My Dad's Rival's Secret Baby Read online

  My Father’s Best Friend’s Secret Baby

  Copyright © 2018

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Mariah

  Chapter 2

  Mariah

  Chapter 3

  Wesley

  Chapter 4

  Mariah

  Chapter 5

  Wesley

  Chapter 6

  Mariah

  Chapter 7

  Mariah

  Chapter 8

  Mariah

  Chapter 9

  Mariah

  Chapter 10

  Wesley

  Chapter 11

  Mariah

  Chapter 12

  Mariah

  Chapter 13

  Wesley

  Chapter 14

  Wesley

  Chapter 15

  Wesley

  Chapter 16

  Wesley

  Chapter 17

  Mariah

  Chapter 18

  Mariah

  Chapter 19

  Mariah

  Chapter 20

  Mariah

  Chapter 21

  Mariah

  Chapter 22

  Wesley

  Chapter 23

  Mariah

  Chapter 24

  Mariah

  Chapter 25

  Wesley

  Chapter 26

  Mariah

  Chapter 27

  Mariah

  Chapter 28

  Mariah

  Chapter 29

  Mariah

  Chapter 30

  Wesley

  Chapter 31

  Wesley

  Chapter 32

  Mariah

  Chapter 33

  Mariah

  Chapter 34

  Wesley

  Chapter 35

  Mariah

  Chapter 36

  Mariah

  Chapter 37

  Wesley

  Chapter 38

  Mariah

  Chapter 39

  Wesley

  Epilogue

  Mariah

  Sneak Peek of My Father’s Best Friend Secret Baby

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  Chapter 1

  Mariah

  It’s finally time. I’ve earned it.

  The thought just keeps ringing through my head as I walk down the street. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not rushing to catch up with something, or someone. I’m finally locked in, and I don’t have to worry. The restaurant is just up the block, I’m fifteen minutes early, and this is going to be the biggest night of my life so far.

  I pause by a shop window to do a last appearance check - what my friend Lisa calls a ‘dummy check’ - for smeared lipstick, tangled hair, running eyeliner, stains…anything that could be seen as unprofessional and end up as a deal-breaker for the client. It would be funny that I’m approaching tonight like a business meeting, but in my mind, that’s exactly what this is.

  My navy blue dress, the same shade as my eyes, is clean and wrinkle-free. Makeup, on point, just like it’s been since I perfected my styling techniques at seventeen in my high school’s bathroom mirror. (Mom never approved of what she called ‘fanciful’ accoutrements like lipstick or concealer. Please, like I’d ever let that stop me.)

  My blonde hair is just a bit tousled from the wind, and it’s falling gracefully to either side of my neck, framing the purple gemstone necklace I’d chosen to accent the outfit. Good. Let’s go. You’re ready for this, Mariah.

  I head down the street and step inside Allesandro’s Restaurant. The door slides silently closed behind me, and as my eyes adjust to the artful low-light of the dining room, the noise of the city streets vanishes.

  “Welcome to Allesandro’s! Do you have a reservation?” The young, perfectly coiffed host smiles at me, the kind of smile that I’m overly-familiar with, as I’ve dealt it out myself probably hundreds of times. The one that says, your answer to my question will determine just how important you are from this moment forward.

  “Of course.” I return the smile. “It will be for Harper. I think I’m the first one here.” That’s modest. I know I’m the first one here, because he always arrives exactly ten minutes early to every engagement he attends. I still have three whole minutes to spare.

  “Ah, here you are.” The smile has shifted, from I hope you're important to I know you’re important, please remember me when you tip. “Follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

  I don’t really need him to lead me to the small, elegant booth on the back wall of the dining room, but I let him have his moment. It’s the same booth we always use - he requests it specifically, for whatever reason.

  “Thank you,” I say, brushing my hair back from my forehead.

  I’ve felt his eyes roaming up and down my body since I walked in, and I have to bite back the instinct to call him out for it, especially considering the ring on his left hand. Tonight’s not the night for drama, I remind myself. Something better is coming.

  I perch on the edge of the booth, eyeing the door.

  “Can I get you a drink to start off with while you wait for the rest of your party?” Host-Guy asks.

  “Glass of red, please. Dry.”

  He nods, and heads across the dining room, leaving me to my staring contest with the double doors. I realize my knee is jiggling. Nervous habit I never managed to shake. I put my hand on my knee and take a few deep, steadying breaths.

  I’m ready for this. I know I am. I’m sure of it…until the doors open and my father steps into the room. And he’s not alone.

  My dad, Charles Huston. The richest and most prolific real estate mogul in the entire city. His stoic face, grey hair just starting to spread from his temples, has been a familiar sight on billboards and in newspapers for years now. He crosses the room and holds his arms out for a hug.

  “Mariah! You’re early!”

  “Early is on time,” I say, and he joins me in finishing the sentence, “and on time is late.”

  “I knew I taught you well.” Dad kisses my cheek and straightens his tie. I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad without a suit… when I was a kid, I used to think that he slept in one.

  “I thought it was going to be just us tonight,” I say, nodding towards the man who came in with him, still standing back a few feet from us, waiting.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  He turns to the man who entered the room with him. He’s younger, probably in his late 30’s. His face is hard, and even in the low light of the restaurant, his hair gleams with some kind of product. I can practically feel the grease on my fingertips just looking at him.

  “Mariah, this is my new business partner, Charles Franklin. He was with Honeywell’s company, but we poached him away, didn’t we Charles!”

  Charles nods, a grin curling the corners of his lips. “What can I say,” and here he slips into a terrible approximation of an Italian accent, “you made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  Dad claps him on the shoulder. “Leave the gun, take the cannoli, my good man!”

  Just then, thankfully, the Host With The Most comes back bearing my red wine in a long-stemmed glass. We all slide into the booth and I sip my wine as Dad and the new guy order their drinks as well. Be patient, I remind myself. Dad hates being rushed.

  “How was traffic getting here, Dad?” I ask, already knowing the answer.r />
  “You’d have to ask my chauffeur, sweetie,” he says, without looking up from the menu on the table. “You know I never spend time on things like traffic reports. Especially on a day like today.”

  Here, he looks at me, a soft smile on his face. Just a hint of the father behind the businessman showing through.

  “You know, when I was first starting out,” Charles interjects, “I biked across Midtown every morning to get to work.”

  “That’s certainly dedication. Just another reason I’m so happy you joined the team,” Dad says.

  I just nod along. I’m not sure why, but Dad’s new Teacher’s Pet is rubbing me the wrong way already. After tonight, it’ll all be worth it, though, so I push my annoyance away.

  “Yes sir. I’ll tell you, I’ve never had stronger calves in my life, but it sure could be a pain when it rained!”

  My dad laughs, and I smile politely at Charles. The waiter comes back with their drinks. Dad raises his glass.

  “A toast, if I can.” As if it was a question. Charles and I raise our glasses as well. “To family and friends, new and old. And to new beginnings.”

  Everyone clinks their glasses together, and drinks.

  “So, Mariah, your dad tells me that you’ve just graduated from college?” Charles asks.

  “Yes. Well, not just. I’ve been out of school for almost six months now, and I’ve been shadowing my Dad at the company since I was, what, ten?”

  “That’s my girl. We like to say she got her degree in business, but she got her real education from me.” Dad sips his scotch, chuckling.

  “Well, in that case, I really do envy you.” Charles inclines his glass of white wine towards me. “I’d have killed to get to watch your father work and learn from him for so long.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that left still, Charles, don’t worry. I’m not a dinosaur quite yet. But still, I do have something to say on that subject, and I suppose now is as good a time as any. Mariah, this isn’t just a regular dinner.”

  I know that, Dad! I want to shout with excitement, but I hold it in. When he’d called - or rather, had his secretary Henrietta call - to set this up, she’d said it was a business dinner.

  Dad, wanting to talk business with me? In person? That could only mean one thing. He wants to give me more responsibility with the company, maybe even take it over from him!

  It makes perfect sense. I’ve been his go-to girl for years now. I followed him around the office on school vacation days, holidays, anytime I could. Not just during those cheesy “Take your daughter to work” days like the other kids. That was just another normal day for me. I learned everything I could from him…and tonight is the night I get to start proving it.

  “I asked you here to talk about the business,” Dad continues. “Our business. I’m no dinosaur, but I’m also not getting any younger, and that means it’s time for me to think about what happens when I retire.”

  Don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t smile, not yet, not yet, not yet, let him say it.

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought, and family has always been important to me. I know it might not have felt that way to your mother, what with the long nights at the office and all… but she just never understood these things like we do, dear. I want the business to stay in our family, you understand?”

  “Of course, Dad. Of course!”

  “So. That is why…”

  Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes.

  “…I want you to marry Charles.”

  My brain short-circuits midway through processing that sentence. It’s so drastically different from what I was expecting, my neurons just sort of crash and fall all over each other, like tiny kittens who don’t know how to walk yet. Except this isn’t a cute YouTube video. This is my life, and it’s just caught fire.

  Chapter 2

  Mariah

  “What?!” is all I can manage at first.

  “Honey. You know how your mom and I used to say we wanted to give you a brother someday? Well, that went out the window when she took off on me, so I’ve moved on to the next best possibility: a son-in-law. And look, this will be good for you too! You always tell me that you're too busy to date! First it was school, now it’s work - and if I know you, you won’t slow down unless I give you a reason to. And that reason is Charles.”

  “I don’t - I don’t even know Charles! You just waltzed in here with him twenty minutes ago, and now you’re ready to marry me off?”

  “I want the business to be in the best possible hands. Charles has experience, he has smarts, he has dedication - ”

  “I have all those things too! And I’m your daughter!”

  “Mariah. Do not raise your voice to me.” My dad’s eyes glint with that steely look that used to terrify me when I was younger. It either meant someone at the company was getting fired, or I’d done something that was very, very much against the rules in our house.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, is my tone upsetting you? Well, I’m upset too, Dad!”

  “Why, sweetie? This is a great - ”

  “It’s not great! None of this is! I thought we were having dinner here tonight so that you could tell me that you wanted me to take over the business!”

  “You?” Dad looks genuinely taken aback. “What on earth would make you think that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I spent my whole life following you around, idolizing you, learning from you? I got a degree in business because it’s what you did, and I got it from the same school you went to! I work in your office! How much clearer could it possibly be that I’m the best person for the job?!”

  “But, Mariah. You’re only twenty-one. And you’re my daughter.”

  The way he says daughter, like it’s a bad taste on his tongue, twists my stomach into knots. I can feel the hot prickling behind my eyes that means I’m going to start crying. I hate that. My dad’s the only person on the planet who can get this kind of reaction out of me, and he’s the last person I want to be reduced to a blubbering mess in front of.

  “So, what? And you want to pass me off to this guy? What, so you can just get rid of me?”

  I’m standing now, trying to ignore the surreptitious stares from other diners. I see the host-guy hovering anxiously in front of his little podium, probably trying to decide if getting in the middle of this is a good idea or not. He will probably feel obliged to kick me out soon, if I don’t settle down and stop causing such a ruckus in front of the other patrons.

  “Mariah, don’t embarrass me.” Now Dad’s standing too.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Huston,” Charles says. “Your daughter’s feisty. I don’t mind that.” His look is close to a leer. I feel my lip curling in disgust.

  Dad tries to gently take my arm and guide me back into my seat, but I brush him off. He meets my eyes and says, “Charles is a good businessman. I want him to be part of the family.”

  “Well, if you love him so much, you marry him!” Even as I say it, I know how childish it sounds, but I can’t help it. This whole thing has suddenly become such a goddamn mess, and I’m about to burst into tears. I can’t let him see that. Through gritted teeth, I manage, “I have to leave.”

  “Mariah Ellen Huston, you will sit back down at this table right now.” For the first time ever, that angry brooks-no-argument father tone that he’s using suddenly doesn’t have the same power over me that it used to.

  “No. You know what, Dad? Fine. Hand off your business to some guy you just met. Make him your honorary son. Adopt him if you want, I don’t give a shit. Just stay out of my life!”

  I head out the door, and refuse to let myself look back.

  Outside, I rush down the sidewalk and turn into the first alley I hit. That’s when I start crying. Deep sobs, hard ones that steal my breath and hurt my chest. What the hell just happened? is all I can think. I don’t understand why Dad would do this to me. I just don’t.

  “Pull yourself together,” I say out loud. “Use Scotch tape if you
have to, but just do it.”

  That’s a saying my mom used to have: Scotch tape fixes anything, so even if you’re falling apart, just ask to borrow some Scotch tape and get on with doing what you’ve got to do.

  So, that’s really that. Dad wants to turn over the family real estate business to some random guy, and he wants me to be said random guy’s token trophy wife. No way in hell is that happening. I’m better than that, and if Dad can’t see it…

  Then I’ll just find someone who can.

  Chapter 3

  Wesley

  “This used to be fun, you know.” I lean on the balcony rail and look down at Rufus, the family dog. “You understand how that is, right, buddy? I mean, you must remember what it was like before they cut your balls off.” Wilson licks my hand and woofs softly. “That’s what I thought.”

  I return my gaze to the sprawling garden that is my parents’ backyard. They’ve had this country house since I was in college, and nowadays they spend most of their time here. Mom’s the one who loves the gardens - Dad just sits in his study all day long, smoking cigars and sipping the latest imported scotch while the maids clean the mansion around him.

  “I mean, I’m telling you it used to be fun around here, Rufus, but I’m not sure how true that actually is. The only times I remember being really happy in this place are the instances when I’d sneak off all on my own for an afternoon and just be quiet and alone.”

  Looking down off the balcony, I see my mother appear from among the flowers and hedges. She waves up at me and I wave back.

  “Wesley, dear, it’s almost dinnertime! Come on downstairs and sit with us!” she calls up.

  “Of course!” I call down. “Let me just freshen up!” She smiles and goes inside, and I turn to Rufus again. “Well, nothing for it then. Dinner it is.” Rufus’ ears perk up at the mention of food, and I smile ruefully. “Yes, bud. You get dinner too.”

  I just wish I was as excited about this as the dog is. I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face at the gold-filigree sink, then catch a look at myself in the mirror. “You’re thirty-eight years old, Wesley. You’re an adult. You can do this.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the streaks of silver that seem to get more and more prominent every time I look. Brushing the pollen dust off my blazer, I sigh and head downstairs.