A Baby For The Billionaire Read online

  A Baby For The Billionaire

  (Stepbrother Romance)

  By

  Nikki Wild

  Copyright 2015 Nikki Wild

  All Rights Reserved

  Although I hold the copyright to this naughty story, this ebook is completely DRM-FREE copy and you can read it on any device you wish to with zero restrictions. You paid for this story, and you deserve to be able to enjoy it on any device you see fit. THANK YOU for supporting an Independent Author.

  –Nikki Wild

  A Baby For The Billionaire

  (Stepbrother Romance)

  What’s inside this very naughty taboo story?

  Will Danielle let Kennith take her hard and without protection without sacrificing her moral integrity? Or will her stepbrother take more than just her body?

  Danielle Blackwell is the newest member of the infamous Blackwell brood. These billionaires have been stepping on the little guy for as long as anyone can remember, and though Danielle has always prided herself on serving the community as an investigative reporter, the woman who raised her has put her in a compromising position by marrying the Blackwell patriarch.

  When Danielle discovers that Malcolm Blackwell is responsible for a crime so heinous it might destroy his name forever, she’s only too eager to run the story. But Kennith, her new step, has other ideas. He knows he can’t buy Danielle’s silence, but he does know there’s something she’s been wanting for a very long time.

  Him. Or at least, the baby he can give her.

  Turn the page, and let me sweep you away into a world of dirty fantasy…

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  A Baby For The Billionaire

  My stepfather was going to rue the day he pulled me and my mother into his schemes.

  Blackwell & Son Industrials was one of the most profitable companies in the nation. It was also one of the most heinous, but they had enough money to ensure that very few people ever knew about that part. There were a whole slew of damning things the company had done in the name of churning out even more profits every year, but one of the worst was the sweatshop employees they used to make many of their products.

  Maybe that wasn’t such a big deal to most Americans, who were comfortable dismissing such claims as being some other country’s human rights problem. But this sweatshop was a little different in that it employed almost exclusively children, eighteen of which had recently died when the building they worked in caught fire.

  And why did that building catch fire? Unsurprisingly, the kind of people who used child labor to cut corners weren’t all that keen on making sure those kids had access to things like ventilated workspaces or even fire extinguishers. Blackwell & Son had poured money into covering it up, but they’d neglected to pay off the one person who could take them down.

  Me.

  I was a journalist for The Chronicle, a local publication that was just dying for a story of this magnitude. I supposed that was why my stepfather hadn’t seen me as a threat. What was a small-time reporter going to do to take down his massive company? I couldn’t possibly have had enough resources to do my due diligence.

  He was wrong. Thanks to him and his money, I’d had plenty of resources—until my mother found out, anyway.

  She’d done her damnedest to put a stop to the whole thing. When I’d shown her the evidence, hoping she would leave him before the ensuing fallout had a chance to drag her down into hell with him, she’d surprised me in showing less empathy than I’d expected of her. Maybe his money had changed her, or maybe she just couldn’t believe that the man she loved could really be so cruel. Or maybe his money made her afraid to leave. After all, we’d been living just above the poverty line before all this.

  Malcolm Blackwell should have been a blessing for us. For the longest time, I’d thought he would be. He had really seemed to love my mother, and his son, Kennith, had been kind to me. In fact, Kennith was what sold me on the idea of our parents marrying more than anything else. I’d spent a lot of time with him in the past few months, and we’d hit it off right away—more than I would have expected us to. It was clear he wasn’t just some layabout yuppie content to bask in his father’s fortune. Kennith was smart, clever, funny, and exceptionally handsome. I almost regretted not having met him before our parents fell in love. He was one hell of a catch for any woman.

  But then, not long after he’d put a ring on my mother’s finger, Malcolm Blackwell had changed. He’d become very unsupportive of my career, instigating many dinner arguments over politics and the “zealotry” of the free press. He made his position clear: that reporters like me were always on the lookout for the next big “witch hunt” and that if I had any self-respect, I’d find something else to occupy my time with. My mother hadn’t even stood up for me, but I didn’t know if that was because she was afraid of him or just afraid of losing him.

  When he’d implied that maybe my husband had walked out on me because of my “insatiable appetite for emasculation,” I’d nearly lost it. But instead of getting angry, I’d decided to just get even. I was about to show Malcolm Blackwell just what investigative journalism could do, and how the truth was so powerful that not even his money could put a stop to it.

  Or at least, that was what I had planned on doing before Kennith showed up at my door.

  It was the middle of the night. I wasn’t wearing anything except for a short, kimono-style robe, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting any company. My hair was still wet from the shower, long, tangled strands of it clinging to my shoulders and neck. I wasn’t prepared to see Kennith, and when I did, I felt an immediate heat in my cheeks.

  “Can we talk?” he asked me, his eyes for just a moment dipping to my cleavage. From the terseness of his tone, I was pretty sure I knew what he wanted to speak to me about.

  “You can’t change my mind,” I told him, flattening my lips into a line. “I’m serious, Kennith. I’ve already made the decision.”

  “Just hear me out,” he urged me, glancing over my shoulder and into my apartment beyond. “Come on, Danielle. Please.”

  His big, brown eyes pleaded with me, glinting in the dim light out in the hallway. I cursed his perfect skin, the rough cut of his jaw, the just-so tousle of his mahogany hair. As I stared, he smiled at me in a way that said, “we both know you’re going to let me in, so let’s stop playing these games,” and I sighed and obediently opened up the door for him to step in.

  I closed and locked it behind him, sweeping my hair back over my shoulders as I sighed and padded toward my bedroom to change into something more suitable.

  “You already know what I’m here for,” he said before I could even make it to the door. “But what you don’t know is why.”

  I stopped, scowling at him as he perused my bookshelves idly. “I can guess,” I said. “Your father sent you, didn’t he? He wants to ensure that I don’t run that story on the sweatshop and those kids he killed.”

  “You’re not far off, but you don’t have the whole story, either,” Kennith replied, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked so good in casual attire, not stuffy and proper like when he was dressed in a suit. I liked him t
his way much better.

  I rolled my eyes. As much as I liked Kennith, I could never forget that he’d been brought up as his father’s shadow. Undoubtedly, he wanted to insert himself into my investigation as some sort of character witness and try to muddy the water by mentioning some other good deeds Malcolm Blackwell had done. That was a ubiquitous trait among the rich: the tiniest charitable act, in their eyes, was enough to wipe the slate clean of a hundred horrible deeds.

  “Let me guess: you want me to take into account how good your father’s been to us,” I began, putting my hands on my hips as I scanned my stepbrother’s face for a reaction. “You want me to ignore the fact that he was directly involved in running a sweatshop operation inside of a derelict building, knowing full well that it was just a disaster waiting to happen? Come on, Kennith. I know we haven’t known each other long, but I really thought you had a better read on me than that.”

  Kennith smiled faintly. “I do,” he said. “I know you’ll run the story unless I can give you a really good reason not to. And that’s exactly what I’ve come here to do.”

  I watched as he approached me, hands still in his pockets and his whiskey-colored eyes trained on mine. I reached up and fingered the neckline of my kimono, suddenly nervous in his presence. He stalked toward me like a panther, his muscles rippling with each stride.

  He wasn’t in a hurry, but my heart was. It pounded mercilessly in my chest, rattling my ribs until finally he stood mere inches away. I could smell the sweet, musky scent of his cologne. It had weight to it, like a syrup oozing from his pores and into my nose, dripping onto the back of my tongue. It was like I could taste him.

  He said, “There’s something you’ve always wanted, Danielle. Something that you need so bad it keeps you up at night. You’ve been aching for it for years now, and I’m willing to give it to you if you just let this go.”

  I felt my lips tremble. He couldn’t possibly be talking about that. There was no way that my stepbrother could actually be leveraging my heart’s greatest desire against my will to bring the light of truth and justice into this cold, dismal world.

  I flipped a strand of hair out of my face. “Your father’s money can’t buy his way out of this one, Kennith. For once, there’s something his billions of dollars just can’t stack up against.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, taking half a step closer to me. I felt a surge of adrenaline seep into my veins. “And that’s not what I’m offering you.”

  I was so entranced by the intensity of his stare that I didn’t notice him reaching out until his fingers were already on me. They toyed with the sleeves of my robe, flitting beneath them to lightly caress up and down my arms. Gooseflesh rose and the hairs on my nape stood on end. I tried to control the redness blooming in my cheeks as I said, “Then what?” even though I already knew.

  A little smile curled his lips, reminding me of the way the edges of a sheet of parchment furled when lit by a flame. I felt his thumbs trail closer to where my arms rested against my breasts, and the fleeting contact incited an army of chills along my spine. “You want me, Danielle. Or at least, you want what I can give you.”

  My knees began to quake. I made a half-hearted effort to pull away from him, to recover my composure and dignity. I was surprised and disappointed when he let me go.

  “That’s…” There were a thousand words running through my head, but none of them seemed to sum up the issue quite like the one I ultimately settled on. “…wrong.”

  Kennith shrugged. “Only if someone finds out.”

  I stared at him, fury heating my blood. “Jesus, Kennith. Do you think I’m stupid? This is why you came here, isn’t it? You wanted to catch me in something dirty. This is a set up orchestrated by your father.”

  “I assure you, my father would be appalled if he found out that I was offering you what I am.” He stepped toward me again, and though I knew I should have, I did not step back. “It’s not just sex, Danielle, although I have to admit that wouldn’t be so bad. You’re a stunningly beautiful woman, and charming and clever too. But it isn’t just my dick that I want to put in you.”

  I sank my teeth into my lip until I thought I’d taste blood. I knew immediately what he was suggesting, and though it shouldn’t have, it changed everything.

  A baby. That was something I had wanted, had dreamed of since before I’d gotten married. Chase had seemed like perfect father material too, right up until it came time for us to start trying. Then he’d made excuses, not the least of which turned out to be that he had a mistress on the side.

  That was one of the many reasons I championed for truth the way I did. When I had first found those lipstick stains on his collar, I’d told myself it couldn’t be what I thought it was. That was too cliché. A man as intelligent as Chase was wouldn’t let himself get caught that way. It had to be some misunderstanding on my end instead of the cold, hard fact that my husband was cheating on me.

  The reality was that by that point, Chase no longer cared if I knew. That was a breadcrumb he’d wanted me to find. He’d actually breathed a sigh of relief when I’d called him out on it. Oh, thank God. Now we can move on. My denial had blinded me to just how hard I’d been fighting to keep him with me, when it was clear all he wanted was to get away.

  I was only in my late twenties, but I knew time was running short. My work and how good I was at it meant that I’d received dozens of opportunities in just the past year alone, some of which might take me overseas or guarantee that I no longer had time for a child. And by the time I did, then it really would be too late. It was now or never.

  But was that something I could do with Kennith? And could I raise that child—his child—on my own?

  “Listen to me, Danielle,” he said, cutting through the din of my conflicting thoughts. “The child would want for nothing. I’d come see them whenever I could, and what’s more is that one day, they’d be heir to the Blackwell fortune.”

  I felt my insides twist a little at that. “Heir to the Blackwell fortune” wasn’t necessarily a good thing, in my book. But Kennith did have a point about any child of ours never lacking for food, shelter, or attention. Even their education would be secured, and from a very young age. Ours would be a child who attended only the most prestigious of academies from preschool to college. Even my generous salary couldn’t provide that.

  “You just want someone else to induct into your father’s disgusting business,” I said, though my tone was getting feeble now. “You’re not only asking me to ignore the children he killed, but to sacrifice another to him, as well.”

  “It won’t be like that,” Kennith assured me. “I know my father’s not perfect. Hell, I probably know that better than anyone. But he’d never let any harm come to his family. Not even to you. And especially not to a grandchild.”

  I shuddered at the thought of continuing the Blackwell line in this way. The last thing the world needed as another one of them running around screwing things up and screwing people over.

  But what if my child—our child—was the Blackwell who could turn things around? What if they were the one who could fight from inside the belly of the beast? What if I could make them aware of their privilege and burgeon in them a sense of duty to society, so much so that they would want to change Blackwell & Son’s legacy forever?

  I couldn’t hold that distinction. I’d already caused too much trouble for Malcolm Blackwell to ever trust me with overseeing how the family business was run. But an heir might make him soft, might make him leave his guard down long enough to let in a new face with new ideas, one who would inevitably change the business for the better.

  But what about those other children, the ones who had died as a result of Malcolm Blackwell’s apathy and negligence? Would this be the justice they deserved? Kennith was effectively buying my silence with his sperm. If I gave in to my desire to have a child, then their story might never see the light of day.

  My desire ran deeper than that, though. I’d always felt a strange
attraction to Kennith, one I could never voice for fear of the consequences. It was more than friendship, more than the fondness a sister might extend her sibling. Maybe we weren’t blood-related, but we were still family.

  Still, he was everything I wanted in a man. Except for the fact that he was a Blackwell.

  But maybe having a child would change him, too? Maybe once he had one of his own, he would understand why those who’d lost their lives in his father’s sweatshop mattered so much to me.

  My ears were turning red. My chest, my neck, and my face were all flushing. The thought of my stepbrother’s seed deep inside of me was a secret delight, one I’d not entertained past mere fantasy until now.

  Kennith read me like a book. He was adept at this sort of thing. It came with being a businessman and being responsible for sealing deals of all kinds, even one as taboo as this.

  “I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Danielle,” he whispered in my ear, bringing his lips so close to the skin I could practically feel them scorching me. “All you have to do is let yourself have it. For once, indulge in your own desires. You deserve it.”