Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (19 page)

I sighed and tapped my fingers on the counter. “I won’t be meeting with anyone if this virus doesn’t pass. But yeah, I’m meeting with Scott tomorrow. We’re just having brunch.”

“Rachel, there are other ways-“

“Yeah? And what are those? The annulment went through fine. But I can’t break this business contract with Zane without cash. And there’s no one else who will take on this business with me. Hell, you let me move in with you and sleep three rooms down from your children but you don’t want to touch this business with a hundred-foot pole.”

Liz bit the inside of her cheek, concentrating. “Just be careful with him, okay? Whatever he says, don’t sign anything tomorrow. Think on it. Sleep on it. Because Scott doesn’t do anything for free, I can tell you that much.” Liz held up her hands and I lifted her off the floor. “I’m off to bed.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. The boys and I are actually moving into this place. I’m selling the penthouse in NYC.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Zane was right about Chicago. It gets under your skin. Night, Rachel.”

***

I managed to sleep three hours straight without waking up. It was enough for me to look halfway decent the next day. I only barfed once on my way out to brunch. I was glad that the bug was nearly out of my system. It was a two-hour journey from Liz’s place to downtown involving walking, buses, and the subway. I tried to read but the swaying motion on the train was making me feel ill. I had never been so relieved to step into bitter Chicago air in my entire life.

The freshness of it woke me up and killed my nausea. Scott was already at the restaurant. He stood up and took both of my hands, kissing me on either cheek. “Rachel, you look well.”

I laughed as I sat down. “It’s not for lack of my body trying to kill me. I’ve had a stomach virus. Most of it’s passed, thankfully.” I blushed as I realized that I had just kicked off this business meeting by talking about my upset digestion. I cleared my throat. “Did you already order?”

Scott shook his head. “Of course not. What kind of brunch date would I be if I ordered before my guest arrived?” He snapped his fingers and a doe-eyed server arrived at once. “I’ll have a mimosa. And my guest will have -“ He looked at me questioningly.

“Sparkling water. With lemon,” I said. The door to the kitchen opened up and the smell of eggs benedict hit my nose. I felt a lurch of nausea but managed to recover. Hopefully I could get away with just sipping my drink for the next hour without ordering food.

Scott folded his hands. “How have you been?”

“I hate to be rude, Mr. Friend-“

“Call me Scott. I insist.”

“Scott. I was hoping we could get down to brass tacks? Like I said, I haven’t been feeling all that well.” I gave him a small smile hoping this would offset any perceived rudeness on my part.

Scott nodded. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m assuming you’re still under contract with Zane?”

I nodded.

“Wonderful. My team of lawyers can get you out of that easily. Then we can get straight to work. I’ll give you the same fifty million Zane gave you. But I want a three-dollar royalty on each kit, and you have to agree to license the product.”

I sighed. “I’m just concerned that the larger companies will get in with physicians and charge more than is necessary,” I said.

Scott reached across the table and patted my hand. I had a sudden vision of being touched by a warm, damp rattlesnake. I suppressed a shudder. “Rachel. You have to play the long game. Money now, so you can help people over the long term.” He sat back in his seat as the mimosa and my lemon water were delivered.

“Thank you,” I said to the waiter. He had a plate full of fried potatoes on his tray and the smell nearly made me retch. I put my hand over my mouth and managed to get in a sip of water. Maybe the virus hadn’t passed yet. I stared at Scott, who was smiling. The look of happiness on his mouth failed to soften his eyes. It wasn’t genuine. “You know I have zero leverage here,” I said to him. “And you’re exploiting that.”

Scott laughed. “Oh, Rachel. I’m a businessman. It’s not exploitation. It’s just good business.”

I looked across the café and saw a young couple eating together. They were holding hands. She was about eight months along. They looked happy; the guy kind of looked like Zane. My stomach flipped over not from nausea but from nerves.
Zane
.

The doors to the restaurant chimed open and that’s exactly who blew in off the sidewalk. I dropped my glass of water. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” I said to Scott, mopping up while still staring at Zane. He did look like shit; Liz had been right. He had a scruffy beard and his hair was long and unkempt. He was wearing a business suit that had clearly been worn at least twice already.

I wondered what Michael thought about that, and realized just how bad off Zane must be to have convinced Michael to abandon his duties. Zane’s blue eyes darted around the restaurant. I found myself wanting to crawl into his muscular, tattooed arms and just cry for the next three weeks.

Zane met my eyes. His blue eyes flashed at me. He nearly mowed down our server on the way to our table. He walked over to Scott. “You son of a bitch,” he said loudly.

Scott set down his mimosa and dapped at his mouth with a napkin. “You really want to do this here, Zane?”

Zane slammed his hand on the table. “This is
my
business deal. You have no right to be here with her. What’s he taking, Rachel? Royalties?”

I nodded, open-mouthed and still in shock. “Yeah. Three dollars and we’re going to license-“

Zane shook his head. “You think this company can survive on three dollar royalties? He’s going to blind you with legal talk. You’re going to sign a contract that gives him the whole company. There’s going to be a loophole. He’s going to steal your technology and become even richer off it. Your original vision will be in
pieces
in the streets of Chicago, Rachel, and you will be left with less than nothing. Do you want that?”

Tears were filling my eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because he’s done this before. How do you think he got this rich, Rachel? He’s a snake. He’s a scumbag. He’s worse than the shit on my shoes because at least the shit on my shoes doesn’t take anything from me. Don’t take this deal, Rachel. You will regret it for the rest of your entire life, I promise you.”

Scott was staring at Zane with a smile. “My, my. I wondered what it would take for you to be sent over the edge like this. Apparently the pussy of a redhead is all it takes. If I’d known that, I would have bought one to sabotage you far sooner.”

Zane picked Scott up by the collar, knocking his chair over. The people at the next table over were dialing for the cops. “You arrogant piece of shit. I swear to God I’m going to fucking kill you for saying that.” He punched Scott in the face, blood spraying all over the pristine white tablecloths. A few people screamed. The blood hit my hand and the sight of it made me sick. I stood up to run to the bathroom but didn’t even come close to making it. I vomited spectacularly onto Scott’s Gucci shoes.

All I remembered was him screaming and me feeling the room spinning around me. The last thing I saw was Zane’s face as he dropped Scott and dove to catch me in his muscular arms.

The rest was blackness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ZANE

The beeping of the heartrate monitor was the only thing I could focus on. I meditated on it, and with each rise and fall of sound I breathed in and out with her. I held Rachel’s limp hand in mine, my eyes following the plastic tubing that was snaking out of her arm and up into a bag of clear fluids. My eyes were gummy from lack of sleep. I rubbed my face to try to wake myself up.

The door to the hospital room opened and the doctor appeared. He looked like an infant; clearly an intern wearing a doctor’s coat two sizes too big. “Mr. Reid. Are you Ms. Cobb’s husband?”

I almost said yes. “Ex-husband,” I explained. “But she really doesn’t have anybody else. Well, there’s her sister but I don’t really think that she would come over here. They’re not exactly speaking right now.”

He nodded. “I’m on something like hour forty without sleep so I’m going to make this quick; I’m entirely disinterested in the
Days of Our Lives
saga that is Ms. Cobb’s personal history.”

I felt Rachel stirring next to me. I sat upright. She blinked her eyes and smiled at me for a groggy moment before frowning and attempting to tear the IV out of her arm. “Where am I? What? What happened?”

I shushed her and held down both of her wrists. I was inches from her beautiful face. “Rachel. You’re in the hospital. You passed out at brunch with Scott. I’m here with you. Okay? The IV is giving you fluids. The doctor’s here to tell us the rest. I need you to tell me you understand.”

She blinked a few times and nodded. I sat back down, still holding her hand. I was beyond pleased that she had failed to let go of me.

“Ms. Cobb, you were severely dehydrated. How long have you been vomiting?” the doctor asked.

Rachel furrowed her forehead, thinking. “It’s been about a week, I would say. My roommate has five kids. They, uh. They must have brought home something.”

The doctor nodded absently as he scribbled on Rachel’s chart. “Well, unless her kids brought home an IVF kit to artificially impregnate you as part of a science fair project, I doubt that’s who you got it from.” He laughed at his own dark little joke.

My stomach flipped over. “Excuse me?”

The doctor looked at Rachel, ignoring me. “Ms. Cobb, your blood test results show you are definitively pregnant. Many happy returns. We’re keeping you in the hospital overnight for observation. You’re having severe morning sickness. You may need bed rest for a few weeks.”

Rachel blinked at him and then laughed, punching my arm with her weak hand. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

“I assure you, you are
exceedingly
pregnant. Your HCG levels were off the charts. Congratulations. Press the call button if you need the nurse for anything.” The doctor left the hospital room.

I didn’t know what to say. Neither, apparently, did Rachel. “Oh fuck,” was all she could muster after a few minutes.

We were still holding hands. “It’s…were you with anyone, since we…”

She looked affronted. “No! Does that mean you were?”

I shook my head. “No. Not even my left hand.”

Rachel laughed. It was the best sound I’d ever heard in my life. “I’m guessing not even Zane Reid could get women within a ten-yard radius looking the way you do right now.” She reached over with her other hand and petted the scruff on my face. “It’s almost like you have a pet. I bet Michael isn’t too happy with you right now.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I forced him to go on a four-week paid vacation.”

“Forced him? How’d you manage that?”

“I told him it was either he leaves me the fuck alone or I fire him.”

“Has Roger been checking in on you at least?” I asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. From time to time. When I open the door and let him in, anyway.”

Rachel bit her lip.

I leaned closer to her. “Is it wrong that even with chapped lips and tubes coming out of you, I still think you’re ridiculously fuckable?”

That did it. The trademark Rachel Blush appeared immediately. “I can’t be with you,” she said. “Not…not the way we were before. And I’m not even talking about the contract. I just need time, okay? Time to think. Time to just…be. Away. For a little while. This is all a lot for me to take in.”

I nodded. “I’m not saying I’m happy about it but it’s better than the alternative. Because you’re telling me there’s a chance.” I reached out tentatively and put my hand on her stomach. Her perfectly curvy middle was already firm with the pregnancy. “We’re having a baby, Rachel.”

She beamed. “I know.” We stayed like that for hours, talking and catching up. When dinner arrived, a flavorless hamburger with runny mashed potatoes, I threw it all in the trash can and snuck out of the hospital to retrieve McDonald’s for her. She ended up only sipping the Oreo McFlurry, but I enjoyed her Big Mac and fries.

She set down the plastic cup. “Is Scott pressing charges?”

I shrugged. “I hope so. I’d love to see him try it.”

Rachel didn’t laugh at this. “Why did you punch him?”

“Because he implied you were a whore,” I said. “Nobody talks that way about you. Not in front of me, anyway. I’d do anything to protect you, Rachel. I hope you know that.”

Rachel smiled and squeezed my hand. “The asshole had it coming, one way or another.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RACHEL

I was released from the hospital two days later with strict orders for bed rest. It was the weekend again, and Liz’s kids were taking turns braiding my hair and bringing me water and snacks. They called me Aunt Rachel.

I liked that.

On Monday morning I woke up to my phone buzzing. I reached over, bleary-eyed and groggy, and slid my fingers across the cold glass screen. “Hullo?” I grunted.

Someone was crying on the other end of the phone. “R-r-r-rachel?” It was Callie. I suddenly found myself wide awake. “I n-n-n-need you.”

I had Liz’s housekeeper drive me to Lincoln Park. She helped me up the stairs. I banged on the door. Callie answered it, her face covered in mascara, her hair a rat’s nest of tangles and ponytail holders. She was in a messy bathrobe. The house had a stale air to it that was entirely unfamiliar to me. Callie loved things spotless.

“Thank you, Rosie,” I said to the housekeeper. “I’ll call you if I need a ride back, okay? And tell Liz that I made it here please.” I pulled off my scarf and coat and hung them on the rack in the hallway. It was late morning, and a brilliantly sunny, if cold, day hung outside the windows. But all the curtains were pulled downstairs. I tripped over a box of pizza. Several dozen more takeout containers littered the usually pristine living room.