The Billionaire's Secret Baby

By: Alexis Gold

Chapter One





They rode along in the stretch limousine, slicing down the asphalt highway that led from San Francisco to their private dock in Carmel. The two men occupying the back of the spacious car were looking out of the windows, watching the cities fly past them.



The younger of the two men was sitting up a bit straighter in his seat, his fingers tapping his knee now and then, as he viewed all that they passed with an eagle's eye. "This is going to be an incredible weekend," he said to the slightly older man sitting across from him. Roman nodded and looked out his window thoughtfully, not looking at each thing as it passed, as much as staring past all of it and thinking deeply to himself.



"I'm sure that it will be," he replied with a smile.



Roman glanced at the younger man sitting near him. Allen was his employee, and though only a few years younger than he, Allen's eagerness and vibrant youthfulness was considerable without being immature. It was one of the things that Roman liked best about him.



Allen was tall and thin with carefully combed brown hair. He usually had a wide, easy smile and a loping walk. He had a relaxed posture, which Roman was sure came from Allen's subconscious efforts to slump down from his height and fit in with everyone else. He managed to keep an air of professionalism about him, while still maintaining a laid-back demeanor, and it was the combination of those two traits in particular, that drew people to him and made him successful as one of Roman's sales directors.



This was Allen's first business trip, not only with Roman’s elite yacht and sailboat company, but his first business trip altogether, and it showed in his excitement.



Roman turned his warm brown eyes from his companion to the outside world again, this time watching the city and hills fly past him. The coast came into view before too long, and then he lost himself in the early afternoon lambent light that glinted off the waves rolling in to shore.



It was his home, the water. He was most comfortable in or around any water, really, but salt water was his preference, and it made his job one of his great loves. He made enormous amounts of money selling yachts and sailboats out of his private marina on the San Francisco Bay, and had the passion of a child at play with the yachting club he owned.



He was wealthy in finance and, he supposed, wealthy in life. He was married to a red-headed vixen whom he had fallen for on sight. It didn't take her long to wrap herself around him, and then wrap herself around his wallet and his lifestyle.



Denise was gorgeous, from her bright red hair and her clear pale skin right down to her cosmetically enhanced body and six inch high heels. When other men looked at her, their thoughts went the same way that Roman's had when he first saw her, and there was no way to hide it. Roman had placed a giant rock of a ring on her hand as quickly as he could, and in the beginning they had set fire to their marriage bed almost constantly, but as the years grew older, she was often disinterested in him, too tired or not feeling up to forays of passion and heat.



She had moved herself from their bedroom into her own room, and while she still loved being Mrs. Roman Bruce in the public eye, their private relationship was a hollow shell. He often thought it was ironic how quickly their love had burned through a white-hot blaze and had died down to cooled embers. It made his heart lonely and sad, but he hoped that someday she might find an interest in him again.



Roman thought it ironic that while his wife no longer had any interest in him physically, many other women did. He was tall and handsome in a rugged, almost dangerous way; deep brown eyes, full lips, a narrow nose and high wide cheekbones. Thick dark brown curls crowned his head and were cut short at his collar. His squared jaw was sharp and he often wore a carefully trimmed three-day beard on it, giving him the look of a weekend GQ model.



He loathed ties, and though he was always well dressed in pants, a shirt, and most often a jacket, his shirts were usually unbuttoned just a bit, allowing some breathing room for the muscled wall of his rock hard chest. Women, for the most part, often gave him double-take looks and flirting eyes. They often lingered near him and leaned close to him. They held his hand an extra moment when he held theirs, they smiled and batted their eyes at him, and they laughed too often and touched his arms and his back when they thought they could. Women had been like that with him since he had left high school, and he was used to it, though he did not ever capitalize on it.

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