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Chapter One

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a kid?” Wayne Myers stared at the floor of his office where social services had just dropped off his son. Yeah, he was getting a DNA test all over that shit as he wanted fuck all to do with this kid.

Running a billion-dollar corporation didn’t give him time to deal with a four-year-old. The boy in question, Timothy, was sitting on his office floor, running a car along the edge of his building.

“What would you like me to do, sir?” Frances asked.

He glared at his PA, and wanted to tell her to take the damn kid herself. The woman was fifty years old and had a gazillion grandkids. “I want testing. I want proof that he’s … even mine. I don’t have time for this shit, and while you’re at it, get me someone who takes care of kids. A babysitter or something. I don’t have time to deal with him.”

For a split second, he saw the disappointment on Frances’s face before she hid it. He didn’t care. He wasn’t a man who dealt with these … problems.

He didn’t even know who the woman was, only that she’d been killed and his name had been related to her. Four years ago, he was supposed to have knocked up some woman, and Timothy was the result.

Staring at the kid, Wayne watched as he drove a single car around the edge of his office. Providing the kid stayed quiet, he’d be able to work. Moving behind his desk, he sat down and just stared at his computer screen.

Women were a source of entertainment for him. He used them for what simple pleasure he could have. The women he’d known were the kind who were always trying to further their careers, gold-diggers, or spinsters.

There was a knock on the office door, and he watched as Timothy looked up with a huge smile on his face, only for it to disappear as soon as James entered the room.

James was Wayne’s friend.

“Well, Frances told me the good news,” James said, closing the door behind him. “What happened?”

“I was pulled out of a meeting by a social worker who dumped him here with a black bag. They’d been trying to contact me, but I wasn’t answering. As if I’d answer any damn call from some social service department. I have no need for them.”

James bent down, smiling at Timothy. “Hello, little man. I’m James.”

Timothy looked at James’s hands and shook his head. “Mommy said I wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers.”

His speech was so clear even for a four-year-old.

James laughed. “Your mother was so right. Don’t worry. We won’t be strangers for long.” He ruffled Timothy’s hair and moved toward the seat in front of Wayne’s desk. “You’ve got an intelligent one.”

Timothy went back to driving his car along the edge of the building.

“It doesn’t matter what I have. A few tests will show that the woman is wrong and that kid isn’t mine.” He glanced at his friend to see James staring at him. “What is it?”

“I’m just shocked at how disgusted you look. Is it really so abhorrent to think of having a child?”

“There’s no way I have a kid.”

“So what’s the story?”

“His mother’s dead, and now they’re trying to dump the kid on me.”

James glared at him, pressing a finger to his mouth.

Wayne shook his head. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, his friend got up, going toward the door. “Frances, so sorry to be a pest. Could you take little Timothy for some soda and a sandwich? I bet he’s hungry.”

Wayne didn’t stop James from ordering his PA. Frances came in, smiled at Timothy, and led the little boy away.

“What the fuck is your problem?” James asked, closing the door.

“What have I done?”

“That boy is clearly missing his mother, and you just come out and say she’s dead? He’s already with a strange man that everyone is claiming is his dad, but you can’t even crack a smile! Can’t you think of the kid’s needs for once?”

“It’s a trick. To try and get money out of me.”

“For crying out loud. You had one woman try to extort money out of you for a pregnancy that wasn’t there. This boy is an innocent. He’s not here to get anything out of you. He doesn’t even want you. He’s as far away from you as possible. Can’t you see that?”

Wayne looked at the space that Timothy had been in. It was as far as he could go.

“You really need to take a good, long look in the mirror. When did you become such a cold, unfeeling bastard? I get that you keep the women at bay because a lot of them just want your bank balance. But that boy is a baby. A kid. Have some damn feelings.”


Tags: Sam Crescent Erotic