Page 74 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“Leo,” Sabrina says, her voice strictly business. “Just confirming our visit tomorrow. Five o’clock at your place?”

“Yeah. Still on.” I hesitate, then decide to just dive in. Might as well get her reaction now. “Actually, wanted to show you something. Been… making some adjustments here.”

I flip the camera around, panning slowly across the living room, focusing on the stack of baby gate boxes, the pile of outlet covers still in their blister packs, the corner guards sitting on the coffee table. “Phase one of baby-proofing is underway. Per expert consultation.”

I don’t mention the expert is Thomas and Dom.

There’s a beat of silence. Then Sabrina’s voice, sounding slightly strangled. “Adjustments? Leo, it looks like you’re preparing for a siege.”

“Safety first,” I say lightly, flipping the camera back to myself. “Gotta make the place… Mia-friendly.”

Her expression is unreadable. Shock? Skepticism? Maybe grudging approval?

“Okay,” she says slowly. “That’s… thorough.” She pauses. “Doesn’t mean she’s having sleepovers anytime soon, though.”

Ah. There it is. The boundary. Fair enough. Probably wouldn’t trust me with a houseplant overnight right now, let alone our daughter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I lie smoothly, hoping the disappointment isn’t too obviousin my voice.

Give me time. I’ll win her over. Charm works on everyone eventually. Investors. Mothers.

Even fiercely protective PR consultants.

“Just want her to be safe when she’s here,” I finish.

“Right,” she says, still looking unconvinced. Mia makes a grab for the phone, forcing Sabrina to adjust her grip.

“Actually,” I say, seizing the opening. “About her being here… I was thinking. Tomorrow. Instead of just hanging out inside… maybe we could take her out? Central Park? Grab a coffee?”

You know, act normal.

Benormal.

Sabrina’s eyes narrow instantly. “Out? In public? Leo, are you serious?”

“Why not? Other people go out...”

“Other peoplearen’t a billionaire father whose near-fatal accident was international news less than a year ago!” she says, glancing around like paparazzi might be hiding behind her couch cushions. “What if someone recognizes you? With Mia? Think about the speculation! The press! You hired me to improve your image, to show that you’re stable, but—”

“Relax,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “No one will recognize me.”

“Right,” she scoffs. “Because you blend in so well.”

“I’ll wear a disguise,” I insist. “Baseball cap, sunglasses. Easy.”

“Leo…”

“Come on, Sabrina. Fresh air will be good for her. Good for us. A neutral setting. Less… intense than my apartment.” I lean on the charm a little. “Please? Just for an hour?”

She hesitates, chewing on her lower lip. I see the conflict in her eyes. The desire for normalcy versus the ingrained need for secrecy.

“And what about Luca?” she asks suddenly. “Will yourpartnerapprove of you parading Mia through Central Park?”

Fuck.

I knew she’d bring him up again at some point. The way he talked down to me in front of her crossed a line. After she left the conference room that day, I told the fucker never to do that again. Never to interfere in my personal life.

I walked out on him that day, and have been mostly avoiding him all week beyond the bare necessities to keep our business running. In fact, I’ve been avoiding most of my usual accomplices and the distractions they bring. Except for Dom.

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