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Flirting With My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

Flirting With My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

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Winning is everything, but will I lose my heart?

 

Main Tropes

  • Secret Baby
  • Billionaire
  • Second Chance

Synopsis

Billionaire Kane Leland is finally free of his awful marriage. Keeping his corporate image and his money-hungry ex in check has become troublesome with the news that she's expecting his baby. Add to that her threats to expose him as a neglectful deadbeat, and it's a recipe for corporate ruin. So he has to keep the baby a secret.

Jewelry shop owner Sariah Tate hates drama. She had enough to last a lifetime with her past relationship. When her old high-school flame, Kane Leland, returns home to Maple Creek, Sariah’s carefully-built walls begin to crumble, piece by piece. But she doesn’t know his secret…

Will they be able to put the past aside and find their second chance?

If you like billionaires, secret babies, swoony kisses, and scheming grannies, then you’ll love this sweet romantic comedy. Binge the series, get hooked, and get ready to laugh!

Previously Titled: Her Billionaire's Baby Secret

Intro into Chapter 1

Flirting With My Billionaire Boss

Chapter 1: Callie

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say under my breath. I can’t stop staring at the stick I just peed on.

Positive.

My life is over. How am I supposed to explain this to Markus? My mind is reeling, and I need to stop freaking out so I can think.

But my heart is pounding in my ears, and the bathroom stall is getting a little spinny. I brace against the sides to steady myself, and the test falls into the open toilet.

I stare at it with my mouth hanging open and cringe as I pull it out. The Atlanta airport bathroom doesn’t seem like the cleanest place in the world. I shake off the toilet water and wipe it down with toilet paper. I don’t think I can ever get my hands fully clean again. I toss the paper in and flush the toilet before opening the stall.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Okay. I can do this. Think, Callie. Just think.

The only solution is to run. You think I’m kidding. I’m not. This is no joking matter!

Markus doesn’t want kids. He’s told me that a million times. I’ve been carrying this stupid test around with me for the past week, and I decide that the best place to pee on it is here?

I guess I can just hide it from him. But he’ll figure something is wrong, and then he’ll find a way to get the truth out of me. He always does.

Why can’t I slow down my heart? It keeps pounding. I need to take some deep breaths. I’ve had a feeling that I could be pregnant. It would explain why I was feeling queasy on the plane. I don’t usually get airsick. We’re flying back from another trip to Hawaii, and this is our layover.

If Markus finds out I’m pregnant, he’ll want me to get an abortion. But I don’t want that. I stare down at the double lines on the test. I want to give this baby a life.

There’s no arguing with him. He thinks he’s always right. There would be nothing I could do or say to get him to change his mind about this baby. I’ve been married to the guy for three years. And we dated for five years before that. So I would know. He’s said from the beginning that he doesn’t want kids.

So, my only choice is to run. Because I’m having this baby, whether he likes it or not. That’s when I start to cry like a big, giant wuss.

I leave the stall, toss the pregnancy test into the trash, and go to wash my hands. I’m sure I look like a disaster because a janitor comes in and gives me a strange look before she starts to empty the trash. She’s short and round with dark skin with long blonde hair. She takes one look at my test and looks at me with her eyes bugging out.

“Is this test yours?”

“Yes.”

“You’re crying. Are you in trouble?”

I nod miserably. Then I spill the long, ugly truth to her. “And that’s why I have to get out of here,” I say. “But I don’t know how I’m going to do that without me seeing him.”

She starts to untie her smock. “Wear this. And hold the mop in front of your face.” She hands me the smock. “Push my cart. He won’t think to look at a janitor. One more thing.” She takes off her wig and hands it to me. “Put this on.”

“Okay.” I twist my dark hair up and put on the wig. Then I tie the smock around me. It’s huge and doesn’t smell great, but I don’t mind. I’m just happy to have someone willing to help me.

“What about my carry-on luggage?”

“You can hide it on my cart. Just take my cart to the bathrooms at gate B22 and leave the smock there. I’ll come along behind you and get it.”

“Why are you helping me?” I ask.

“Because I’ve been in your shoes before. I have a few babies of my own.”

I peek around the corner, and Markus isn’t in his seat anymore. Where did he go? I don’t have time to look for him. I squeeze the dirty water from the mop and hold it so it obscures my face. It drips a little onto my shoulder. Here goes nothing. I push the janitor's cart through the Atlanta airport with my suitcase hidden next to the trashcan. The real janitor trails behind me, and I head toward the other bathroom.

A familiar voice makes me stop in my tracks. It’s Markus. He’s right ahead of me, talking on the phone.

“She’s in the bathroom. She can’t hear what I’m saying. I love you, too, darling. I’ll see you when I get back home and I’ve dropped Callie off at the house.”

The janitor looks at me with a questioning expression. She’s probably wondering why I’ve stopped. I can’t believe Markus has been cheating on me. That scum! But it doesn’t matter now because I’m leaving and I’m not looking back, even though I want to give him a piece of my mind.

I walk away from my dirtbag of a husband and head to the bathrooms where I meet up with the janitor.

“I heard my ex back there on the phone,” I tell her once we’re inside the bathroom. “He was talking to another woman. He called her darling and said he wanted to meet up with her after he drops me off at the house.”

“Cheating sack of garbage,” the janitor says. “It’s a good thing you’re running. You’re better off without him.”

“I know you’re right, but it still hurts to think he’s been cheating on me. What’s wrong with me? Am I not enough for him?”

“It’s not you. It’s him. He’s a loser, and you shouldn’t waste a single tear on him.”

It never feels great to be lied to and cheated on. That’s why I need to get out of here and start a new life. Somewhere where Markus won’t find me.

I take off the smock and wig and hand it to my new friend. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you’re not having a better day. You deserve better. No one should have to put up with what you’ve been going through.”

I give her a hug. She smells like cleaner and something else I’d rather not imagine. But I don’t care because she took the time to help a stranger.

“You take care,” she calls out to me.

“Thank you.”  I turn to leave the bathroom and weave through the crowd, dragging my suitcase behind me. Walking until I get to the escalator that takes me down to the train that connects the gates, I pause and look over my shoulder. People push past me in a hurry to make their connecting flights or collect their baggage.

Can I leave without knowing where to go? Credit cards are traceable, so those are out of the question. I only have five hundred dollars on me, the last of the money Markus gave me for my spending cash in Hawaii. That should be enough to get me transportation and a place to stay until I can figure out what I’m going to do next, but more would always be better and can get me further. I ask directions to the nearest ATM and take out as much as it will let me.

After taking the escalator down to the lowest level, I ride the train all the way to the part of the airport that has the baggage claim and the ground transportation. Just before I head outside, my phone rings. It’s Markus. I ignore it and step through the doors that lead outside.

I’m done with wealthy, entitled men. All Markus cares about is his money and how he can either earn more or spend more. Family and friends mean very little to him. I don’t want this baby to be raised to be anything like him. I’m sick of Markus’s money and him trying to use it to threaten and manipulate me.

A text message buzzes on my phone, and I glance down at it.

Markus: Where are you? I’ve been waiting forever for you to get out of the bathroom.

I don’t respond. Instead, I hail a taxi. After I put my luggage in the trunk, I’m greeted by the warm smile of my driver. He’s a bigger guy in his mid-twenties with thick black glasses, messy hair, and a day’s worth of beard. 

“Where to?” he asks.

My head spins as I climb inside. “Somewhere far from here.”

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