Baby Love: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Read Free Page B

house, and made Peaches sleep like a baby at night, which was a first for the puppy apparently. I loved Callie and Patrick, but I had to admit that the dog was a vanity project for them. They really shouldn’t have become pet owners.
    The front door opened and Patrick called out. “Hey!” he yelled.
    “In here, honey!” Callie called back.
    The smell of the pizza arrived before Patrick did. That was good. I was starving.
    “I got the deep-dish Hawaiian, just like you like,” he said to me, setting the heavy brown box on the counter and kissing Callie on the cheek. She blushed slightly. They really were in love.
    “That’s my favorite,” I said, feeling odd. They hardly ever ordered pizza, and when they did, it was always an artisanal, gluten free, thin crust from some hipster place in Lincoln Park.
    “I know,” Patrick replied. He had a pile of envelopes tucked under his arm. He tossed them on the countertop.
    “How was your bank meeting?” Callie asked, sitting next to me and pulling a slice out of the box. She rested it neatly on a porcelain plate. Patrick handed her a fork so she could carve into the steaming bit of cheese, ham, pineapple, tomatoes, and thick, chewy Chicago crust.
    “A bust,” I replied heavily, taking out my own slice of pizza. It was all I could do to not inhale it. I needed to chew carefully; if I ate this too fast I was liable to vomit it all up.
    Patrick had a look on his face caught somewhere between anticipation and skepticism.
    “You look like the cat who swallowed a goddamn canary-filled aviary,” I said through a mouthful of burning cheese. It would scald my tongue but I would regret nothing. I needed fat, salt, and calories like a sex addict needed cock.
    Patrick pulled out a thick manila envelope from the mail pile and handed it to me.
    “Patrick!” Callie exclaimed, her Southern accent showing itself. “We were going to wait until after dinner…” she raised an eyebrow pointedly.
    “What are you all on about?” I asked them, perplexed. “First off, you brought home food that isn’t free-range pork hand-fed by milkmaids. And now…what is this?” I took the heavy envelope in my hands.
    “Hopefully you avoided the press today,” Patrick said slowly.
    “Yeah, usually they swarm me,” I replied sarcastically, setting down my fork with a twinge of regret at putting off eating even for a second. “But I managed to give them the slip after lunchtime.”
    Patrick rolled his eyes. “I meant I hope that you missed the news today. But it’s not like this will be any less surprising if you didn’t.”
    I had literally zero idea about what could be in this envelope. I hated surprises. I could see Callie’s face showing that she knew that. And she  would  know that. In third grade our mother had thrown me a surprise birthday party; I’d walked into our kitchen and when the lights flicked on and I saw the HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RACHEL! banner I’d turned around without a word and fled the property for the library. That was the last time anyone in my family ever did anything like that for me.
    I feigned surprise to throw off my own discomfort and went for a sarcastic joke to further protect myself from their combined gazes. I put on a Southern accent that approximated Callie’s. She loved when I did that. “Is this when y’all tell me I’m actually adopted?”
    Patrick and Callie laughed. “Just open it, Rach,” Callie said.
    I tore the tape off the envelope and undid the brass brad with the tip of my finger. I slid out the thick packet of papers and read.
    Dear Ms. Cobb,
    We are pleased to inform you that you have reached the final audition round for Boiler Room. We look forward to seeing you in person to meet with our producers Thursday, July 10th, at seven in the morning.
    Attached is the address, map, and directions of the screen test you will be doing. Please bring your business plan and do not be late.
    Warmly,
    Jane Adkins
    Boiler Room Production Assistant
    I