My Stepbrother's Secret Baby: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (12 page)

BRENNA

“Push, Brenna!” the nurses encouraged me. I glanced up at Trenton and his eyes never left mine, just as he’d promised. I didn’t want him to look down there until the time was right. Some things you can’t un-see. “Keep pushing!”

“You can do this,” Trenton said lowly, assuring me. “You’ve got this.”

An hour of pushing felt like a lifetime, but at 4:55pm on a beautiful September day, our little Anastasia Chance was born. A full head of dark hair and beautiful milky skin, she was the vision of an angel and the true product of fate, destiny, and love.

The moment the nurses put her in my arms, I bawled like a baby. I’d never felt much love in my life, and I wondered if that was what my mother felt like the first time she held me.

I held her up to my face, kissing her chubby cheeks as Trenton snapped photos like a proud, beaming father. Who’d have thought this billionaire playboy with a penchant for fast cars, women and money would turn into a mushy ball of goo and settle down into a family kind of life? Life was funny that way.

I glanced up at Trenton who had tears in his eyes as he watched us.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” I asked, smiling proudly and holding her close.

“Stunning,” he agreed. “The decorator said the nursery is good to go now. And the nurses said you two should be coming home tomorrow.”

“Oh, good,” I said.

“I can’t wait to get you guys home,” he said, never taking his eyes off our beautiful daughter. “I never thought I’d feel this way, but I’m pretty excited for this new chapter.”

“Knock, knock,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway. Hidden by a bouquet of flowers and balloons was Trenton’s mother. He formally introduced us shortly after he realized he’d fallen head over heels for me. She was a true gem. The sweetest, most loving woman I’d ever known besides my grandmother. She still didn’t know about our past, but Trenton assured me it was the right thing to do. He just wanted to make her happy. “Let me see my grandchild!”

Her face was beaming as she reached over to pick up the baby and cradled her in her lithe arms. Trenton later said that his mother had never looked so beautiful or proud as she did in that moment, holding her grandchild.

“Let the fun begin, eh?” she said with a wink. “Did you pick out a good baby nurse?”

“No, actually, Brenna’s going to do it all herself,” Trenton said proudly. “She’s super woman, this one.”

I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine anyone else raising our baby, and I sort of think Trenton loved that about me.

“Good for you,” his mother said. “Some women are just naturals at that sort of thing.”

Anastasia began to whimper a bit. “I should probably feed her,” I said.

Trenton and his mother excused themselves and gave Anastasia and I some alone time.

“Hi, baby girl,” I said as I fed her. “I just want you to know that you are so loved and so wanted, and I’m so glad I made the decision I did. I’ll love you forever, and so will your daddy. You’re a very lucky, very loved little baby.”

I traced my finger over the curves and outline of her chubby little face as a happy tear fell down my cheek. This was bliss. This was happiness. Trenton and Anastasia were my world now. Nothing else mattered.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Addison Albaugh is a married mother of four living deep amongst the rolling green hills of Tennessee. When she’s not chasing after her kids, she’s helping her husband out on the horse farm or baking up a storm in the kitchen. This is her first novel.

If you loved her first story, she’d be tickled pink if you’d take the time to leave a review on Amazon!

THANK YOU!

Thank you so much, dear reader, for picking up this sweet little love story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ve always been quite fond of mysterious alpha males who just need to meet the right woman in order to open up a bit. And I’m in no way speaking from experience here (wink, wink)!

I plan on releasing romance novellas on a regular basis, so if you enjoyed this story, it would be awesome if you took the time to right a review. I read each and every review I receive, and they help teach me what I’m doing right and what I could be doing better.

Love and light,

Addi

PS – If you page ahead, I’ve included a preview of my other book –
STEP BY STEP
, which is available now!

MIRABELLE

Seven credits. That was all that was standing between me and hanging that marketing degree on my wall. For four years I worked my ass off. While all my friends were going to frat parties and concerts and bar hopping in campus town, I was holed up in my dorm room doing final edits on term papers and studying for my next exam.

My hard work and determination had paid off the second I found out I’d landed the internship at the prestigious Woodfield and Halston advertising agency in Manhattan. Not only was it THEE place to intern if you wanted a chance at landing a job in this career field after graduation, but it was owned by my former stepbrother, Preston Woodfield, and I hadn’t seen him in over ten years.

For weeks I agonized over what I was going to wear that first day. I wanted to make a great impression. I wanted to blow them all out of the water and show them what a ball busting protégé I was, especially Preston. He was a good seven years older than me, and all I remembered was what a jerk he used to be to me. The thirteen year old me secretly thought he was a dreamboat. I wanted him to like me. To pay attention to me. To tell me I was cool or pretty or whatever. But the twenty-year old know-it-all who only came home during college breaks had no time for me. He never did. My mom’s marriage to his dad only lasted but a year or two, but I never forgot him or the way he made me notice boys for the first time. Something about him stirred an awakening deep inside me, and I was never the same after him.

One semester at Woodfield and Halston, sixteen weeks, and I’d be walking across the stage at Southern Georgia State University at the top of my class.

“Mirabelle Baker,” I said in my sweet, southern drawl as I approached the desk of the firm. The clock on the wall read 7:45, and I quietly reveled in the fact that I was early. Mirabelle Baker was nothing if not punctual. “I’m reporting for my internship.”

My lips parted into a polite smile as the lady at the desk looked me up and down before picking up her phone. I stood with my hands folded and my black, leather satchel hanging off my shoulder as I patiently waited for her to direct me.

“You’re going to be shadowing Monica today,” she said. “Fourth floor. Turn left off the elevator. Her office is the fifth one on the right.”

“Thanks so much,” I said before heading off towards the bay of elevators. Excitement coursed through my veins in the form of nervous butterflies and sweaty palms. Full of adrenaline and ambition, I couldn’t wait to jump in and get my hands dirty. I’d learned so much at Southern Georgia State and applying those things in the real world was just moments away.

“Knock, knock,” I said in a sing-song voice as I rapped on Monica’s office door a short time later.

The chair spun around to reveal an aging blonde with lips the color of ripe cherries and thick-rimmed glasses covering her crystal blue, crows feet-flanked eyes. At first glance, she seemed nice and approachable. And then she spoke.

“Can I help you?” she said in a monotone voice, as she looked me up and down. A long strand of pearls dangled from her neck and pooled on the desk beneath her.

I tugged on my white button-down blouse. I was sure I’d ironed out each and every wrinkle the night before, but she was suddenly making me doubt myself for a second. I smoothed my hands along my navy pencil skirt before returning them to my sides.

“I’m Mirabelle Baker,” I said with wide eyes. “Your new intern, ma’am.”

She squinted her eyes and looked down at her calendar, which was hidden under a mess of paperwork. “Oh, yeah. That’s today.”

I lingered in the doorway until she finally motioned for me to come in. I pulled a chair out from the front of her desk and took a seat.

“So,” she said. “Tell me where you’re from again?”

She pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, and she was already exhausted. By the looks of the bags hanging under her eyes, she’d likely pulled an all-nighter.

“Southern Georgia State,” I said with a proud wink. “Majoring in Advertising with dual minors in Marketing and Psychology. Should graduate this spring. I just have to say, I’m so exited to be here. This was my dream internship and -”

“Yeah, good, okay,” she said as she interrupted me. “You can just, um, shadow me and get a feel for what I do for the first few weeks. We can play it by ear from there.”

I sunk back a little in my chair, disappointed. “I kind of hoped I could dive in head first. I have a lot of great ideas, and -”

“Ha,” she chuckled. “You and every other intern here this semester. You know there are fifteen of you?”

“Oh, I had no idea,” I replied. “No one told me that.”

“Actually,” she said as she glanced down at her watch. “I think there’s some sort of intern orientation going on right now that you’re required to attend.”

Panic seared through me. “No one told me that either.”

I’d always prided myself in never missing a thing, never being late, and never being out of the loop. I quietly chided myself for missing out on the orientation memo. I slipped my purse around my shoulder and stood up to leave.

“Where are you going?” Monica asked with one raised eyebrow.

“To see where the orientation is,” I replied. I tugged one strand of my flat ironed, ashy blonde hair behind my ear. “I shouldn’t miss it.”

Monica pinched her face, seeming almost frustrated that I couldn’t read her mind. “Nah, sit back down. Those things are stupid anyway. You’re with me. You’ll be fine.”

I slowly retreated back to my seat and waited for her to make the next move. As she rifled through mountains of paperwork that surrounded her, I couldn’t help but notice the pictures lining the console behind her desk. Family portraits revealing a younger Monica with small children filled the space, and judging by her teased bangs and shoulder pads, those pictures were woefully outdated. I imagined her children were grown, and judging by the lack of a ring on her left hand, her husband was probably long gone too. She was clearly married to her job and that was something no man could ever compete with.

Monica pursed her lips, revealing tiny wrinkles that suggested she might have been a smoker at one point in time. “I just remembered I have a meeting this morning.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “Do you want me to go or should I stay here?”

“Come,” she said as she stood up. She fished around in one of her desk drawers and pulled out a legal pad and handed me a shiny silver pen. “You can take notes for me.”

The desk on her phone rang and she sighed audibly, as if it were an inconvenience to answer it.

“I know, Tiffany,” she groaned. “I’m on my way. Tell Mr. Woodfield, we’ll be there in a minute.”

Monica motioned towards the door as she slammed the phone down and ushered us out.

“Is Tiffany your assistant?” I asked. I hated to be that annoying new person with the fifty million questions about every tiny thing, but if I was going to blow them all out of the water, I wanted to know who everyone was, what they did, and how the firm operated.

“Yes,” Monica replied.

“So we’re going to a meeting with Mr. Woodfield?” I asked as we arrived at the elevator bay down the hallway. My heart thumped hard in my ears. I hadn’t seen him in ten years. Would he even recognize me?

“Yes,” Monica replied, only this time I sensed a slight annoyance in her tone. “And Mr. Halston.”

The elevator dinged as the doors parted and we stepped in with a group of at least seven other employees. Monica slammed her hand against the button for the sixth floor and pressed the door-close button. She clearly had no Mirabelle.

“Hurry up,” she said as we practically ran down the hallway and towards a conference room. It wasn’t my fault we were late, but she was acting like I was holding her up.

She flung the glass doors open and we took a seat in the only two remaining vacant chairs as twenty sets of eyes watched our every move.