Baby Daddy

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗.

I push aside the saggy white and yellow mixture of scrambled eggs in my plate, separating it from the scrumptious pancakes and bacon.

Looking around, I wonder who made the breakfast. I only see three spoilt men and a girl seated around the table with me and not one of them looks like they know their way around the kitchen.

But whenever I look at Michael and my chest burns with rage. He made me feel powerless yesterday. I can't believe Forbes called him an honourable business man.

I take a deep breath and glance at the girl next to him, she politely smiles at me. I purse my lips and focus on my food.

Her pixie cut makes her younger than she lets on, and with her slender body and porcelain skin, I contemplate whether she's a cousin or sister.

I sigh. I don't have to marry him, do I?

Marry Randall, or. . . Or what?

I hope it doesn't come to that, is what Michael said to me when I asked him what would happen if I refused to marry his son.

I can barely get the words out of my head, let alone the idea.

It all just makes me angry and confused and disgusted.

I do my best to hold back the bile rising in my throat and think of Madilyn who's been waiting for my call.

My stomach churns and I'm plagued by the scenarios running through my mind.

"Excuse me," I suddenly say. The sound of cutlery hitting against plates comes to a stop when I stand up. "Thank you guys for your. . . hospitality but I have to go now."

And even though my heart pounds against my chest in alarm and fear of what Michael will say or do, I defiantly exit the house. I have overstayed my welcome.

Outside, I stand on the porch, marveling at the wide landscape of green grass and colorful flowers narrowing the path to the gate.

I panic a little when the door opens and closes behind me.

With my arms crossed, I manage to wave my phone at the person.

"Don't worry, I called myself an Uber."

Turning, I am caught off guard by Randall confidently standing behind me with his dark coiffed hair and a clean white shirt paired with navy slacks.

His hands are on his waist and his eyes are narrowed. I smile, but he's not looking at me.

"Oh you mean the lady at the gate?" He asks and barely gives me time to answer. "She's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?"

When he does actually look at me, I'm ready to hit him with a right hook.

"Don't worry, I'll take you home." He smiles like a coniving fox.

Immediately after a jet black metallic Porsche is parked in front of us and the driver comes out and hands Randall the keys.

You have got to be kidding me, I groan, tilting my head back.

"Kira, it's the least I can do fo-"

"For being an asshole." I cut him off.

He looks at me and clenches his jaw, "I'm trying-"

"To apologize?"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" He narrows his eyes at me, frowning. Then he wears a frightening smile. "Get in the car sweetheart."

Sweetheart, is that where we are now? I roll my eyes, he must be high.

In a matter of seconds, I feel the skin on my back burn at his touch as he leads me to the car.