Taming the Playboy Boss

Ch. 26: Nightmare

"No," I admit, "but I will."

He looks disappointed.

"He and mom are at some engagement event in the Hamptons," I explain. "I didn't want to ruin it for mom." She looks forward to these things.

Andrew nods and I know he understands. Our father would demand everything get taken care of immediately. He'd expect the Police to drop everything they have going on and go after Demers with the guns drawn and sirens blaring like he's some kind of fugitive. And he'd want to either leave the engagement to be present for it, or expect to play-by-play updates. Mom doesn't deserve that, plus Hayes needs more time to look things over to make sure everything that's confidential is covered.

"So Monday?" Andrew asks.

"Hayes said he should be done tomorrow, so I think we tell dad then and call the Police afterwards."

"Okay." Andrew spins his water bottle around on top of his leg. He doesn't say anything else for a while, but I feel him studying me. I drink the rest of my beer while I wait for him to continue. Because I know he will. It doesn't take too long.

"Is it Valerie?" he asks.

I choke on the beer and start to cough. "Is Valerie what?" I ask as soon as I can, but my sputtering and choking gives me away.

Andrew smiles. "I've seen how you look at her, Pres. I'm not stupid."

And just like that, I know he knows.

"Never thought you were."

There's no sense in lying because he won't believe it, and he'll just keep pushing and make a big deal out of it. So I shrug my shoulders.

"Yeah, I like her..."

Andrew's smile gets bigger. "Yeah? Damn, Pres. This is a first for you, I think."

He may be right. Valerie has grown on me, and I like it. And her. A lot. Getting her off in my office today was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen. Just the thought of it has my dick perking up.

I push to my feet and walk over to the bar and pull out another beer, popping the cap off at the built in bottle cap remover. I take a long swallow. It's good. Cold and flavorful.

Liking Valerie is not a problem, as long as I can keep my dick under control. It's the things she makes me want that worry me. Things I've never been into before. Like I want to take her on a date.

Me, taking someone on a date.

And not just the kind where we spend hours in a bed—not that I'd mind that either—but a real date. I want to spend time with her. To really get to know her. I want to treat her to something special, but not too over the top because that might scare her away. So I'll start off by taking her somewhere local. Somewhere she'll appreciate. Like a nice dinner with candles and a bottle of wine.

I'm sure she'd appreciate being wined and dined. I'm just not sure she'd appreciate it with me.

I mean, I know she's into me. That was pretty obvious yesterday. But that might be all she wants. A casual thing, like the ones I'm used to. Kind of ironic how, for the first time, I want something more with a woman and she might not want it with me.

That realization gets me twisted up, but it's not the reason that I'm stressed the fuck out.

Hanna is.

And like Andrew can read my mind, he asks, "what about the rumor I hear about Hanna?"

If I had beer in my mouth, I'd be choking all over again. Worse this time. But I don't, which might be a good thing. I'll live to see another day.

"What the fuck?" I groan. There's a rumor? How can that be? I just met her for dinner a few hours ago.

She was already seated at one of the best tables in the restaurant when I arrived. Her hair was perfectly styled, and she looked as put together as she always did in public. That bright red lipstick I'd enjoyed getting rubbed off all over my cock stained her lips. She smiled when she saw me, but that smile and that lipstick that once got me into her bed did nothing for me.

"Hi Preston," she purred. "Thanks for coming. I'm so happy to see you."

It wasn't like she'd given me a choice, but I was smart enough not to bring that up.

"Hey, Hanna," I said, gave her cheek a quick kiss—because I have manners—and sat down on the chair across from her. The atmosphere was a little too romantic for me. It'd be a place I'd be willing to take Valerie, but being there with Hanna, it just felt off. But then again, so did everything about the situation.

Hanna spent a good hour talking about everything but what we were actually there to discuss. Which was me wanting confirmation she was pregnant and requesting a paternity test. Because no matter what she told me, I was still convinced it was a one time only, and I did not come inside her. I'm not a doctor or a fertility expert, but I'm pretty sure that's required to make a kid.

Hanna's eyes narrowed when I laid my cards on the table, and her lips became a thin line when I requested the test. I could see the emotions flash behind her eyes. She did not like to be told no. Well, too fucking bad. I didn't like to be lied to.

But how did Andrew know about it? Had someone overheard us talking?

"Is it true?" Andrew asks.

I drain the rest of the beer from where I stand by the bar and grab another one. Walking back to the couch, I tell him she's pregnant. That part is true. She showed me the sonogram picture. But I don't know who the father is.

He studies me for a second. "Is there a chance it's yours, Pres?"

"Fuck, man. No, it's not mine." But as I say it, the doubt and the possibility that I might be wrong is still weighing on me. Why else would she go to such lengths to make me believe it's mine? I get that I'm a sought after bachelor, like my brothers, but it's not like Hanna's not well off herself. Her father owns high end car dealerships up and down the east coast. So why me?

"She claims it is."

"I'm well aware," I snap, because it bothers me that she's talking about it. I had asked her to keep it on the down-low until we got the paternity test back. Maybe she didn't appreciate that part, either.

Andrew nods slowly as I sit back down on the couch.

"It might get ugly. From what I heard, she's already telling people it's yours and that the two of you are starting a family."

I groan loudly because what the fuck is wrong with her?

My phone buzzes with a text message. I pick up the phone hoping it's Valerie, and that we can pick up where we left off last night, because I sure as hell could use the distraction, but it's not. It's my mom, and all she asks is "Am I going to be a grandmother?"

What the hell?

My mouth falls open.

"Mom knows?"

"I didn't tell her," Andrew responds.

My phone buzzes again with another message. This one from my dad. His is not a question but a demand; you knocked someone up, you better start planning a wedding.