The Billionaire's Secret Mistress

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Three months after my ex-boyfriend and I broke up, I posted a pregnancy test on social media, set so only he could see it.

The next second, his call came right behind it. Whose is it?

Not yours, that's for sure. I played it light.

I hung up without mercy and blocked him.

That night, the man crossed more than four hundred miles, travel-worn, and showed up at my door.

His eyes were bloodshot, like he wanted to tear me apart and swallow me whole.

In bed, he was worse, driving into me like a man gone mad.

"Whose is it? Who gave you the right to have another man's baby?"

"Does he know you used to be mine?"

My eyes stung, the hurt rising in my chest, and I was secretly savoring it, this loss of control, this jealousy of his, when Dennis Farley calmly pulled back.

Every trace of feeling drained out of his eyes.

"Barbara Winfield, we're done here."

"I'm getting married."

"Who is she?"

Resentment, humiliation, hurt...

Every emotion surged up at once. My face went white, the cold climbing from the soles of my feet.

The only answer was the click of Dennis's lighter.

In that flicker of light and dark, I stared at the wrecked bed, my nose aching.

Back then, the reason we broke up was because I pushed him to marry me.

To avoid marrying me, Dennis had chosen to break up instead.

How laughable, that now he was telling me he was going to marry someone else.

My mouth opened, but the words I'd prepared wouldn't come, not one of them.

That pregnancy test was only my way of knocking on his door, of testing him.

There was no baby. I'd gone to the hospital and bought a doctored one off another pregnant woman.

I'd thought, as long as he still cared, as long as he came, we still had a chance.

And he came, all right. But not to get back together.

"Go wash up. It's still early, you can sleep a while more."

I don't know how the man in front of me got those words out.

"If we're done, then there's no reason to stay together." I made it plain I wanted him gone.

Dennis's brow drew together, something dark moving through his deep eyes.

He said nothing. He just lifted me up against my will, carried me into the bathroom, and washed me down with practiced ease.

Before, when I was tired, I used to nuzzle up to him and get him to wash me.

Back then Dennis was as easy about it as he was in bed, grumbling that he didn't want to, and every time washing me clean anyway.

"Congratulations." Through the patter of the water, I heard my own near-choked, false congratulations.

"What?"

The water drowned it out. Dennis hadn't caught it.

I only felt the humiliation, and I didn't want to say it again. I just shoved him out of the bathroom.

When I came out, I'd thought he would already be gone, but he was standing by the window, smoking.

Dennis watched me come out, reached over to put the cigarette out, and waved the smell of smoke from the room.

"I'll watch you fall asleep. Once you're out, I'll go." He got the words out before I could send him away.

When I woke again, Dennis was long gone.

Even that faint trace of his cologne had faded from the room, as if last night had only been a dream.

My phone rang, shrill and insistent.

I looked. Twenty-some missed calls, all from coworkers.

"Barbie, why aren't you at the office yet?"

"The rural Midwest project wrapped up clean, and today's the day headquarters officially names you department manager. Did you forget?"

"I'm on my way."

I tossed the phone down and rushed to the bathroom to get ready.

But when I went out the door, the little car Dennis had once given me wouldn't start.

He'd brought up giving me a car more than ten times, and every time I'd turned him down.

Until the day a downpour trapped me out in the suburbs and I couldn't get a ride, so I missed my next meeting slot with a client and cost the company over a million dollars.

He used that to make his point, and after a lot of thought, I finally agreed.

But I had conditions. I got to pick the brand, and the price range.

In the end I chose a Nissan, around ten grand.

Cheap. Good on gas.

Dennis wasn't happy about it, said I'd gone too low, but he couldn't argue me out of it, so he let me have my way.

I never thought the man would leave and the car would die right along with him.

There was no time to feel anything about it. I just had to head out and flag down a ride.

But at that exact moment, right in the middle of the morning rush, there was simply no ride to be had.

Then Dennis's black company car eased to a smooth stop in front of me. "Get in."

I refused on instinct and turned to keep walking, meaning to flag something down on the other side.

His brow furrowed. He let off the gas and trailed slowly along beside me. "You won't get a ride this time of day."

"Unless you want to be late."

I hesitated a couple of seconds, then got into his passenger seat after all.

The whole way I didn't look at him, even turned pointedly toward the window, as if that alone could sever any tie between us.

The car stopped a few yards short of the office.

"Dennis, we shouldn't see each other anymore."

I all but fled to the office.

By the time I reached my desk, there were two minutes left before the workday started.

The coworkers I knew well crowded around to congratulate me.

"Congrats, Barbie."

"You finally made it. All that hard work paid off."

"Right? Don't forget about us little people once you're big and important."

I laughed. "Nothing's official yet, don't jinx it."

That was what I said out loud, but in my heart I thought it was as good as done.

Even I believed it.

Since graduating college, I'd stayed on in Harborview.

For years I poured everything into carving out a place for myself in this city.

Overtime with no end to it, whole nights burned through without sleep.

All to prove myself to everyone.

At least now it seemed the hard years were finally paying off.

Unlucky in love, but if I could win at work, that made it worth it.

Then, the very next moment, my boss called me into his office, and the dream shattered.

"Barbara, you did excellent work on the rural Midwest project. But the company's leadership has made a final decision. The project department head position will go to Clementine Chavez."

"Going forward, you'll need to fully support her in her work."

"Why?" I stood there frozen, and it was a long time before I heard my own voice.

"Leadership's decision. Whose decision?" My chest was full of resentment and rage.

That position was what I'd earned with eight uncomplaining years at this company. I'd earned it with blood and sweat. It was mine.

"You promised me yourself. You said that once I finished this project, the project department manager position"

"Barbara, you've been here long enough. I don't need to teach you how things work." Seeing how worked up I was, he cut in right on cue.

I pressed the emotion back down, closed my eyes, and drew a slow breath.

When I opened them again I was a good deal calmer. "Even so, the person replacing me shouldn't be some newcomer who just walked in the door."

He looked at me, started to speak, then stopped.

Maybe he couldn't quite bring himself to stay silent. With a soft sigh, he told me anyway. "You know how it is. In this business, ability is one thing, and connections are another."

"When Clementine joined, she brought a hundred-million-dollar investment project with her. That's eighty million more than your rural Midwest project."

"And more than that, her fianc is Mr. Farley of the Farley Group. So tell me, do you really think that hundred million is all there is behind her?"

"If you were the one deciding, who would you pick?"

As I stepped out of my boss's office, I ran into Clementine Chavez at the door.

She was the kind of girl you noticed at a glance.

Very pretty, with a confidence that shone in her eyes, the sort bred into someone raised in comfort her whole life.

"Hi, I'm Clementine Chavez."

I looked down at her outstretched hand, and for a moment my mind went somewhere else.

This company was a branch office of the Farley Group.

Yet in the eight years I'd worked here, Dennis had never let a single person know what I was to him.

I never cared for the spotlight, and I certainly never wanted anyone saying my hard work was really just Dennis's doing.

But for her, on the very day she started, he all but announced it to the world.

She, Clementine Chavez, was under his protection.

Think twice about who stood behind her before you crossed her.

I almost laughed. Whether he loved you or not, it turned out, had been written into all those years the whole time.

Out of pure spite I stepped past her and headed for the exit.

"I know who you are." Her cool voice came from behind me.

I stopped short, but I didn't dare turn around.

I didn't have to guess where Clementine had gotten her information.

Back then, Dennis and I had dated in earnest, and yet here I was, treated like a mistress who couldn't stand the light, hunted down by the proper wife.

I didn't linger. I walked away fast.

At this hour, Dennis was usually at the gym.

He liked to work out, mostly to keep his head clear.

He'd told me once that exercise kept him sharp.

When I got there, I was stopped at the door.

Usually his assistant came out to bring me in.

I waited a while, and sure enough, Dennis's assistant appeared in the distance.

I was about to go to him when my eyes snagged on someone behind him.

Somehow, Clementine had come too.

She'd changed clothes, the office suit gone, now in a white athleisure set, her long hair loosely pinned up, looking young and full of energy.

I wanted to flee, but my feet stayed nailed to the spot.

"Miss Winfield, we meet again."