Page 16 of Secret Baby for Dr. Billionaire

So the asshole did remember me.

Chapter six

Ben

Inmydreams,itwas a one-year-old Billy Anne crying in her crib with an empty bottle and a full diaper, snot running down her nose. When I jolted off the bed, the cry was distant—muffled. It wasn’t Billy Anne because Billy Anne didn’t cry like that anymore. She’d usually barge into my room and throw a pillow at me to wake me up.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I sat up in my bed and listened to the cry of the child next door—who was probablymychild. I yawned and waited for my senses to wake up as I glanced at the white glow of the digital clock. It was three a.m. I was sure that even if I tried to go back to sleep and ignore the sound of a toddler bawling, I wouldn’t be able to.

It had been a week since I left the Post-it note outside Bonnie’s penthouse because I didn’t know what to say to her if we’d come face to face again. In my line of work, confrontation was second nature, and I wasn’t afraid of it. But there was something about facing my Bonnie that scared the living shit out of me. It was maybe because I was guilty, and to confront her meant I’d get to see the child I basically abandoned.

For the past seven days, I would be standing at my door and peering through the peephole with the hopes that I’d get to see Bonnie and steal a glance at the child who was allegedly mine. Every morning, Bonnie left the penthouse with her child, who had the same hair as her mother’s. Although I couldn’t take a good look at what the child looked like, she looked to be about a year old. She had plump cheeks and chunky limbs, and the rolls of baby fat in her arms jiggled every time Bonnie would put her on her feet.

I reckoned that they were always at the beach, given that every day, the toddler had on a different bathing suit and the same light blue beach hat with dolphins printed all over it. I’d always make sure that I’d leave the penthouse immediately when Billy Anne’s babysitter, Sam, arrived so that Bonne and I couldn’t catch each other in the lobby.

On both weekends, I caught them leaving at four in the afternoon or when it wasn’t too hot. With the lightweight stroller Bonnie carried, I knew they were going for a walk. They’d come home sometime after sunset. I looked like a fool standing at my door every time I’d hear the soft ding of the elevator, but I had developed a fondness for seeing Bonnie with her child, and I couldn’t help myself.

Occasionally, I’d catch Bonnie looking over her shoulder at my door. Was she also thinking about me? Did the night when she confronted me bother her, too?

I peeled myself from the warmth of my bed, slipping into the plain white shirt I had discarded on the vacant chair in my bedroom to head to the kitchen to make some coffee.

It was Monday, which meant that spring break was over, and Billy Anne had to go back to school, which also meant I needed to get her things ready early today.

Switching on the light, I saw Charlie blink the sleep away and follow me from his bed in the living room to the kitchen. He yawned, stretching his front paws forward, extending his body into a long, elegant curve.

“Morning, bud.” I bent down to rub behind his ears, and he relaxed his face against my hands, his feet thumping softly against the floor. Billy Anne had helped me train Charlie to master the‘no’command after Bonnie came pounding at my door. And I was in the process of teaching him not to freak out when the vacuum was on. So far, we were going nowhere on that front.

I washed my hands and gargled after I filled the water tank and put the capsule in the coffee maker. I could still hear the muffled cry of Bonnie’s child in my living room, which was immediately followed by Bonnie’s unintelligible murmurs, perhaps trying to console the child.

For the duration of the week since I last saw the sexy vixen, her child had woken me up three times. Something was making the baby upset, and I hoped that it wasn’t health-related.

The doctor in me told me to go visit and check if it was colic. Then I could tell Bonnie, or whatever her real name was, that her child probably needed probiotics, or I could refer her to a good pediatrician in the hospital.

Typical Asshole Ben wanted nothing to do with the crying child or the distraught mother. In fact, pounding at the wall to give her a taste of her own medicine had crossed my mind. But Respectful Ben said that a crying child was not a nuisance. In fact, caring for a child alone was hard. Trust me, I knew.

But I didn’t know if Bonnie was raising her child alone anyway, and it was yet to be proven that she was indeed mine.

When I checked the rental ledger the other day, that penthouse was registered to someone named Franklin Hollis, who had paid three months in advance to rent the penthouse. He had booked the place months ago. The gray Bugatti Chiron in the garage that was parked in their allotted space told me that Franklin Hollis was well off. Was Franklin Hollis Bonnie’s husband? Maybe he was the father of the child that’s been crying nonstop for the past twenty minutes.

So why were the child’s distraught wails slowly getting into me? It was physically hurting my chest. Maybe it was the call to help, or maybe the cry reminded me of Billy Anne, but I found myself turning on the camera feeds of my penthouse in my phone, making sure nothing was amiss and that Billy Anne was safe in her room before I marched towards the door.

Fuck, I was going to regret this one, but I knew that I could help because of what I did for a living. The oath I had made was stronger than my fear of confronting Bonnie.

After what seemed like two strides, I was standing outside my neighbor’s door, scratching the back of my head. I could hear them behind the door as I glanced at my phone to check the camera feeds one last time.

“Fuck it,” I whispered, before finally knocking on the door. I heard the footsteps and the cries coming closer, and the knob turned down before it opened.

Time moved in slow motion as her face came into view. The bright light of the living room illuminated the back of her dark hair like a halo. Well, fuck. She was gorgeous.

When I first met Bonnie two years ago, I knew that she was stunning, even though we had met in a dimly lit bar and we had fucked with the lights off. But I never thought that she would look this breathtaking up close.

Her skin was flawless, pale, and glowing. Delicate, thin strands of hair escaped her loose ponytail, framing her face softly. She was wearing another oversized shirt, but this time it was gray with the words,“Life is a Highway and I’m Cruisin' in Style”printed on it. Her long legs were exposed, and it took every ounce of self-restraint to draw my eyes from her as I looked at the toddler that she was holding. She was the carbon copy of her mother, except for her eyes.

Billy Anne had the same eyes and the same nose. She had my nose. A sense of joy washed through me as I studied them both. It took me too long to realize that the kid’s nose was red, and her cheeks were wet, painted with tearstains. And when I returned my gaze to Bonnie, I saw that her eyes were rimmed red. She was crying, too. Great. The first time I decided to help them out, and I’ve been faced with two crying ladies. I deserved it, I guess.

Bonnie’s eyes grew wide in surprise when she saw me standing outside her door.

“Did we wake you up?” she asked as she sniffled, her voice softly trembling. “I am so sorry.” She didn’t need to apologize, especially not to me.

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