about. He slept with models and didn't date anyone for longer than two months. He had fan girls. Piercing green eyes, thick blond hair, and a megawatt smile? The attention frankly was deserved. His job paid him well enough to own a penthouse in Tribeca, which didn't hurt his love life one bit, but me? I wasn't his type, not even drunk and desperate. By the looks of things, he had resorted to seduction to convince me since begging hadn’t worked.

  He didn't answer my question. Instead, he advanced again, cupping my face and staring into my eyes. I pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge. He changed tack, leaning in and kissing my neck. My eyes fluttered shut feeling his soft lips against my skin. How did he know I loved when men touched me there? I tilted my head back to give him better access and gasped when I felt him use his teeth.

  There were rumors about him; everyone had heard them. Every time he was done with a girl she had something to say. He had made rounds through the hair-and-makeup department, and the only thing that any of those girls wanted when they were done was another ride. There was something there, obviously. I wasn't blind. He was a good-looking guy. A good-looking guy who happened to be the first guy to touch me in a few months.

  His lips trailed along my jaw. I pulled away slightly, just far enough so I could look at him again. His thumb ran over my cheek, and his eyes burned with lust. You know what, I thought, why would I say no to this? What would I have to lose? We didn't work together anymore, the last time I had gotten any was three months ago, and there had to be a reason why women liked this prick so much. He apparently wanted to show me. Why not?

  I leaned forward, and he closed the distance. His hand went to the back of my head, fisting a handful of my hair. He tilted my head back, plunging his tongue into my mouth. His other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me flush against him. His body was hard, rock solid under his suit; I had felt him when I had tried to push him away. The masculine, expensive scent of his cologne surrounded me. The hand he had on my waist slid down, lower, around my back, and finally cupped my ass. He ground into me with his hips, and I felt it. Oh, so that was why everyone wanted to sleep with him.

  He left my mouth, kissing my jaw and neck again, trailing down my chest to my breasts. My chest heaved; I was panting. He cupped one of my breasts as he buried his face in my cleavage.

  "Jason," I sighed. We can't, I didn't say. Whether we could or couldn't was irrelevant; we were going to. I could feel him through his pants. The panties I was wearing were already soaked. My body was screaming for him; it didn't matter that we were in a control room and the door wasn't locked. Right then, I needed to feel him. I reached for the buckle of his belt. He took over, quickly undoing his pants. There was no time for either of us to get naked. He grabbed my hips and guided me backward to a desk.

  I hopped up onto it. Jason pulled the band of his underwear down, releasing his cock. I had felt it before, but it was even bigger than I had expected: hard and engorged. I felt an ache between my legs, anticipating what he'd feel like inside of me. The head of his cock was round and bulbous, glistening with precum. He grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the desk. I pulled the skirt of my dress up to my hips as he stood between my thighs. We kissed again. I gasped, feeling his hand on my clit. He massaged me firmly with his fingers, making me squirm.

  His hand disappeared, and I felt the head of his dick tease my opening. I pushed my hips forward, trying to get more of him inside me.

  "Do you have protection?" he asked. Fuck, I thought. He was asking me? Of course, I didn't. Between the two of us, who was the one who most likely kept condoms on them? I shook my head.

  "No, I have an IUD. I'm clean."

  "I am too. Are you sure?" he said, barely pressing the head past my lips. I knew better than to take him at his word, but I was too turned on to care. If I didn't feel him inside me, I'd combust.

  "Jason, please." I pushed my hips forward as he guided the thick head of his cock into my opening. I gasped, stretching to accommodate him. This was what all those women were talking about. He pulled out slightly then thrust himself into me to the root.

  I cried out, and he did it again, thrusting hard and fast, hitting me as deep as he could go. I leaned back; my hands hit the technical controls on the deck behind me. He grabbed my hips as he fucked me. The fact that we had worked together had stopped me from ever really thinking about him this way, but it felt like we were making up for the year of anger and tension that had bubbled between us. My lips stretched tight around him; I wanted to scream every time he sunk his huge rod into me.

  His groans came from deep in his chest. A lock of his usually impeccable blond hair fell over his forehead. He rammed into me, stimulating every hot spot I had. I was climbing, dangerously close to climaxing. I wanted release, but I wanted to relish his long, punishing thrusts. He growled as he pounded me; his hands were probably going to leave bruises, but I didn't care. I brought one of my hands to my clit, massaging in time to his thrusts.

  My orgasm exploded out of my core. It surged through my limbs, and everything went white.
I gasped, feeling a jolt every time he thrust into me.

  "Shelby... Shel, I'm gonna come. Where do you want it?" he choked. I had said goodbye to good sense and reason the second he had touched me with that giant tool.

  "Come inside me," I whispered. He cursed, groaning, and I felt his cock surge. His load launched inside me. He thrust slowly, milking himself into my pussy till he was done. We were silent while we caught our breath. His face was buried in my neck, and his cock was still inside me. I cleared my throat and scooted back on the desk to get his attention. He got it, slowly withdrawing and moving back so I could get off of the desk.

  I straightened my panties and smoothed the front of my dress. Whatever mood had taken over while we were fucking had lifted, and all I wanted was to get out of there. He was fixing the front of his pants, zipping up his fly.

  "No one hears about this," I said.

  "Okay," he said flippantly.

  "Hey," I said. He looked over at me. He was smirking, looking pleased with himself and I hated it. "I'm serious. You better not say anything to anyone, Bowman."

  "Why would I do something like that?" he asked, trying to sound innocent. "We've been gone twenty minutes now, maybe half an hour, I don't have to say shit. Everyone out there can put two and two together."

  "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

  "I don't know what you're ashamed about. Frankly, you and me, it's been a long time coming."

  "This is never happening again."

  "Of course not," he said sarcastically.

  "I wanted to know whether the rumors were true. You know what people say about you, right? You've got to."

  "What do they say?" he asked. I shrugged.