Page 101 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“It was your delivery, Mr. Maxwell,” she deflects playfully, though her cheeks flush slightly. “You sounded almost… responsible. Might give the market whiplash.”

“Hey,” I lean back in my chair. “This whole ‘responsible father’ thing might be my next big market disruption. I should trademark it.”

Her smile fades slightly, becoming more thoughtful. Hesitant, even.

She looks down at her hands, then back up at me, her dark eyes serious now. “Leo… seriously. Thank you.”

The sudden shift to sincerity catches me offguard. “For what? Doing my job? Convincing Balinski not to jump ship entirely?”

“No,” she says quietly, meeting my gaze directly. “Well, yes, partly. But mostly… thank you for trusting me with this. With the PR strategy. I know… Iknownaming me, even internally, let alone keeping me on after… everything… it’s a huge conflict of interest. A massive risk for you, for the firm. Especially now, with the leak about me being the mother.” She gestures vaguely towards the windows, towards the city outside where reporters are probably still sniffing around. “You could have easily brought in a bigger, safer agency. No one would have blamed you.”

“I could have,” I agree. “Except it was my fault. I insisted on bringing the two of you for a walk in Central Park. I have to own that mistake. And I’ll be damned if I drag the mother of my child down with me.”

She nods slowly, taking a small breath. “I appreciate that. I also want to thank you for... the retainer… the upfront payment… it was…” She looks away again, a deeper flush staining her cheeks now. Embarrassment? Pride? “It made a bigger difference than you probably realize, Leo. Keeping my own business afloat while… adjusting… hasn’t been easy. So, thank you. For the trust. And the lifeline.”

Her honesty hangs in the air between us. The vulnerability in her admission, the quiet acknowledgment of the riskItook by keeping her on, by trustingherdespite the tangled personal history… it hits me harder than any market downturn or lost investor ever could.

She sees it. She sees the gamble I took, maybe even understandswhyI took it... becausedespite everything, I knew she was the only one I wanted handling this mess. Because I trusthercompetence, even when everything else between us is still a fucking minefield.

“You earned it, Sabrina,” I say gruffly, the words feeling inadequate. “You’re the best at what you do. That’s not trust; that’s just smart business.”

Liar. It’s more than that. Way more.

She offers another small, grateful smile. “Still. Thank you.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I see something in them I wasn’t expecting. Yes, there’s gratitude, but also... hunger?

The memory of that night, the feel of her wrapped around me against the window, comes flooding back.

It’s the middle of the work day. We have boundaries. We’re trying to keep this professional. We—

And then I catch it. Barely a microexpression. Her eyes drop to my crotch for a split second. Just a split second, but I notice.

And instantly I’m so hard that my cock fucking hurts in my pants.

Damn it. I want her so badly her right now.

And she wants me, too. I can see it in her eyes. The way she just licked her lips.

Fuck boundaries. Fuck complications.

Before I can second-guess it, before the cynical part of my brain lists all the reasons why this is a terrible fucking idea, I stand up, ignoring the twinge in my hip, and cross the space between us in two painful strides.

I reach down, cup her face in my hands, and pull her up towards me.

28

Leo

Her eyes widen in surprise, maybe alarm, but she doesn’t resist.

Her lips part slightly. “Leo, what…”

“Celebration,” I murmur against her mouth, cutting off whatever protest or question she was about to form. And then I’m kissing her. Not tentative like the night before. This is pure impulse. Relief, desire, possessiveness all tangled together. It’s hard, demanding, staking a claim right here in the heart of my empire, my office.

She makes a small, surprised sound, then melts against me, her hands coming up to grip my arms. Her response is immediate, fiery, meeting my hunger with her own.

When her lips part beneath mine, it’s a silent surrender that ignites something feral in my veins. I don’t kiss her anymore... no, I fuckingclaimher.

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