5. Inevitable
Faith
The chef sent over a breakfast of blueberry pancakes and fresh fruit. I devoured it, grateful I had some privacy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, and I was exhausted and famished. Once I finished, I loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, which opened stiffly and appeared to have never been used. I glanced around the kitchen again. There was neither a speck of dust anywhere nor a crumb.
Who lives like this? Fascinated, I opened the refrigerator. It was stocked top to bottom with organized and color-coded containers of fresh fruit, vegetables, exotic-looking salads, bottles of hydrogen water—whatever the heck that was—and protein shakes. I wondered, not for the first time, who Cassius Blackwood was. Who had kept food color-coded in their refrigerator?
Sighing, I helped myself to water and a container of grapes, color code purple, then strode out to the pool.
I gasped when I saw the grounds. Cassius didn’t just have a pool—he had a resort in his private backyard. The pool was almost as large as the mansion’s and stretched as far as the eye could see. There was a hot tub, pool house, and a patio equipped with an outdoor kitchen, bar, and flatscreen television. Artfully arranged chaise loungers completed the space. A privacy fence surrounded the area; Cassius could do whatever he wanted out here, far from the prying eyes of the other guests.
I shivered. Would he want to do anything with me back here? Or were those days gone for good?
I padded to the pool house. A lounge area was inside, complete with a couch, a bed, another bar, and a full bathroom stocked with designer makeup and toiletries. I found the enormous walk-in closet filled with brand-new swimsuits for men and women, robes, coverups, flip-flops in all colors and sizes, sunglasses, and sun hats. The contents of the bathroom and closet alone must cost a small fortune. Either Cassius was expecting company, or he had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. Or both.
I selected a tiny black bikini with a thong bottom—something much more daring than I’d usually wear. But I was alone in Cassius’s private paradise and didn’t have to be self-conscious. And if the billionaire saw me with my ass brazenly on display? So much the better. If he refused to touch me, at least he’d be forced to see what he was missing…
I settled onto a shaded lounger next to the pool. Mindful of my fair skin, I meticulously applied sunscreen. I drank some hydrogen water, which, for the record, tasted exactly like regular water. I ate a grape.
I sat there.
Usually, I was fine on my own. I needed alone time to process my thoughts and feelings. Because I’d been taking care of Lucas for so long, I’d learned that the sooner I processed my complicated emotions, the better. Once I’d dealt with my thoughts, I was able to be cheerful for him, to stay upbeat even when things were tough. But now, in the silence of Cassius’s private oasis, I longed for a distraction from my inner turmoil.
Because I was pregnant, and it fucking petrified me.
Long ago, my own mother had soured me on the idea of young motherhood. She’d constantly complained about how easily she’d become pregnant and how having me had “ruined her life”—a direct quote. I couldn’t argue with her. Mothers were supposed to be loving, caring, and compassionate. The woman who gave birth to me was none of those things. Instead, she was cold, disinterested, and selfish. She always came first, and my brother and I came last.
Maybe it was because she had addiction problems. For as long as I could remember, wine and cigarettes were first on our grocery list. No matter how tight things were, and they were always tight, my mom found a way to keep herself in booze. We might not eat dinner, but she was getting drunk no matter what.
Maybe I judged her too harshly. Probably, I did. But her indifference to my brother pushed me over the edge. Despite all odds, Lucas was kind, loving, and endlessly upbeat. He loved my mother no matter what. He cleaned up after her. He went to the store for her when she was sick and hungover. He made her Cup of Noodles and always kept himself and his things neat so as never to bother her in any way. I didn’t hate my mother because of how she failed me—I could take care of myself, and I had long ago lost any hope that we might have a loving relationship. But I wept for how she continued to break Lucas’s heart. Our recent visit to the hospital was a perfect example. He craved her attention, a kind word, or a hug. And all she did was run away.
Deep down, I think my mother believed she was never good enough. She didn’t deserve the sunshine that Lucas brought. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t tolerate it when he got sick—perhaps she thought it was her fault for not loving him enough, for not being sober enough, for neglecting him.
In any event, she was right. She wasn’t good enough for him.
And she was my gene pool—I was all too aware of it. I’d never wanted to become pregnant young and end up like her: inexperienced, alone, and in over my head.
I did want to have a family someday when I was married, settled, and financially secure... When I had my act together. When would that be? As early as this morning, I’d been an employee at a billionaire’s sex club.
I had money now, but it was all so new. I didn’t even know how to live. I could rent an apartment or buy a house, but where? Near Lucas’s treatment center? What would I do once the baby came? How could I take care of Lucas and a newborn when I could barely take care of myself?
You can do it with money,I thought. I supposed that, as a multimillionaire, I’d be able to pay a babysitter. Of course, I could. But I had zero idea where to find one, or what you paid them, or anything else. Just like I had no idea what it was like to have an actual baby and all the things you needed—like car seats, cribs, diapers, and who the heck knew what else. I’d help care for Lucas as an infant, but that was long ago. I was clueless and smart enough to know it. And I didn’t want to be a clueless mother because my mother had been one, and I’d had an awful childhood.
My mind wandered to even more unwelcome territory. I did not get pregnant on my own. The baby—if I was, in fact, pregnant—had a father. What did Cassius think of all this? He’d signed a contract to bang a virgin, and instead, he’d ended up getting me pregnant. For a confirmed billionaire bachelor who’d just opened a gentlemen’s sex club, this could not be welcome news.
I listlessly chewed another grape, mulling my situation.
Before I’d taken the pregnancy test, I’d let myself hope that Cassius and I might be something to each other. The truth was, he was already something to me. I’d been so relieved when he hadn’t sent me away I almost cried. “Would you like to stay with me, Faith?” His words saved me from the depths of my despair. But I didn’t know what it meant that I was at his home, that he was having my things sent over, that I’d likely be sleeping in the billionaire’s bed again that night.
I feared it was just prolonging the inevitable goodbye.
A familiar voice called out, breaking me from my downward-spiraling reverie. “What are you wearing, Faith?”
I lowered my sunglasses to find Cassius Blackwood standing on the pool deck, staring at me.
“A bikini. Sir,” I added hastily.
“Did I give you permission to wear something too skimpy?” he asked, coming closer.
“No, Sir.” A charge of excitement zipped through me.
“Roll onto your stomach,” Cassius ordered. “I want to see if it’s as bad as I think.”
I eagerly did as I was told. When I was on my stomach, he let out a growl. “Did I ever tell you that you were allowed to wear a thong like that?”
“No, Sir.” I took a deep breath. “But I wanted to look good.”
“Oh, you look good.”
He stalked closer. Before I knew it, his hand was cupping my ass. I immediately got wet and slick between my legs.
“Did you put that thong on for me, Faith?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said meekly.
“Are you trying to get fucked again?”
I lowered my sunglasses again. Throwing caution to the wind, I grinned at the billionaire. “Absolutely, Sir.”