Page 208 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

Later that night,after Mia is asleep, after we’ve sketched out the preliminary terms of our new partnership on a cocktail napkin (because apparently, that’s how billionaires do business), after another mind-blowing lovemaking session, we’re lying tangled together in his massive bed while the city lights glitter outside.

“So,” I murmur, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips. “This investment… you’re sure it’s not just… you know… because of… us? Because you feel obligated? Or guilty? Or…”

He stills my hand, his green eyes serious. “Sabrina. I’m investing in Taylor Strategic Communications because it’s a goddamn brilliant company run by a goddamn brilliant woman. Period. The fact that I happen to be completely, irrevocably, and terrifyingly in love with that woman? That’s just… a bonus. A really fucking incredible bonus.”

My heart stops. Then restarts, hammering against my ribs.

Did he just say that magic word? Love?

“Leo…” I whisper, my own voice choking with emotion.

“Yes, I love you, Sabrina,” he says, the words a quiet confession that shatters the last of my defenses. “More than wingsuiting. More than the firm. More than… than anything.”

Tears of pure, unadulterated joy stream down my face. “I love you, too, Leo Maxwell,” I manage. “So much.”

He kisses me. It’s soul-searing. Solidifying. Sealing the promise.

“You know,” he murmurs against my lips. “Maybe someday… when Taylor Strategic has conquered the entire fucking PR world… you might consider a merger. Maxwell & Taylor. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I laugh, a weak, happy sound. “Whoa there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I pull his head down, kissing him again. “But… it’s definitely something to consider. For long-term strategic alignment, of course.”

He groans, pulling me closer, his hard body against mine. “Fuck strategic alignment. Right now, I just need…you.”

And as he makes love to me again,slowly and impossibly tender, the promise of a future I never dared to dream of stretches out before us.

And I know, with absolute certainty, that this… is forever.

And for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid.

I’m just… happy.

Utterly, completely happy.

54

Leo

It’s moving day.

The penthouse is a goddamn zoo. Boxes everywhere. Movers, carefully vetted by Charlie and his team, navigating my minimalist sculptures like they’re diffusing a fucking bomb.

And in the middle of it all, Sabrina, directing traffic, while Mia, strapped securely into some kind of baby-carrying contraption on her chest, gurgles happily.

Sabrina and Mia are taking up permanent residence in Fortress Maxwell. Sabrina’s giving up the lease on her Brooklyn brownstone. Her mother, Diane, after a surprisingly tearful and non-judgmental goodbye breakfast this morning, is on a plane back to Chicago.

And my life, the one I thought I had so carefully curated, so ruthlessly controlled, has been completely and wonderfully fucking hijacked.

I watch Sabrina unpack a box labeled ‘Mia’s Giraffes – Handle With Extreme Care.’ It’s filled withan alarming assortment of plush, squeaky, and slightly chewed-on giraffes.

She carefully arranges them on a shelf in the nursery. My nursery. Mia’s nursery.

Ournursery.

Helping her unpack her modest possessions, a lifetime of memories and dreams packed into cardboard boxes, feels… strange.

My ridiculously expensive, museum-quality Italian leather sofa now sports a slightly-stained-but-clearly-loved Winnie the Pooh throw blanket. My custom-built, temperature-controlled wine cellar is probably about to be invaded by organic apple juice boxes.

And you know what?

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