Page 105 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

We stay like that for a moment, tangled, trembling. The frantic energy slowly recedes, leaving behind a vibrating intimacy.

Then, my fucking phone rings.

Loudly.

Jarringly.

Mia wailing at this moment, I could take.

But this?

This I can’t.

I glance up. On my desk across the room I squint and can just make out the caller ID: Luca Briggs.

Goddammit.

The fucker can wait.

But reality crashes back in with brutal force.

No.

No, I better take this.

Could be important.

Still officially working hours, after all.

I pull out of Sabrina slowly, regretfully. She slumps forward against the back of the sofa, burying her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking slightly.

Embarrassed?

Overwhelmed?

Both?

“Fuck,” I mutter, tossing the condom in a nearby wastebasket and grabbing my pants, which are still around my knees. I slip on my underwear and trousers and then fumble with the zipper.

I glance at the still-ringing phone and sigh, then painfully limp to the desk and answer it. “Luca. What now?”

“Leo! Hey! Just checking in!” Luca’s voice is too loud, too fast, unnervingly cheerful. The kind of cheerful he gets after a few bumps. Or more than a few. “I’m working on that Balinski counter-proposal. How’d the call go by the way? Good? Anyway, I needed… needed a little something to stay sharp, you know? Figured I’d ask if you wanted me to come over and share the love.”

Stay sharp? Share the love?

My blood runs cold.

“Sharp, huh?” I say carefully, keeping my voice level, glancing back at Sabrina who is shakily, pulling her clothes back on. Her back is to me. “Everything under control over there?”

“Control? Absolutely!” Luca laughs, a little too loudly. “King of the fucking world, partner! Just gotta… stay ahead of the curve. You get it.”

I get it, all right. I get that my partner, the co-founder of my billion-dollar firm, sounds high as a fucking kite at ten o’clock in the morning. And I’m standing here, half-dressed, after fucking my PR consultant and baby mama on the office sofa, while our daughter sleeps down the hall.

My carefully compartmentalized worlds haven’t just collided. They’ve fucking imploded. And the fallout… the fallout is just beginning.

“So can I come?” Luca presses.

“No, Luca, you cannot,” I tell him. “Goodbye.”

---