Page 25 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

There was no warmth to his words, and no context. But there was a huge insinuation that I knew why he wanted to talk to me. I didn’t have to ask him why because with the spread in this month’sFashion Weekly, I already knew what he was going to say to me.

I sat there for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen. I could make an excuse as to why I was too busy, or I could make plans so I didn’t have to lie, but this was my father.

He hadn’t stopped pushing since the publicity spread put Dominic and me on every newsstand in Seattle. That glossyphoto of us in the board room—my hand on his chest, his smile just for me—was enough to set my father off. The merger was one thing. My involvement was another. But the photos? The public narrative? That was too much for him to ignore.

The hammer was going to come down soon, and I couldn’t keep dodging it. Thea said as much only yesterday when Dad called her phone to ask if I was around, and she ever so graciously lied for me—again. I hated that she was helping me dodge my own father, but the shame cloaking my heart made me want to run away and hide.

Dad and Dominic had known each other half their lives. Dominic had been at our house for holidays, for fundraisers, for long talks in Dad’s study with the door closed. They respected each other in public, sure. But behind closed doors, my father’s opinions were never mild.

In one late-night venting session after Dominic went to Zurich, Dad told me that Dominic never let people get close unless there was something in it for him. I thought maybe he knew about the babies being Dominic’s, but he never said a thing about it. And I kept my secret to this day.

That was the last thing Dad said to me about him. He didn’t elaborate on it. Wouldn’t explain what he meant, no matter how many times I pressed. But back then I had no stake in the game as far as he knew. I took him at his word, which was one of the reasons I kept the twins a secret, but I also didn’t know how to even broach the subject, with either of them.

I didn’t know if it was fear, jealousy, or something more complicated. Maybe it had nothing to do with Dominic and everything to do with control—and the fact that I had gotten myself pregnant and thus proved I wasn’t perfect in his eyes. But I felt like he suspected something.

Just as I started to type out a reply to my dad and let him know we could do dinner, the front door banged open. Cal charged inside, backpackless and panting.

“I forgot my backpack!” he yelled as he started tearing couch cushions off.

“Slow down,” I said, crouching to meet him halfway. “Where did you leave it this time?” Running a hand over his cheek always calmed him and he sucked in a breath.

“By the couch, I think. Or maybe in the kitchen?” He scratched his head, clearly unsure. His eyes darted around in panic, and I realized Thea probably told him to hurry.

I spotted the backpack slumped near the edge of the couch and handed it to him. “Try to remember it tomorrow, okay?” I said, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

He grabbed it and grinned. “Thanks, Mommy! I love you.”

The door slammed shut behind him as he darted out and I heaved out a breath. Life was never boring with children in the house, and that alone was enough drama to keep me so busy I had no time for a relationship. Thinking about dating Dominic seemed absurd for my real life. I simply didn’t have time. And it was with that thought that I turned my attention back to my phone, left lying on the kitchen counter, and noticed a new message.

Vanessa 9:01 AM:Editorial shoot moved to 1:30. Dominic will meet you there. People LOVE the look. Wear something cute!

I swallowed hard, pressing my thumb to the side of the phone. “Of course he will,” I muttered under my breath. My chest tightened as the rhythm of the morning was knocked off track again. I set the phone down slowly, as if careful hands could make the pressure in my head ease up.

“So much for keeping my distance,” I said aloud. The kitchen echoed my voice back to me like it was mocking the idea I’d ever had control of this at all.

12

DOMINIC

Ishowed up early, against my better judgment. The studio looked like a war zone. Overhead lights buzzed with heat that had me wanting to take my jacket off the minute I walked in. Wardrobe racks lined one wall, clothes draped and half sorted. Some assistant sprinted past with two phones to her ear and a clipboard under her arm. A guy with a headset asked me to sign a waiver, and someone else handed me water I didn’t ask for. Everyone had a job, and nobody was paying attention to how absurd it all felt.

I hated this kind of thing. There were cameras, artificial backdrops, and lightweight props designed to look expensive. It all felt manufactured. The press responded well to anything polished and curated. The board trusted whatever earned headlines and stayed on message. And Vanessa spearheaded it all into this insanity that felt forced.

But the numbers didn’t lie.

Since theFashion Weeklyspread, Raven & Rhodes’ brand impressions were up 24 percent; engagement was through the roof. And Knight Holdings’ approval rating was soaring. Investors saw it and smiled. Analysts blogged about it like wewere royalty—all because I’d let the PR team play dress-up with the one woman who still made me forget how to think straight.

I adjusted my cufflinks and walked toward the mark taped on the floor. I didn’t see Savannah anywhere, but she knew how important this was for the merger optics.

Her heels echoed across the concrete floor before she came into view. She walked in from the back entrance, all calm composure in a pale blue dress that swayed over her hips like it was made for her body alone. She didn’t rush, and she didn’t glance around for approval. She walked straight toward the lighting setup like she’d already sized up the chaos and regretted walking in here.

“You’re late,” I said, shifting just enough so she had space to step in beside me.

“I thought I was right on time,” she said, glancing toward the camera rig. Her voice was even, but I caught the edge of nerves in the way she smoothed her dress. “Guess you beat me to it.”

“Didn’t want to give Vanessa any more reasons to lecture me about branding.”

She gave a quiet smile. “She already caught me at the elevator and reminded me to smile like I meant it. Twice.” Her half snort of laughter was sweet; it made me chuckle because I could definitely see Vanessa saying something like that.

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