Page 17 of Secret Baby for Dr. Billionaire

“Hello, Bonnie.” The greeting was not supposed to threaten her, but her subtle flinch and the momentary pause hinted that she was indeed taken aback by my words.

But within the blink of an eye, she was able to shake off the momentary weakness and square her shoulders. “Clyde.”

“It’s Ben, actually,” I stated. I wanted her to call me by my name. I had wanted her do to that since the moment I saw her at the bar. No more “stranger danger”.

“Chloe.”Chloe. The name sounded sexy in my head, and the sound of it from her lips did something to my cock. Fuck. I shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. “I’m sorry if we disturbed you. She’s usually a good sleeper but—”

“Can I come in?”

She hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just thought that I could help. She’s been crying for twenty-five minutes.”

“I–”

“Is she in pain?” I asked. Chloe opened the door wider and stepped back, inviting me in. And I stepped inside, surveying the place.

Our places were identical, but while I had installed some Duette blinds in mine, she had kept hers bare. The windows overlooked the dark ocean and the city views on the side. Her place was a little more scattered given that she had a young child; baby toys were everywhere, and a few boxes labeled“kitchen”were on her countertop. I noticed the place wasn’t yet baby-proofed, and with the way the kid was walking, an accident was bound to happen.

“I don’t think that she is,” Bonnie—Chloeanswered, the child still crying in her arms and trying to fit her tiny fist in her even tinier mouth.

“How old is she?”

“A year old.”

“She might be teething.” With the amount of drool running from her mouth and down her arms, she was indeed. Molars maybe.

Without waiting for her to say anything, I invited myself deeper into her penthouse and walked toward the kitchen to wash my hands with the antibacterial soap by her sink. Her kitchen was clean, with not a single item out of place, aside from the unpacked boxes. When I passed by the fridge, there was a single picture hung there with a starfish magnet. I could see that it was a photo of them by a beachfront. The familiar Ferris wheel in the background told me that they were in Coney Island.

Then I walked back to the living room, where she was still rocking the baby in her arms, hoping that tiredness would eventually wear her down. She looked at me with a dumbfounded look, probably asking herself what that fuck was I doing.

Extending my arms towards them, I said, “Can I see her?”

Chloe didn’t do anything. She stared at me for a long moment, and I saw the wheels turning in her head. She was debating whether or not to trust me.

“Stranger danger,” she whispered, hinting that she remembered the night at the bar. But right now was not a good time to pull that stunt because I knew in my bones that I could help her soothe her child.

“I’m not going to hurt her, Chloe,” I assured. “I’m a doctor, remember?”

“You said you cut people open for a living.”

“I also said I save lives.” We could joke about our night at the bar, but I was starting to feel bad for the both of them just due to the way this child was crying. With how red she looked, I was afraid that she was going to explode any minute now. If that was even possible. “So, please, let me have a look at her.”

With a sigh of courage, Chloe handed me the child. The latter didn’t give two shits about us. All she wanted to do was to wail. I whispered a shush, positioning her to lie on her back in my arms. When she was perfectly settled, and her back was supported, I slipped a clean finger into her mouth.

“What are you—”

“Her molars are starting to grow,” I said before she could finish her sentence. Looking up, I saw the horror in her eyes. But it quickly evaporated when the baby in my arms started to mewl and eventually went quiet, her tiny hands gripping mine. My heart skipped a beat. “Massaging her gums helps alleviate the pain.”

Chloe didn’t say a word, only nodded her head at the information. She was studying us, perhaps feeling strange about a complete stranger who was holding her child. I felt so bad putting her in this position. Then a single tear rolled down her cheeks. I wanted to shoot myself due to how much regret I was feeling.

“What’s her name?”

“Sofi.”

“Just Sofi?”

“Just Sofi.” Her voice was soft as she hugged herself. She looked so tired, but I could tell that she was more worried about her current predicament. Me, the man she basically hated the most, holding her child after he had decided to ghost them for two years.

---