Pregnant by the Billionaire (Billionaires & Babies Book 3) Page 5

  When the results confirmed her suspicions, she was relieved. Elated. A puddle of gratitude in her arm chair at home.

  But what she hadn’t expected was the feedback.

  Melissa and Frank talked over the results on speaker phone. And one thing was clear: audiences were clamoring for more Melissa.

  “I don’t understand it,” Melissa sighed over a pregnancy tea that sat steaming in her hands. “I consciously tried to stay to the sidelines.”

  “Well, you know the masters we have editing our footage,” Frank said.

  “Yes, but that’s the thing. Why does the audience care about me? I’m just…nobody.”

  “You’re the baby mama,” Frank reminded her.

  “Yeah, but that’s not interesting.”

  Frank laughed, the disbelief ringing clear. “Is this some sort of side effect of the pregnancy?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “You’re acting like you’re new to reality TV, Melissa. Wake up. Of course the audience is going to go after you. They’re hungry for the drama. And there’s nothing more dramatic than the baby mama in the midst of a search for a wife.”

  He was right. She just didn’t want to go there. But the time to play dumb had come to an end. “I can’t contend. I can’t be a regular on the show.”

  “You’re going to have to. At least more regularly than you have been. The audience wants it. And I thought you wanted success.”

  She pinched her eyes shut, the mug in her hands the only thing that kept her grounded. Of course he was right. But how far was she willing to go for her own success?

  All the way. She hadn’t fought this hard to get out from under the shadow of her parents only to shrink when the window of opportunity finally slid open a crack. To slide backwards, forever a junior producer with the stain of a failed show tarnishing her track record—the reality show that could have been great but just wasn’t. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. She was in it to win it.

  “I do want success,” she told Frank. “And trust me, this show is going to be a success.”

  “Then I suggest you get your ass in front of that camera and start stirring things up. This will all be over soon. You’ll be delivering after the show ends. It won’t be much longer.”

  And that, at least, was a relief. Only three fourths of her pregnancy would be spent in this reality-competition misery. Maybe she could be eliminated ASAP. Do something to throw the audience off her tail.

  But that was a long shot. It was hard to predict what audiences would respond to negatively. Certain things were guaranteed, but not everything. Babies always made good ratings, but women’s past dating lives were a crapshoot.

  Men, on the other hand, could whore around as much as they wanted without so much as a negative review.

  All she could do was just stay as small as possible and get through it.

  Frank was right. It would be over soon.

  Melissa got to work organizing some upcoming scenes that could include her with the least amount of discomfort—she’d increase her participation, but she wouldn’t become a contestant. For so many reasons.

  The nursery would be a good place to start. Donovan had wanted to deck out a state-of-the-art nursery in the house. Their conversation about that would make excellent fodder for primetime television. Bickering and dissent would abound. And then the construction phase, complete with a grand reveal for the contestants. That way, they’d string along the audience for a few weeks as they awaited the completion of the nursery. Would it pass muster? What would Melissa really think? Would Donovan get the flat screen baby monitor he dreamed of? It was perfect.

  Melissa sketched out a couple scenes in her notebook, pleased with the new addition to the upcoming scripts. She called the head writer of the show, spitballing the new ideas, then confirmed everything with Frank before calling it a night. As she headed to her bedroom, a text from Donovan arrived.

  “Test audience loved it! Knew it was gonna be a hit.”

  She grinned. They texted almost daily, usually quick little notes like these. Each message sent heat circulating through her. If Donovan missed a day, she noticed. It was hard to ignore how much she liked hearing from him. He was the only person in her life anymore who texted daily, without fail.

  She tapped out her response. “You’re about to be famous, kid.”

  “You too, Melly. Don’t hide in the shadows. The people are hungry for my baby mama.”

  She snorted, letting the phone fall back onto her bed. While she washed her face and got ready for bed, her mind swirled with conversation. Wishing he could be at her house, instead of his. Thinking about all the things she wanted to say to him…and what his responses might be.

  The smart part of her knew she should let it lie. Not write back. Not indulge this heart-racing something any further than it had already gone. But she couldn’t ignore it, even if she knew it was best to do so. She scooped up her phone, writing her response.

  “I got the upcoming scenes planned out. We’re going to work on the nursery. We’ll be able to comically butt heads.”

  His response came quickly. “My baby mama is the best at butting heads. And knocking boots.”

  Heat seared through her as she stared at his response. The subtle references to their epic sex ten weeks ago hadn’t let up at all. And each time it happened, she wondered: what if we just went there again?

  Because another side effect of the pregnancy was an insane sex drive. And Melissa was rubbing one out each night, and sometimes in the shower in the morning, too.

  And she’d never, not in a million years, ever admit to Donovan the truth: that it was his body, his face, his animalistic noises that she imagined. Every. Single. Time.

  “You’re not supposed to be knocking boots with me. You’re supposed to be banging that house full of girls right now.” She frowned as she sent the text. She didn’t like this set-up anymore. Her attraction was getting harder to ignore. She tortured herself with thoughts of his pending hookup on the daily. Waiting for it to happen, as it inevitably would. And what might happen then?

  A jealous brawl might break out for real. With Melissa leading the way.

  “Come over.”

  Melissa bit at her lip, checking the bedside clock. Nine thirty. She wouldn’t even make it to his house until after ten, even if she left exactly this second. And for what? To keep having this conversation face-to-face, so she could act like she didn’t care that Donovan was destined to fuck someone who wasn’t her, and probably marry them too?

  She desperately wanted to go there. To run to him, to answer his beck and call.

  But she also desperately wanted to be rational. To do the right thing. To make this as easy on herself as possible.

  “I’m in bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She set her phone to Do Not Disturb and set it face down on the night stand. And then she climbed under the covers.

  This show had just gone from complicated to ridiculous.

  And it was only going to get worse.

  9

  Donovan scowled at the flat screen as he navigated his character through a dense thicket. He was helping beta test a new game for his company—one of the best perks of his job. The game was fun. No kinks. No quirks. No flaws, that he could see.

  He really enjoyed it.

  He just couldn’t stop thinking about Melissa.

  Once he cleared the level, he sighed and tossed his game controller aside. The attic lounge was empty and dark, save for him and the bright glow of the TV. His phone read two a.m. He’d been avoiding sleep, partially because he knew it wouldn’t come, and partially because he was determined to get himself over this hump.

  This hump called Melissa.

  She was a speed bump, if anything. A speed bump in his quest to race ninety miles an hour until he reached the finish line. And if he raced over her as fast as he’d been going, everything would be ruined. He needed to slow down. Recalibrate. Take it easy.

  And that�
�s exactly what he’d been doing. With a house full of horny women whose contracts depended on seducing him and stirring up drama.

  He’d wanted this. It was exactly what he’d signed up for.

  He just couldn’t stand it anymore. And the only person he felt even the least bit enthusiastic about chasing—Melissa—had sworn off him. He might be the baby daddy, but that didn’t matter to her.

  Donovan leaned back on the couch, rubbing at his face. Why hadn’t she come over? Every inch of him begged to see her, to get more of her. Their business dealings weren’t enough anymore. This show was taking its toll, and she was the only safe harbor he had. The only place where he could just let loose, say what he wanted, crack jokes without second-guessing himself.

  She felt it too. She had to. Donovan stared at the ceiling, imagining her in his mind’s eye. Like he did all the damn time at night. And in the mornings, when he jacked off thinking about that silky heat between her legs. The way she’d totally crumbled with her orgasms, the sticky sweet juice of her pussy something he could taste in his dreams.

  Donovan turned off the TV and lay back on the couch, just intending to rest a bit before wandering downstairs. But he fell asleep, and quickly, rising only when his phone’s alarm bleated at eight a.m. He yawned and groaned, stretching out, finding all the usual kinks that came from sleeping on a couch.

  He wandered downstairs, scratching at the back of his head. Cameras were already set up. Jasmine raced out of her bedroom, buck naked.

  “Don’t look, don’t look!” she screeched.

  He blinked, looking at the camera guy, then back at Jasmine. “I’m not looking. I swear.” But he was. He had to. How could he not? She paused in the hallway, sending him a suggestive look. Then she sauntered toward the bathroom door, curling a finger for him to follow her.

  “I guess you can look after all,” she purred, pushing the door open. “Come in. Let’s have a wake and fuck.”

  Donovan’s stomach pitched to his feet. He hadn’t hooked up with any of them, but the pressure was on. He knew it had to happen soon.

  But maybe he could just make it seem like they hooked up.

  Donovan stumbled after her, shutting the door behind him gently. She was all over him a second later, arms around his neck, her lips pressing kisses to his jaw.

  “Hang on. Hang on.” He stilled her, gripping her arms by the sides. “I just woke up, Jas. I gotta brush my teeth.”

  “But I’m so horny,” she pouted. He moved her to the side, reaching for his toothbrush. All of his stuff was in the shared bathroom during filming. Better for high jinks, they’d claimed. And if this wasn’t a high jink, he didn’t know what was.

  “I hear you.” He held up a hand, then reached for his toothbrush. “Let a guy wake up first.”

  She sighed, crossing her arms as he took his time brushing his teeth. He grimaced at her through a mouth full of toothpaste. Once he spit and rinsed, she was back at his side.

  “Come on, baby,” she purred, smoothing her hands over his chest. “Give me what we’ve both been wanting.”

  Melissa. He stilled her hands on his chest. “Actually, I gotta eat something. I didn’t even have dinner last night.”

  She huffed, stomping a foot. “What is it? Is it me? Do I not look good enough?”

  “You look amazing.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and let himself out of the bathroom. “See you later.”

  Donovan hurried down the stairs, eager to get away from whatever the fuck that had been. Had he really just turned down a naked twenty-something in her fucking prime? He was insane. He was more than insane.

  He was falling. Hard.

  He didn’t want to think about it, though, so he just didn’t. He pushed the thoughts to the deepest recesses of his mind, where they could stay forever, for all he cared. If Melissa wasn’t into it, he couldn’t make her.

  He’d stop fantasizing about their sex someday.

  He hoped.

  Melissa rolled up to the house around nine and immediately disappeared into her trailer at the front of the house. He knew, because he hung by the front door, keeping an eye out for her. Donovan busied himself with watering the front flowers. Waiting for her to come in and pass by.

  He stretched out the watering task as long as he could, watering some plants three or four times. Finally, she stepped outside. Glasses sliding down her nose, a flowy top sitting low on her shoulders. She looked gorgeous. Dropping the hose, he straightened as she came over.

  “Morning, Melly.”

  She flashed him a grin, but it didn’t look sincere. “Hey, Donovan. Or should I say Stud-ovan.”

  He lifted a brow while she laughed at her own joke.

  “I just reviewed the footage from the morning so far. So you finally hooked up.” The smile had faded from her face.

  “Uh…” he began. “That really didn’t—”

  “I know. I know.” She waved her hand. “I don’t care. I mean, this is part of the job, right?” Her fake laugh told him she cared more than she wanted to let on. “People are gonna react, though. The fact that you picked Jasmine first.”

  He blinked a few times, wondering how to handle this from here.

  “But it’s a good maneuver, it gives me a good direction for future episodes.” She was speaking quickly, as if she was nervous or couldn’t wait to be done talking about this forever. “Hey. I was thinking. We should hammer out some of the co-parenting details now, don’t you think? Before this gets…I don’t know. Weird.”

  Donovan wet his bottom lip. “Like it’s not already?”

  She let out a tinny laugh, breezing past him. “Weirder, I should have said. See you tonight? Say, eight?”

  He nodded, watching her head toward the front door. “Sure.”

  She pushed inside without another word, the door slamming shut behind her. He stared at the closed door, his insides a strange cocktail of emotions.

  Melissa had drawn a clear line in the sand. This was business for her. And it would remain that way.

  Unless he could get her to give up the act.

  10

  Melissa’s hands were shaking as she headed toward her apartment door. The knock-knock-knock was a foreboding sound. Once upon a time, she’d enjoyed being around Donovan. Back when the banter was lighthearted and the conversation flowed easily and the sex was, well, epic and only a one-time thing.

  But now? Every encounter with Donovan reminded her of one thing: he wasn’t hers. And he never would be.

  Especially not now that he’d started banging the girls on the show. She needed to steer clear, so she would. Which was why they needed to get this contractual stuff settled now, before she totally lost her mind and fell headfirst into the hormonal quagmire that was the rest of the pregnancy.

  She steeled herself before pulling open the door. But when she saw who was on the other side of the door, her jaw dropped.

  The Mesmerizing Bellinis.

  A.K.A. Mom and Dad.

  “Honeeeeey,” her mom cooed, holding out her arms as she swept toward Melissa. Her dad beamed, his pencil-thin mustache always looking more out of place in the real world than under the bright lights of a circus tent.

  “Mom and Dad.” She chuckled softly, welcoming their hugs. “What brings you here?”

  “We were in the area for a scouting mission,” Mom enthused, breezing into the apartment. She dropped her oversized purse on the couch, pursing her lips as she assessed the small place. Melissa and her mom had always disagreed about decorating. Mom wanted loud, bright, expensive, while Melissa chose understated, earthy, and soft. “Trying to open up another west coast circus camp. And of course we had to come see our favorite daughter.”

  “I’m your only daughter,” Melissa reminded them while her dad squeezed her into another hug.

  “Of course, but who doesn’t also want to be the favorite?” Her mom’s megawatt smile reminded Melissa of her stage presence. That overly likeable, fit fifty-something who knew how to shake her a
ss and get a laugh. As the years wore on, her mother’s private presence resembled her stage presence more and more. At this point, Melissa didn’t know which had been cultivated first.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you,” Melissa said, gesturing toward the couch. She hadn’t told them about the positive pregnancy test yet and had planned to keep it a secret for at least a few more weeks. Just to be extra sure that she was out of the first trimester. But with Donovan on his way, she had to figure out how to explain him when he showed up. She sure as hell didn’t want to pretend Donovan was her boyfriend, because then they’d never stop talking about him. Someone as muscular and drop-dead-handsome as him…well, they’d insist they marry on the spot.

  And they’d be able to perform the wedding themselves. Dad was an ordained minister.

  “I’m actually expecting someone,” Melissa went on, wringing her hands. Her skin had prickled, like a warning sign. Maybe Donovan was near. Wouldn’t that just be excellent? Carrying his baby had given her extrasensory skills. “But this is a nice surprise.”

  “Oh, a special someone?” Mom asked.

  “No. A work someone.” She offered a tight smile and then nearly jumped out of her skin when the thud-thud-thud sounded on the door. Shit. Her parents couldn’t have picked worse timing. She hurried toward the door, opening it a crack.

  Donovan’s heartbreaking smile was waiting for her on the other side.

  “My parents are here, and I need you to not mention the baby,” she hissed through the crack, leveling him with her gaze. “Okay?”

  Donovan nodded, and she opened the door, gesturing for him to come in. In a loud voice, she said, “Oh, Donovan! Please come in!”

  Donovan swaggered inside, looking like he’d just gotten off work. He still showed up at his office a few days a week, and those days were her secret favorite, seeing him in a loosened tie, black slacks, and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up. This evening, he looked every inch the casual businessman. His shoes snicked softly against the wood floor as he strutted inside.