Shameless (Single Playboys #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Britney

In Mexico, I’d thought I’d sipped some untreated water without meaning to. Nausea hit me every time I touched my cosmopolitans, but when we returned, I realized my period never had.

I held my head up, avoided the test for another week, and just assumed I was late from travel or recent sex. Every time the fear hit me, I reminded myself that condoms worked, and I stayed late in the office.

However, I stayed home one day to confirm that my questions were unfounded, and my life was staying exactly the same. My heart was racing as I waited for the results after peeing on the stick. Pregnant wasn’t good or planned if the test was positive. Michael wasn’t into me.

No one knew the real me.

No one wanted to know the real me. I glanced at my phone as the minute passed. Michael’s cute British accent had gotten to me as he was my opposite. He was reserved, polite… and the picture-perfect guy I would never really have.

We were fun.

The minute was over. I paced to my bedroom window as waiting had never been my strong suit, and soon, my alarm went off. I squared my shoulders and marched in to my bathroom sink to read the news. Everything was going to be fine.

Fuck. The plus sign meant I was positive.

I froze, unsure whether to believe the results. I headed back to my bedroom and curled my hands at my sides.

The test had to be wrong.

Mistakes happen. We were always safe.

However, I needed to be sure. My entire body grew cold, but I called my doctor’s office and made an appointment for the next day.

Minutes continued to tick forward. Staying at home was tantamount to driving myself crazy, so I dressed and headed to work.

For a few hours, I was focused and not thinking about myself. After lunch, my friends texted about happy hour, but I claimed I was still sick. They were going to come the following day to drag me out if I continued to skip our after-work cocktail hours.

I would've gone to find them too.

As work was almost over, Michael texted, Can I come over?

No , I wrote as I rushed out of the office. From then on, I wasn’t a booty call anymore. I needed to be smart.

If I was pregnant, my life wasn’t good except for my portfolio.

I had saved enough if I left Manhattan and settled somewhere safe, somewhere no one knew me.

I headed to my laptop and looked up real estate.

If I went home to North Carolina, I could have a brand-new home with every modern convenience, and maybe my parents had forgiven me for not protecting my older sister.

They’d not been that horrible, but at this point, with my drinking, swearing and desire for money, I was probably a lost cause.

Fuck. If a baby was coming, then I had a chance to do everything right.

The next day, I met with my doctor before heading into the financial company where I was managing director. A meeting was planned for that day, so I was wearing my black Prada business suit with high heels.

If I was fine, I was going to slay at the meeting. And I would move up to vice president.

For the time being, I couldn’t think about that. I checked in, nodded at the nurse, and waited in my seat. She sent me to blood work right away, and I was in a daze.

Chitchat with the phlebotomist wasn’t going to happen. I stared at the wall as they did their test and thought my life in Manhattan was pretty fucking great. My mind was racing with how I spent hours proving I was better than the Ivy League graduates at making money for the company.

The truth was I loved showing those slack-jawed men in suits how a girl from the country with no real background was smarter and faster at everything.

I was directed into a back room and waited. The air was icy, but the door soon opened—time for answers.

I cupped my belly and asked the nurse, “So am I pregnant?”

“I’ll let you talk to the doctor.”

“You read the results. My at-home test said yes.”

“Believe it.”

Fuck me. I was pregnant.

Time to quit. Time to get a new life. Time to tell Michael.

The doctor spoke to me, but I wasn’t sure what was happening. Listening certainly wasn’t happening. Soon, I left and headed home.

Work could get along without me at that meeting.

My life as I knew was done. I’d changed everything about myself to be who I was at present.

The time had come to figure out what would happen if I let the lies I’d been living disappear and changed everything about myself once again.

As I walked, I realized I needed to quit my job first. After I let myself into my apartment, I tossed all my wine bottles and contacted a realtor.

North Carolina was getting a plus two soon.

All that was left was to tell the truth. I picked up my phone, ignoring all the texts from my friends who knew I’d seen a doctor, and texted Michael, Can we meet for coffee? I’ll buy, but we need to talk .

Then I spoke to the realtor again about how I wanted a brand-new home in a cul de sac, with a fence.

Michael knew nothing about the real me. No one knew Britney Ford was, in truth, Britney Smith from Ayden or that my parents were Betty and Rob and my older sister was Ava. I’d left all of them behind.

Once upon a time, I’d thought older sisters protected little ones, but I turned out to be a failure as a bratty teenager.

Now, I needed to be a mom. And I hoped I would be better at it then I'd been at being a sister.

As I hung up, I read Michael’s text: I can meet at eleven .

That was in twenty minutes. He probably had a lunch break from his butlering.

If I was having a boy and he looked like Michael, he’d get all the girls. If I was having a girl—I winced. I wasn’t ready to even think about that. I couldn’t serve a baby wine to get her to talk.

I changed into a simple smocked Proenza Schouler maxi dress that showed off my boobs and flattered the rest of me as my belly bloat was now cushion for the baby, which was why my snug pants weren’t fitting, and headed out the door.

I needed to be honest though I expected nothing from Michael. He would bail on me. We’d made no promises other than a good time for the past few months.

I rushed and arrived early. My heart was racing as I took a seat. Then I ordered my herbal tea and sat facing the wooden door.

He had twenty minutes in his schedule.

As he walked in, my heart raced. I took a deep breath and realized my child had great genes, at least. His father was tall, muscular, and his thick light-brown, almost blond hair framed his sweet face, and my body purred despite how he was pressing his lips together at the moment.

The second he joined me, I kissed his cheeks like we were friends and said, “Michael, I’m glad you’re meeting me for tea.”

A waiter brought him a black tea with the milk and sugar cubes on the side. He also left a tray of snacks for tea time and left.

Michael tugged his white shirt collar and said, “I was surprised we were going out in public this time. You’ve repeatedly said no when I asked you.”

I didn't remember that. I sipped my tea and stared at him. He was the only guy I’d wanted to date since the moment we met.

As a butler, he wore designer clothes. He’d have fit in at my bank’s functions except for his profession.

The promotion I'd thought I wanted, which had been stopping me from ever letting things with Michael get too far, seemed pointless.

I put his clothes back in the file of mysteries I would never ask him about, shrugged, and said, “I never wanted my boss to know, but it’s going to be impossible to hide now, and besides, I’m quitting.”

His blue eyes seemed puzzled as he asked, “Why, what happened? Did you get a better job or get an offer as a partner somewhere else?”

I sat up. We weren’t friends, and his concern about me made me tense. Needing a few seconds, I swirled my herbal tea and added a pinch of lemon. Then I met his blue eyes and said, “I called you here to tell you… This isn’t so easy… But you’re going to be a father.”

His eyes widened. “Say it again.”

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't expected him to take the wind out of my sails with those sexy, refined good looks of his and perfect manners. I squared my shoulders and said, “It’s honorable to tell you. I’m pregnant.”

He pressed his hand to his heart. “And it’s mine?”

There it was—the denial, the start of the end. Most people assumed that my mouth and my attitude of taking what I wanted indicated I was easy.

I folded my hands, glared at him, and said, “Despite the rumors, I don’t sleep with just anyone.”

“I believe you…” Michael said in that cute British tone of his that carried both judgment and shame. “But we’re not?—“

“I’m not looking for anything from you,” I said and moved my chair back because we were done and the real world was folding in on me. I lifted my chin and assumed I’d never see him again. “I just thought you needed to know that I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it, no matter what.”

He folded his hands on the table and stared at me. “Britney, I can’t talk about it in public, but we need to talk tonight because there are things about me that I’ve not told you.”

My heart needed to not hope for anything.

Nothing he could tell me would change my plans.

We were done. The next day, I would write my official resignation, put my condo on the market, and be out of Manhattan soon.

For the moment, I sipped my water. He was right that I needed to know his medical history and anything relevant that had happened in his family, which he'd never spoken about.

I met his gaze and decided he was right—better to end our fling in private.

I moved my chair closer to the table and nodded. “Okay. Come to my apartment at six if you think Charlie will let you out early.”

“Fuck Charlie. I’ll be there.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected that outburst. I’d not known what to expect as Michael had never shared more than his hard body with me. We both stood as I said, “See you tonight, then.”

Then he hugged me and left money for the bill.