Page 41 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

When Savannah wasn’t on time to the evening media strategy session, I knew something was wrong. She was too professional to completely skip a meeting like this, and it felt like every time I had been around her for the past few days, she seemed to shy away from talking to me.

Vanessa ran the session like a drill sergeant. Her tone was clipped, her agenda strict. Every bullet point came with a deadline, and every glance in my direction was edged with frustration.

“Where’s Bennett?” she asked at least twice, both times with a sneer that suggested she had a strong opinion about Savannah’s absence. She slapped her pen down on the table like it was Savannah’s fault when the ink ran dry.

I didn’t volunteer an excuse for her not being here because I didn’t have one. This act we were putting on was far more than just a PR stunt now, and I knew Vanessa had probably figured that out too, but it didn’t mean I owned Savannah or could read her mind. Still, when Vanessa got to the part of the meeting where Savannah’s input was needed, I stood.

“I’ll find her,” I told them, then I pulled my jacket from the back of the chair and scanned the room one last time.

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “You?” Her fingers paused mid-scroll over her tablet with her eyes narrowed at me. They didn’t need me here to continue talking strategy. I was invited more as a formality than anything else, and I was sick of listening to them drone on anyway.

“I’ll be back…” My grunt drew a scowl from Vanessa, but one of the other strategists took over and I ducked out.

All week the tightness in my chest had been nagging me. After hearing some rumors about Savannah and that kid she was with in the photo, I’d let it get into my head that she had a secret she was keeping, which went right along with how she seemed to shy away from any meaningful conversation. I hadn’t had the time or courage to confront her about it, but I had gone back several times and stared at that photo. Maybe I was seeing things, but I felt like the kid looked like me.

I stopped at her office after trying her cell and getting no answer. Her phone was on her desk, purse hanging from the hook on the coat tree in the corner, but she wasn’t there. With her door unlocked and her light on, together with her coat and phone still present, I gathered that she hadn’t left for the day yet. Which left very few places she could be this time of night with everyone else home for the day.

I left her office, headed straight for the rooftop terrace. It was the only place in the building where you could get any privacy. The break spot for employees was rarely used after hours, but it was exactly where I found her.

The moment the doors opened, cold air slapped me in the face. Savannah sat on the bench near the far edge, framed by the glow of the city below. Her back was to me. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, and her hand moved to wipe at her face like she was crying.

I approached slowly, but I didn’t want to startle her. I said, “Savannah,” softly, and watched her startle.

Even though I spoke with a careful voice, she seemed to stiffen. The wind kicked up around us, swirling the hem of her dress and carrying away the warmth of the building that lingered around me. My chest tightened the closer I got to her. I wanted to rush over and wrap my arms around her and comfort her, not scold her for being absent at an important meeting.

She straightened, but didn’t look back. “You weren’t supposed to see me like this.” She scrambled to wipe her face before her arms crossed over her ribs as though she could physically hold herself together.

I took the seat beside her and studied her face. Her eyes were red, mascara smudged. She tried to act like she hadn’t been crying, but I saw it. I rested my elbows on my knees, close enough that my shoulder brushed hers, and she didn’t pull away from me, which was a good sign. It meant most likely whatever was going wrong wasn’t about me. At least I hoped.

“What happened?” She glanced up at my question, but her lip quivered. I watched her wad a used tissue in her fist and then raise her eyes to look out across Seattle’s gloomy night sky cloaked in clouds.

She inhaled shakily. “My father called and said my ‘antics’ were affecting his campaign. That I should have more respect for him. For everything he’s built.” Her hands knotted in her lap, trembling despite her effort to stay composed.

I didn’t respond at first. Rage clawed through my chest. David had always projected a polished image, but this—guilt-tripping his daughter over optics? The pressure he put on her seeped into everything she did, and I hated how easily his voice could undo her.

I didn’t say any of what I was thinking out loud, but I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. I clenched my fists against my thighs to keep from swearing aloud.

Savannah turned away as her voice grew quieter. Her jaw clenched and her chest heaved as she sighed hard. “He said he thought I’d have more dignity than to play billionaire’s girlfriend like some corporate prop.” Her laugh was bitter, humorless, lost in the wind. “He said you’re objectifying me.”

She fell silent, her gaze fixed on the city. The lights shimmered far below us, detached from the reality up here. My own thoughts drifted—to that night with David years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but David had thrown it back in my face after all these years. Something had gotten into him, and I had a feeling it was more than either of us knew.

What I did was wrong, and I would spend the rest of my life feeling guilty over that. But making Savannah pay for my mistake by allowing David to bully her until she broke the arrangement we made was downright nasty. Now it wasn’t just about him protecting her from me; he was simply trying to protect himself from the backlash of public opinion if my past came out. And he was doing it by emotionally manipulating his daughter.

“I’m sorry,” I told her quietly, but I couldn’t tell her why I was so sorry. Everything about what David was doing was wrong. Taking out my sins on his daughter was sickening, and there was no way I could stop him without confessing it all, which wasn’t something I thought she was prepared for. We hadn’t gotten to the discussion of how we could transform this fake relationship into something real, and it looked like David was going to ensure it never happened.

“There’s more,” she said, and she started crying again. When she turned to me, her lip was clenched between her teeth, and the guilt in her eyes brought me back almost six years now toZurich, to the night I drove off and left a life behind. To the picture I saw last week with a little boy in her arms. That image had burned into my thoughts and refused to stop smoldering.

Then her shoulders trembled again, and something inside me cracked. I reached for her, pulled her gently into my lap. She didn’t fight me. Her arms circled my neck while her body tensed. I rubbed her back slowly, grounding her against me.

I kissed her temple, then her jaw, then her mouth. I felt her breath hitch as she clung to me. She kissed me back, but the moment we deepened it, she pulled away.

“Dominic, we can’t keep doing this.” Her voice trembled as she pushed gently against my chest.

I blinked. “What do you mean?” My hands slid to her hips, reluctant to let her go.

She exhaled. “I can’t keep pretending…” She stared down at her hands, now clasped in her lap instead of clinging to my neck.

I stared at her in confusion. Again, we get to the point where I feel like we could break open and be vulnerable with each other and she pulls away. “You think I see this as casual?” I leaned back slightly, shocked. The words dug under my skin, and my stomach twisted with disbelief, a slow churn of something uglier beginning to form beneath it.

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