Free AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) by Carmella Jones Page A

or worse visible on it. I had become a reporter to warn the world about crimes and explore the inexplicably unsolved. Here it all seemed to be in the bedroom of my boyfriend and boss.
                  He noticed that I had not moved.
                  “Jayne, I’m still me. I just need to show you a few things and talk to you. I think it’s time you got to know me better. Our relationship has…progressed,” Anthony said, trying to smile, but clearly recognizing that the day had taken an unexpected turn from even what I had thought when I attempted to confront him.
                  “Can I have some ice water, please?” I asked, still not really moving or changing my expression.
                  “Of course, baby. Stay here I’ll be right back. You look a little pale, too. I’ll get you some crackers and see if I still have some olives or capers,” he said, heading toward the door.
                  Once I heard him rummaging through his kitchen cabinets I slung the items he had gathered into the large purse I had been carrying. I put my clothes from the day before in as well. I tiptoed down the hall in his button-down, carrying my shoes in my hand, and slipped out the front door.
                  As I was waiting for the elevator I heard a muffled version of Anthony’s voice yell my name. I couldn’t wait to ride the elevator and dreaded the flights of stairs for his high rise, but I had to do it. I heard a door open and knew Anthony was coming to find me, so I ran for the stairs as fast as I could.
                  “Jayne, baby, I can explain,” he called into the hallway, but the door to the stairs was already closing behind me.
                  It shut more loudly than I expected and, as I reached the bottom of my first flight of stairs, I heard it open again. I looked up to see Anthony in slacks, unbuttoned, with a shirt and keys in his hands.
                  “Jayne,” he called once he saw me.
                  I ran down two more flights and could tell without looking back that he was getting closer behind me. As I rounded the next lap of stairs I could feel his hands reaching at the shirt and nearly grasping it.
                  “I won’t say anything. Just leave me alone,” I said, still trying to get away.
                  He caught me at the next landing, wrapped me in his arms, and pulled me to sit on the floor with him. We were a crumpled mess with my bag, his shirt, and my frightened tears. Scared as I was, he was still my safety. I buried my face in his chest crying.
                  “Please don’t kill me. Just let me leave. I don’t know anything. You can have all this stuff back and I will forget about it,” I said.
                  “I’m not going to kill you. Just calm down, be quiet, and come with me,” Anthony said, putting a hand under my chin to make me look into his eyes.
                  I believed him.
                  A security guard appeared a floor below us calling, “Who’s there? Is everything alright?”
                  Then he looked at us.
                  “Mr. Ferrara. Ms. Clinton,” he said, giving a nod to Anthony and then leaving as suddenly as he came.
                  Anthony kissed my forehead, then carried me down the remaining stairs. He took me to the garage and sat me in the passenger seat of his car. He got in on the driver’s side and left the shirt he brought with him in his lap.

Chapter 9
                  “Jayne, you know my family is important,” Anthony said after a few minutes of us driving in silence.
                  “Yes,” I replied. “They started one of the original newspapers in the area as well as one of the first news stations. They syndicated early and have connections all over the country to