Summer of Love: The Billionaire's Baby (BWWM Pregnancy and Marriage Multicultural Love Story) Read online

  Summer of Love: The Billionaire's Baby

  By

  Imani King

  © 2015 Imani King

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expression permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination. Please note that this work is intended for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or older.

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  Excerpt from:

  Summer of Love: The Billionaire's Baby

  "Will you dance with me?"

  I almost jumped up from the table at the offer, beyond eager to leave the awkward subject matter behind.

  "Of course!"

  Was I surprised that Blake could dance? I mean that he could really dance, in a way that would have had women all over him even if he wasn't rich and famous? Well, maybe for five minutes, before I remembered that he seemed to be good at almost everything. It's a rare white man in a suit who can move like that, but it seemed to come to him like so many other things did - effortlessly.

  He watched me with a sly little half-smile on his face, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having. I enjoyed it, too. In fact I loved it - I loved everything about having his eyes on me. It made me want his hands on me, too, and it was that thought that made me take a step back when he moved in close to try and slip his arm around my waist.

  He noticed me backing off and didn't push it, but I made the mistake of trying to explain myself anyway, not wanting to cause offense.

  "I'm sorry," I leaned in and spoke into his ear, "I-"

  I didn't know what else to say. The truth? That I was too afraid of what my own reaction would be if I let him put his hands on me? That I was aching for the feeling of his breath on my neck? So I kept dancing and didn't say anything else.

  "I'm divorcing Vanessa."

  That comment got my attention, shocking me into stillness as Blake looked down at me.

  "What?" I asked, wanting to be sure I'd heard him correctly.

  Instead of repeating himself, though, he just took me by the wrist and led me out a door at the back of the VIP area onto a deserted rooftop terrace. As soon as the door closed behind us, cutting off the noise of the club, Blake turned to me:

  "Sorry about that - I mean, sorry for just laying that on you. For some reason I thought you should know. Vanessa and I are divorcing."

  "Oh..." I said, forcing myself not to rudely ask for details."Oh. Well, I'm sorry."

  I was trying to absorb the news at the same time as part of me was wondering why Blake was telling it to me.

  He leaned over the wrought-iron railing that surrounded the terrace and looked out over the city lights below us.

  "Don't be, Nat. It almost feels like a lesson from the universe - the one thing I convinced myself I was too smart and too worldly to fall for - of course it was going to happen to me. From this perspective it looks pathetically obvious, actually."

  I joined him in leaning on the railing and turned my face into the warm night's breeze.

  "It's not your fault."

  "Isn't it?"

  "No, Blake, it isn't. Bad people exist and none of us have psychic powers - it's just bad luck to run into them."

  Blake shook his head. "I don't know, Nat. She told me it was easy, you know. She said all she had to do was cater to my huge ego and I'm not sure I can deny that that's how it happened."

  "Well so what?" I asked, half wanting to reach out and put my arms around him and half afraid to actually do it. "We all have egos, Blake. It's not like you're a special case. I've fallen for flattery before, too. We all want to be loved, we all want other people to admire us."

  He turned to look at me when I said that but I kept my eyes locked on the orange glow of the city as seconds passed in contemplative silence.

  "I've never met anyone like you, Natasha. Do you know that?"

  Too self-conscious to meet his gaze I just chuckled and wracked my brain for something to say in response.

  "What? Is that funny? Why is that funny? Do you think people like you are everywhere?"

  Finally I mustered up the courage to look at him. His eyes were so blue, even in the semi-darkness of the Los Angeles nighttime. I've never been able to take a compliment and trying to play it down has always been my reaction.

  "Blake, you hardly know me."

  When he spoke next his voice was low and even.

  "I know enough."

  Then, he kissed me. He bent his head down to my level, hands in his pockets, and opened his lips against mine slowly until there was no choice except to kiss him back. I had wanted Blake Charlton before I even met him. Thoughts of being with him had been more frequent than I cared to admit, but up until that moment it was all theoretical. The reality of him standing there in front of me - strong and warm and so, so male - was something else entirely. I could feel my whole body waking up to him, pushing itself forward into his touch when he pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them on my neck. He ran one thumb over my cheek as he slipped his tongue into my mouth and an acute warmth blossomed in the very bottom of my belly.

  "Natasha, you are so damn beautiful."

  Any other time, I would have laughed out loud. But not then, not with the hungry look in his eyes and the feeling of his hands as he explored my body, sinking his fingers into the flesh of my hip and pulling me against him, hard.

  I was fighting with myself - with every instinct telling me to keep going and that little voice in the back of my mind telling me to slow down, to take a good hard look at what I was doing and how, even if he was on the road to divorce, nothing had changed about our respective situations. Blake Charlton was a billionaire and a shining star in the Hollywood firmament - and up until his still-recent marriage he had more than earned his reputation as a player with a huge appetite for women. I was Natasha Ray, broke college graduate with a fridge full of frozen bargain food and a distinct lack of experience with men like that. What was I thinking?

  That's the problem, I wasn't thinking. All I could do in Blake's arms that night was feel - and he felt so damn good.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Natasha

  Chapter 2: Blake

  Chapter 3: Natasha

  Chapter 4: Blake

  Chapter 5: Natasha

  Chapter 6: Blake

  Chapter 7: Natasha

  Chapter 8: Blake

  Chapter 9: Natasha

  Chapter 10: Blake

  Chapter 11: Natasha

  Chapter 12: Blake

  Chapter 13: Natasha

  Chapter 14: Blake

  Chapter 15: Natasha

  Chapter 16: Blake

  Chapter 17: Natasha

  Chapter 18: Blake

  Chapter 19: Natasha

  Epilogue: Natasha

  OTHER WORKS BY IMANI KING

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  Author Bio

  Chapter 1: Natasha

  "Natasha Ra
y?"

  The impeccably groomed secretary looked up from her computer when I walked through the front door of the office and looked at me expectantly.

  "Yes, that's me."

  She handed me a thick sheaf of paperwork.

  "This is a nondisclosure agreement. We need you to sign it before the meeting goes ahead - our client's privacy is of the utmost importance."

  I skimmed a few of the pages she handed me but I didn't look too closely - I was there for the money and if it meant agreeing not to tell anybody else about it, that was perfectly fine with me. After signing the papers, I handed them back to her.

  "Have a seat, Mr. Barrington will be ready shortly."

  I sat down. I had never been in an office like that one before, all marble floors, dark polished hardwood and air-conditioning. It reeked of wealth and I felt distinctly out of place. The magazines arranged neatly on the table were not of the usual tabloids-and-women's-magazines variety. I self-consciously picked up a copy of Architectural Digest and flipped through it, keeping one eye on the secretary. Someone had marked certain pages with little stars and handwritten notes: "Call Jared about this table in mahogany???"

  "Miss Ray? Mr. Barrington will see you now."

  I smoothed my skirt down over my hips and took a slow, calming breath before walking into Mr. Barrington's office with what I hoped was a friendly smile on my face. Of course, as soon as I laid eyes on the couple sitting at the table in front of me my smile was replaced by an expression of shock I suspect I didn't entirely manage to hide.

  Blake Charlton - the undisputed reigning king of Hollywood - and his beautiful young wife Vanessa, who looked even tinier in real life than she did on TV.

  The lawyer, Mr. Barrington, and Blake Charlton both stood up at once, saving me from further embarrassment as I stood in front of all three of them with my mouth hanging dumbly open, too surprised to say a single thing.

  "Miss Ray - this is Blake Charlton," the lawyer gestured to his client and we shook hands as I tried desperately not to act like a starstruck idiot.

  Blake Charlton! I'd seen every single one of his movies. I had posters of him all over my bedroom wall as a teenager - every girl I knew did. He was an icon, beloved by both men and women for his rugged, masculine good looks, his natural charisma and his extensive charity work. Unlike his wife, he did not seem smaller in person.

  "Miss Ray - pleased to meet you, I'm Blake."

  I managed to suppress a "NO KIDDING!" and turned next to his wife, who did not stand up when being introduced. Instead she simply offered me her hand, palm down. For a brief moment I actually thought she wanted me to kiss it, but when she gave no indication of what she did want I just awkwardly shook the tips of her fingers and hoped for the best.

  The meeting was shorter than I expected - I'd already been to the medical check-up that was required and everything had checked out so the half hour or so in the lawyer's office had the slightly odd feeling of a first date of sorts. The lawyer and Blake did most of the talking but as things wound down Vanessa spoke up suddenly, fixing me with her sky-blue eyes and playing with her wedding ring.

  "Why are you doing this, Nat?"

  'Nat.' I wasn't sure if she was trying to be friendly or patronizing but I suspected the latter. Not that it mattered - I had my eyes on the prize and a snooty twenty-one year old wasn't going to get in my way. I smiled at her evenly.

  "I'm doing it for two reasons. Firstly, I'm doing it for the money - this is a life-changing amount for me and it would give me the opportunity to pay off my student loans and take some time to establish my career without having to worry about rent and bills. Secondly, because I'm young and healthy and it would genuinely please me to be able to help any couple in your situation. One of my aunts had issues with ferti-"

  "Thank you, Nat," she cut me off neatly, with a small smile on her face.

  Less than twenty minutes after meeting her I knew Vanessa Charlton was a piece of work. I also noticed Blake Charlton's exasperated expression at his wife's rudeness but neither he nor the lawyer said anything.

  We wrapped everything up with handshakes (except Vanessa, who obviously felt like one limp interaction with a pleb was more than enough) and Mr. Barrington told me they would be in touch, either way. I walked out into the bright, hot sunshine of Los Angeles with stars in my eyes, bursting to tell someone about what had just gone down but determined to stick to the terms of the nondisclosure agreement. A black town car pulled up next to me as I walked back to the bus-stop and one back window rolled down silently, revealing a much more relaxed-looking Blake Charlton. He was better looking in real life than he was in the movies - something I wouldn't have thought possible.

  "Hey - do you need a ride home?"

  "Uh, yeah," I replied, trying to be cool, "sure, that would be very nice."

  The driver hopped out before I had time to do anything and opened the door for me. When I got in I could see that Blake was alone.

  "My wife has an appointment," he started, by way of explanation, "and listen, Natasha, I apologize for her behavior back there. She's very stressed-out by all of this. It's a difficult time."

  I nodded and kept my smile neutral. Surely Blake Charlton was aware of the tabloid narrative regarding his marriage to Vanessa. Successful older actor - he was thirty-four when I met him that day - and beautiful young actress meet on the set of a film she has a small part in, fall in love and marry within months. In interviews both of them tried hard to sell it as a love story for the ages but there had been rumors swirling - surprise pregnancy, possible gold-digging, betrayed exes, trouble in paradise.

  "I appreciate your honesty, by the way. We've met a couple of other women this week and you're the only one who just straight-up admitted she needed the money."

  Talking to Blake Charlton was hard. I could barely even look at him without immediately being struck by how handsome he was - that perfect combination of square-jawed old-school masculinity leavened with a touch of naughty, cocky boyishness. It took all of my power to feign nonchalance during that conversation. He was sitting half-leaned against the car door, facing me while we talked and I was so conscious of just how much space he took up - how his long arms and legs and just his sheer size gave the impression of a man somewhat too big for his environment. He was wearing a suit, too, which didn't help my composure - a dark blue suit with a pale purple dress shirt that stretched deliciously across the expanse of his broad, muscled chest. All of that without even mentioning the one thing that he had built his Hollywood reputation on - his face. All strong, sharp masculine angles, brooding blue eyes and the slightly lopsided, dimpled smile that used to make me and my girlfriends squeal with teenaged delight whenever we watched one of his movies. He didn't look real. He looked like he'd been created in a lab somewhere by a group of scientists tasked with breeding a race of spectacularly gorgeous people whose only purpose was to put the rest of us to shame.

  I managed, though. I'm sure my fluster was obvious but I didn't end up tripping over any of my words or drooling openly.

  "Well, there's no point in being dishonest about it - it's not like anyone would be doing this for strangers without a financial incentive."

  He nodded and I seem to remember the feeling of his attention sharpening somewhat - focusing on me in a way he hadn't during the meeting.

  "I think I've got what you ladies call 'baby rabies' - it's time, you know? I feel that it's time and when Vanessa lost the baby..."

  I tried and failed to keep a look of intense interest off my face at that comment and Blake noticed, leaning in a little closer to me. "You signed the nondisclosure agreement, right?"

  I smiled. "Yeah, I signed it. Don't worry, short of confessions of murder your secrets are safe with me."

  "Good, good. Yeah it was, uh, it was a really difficult time..."

  I had no idea how to handle a conversation about the weather with Blake Charlton, let alone one about painful personal issues. But he was human and on that level even I could
understand that all the money and fame in the world wouldn't lessen the pain of losing a baby.

  "I'm sorry, that must have been terrible."

  He looked out the window and ran a hand quickly through his hair, a gesture I was to become very familiar with.

  "It was. I don't think I realized how much I wanted a family until it was taken away like that, when it was so close. Ever since it happened I feel like I've been almost obsessed with it, you know?"

  He laughed self-consciously after saying that.

  "I'm sorry for spilling all this on you, Natasha. I don't - well, the truth is I don't have many people in my life who aren't Vanessa or my employees. Perhaps you should tack on a fee for listening to me drone on."

  It was one of the oddest afternoons I've ever spent. Me - Natasha Ray, regular girl - and Blake Charlton - rich, independently wealthy and blessed with model good looks - and yet somehow it felt...comfortable, talking to him. There was something slightly vulnerable about him when he spoke, which I hadn't expected at all. I could also see that he was 'off', and I could see the gratefulness he felt at being allowed to be 'off' with me - as opposed to being the larger-than-life movie star. We chatted the whole way back to my little apartment and I'm not going to lie, of course I was attracted to him. It would be impossible for any woman not to be. But there was no hint of impropriety that afternoon, no indication of the wild detours both of our lives were about to take.

  Chapter 2: Blake

  I hovered at the door for a few minutes, watching my wife in front of her enormous make-up mirror as she fussed with her hair and re-applied lipgloss, turning her head from side to side and checking every angle. She knew the paparazzi would be waiting outside our property, lolling against their cars and bickering with each other like a pack of bored vultures - only springing into action at the prospect of fresh meat.

  Our property. It still felt odd to describe Three Palms as 'ours.' Ten months ago, it was 'mine.' It had been mine since I was eighteen years old and my parents had decided to sign the deed over to me as part of an extravagant list of gifts I'd received for graduating high-school. The toniest high-school in all of America, yes. A high-school where the teachers, the students and their parents all understood that low grades weren't things that happened (at least not without major hissy fits, threats of legal action, and the withdrawal of funding), yes. But high-school nonetheless. My mother and father didn't think I was going to graduate. It wasn't my future they were worried about, though. My parents have the kind of money that makes the concept of a 'job' seem as alien to me as paying a Michelin-starred chef to fly in and cater your ten year old's birthday party must seem to regular people - it was their reputation that mattered. They didn't have to work for their money, either. My father inherited it from his father and my mother comes from a long line of east coast blue-bloods. It meant they had spent their lives together trying to be worthy of the privileges that probably no human being ever really could be.