Page 90 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

A fresh protective wave washes over me, so intense it makes my chest tight. I don’t want anyone to harm her. Fuckingever. This tiny human... the only truly real thing in my hollow, gilded life. Everything else feels like smoke and mirrors compared to this.

I want to be better for her.

The thought surfaces again, unbidden but insistent. Less reckless. More… present. The kind of father who doesn’t just show up, butstays. The kind her mother deserves.

Who the fuck am I kidding?The cynical voice returns.You? Better? You’re hardwired for self-destruction, Leo. It’s in the goddamn DNA.

Look at my father. Look at my life choices. Jumping off cliffs isn’t exactly stable parenting material. And Sabrina knows it.

Vegas. She finally told me the truth about that night. She ran away because she thought sober me wouldn’t want her.

The worst part? I still don’t know if she was right or wrong about me.Fuck.Because what I feel for her now… it’s tangled up with Mia, with guilt, with this bewildering sense of connection. But back then? Maybe her instincts were spot on.

Still... thereissomething about her. Why else would her face be the last thing I remember before my near fatal wingsuit crash? Could it be the Vegas memory was hidden in my subconscious, waiting for a near death experience to surface? Or is there something else to her? Something else that draws me in...

It’s not just that she’s beautiful... though she is, undeniably, with those dark eyes and killer curves that drive me fucking crazy even when she’s trying to hide them. It’s her strength. Her intelligence. The way she stood up to me, to Luca, to her own mother. The fierce protectiveness she has for Mia.

Jesus, now that’s a woman. Arealwoman.

I want to protect them both. Keep them safe. Build some kind of fucking fortress around them.

If she’d let me.

Which she probably won’t.

Because she’s smart enough to know I’m damaged goods.

And then there’s the rest of my life. The relentless pace. The deals. The travel. The drugs. The… fuckbuddies. How the hell doesthatcorrelate with being a reliable father? A partner?

It doesn’t.

It’s like oil and fucking water.

To be the man Mia needs, the man Sabrina might, eventually, trust… I’d have to dismantle the entire life I’ve built. Burn down the carefully constructed persona. Give up the adrenaline, the easy escapes. Give up… Luca? That thought lands surprisingly easily. Cutting ties with my toxic fucking partner wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Might even be necessary.

But am I ready for that? Can I actuallydothat? Change decades of ingrained behavior? Walk away from the only life I know? The silence in the nursery feels heavy with unanswered questions.

Mia stirs, whimpering softly in her sleep. Her face scrunches up. Oh, shit. Is she waking up? Hungry? Wet? What the fuck do babies need at dawn?

My first instinct is to call Sabrina, or hit the intercom and summon Thomas, or one of the rotating nannies I apparently need to hire now. Let the professionals handle it.

But… no.

Be present. Consistently. Reliably.

That’s what I told Sabrina’s mother.

And that’s what I need to fucking do.

Hesitantly, I reach into the crib. Mia’s eyes flutter open, find mine, and thankfully, she doesn’t immediately start screaming. Progress. I run a quick, awkward hand under her back.

Yep. Definitely wet.

Okay. Diaper change. How hard can it be?

I resist the urge to Google “diaper change.”

You got this, Leo.

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