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  BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET BABY

  By Nella Tyler

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Nella Tyler

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  Chapter 1 – Caleb

  Board meetings are the absolute worst, though without them I suppose I wouldn’t be where I am today, and today, I’m at the top of the fucking world. Literally. The building that I occupy can be seen from any part of Seattle, unless it’s raining. It always seems to be raining.

  Compared to the skyscrapers on the East Coast, say those in New York City for example, this tower doesn’t quite compare. Who the hell cares though? My business occupies one of the tallest towers in this city, and slapped right across the damn thing is my name: Markham and Dillon Enterprises. M&D for short, but that doesn’t quite have the same ring to it since my name is abbreviated.

  I’m the Markham: Caleb Markham, to be exact, and Nathan Dillon sat right across from me, listening with intent as a lowly worker presented a new ad concept to all the important people at M&D, which for a multibillion dollar company isn’t many people.

  “For being an ad-based company, we haven’t seen much user interaction when it comes to static ads built into our current aps,” Lance addressed the small crowd gathered around the impossibly long boardroom table. He’s my brother, but his name isn’t scribbled across the tower like mine for two reasons: he wasn’t with us from the ground up and his last name is Parker, which is to say we’re not actually brothers. I mean, we’re half, but semantics, you know. “We can make educated guesses as to why we’re not seeing the engagement we would like to see…”

  I leaned back in my chair and began to daydream about one particular girl in accounting, but it was next to impossible to think about anything other than Lance’s grating voice right in front of me.

  Though we grew up together, and he’s older than me, we were never actually too close growing up. There was always tension between the three of us boys. The only reason he had his pristine job as the head of the advertising department was because our mother—the parent we shared—practically got on her hands and knees begging me to give him the job. A note about the hands and knees anecdote: I’m not positive she was actually on all fours, or even twos for that matter, as the begging was done via phone since she took off for the Caribbean with half of my father’s money.

  Yeah, all those years later and I was still salty as hell about that, but we’re not talking about a few thousand dollars; we’re talking about millions. In the end, I ultimately gave him the job, not because of my deadbeat mother’s begging, but out of the amusement I’d get bossing my older brother around.

  “Static ads are a relic of the past,” Lance continued, and I decided that perhaps I should be listening to his proposal. “Rival companies have seen greater success with video ads in the past four quarters, so my idea is to create ads that are a brand in themselves. The goal is to deliver a comedic punch that entertains users first and then finishes with a real-world solution to drive app downloads.”

  I raised my hand in the back of the room, not because I needed permission to speak, but because it was a long-held relic from my Harvard days. “I understand the point, and I understand the need to pivot from static ads but I’m not sure I’m seeing enough branding in your proposal. Again, I understand the intent, but I’m just not seeing the big picture.”

  “No surprise there,” he mumbled under his breath, words that I couldn’t hear but could see all too well as I’ve always been a great lip reader. He cleared his throat and continued, “Look, I’m the head of advertising for a reason, and I’m telling you this right here is our solution.”

  “Fine,” I scoffed and sat up straight in my chair, twiddling a pen between my fingers. “As an alternative, which is just a suggestion, perhaps instead of reinventing the wheel, so to speak, when it comes to branding anyways, why don’t we just work to push static ad quantity?”

  “Based on internal polling, our client base is already annoyed by the current level of ad placement, to the point where we’re seeing up to forty percent retention within the first two weeks.” He sighed and shook his head. “Look, the public associates static ads with internet browsers, not reward-based incentives inside apps that are otherwise useful, affordable, and fun. If we can offer in-house advertisements in exchange for free days of use, then there’s a very good possibility we’ll see more users download and use M&D apps.”

  “I hear what you’re saying.” I stood up from my chair and began to pace to the floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn’t rare that I would fight against Lance’s ideas. Sometimes, the only reason I’d be fighting them was because they were his ideas. What can I say? I was a stubborn asshole. “It’s just—”

  “Caleb,” Nathan pleaded as he cocked his head to me, “Can you please sit down; you’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry about that,” I sneered and brushed one finger against my nose as I plopped back down into my comfortable chair. “What do you think?”

  “Me?” Nathan questioned with his pen pointed squarely at him. “I think we should give him a shot to make it work.”

  “Interesting,” I whispered and switched my attention back to the inept lad in the front of the room. “Nathan apparently thinks it’s a good idea.”

  “I think,” Nathan began sheepishly, “it’s a good starting point, and a great idea in theory, but we all know theory often goes out the window in practice.”

  I cleared my throat and cocked a cocky grin. “We need to wrap up this meeting soon.” I shook my wrist and took a glance down at my diamond-accented watch . “It’s a busy day and we all have our work to do.”

  “This can work.” Lance pushed his tongue against his cheek and bowed his head with a sigh. “It has to.”

  “Right on then.” I pushed my chair back and landed on my feet once more. “Like our friend Nate over here, I’m going to give you a shot at making this work.” I reached for the stack of papers and folders in front of me and pushed them to the side, where my assistant, Laura, sat. She was a tall woman with long blonde hair and legs for days. If it weren’t for my disdain for the boss-secretary stereotype, I would have shown her what the city looks like at night with her bent over my desk. As it stood, however, she was my assistant and nothing more. “Draw up some storyboards and we’ll go from there.”

  “I will have them before the weekend.”

  “Wonderful.” I forced a fake smile, a smile Lance and everyone else in the room knew all too well. It was a difficult task to be deceptive in any manner when everyone had grown accustomed to my tricks and sarcasm. “Can’t wait to reconvene in this stuffy room.” I threw my arms over my head and let out a loud, obnoxious yawn. “Unfortunately, I have some issues to deal with in accounting, so I’ll be needing to leave.” I looked down at Nathan. “I trust that you’ll be able to handle the rest of this meeting.” Then, I looked to Laura: sweet, beautiful, untouchable Laura. “And I trust that you’ll take adequate notes.”

  She blushed and smiled. “Of course, Mr. Markham.”

  “It’s Caleb,” I pointed out with a wink. “But you already knew that.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “You can find me in your office afterwards.”

  With that, I took one last glance at the room. Lance stood in the front with visible annoyance across his face. Nathan sat in the back beside Laura with a bemused expression across his. And
then there were various executives and assistants who always seemed to be quiet, too quiet, as if they were planning my demise.

  Did no good to be paranoid though, so I exited the room with a cocky smile and a swing of the door.

  # # #

  I waited for Nathan outside the boardroom with my back pressed against the glass windows. Lance was the first to emerge after myself, storming out of the room with his briefcase in one hand. He noticed me standing there and rolled his eyes at me.

  “I thought you had a meeting,” he huffed.

  “It was canceled,” I shrugged and watched with amusement as he shook his head and tapped the button beside the elevator shaft. “Did I miss anything?”

  He paid me no attention and slipped into the elevator as soon as the doors opened. I eyed him up and down as he stood inside the small box and saw some similarities between the two of us; we were both tall, thanks to our supermodel-tall mother, and we both were fit. He was fit because he was a swimmer in his free time, and I was fit because I was born with excellent muscle memory and had the finances to afford a home gym any adolescent athlete would dream of. I also had an indoor swimming pool, not because I loved to swim, but because I was always in the business of one-upping Lance. Poor guy.

  A stream of suits followed next, all offering a warm nod to me as they either marched down the hallway or piled up at the elevator. I knew many of them resented me, but they were great at their jobs at least. It wasn’t my job to be best friends with everyone. After all, I had learned early in life that best friends were overrated and given the opportunity, they’d stab you with a well-placed knife.

  Laura exited next, but I don’t think she even saw me as she gathered with the crowd waiting outside the elevator. I chuckled to myself seeing them all—about a dozen of them—waiting for the elevator when just seconds prior, Lance, that bastard, stole a ride to the lobby all by himself. It was similar to watching the Titanic sink and loading the lifeboats with seven people when they could have fit a hundred.

  Finally, Nathan stepped out of the room and passed a bemused expression my way with a shake of his head. He didn’t say a word though, which was odd, so I joined him at his side as he made his way down a long hallway.

  “I thought you had a meeting,” he pointed out. “That was a quick meeting.”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled. “There was no meeting.”

  “Really?” He glared at me. “I honestly had no clue.” He pointed his finger at his own face. “This guy truly thought you scheduled two meetings in one day when I literally have to drag your ass to the boardroom for any meeting.”

  “You know me too well.”

  He stopped and twisted on his foot to face me. He was a stocky guy, bigger than myself anyways. Blond hair and green eyes, he was able to woo girls with his brilliance, which more than made up for his lack of an athletic build. The glasses also didn’t hurt, as that was all the rage then. Meatheads are out and geeks are in; that’s what he would always say.

  “I’ve known you practically your entire life,” he said. “I know when you’re lying, or more rarely, telling the truth. And I know when you’re being stubborn to be stubborn, and that in there was the perfect example of you being an asshat because you can.”

  I scratched at my nose and bowed my head with a smile. “You know, I’d fire you—”

  “You can’t.” He placed his palm on my shoulder, which was quite a feat because he was a good seven inches shorter than me. “Sometimes you’re too hard on him.”

  “And you’re too easy on him, so I guess that means we cancel each other out.”

  He pursed his lips and contemplated my words of wisdom. “Everyone has always said we make a great team.”

  “We didn’t go from a Harvard dorm to an empire in four years by pure luck.”

  “You should know better than that.”

  I arched my brows and cocked my head sideways. “Know what?”

  “Luck exists.” He glanced around at our surroundings—an open and wide hallway lined with cubicles on either side, and the elevator down the way. “We built this company from the ground up, but to discount that luck played a role is asinine.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off with my hand and began walking again. “You really think Lance is onto something?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I think the implementation will be difficult, but if it works, it could really assist our expansion efforts.”

  “I begrudgingly agree with Lance on your behalf,” I groaned. “It’s just easier to give him a hard time.”

  “He’s an asshole, I agree, but it’s not like he’s terrible at his job.”

  “I said I begrudgingly agree.” I glared at him. “Now, let’s leave well enough alone.”

  “Don’t need to bust my ass, Caleb.” He retrieved his phone from his pocket and raises it to his ear. “I have to make this call to R&D. Don’t forget about the happy hour later.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.” He nodded and then began speaking into the phone. “Yeah, this is Nathan Dillon. We received the user reliability ratings from the beta and I think it’s best if we schedule a meeting to discuss…”

  I tuned him out and stopped walking once I reached the end of the hallway where the cubicles gave way to a large, open space. The wall was made entirely of glass and I could see the city and everything beyond it for miles.

  The last thing I wanted to do after work was to go to that damn happy hour, even if its purpose was to celebrate the four-year anniversary of the company Nathan and I had built together. I was immensely proud of our accomplishments, and even more satisfied with my bank account, but I would have much preferred to celebrate our success alone, with a nice bottle of whiskey and a parade of women.

  Chapter 2 – Lindsay

  I was sitting in my favorite café with my favorite person in the world, or at least my favorite person in Seattle. The first few months at M&D weren’t easy, though I was beyond grateful for the opportunity straight out of college—UCLA to be exact. I went to one of the best business schools in this country but bombed interview after interview. My nerves were shot after I was officially hired as a junior accountant. Thankfully, after a few months of good work, I started to be noticed by those above me and soon after, I connected with Ina, a senior accountant.

  We’ve were inseparable from that moment on, though a driving factor in that could have been that we were literally stuck together for five days a week, and sometimes six.

  With only an hour to spare each day, there weren’t many options around to slip out for work, so we frequently visited a café just down the street from the office. Gina’s Café became my second—or third, I guess—home.

  I leaned back in my wooden seat as the server, Charles, slid a well-portioned salad topped with strawberries, walnuts, and grilled chicken in front of me. We were still a good month out from the true beginning of summer, and I was craving the heat after a cold, rainy spring that followed a freezing winter.

  Opposite from me, Ina was served a dozen buffalo wings and a platter of chili cheese fries. The mere sight of her meal was enough to give me second-degree heartburn. She reached forward and dived into the basket of wings, but eyed me with scorn. “Girl, are you really eating a salad?”

  “This is no ordinary salad, I’ll have you know.”

  “A salad is a salad. You can toss it, you can drizzle it with bacon ranch, you can add a thousand and one slices of delicious avocado, but it’s still a damn salad.” She shook her head and took a bite out of a sloppy wing. “I’m just saying, I’m a bigger girl and that paltry meal would only make me hungrier.”

  She was a bigger girl, but not too big. Maybe twenty pounds overweight, but she was more than comfortable in her skin and that was beyond admirable. She was the most loveable girl I’d ever met, and it was a testament to her character and charm that everyone in the office thought the same. Over the course of any day, you’d hear whispers from one co-worker about anot
her, but her name never came up in any conversations in a negative light, at least not conversations I was privy too.

  For a while, on the rare occasions we’d hit the town, we’d tell everyone we were sisters because our hair colors were exactly the same—brown, and under the right lighting, her blue eyes seemed to match my green eyes. Other times, we’d tell men we were lesbian lovers to keep douchebags at bay when all we wanted was an apple martini on a chill Saturday night.

  “I’m trying to watch my figure,” I said as I pulled my fork from the cloth napkin it was wrapped in.

  “What the hell for?” She rolled her eyes and chewed the remainder of the meat off a wing before dropping it back into the basket. “You’re skinnier than Beckham.”

  “Because,” I chuckled. It wasn’t about being the skinniest girl in the world; it was about staying healthy in an increasingly unhealthy world. Sure, I was skinny then, but I also knew my metabolism would eventually fall over a cliff and I wanted to prepare myself with a healthy lifestyle when I was still young. “Just because.”

  “It’s not like you’re out there fishing for dick.”

  “Ina,” I scolded her playfully. “Just because I have standards—”

  “Ridiculous standards.”

  “It is too much to ask for a man that has something going on other than his swag?” I took a bite of my salad, but continued to speak while chewing. It wasn’t like me to be rude, and chewing food while talking is certainly rude, but again, we only had hour-long breaks and it took a good twenty minutes to walk to the café and order our food. “Is it so wrong to want a man who has his life put together, is kind and sweet—”

  “I realize you’re not even half way done with that list of yours and the damn answer is a damn yes.” She reached for her Coke and took a long sip, her eyes never failing to glare at me all the while her lips were molded around the straw. Finally, she batted her eyes to the left and a smile rippled across her lips before offering me a wink.