Page 19 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

And whatever it was—whoever was behind it—it had just become my top priority. As much as I wanted to let my body stay in a state of deep arousal and go home thinking about Savannah,I had to focus on something more important. I refused to let this merger fail.

9

SAVANNAH

The dress was a compromise—tight enough to make a statement, but subtle enough to appease the PR team. It was made of black silk with long sleeves and a hem that stopped just above the knee. There was no slit and no shimmer, nothing flashy or bold. They called it understated elegance. What they meant was:Don’t distract from the man.As if there were any way to sit across from Dominic Knight and be the one who pulled focus.

We arrived separately, another stipulation from Vanessa, who wanted the photographs to capture our “spontaneous joy” upon seeing each other. The limo dropped me off at the curb. Dominic was already there, leaning against the polished black frame of a Bentley, collar sharp, jaw freshly shaved. He wore the kind of tuxedo that didn’t wrinkle and the kind of smirk that said he knew exactly how lethal he looked.

“Ms. Bennett…” His voice was low and smooth, tinged with amusement as he sauntered across the parking lot and stepped up onto the curb next to me. He held out his hand like this was any other night, any normal date between a billionaire and his paramour.

The flash of cameras behind us made me hesitate, but I stretched out my arm and wrapped my hand around his bicep anyway. I wasn’t surprised to find the firm muscle flexed under my fingertips, but I was surprised at how my body behaved rudely by getting flustered. I had a talk with myself in the mirror only an hour ago reminding myself that this was playacting.

“Mr. Knight,” I replied. I walked next to him as he led, and I fell into step. My fingers brushed his as we moved side by side toward the restaurant, a flash of heat rushing up my arm as his other hand covered mine and lingered there.

Inside, the restaurant glowed with curated opulence. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting soft light on white linens. A violinist played in the corner with a sweet melody that wasn’t overly loud but charming and inviting. The table reserved for us sat center stage, perfectly lit, perfectly visible to anyone who cared to look. I kept my posture straight, my smile light, the way we’d rehearsed.

Vanessa spent an hour coaching us—or more specifically me—about how to act. While I could’ve taken personal offense to it, I swallowed my pride and tried to be engaged. After all, it wasn’t every day that I went on a date with a billionaire, and places like this weren’t my normal scene either. Simply being placed next to Dominic felt wrong on so many levels, but sitting across from him in this luxury dwarfed my view of myself.

He snapped out his napkin and draped it over one knee before picking up his glass of water and sipping it. My eyes scanned the dining room and spotted what I assumed were a few different tables with members of the press, though only one of them was brazen enough to have their camera sitting right on the table next to their plate.

And Dominic didn’t stick to the script Vanessa prepared for us at all. We were supposed to focus on surface-level talk,smiling at each other’s jokes, and feigning flirty banter for a few good photo ops.

“How was your day?” he asked, leaning in. His hands folded together in a relaxed fashion as he rested his forearms on the edge of the table.

I blinked. “Excuse me?” I asked. The sincerity and sudden shift in tone caught me off guard. He was supposed to ask about PR proposals for the merger. I had adamantly opposed any personal small talk when Vanessa encouraged it. Luckily, the waiter approached and gave me a moment to force my anxious mind to behave.

“What will you be drinking?” The wiry man with curly hair stood waiting as Dominic skimmed the table. His eyes perched on the menus as he picked them up.

“We’ll have a nice chardonnay please, and give us the house special.” He reached for the wine list and menu, and handed them off without looking. I noticed the waiter nod appreciatively as he took the menus and started for the kitchen, and before he was even gone, Dominic repeated, “I asked how your day was. Unless we’re supposed to fake that part too.” His mouth tugged at the corner in a restrained smile. The line felt too casual, too easy for how complicated this night was.

I hesitated. This wasn’t part of the game plan. We were supposed to smile for the press, toast with vintage champagne, and make the public believe in fairy tales. Nothing in our strategy involved genuine conversation or him taking an interest in me.

“Busy,” I said eventually. “A few campaign projections came in under expectation. I spent the afternoon triaging damage control.” I shifted slightly and adjusted the napkin on my lap just to give my hands something to do. I could still focus my end on work at least, and that was what I needed to do for my own mental health.

“Sounds like a Tuesday,” he joked, and I hated that I smiled and let a snort of laughter ripple out. It drew a smile to his lips, and without skipping a beat he continued. “You look amazing.” Dominic’s gaze flicked down my dress, lingering just a beat too long over my chest. The compliment felt real, not rehearsed, but I knew him to be a sweet talker. I wasn’t surprised by him reaching for more than feigned affection after the way we went at it the past few weeks.

“That’s not part of the script,” I said stiffly. I tried for lightness and reached for my water glass. My stomach tightened, reacting faster than my mind could catch up.

He tilted his head. He studied me, unbothered. “No. That was just me…Or do you want a robot?” He narrowed his eyes at me and waited, but I felt stuck. He was right. I didn’t want a robot at all. He had to be himself if this night was actually going to sell anything to the press watching us with skepticism.

I didn’t answer. Anything I said would be a lie. Or worse—the truth I wasn’t ready to touch. My pulse thudded in my ears, reminding me how close I was to losing control. Dominic was gas for the fire barely clinging to life inside me. He was dangerous for so many reasons, and none of them mattered when it came to what we were doing here. This job was crucial to my future, and screwing this up may jeopardize that.

“I, uh…Dominic, I’m sorry. You’re right.” A plastic smile masked my nerves as I said, “Thank you for the compliment. You look very handsome yourself.” A tight nod followed the very real compliment I gave him, but before he could respond and start peeling back the layers of anxiety I was cocooned in, the wine appeared.

The waiter returned with a crisp white linen towel draped over one arm and set the chilled bottle of chardonnay beside a silver bucket. He uncorked it and poured two small tastes. The clink of glass broke the tension in my chest and my mouthwatered for the first sip. Dominic sipped then gave a slight nod of approval, and the waiter filled both our glasses, then vanished without a word.

I took a gulp of the wine because God knows I needed it badly. My hands were like the Amazon. I kept wiping them on the front of my dress. The citrus bite lingered on my tongue. The warmth in Dominic’s gaze didn’t fade though.

“How’s your father doing?” His voice was casual, but the directness of it left no room for misinterpretation.

The wine turned bitter in my mouth, like it had curdled on my tongue in the spirit of the conversation he was opening up. “I haven’t told him,” I admitted. My fingers gripped the stem of the glass until I worried it might snap, so I set it down

Dominic frowned. “He doesn’t know about the campaign? Or the dinner?”

I shook my head and kept my tone as flat as I could manage. “He knows about my job. He just doesn’t know I’m being paraded around as your date tonight.” I knew my tone was a bit bitter, but I felt incapable of changing that. Dominic had no clue the scandal he was making himself vulnerable to by insisting on this fake relationship, and it was all my fault. Dad didn’t even know who the twins’ father really was. I hoped to keep it that way, but it felt like the hourglass was about out of sand as far as that topic was concerned.

He leaned back, brow lifting slightly. “This seems like something he’d have an opinion about.”

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