Carrying The Billionaire's Baby. SUSAN MEIER
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would see us yesterday?”
She crossed her arms on her chest.
“You were right. A reporter for the Gazette took a picture. We made the society pages. Baby bump and all.”
“Oh, no.” She sank onto one of her club chairs.
“My mother’s in Paris and I had planned on flying there for the weekend, but I told Pete we’d go today and tell my mom before she sees it online.”
She gaped at him. “You told my boss my baby is yours?”
“No. My lawyer saw the picture in the paper. He figured it out and called me.”
“And he’s sending me to Paris with you?”
“No. Having you go was my idea.”
She bounced out of the chair and grabbed her briefcase. “Then I’m not going! I have a job.”
He winced. “Well, you do but you’re off anything that has to do with McCallan, Inc.”
Her face fell. The briefcase slid to the floor.
“Pete says it’s conflict of interest since we could be on opposing sides of a custody battle.”
“There are still plenty of other things for me to work on. The firm has defense cases that don’t even nip the edge of any of your corporate work. Those are the ones I want anyway.”
“That’s for you and Pete to settle when we get back. Right now, we have to tell my mother about the baby. And before you argue, I’m not doing this alone. You kept this from me for six months. I’m sure you had your reasons. But the bottom line is, we are both this baby’s parents. If we want to make fair, equitable decisions for our child, that starts with us presenting a unified front right from the beginning.”
* * *
Avery stared at him for a few seconds. Though she wanted to argue, she saw his point. They did need to start being parents to their child. And she suddenly saw what her mom was talking about when she said they needed a step to begin trusting each other. If she did this for him now, that could begin a trend of cooperation.
Or maybe this could be the first step of their negotiations?
“I want to strike a deal.”
His eyes narrowed. “A deal?”
“I’ll go to Paris with you, if you agree not to use something in my dad’s past against me when we start talking custody.”
“Something your father did?”
“Do we have a deal or not?”
“Was he a serial killer?”
“Actually, he didn’t do anything wrong.” She winced. “That’s kind of the point.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong, but people thought he did.”
“Yes.”
“So, he was unjustly accused of something.”
“He was actually tried and convicted. He spent six years in prison. Then one of his coworkers confessed that he’d framed my dad. He also produced sufficient evidence that my father was innocent and eventually he was released.”
“Oh.”
She pointed at her watch. “Time is ticking away. If you don’t want the deal I need to go to work. My father is as innocent as a newborn baby. One of the nicest guys you would ever meet. It wouldn’t be fair for you to dredge it all up again. Worse, if you did, it would reflect poorly on you.”
“Yes. It would.” His head tilted. An odd expression flitted across his face. “So, the deal is you’ll go to Paris with me if I don’t bring up what happened to your dad.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Relief washed through her. It wasn’t exactly the culmination of any of her plans, but she’d won a significant victory.
“Good. Let me pack a few things and we can be on our way.”
She tossed a dress and enough jeans and T-shirts, undies and toiletries for a day or two into her scuffed-up duffel bag. As she slid the wide strap to her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her reflection and grimaced. The thing looked as if it had gone through a war. Just like most of her personal possessions. She might live in a beautiful home in a great part of the city, but only because her condo had been an investment. When she returned to Pennsylvania, she would live in a small house in a small town. Most of her money would go toward her practice.
She’d always have enough to take good care of her child but he or she certainly wouldn’t live in the lap of luxury. Her condo and nice work clothes might have fooled Jake into thinking she had more than she did, but she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth forever. She was squarely in the middle class.
Her relief at her deal with Jake faded into nothing. Getting him to agree not to use her dad was a victory, but there were so many other things he could use. So many other ways he could keep her in New York, destroying the goal she’d been working toward since she was a teenager. Especially since she’d planned on her child going to public school, taking a bag lunch and riding the bus. None of this would sit well with the clan McCallan.
Jake had tons of things he could use about her life, about what she wanted to do with her life, to give him leverage.
She and Jake took the elevator to the lobby and walked onto the street. At six thirty, the city was beginning to show signs of life. Car tires made soft swishing noises as they drove through puddles left behind by the storm the night before. Streetlights flickered as the sky shifted to whitish gray.
Jake directed her to a black limo. The driver opened the door and she slid inside onto white leather seats. Jake slid in behind her.
The driver closed the door and Avery heard another door open and shut. The engine started. The limo began to move.
Jake smiled ruefully. “I rushed you so much. I’m not even sure you’ve had coffee yet.”
“Can’t have coffee, remember?” She glanced around, her tension mounting. A family accustomed to limos would not let their first grandchild ride a big yellow school bus.
He winced. “Sorry. I’ve got some juice stocked if you’d like that.”
She nodded. “Yes. Apple if you have it.”
He opened the door of what looked like a console table exposing three bottles of juice. All of them orange.
“You sure you don’t want orange juice?”
“It gives me heartburn.”
“Sorry. We can stop somewhere.”
“No. I’m fine. Let’s just get to the airport.”
Pulling his phone from his pants pocket, he said, “We’re not going to the airport. We use a private airstrip.” He hit a speed dial number. “And everything you need will be on the plane.”
The person he’d called must have answered because he said, “Andre? I need you to make sure there’s apple juice on the plane. And...” He caught her gaze. “Eggs for breakfast? Oatmeal? Box cereal? Bacon?”
Bacon? Her stomach growled. There was no sense in pretending she wasn’t hungry. “Bacon and eggs and rye toast would be great.”
“With apple juice?”
“With apple juice.”
They reached the airstrip in just a bit over an hour, and climbed onto the McCallan family’s private jet. She’d expected something compact and simple. Instead, she entered luxury so intense it magnified all her fears. The setup of the front space was more like a den than an airplane cabin.
Jake pointed to a door in the back of that section.