Billionaire’s Missing Baby

  Billionaire’s Missing Baby

  Published By Kayla Watkins, 2017

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  14 Day Fiancee

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  More Books by Kayla Watkins

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  On the middle of a Tuesday afternoon in the heart of the school year, Adam Costanza normally would have been working with his students after school, helping them to mold their young bodies as well as their young minds. Instead he was pacing the floor in the middle of a nursing home as he wondered bleakly if his father was likely to survive.

  John Costanza was in his fourth stage of cancer, and this was not the first time his brother, James, had found the old man lying comatose on the floor of his posh Malibu estate. This time, however, he had been on the respirator for a week before he’d managed to open his eyes.

  “The prognosis is not too good,” the doctor told them. “I have to tell you two, your father is unlikely to make it another year despite the fact he can afford the best medicine money can buy. I think, given the circumstances, he would fare best if his treatment were continued in the privacy of his own home.”

  “Circumstances?” Adam repeated uncomfortably as he stopped his pacing. “What do you mean?”

  The woman looked at her watch and raised one eyebrow. “Yes, I believe Maggie’s shift has begun. Perhaps if you visit your father now, you’ll figure those circumstances out for yourself, sir.”

  “Alright, I will,” Adam agreed.

  Adam wasn't in the room for two minutes before the nurse, Maggie, made her appearance and matters became crystal clear. The woman stood before him in a crisp nurse's uniform—a sharp contrast against her dark South African complexion. Her back was straight, however, and her eyes full of challenge. He looked at her with sympathy.

  “I don’t want no damned n—”

  “Dad!” Adam cut him off sharply, visibly wincing at the word that had almost made it out of his father's mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he continued, “for whatever he may have said to you, Maggie. You really don’t deserve this. I wouldn't blame you if you didn’t want to stay.”

  “Part of the job, sir,” she shrugged.

  Her voice was soft and lilting, and yes, he caught the traces of an accent. He smiled, trying to look encouraging. The moment was ruined as his father’s voice cut through the room, sharp as knives.

  “I don’t need one of her kind looking after me. I have family of my own, and I have money, too. Look at her... fresh off the damned boat from Africa and everything!”

  “Dad, for God’s sake, they’re going to throw you out,” Adam pleaded. “You can’t speak to people that way.”

  “Hell if I can’t. I’m old and I’m dying. What are they going to do about it? You could take care of me, couldn’t you, Adam? Take a medical leave from that damned school?”

  “Dad, I’ve told you before,” Adam insisted, “medical leave is for the patients.”

  “I don’t want her in the room with me.”

  It continued to amaze Adam, how plaintive and desperate his father could sound when he wanted to. He was too used to hearing the old man’s voice booming across a boardroom table, or across his enormous den back at the estate where he’d been raised. Like the time Adam had told him he would be going to school in Europe, out of the reach of his influence, and again when he'd spent a gap year in Africa.

  “American’s don’t do gap years, Adam,” the man had fumed. “And do you have any idea what kinds of things those people might do to you there?”

  Now, after months of wasting illness, his father could still terrorize the hospital staff. His voice was weaker, and he had become more frail than Adam ever remembered him being before, but he could still pull the pathetic invalid stunt off with remarkable ease.

  Adam glared at his brother, James, who leaned against the doorway, hair artfully mussed, mouth turned up in a smirk as he watched Adam flounder.

  “You want to help here?” Adam asked irritably.

  James indulgently stepped over to the poor, harangued nurse and rested a hand on her arm. “Listen,” he began in a soft, conspiratorial tone. “I’m really sorry about the way my father can be. He’s old, and set in his ways. You know what they’re like.”

  Adam watched the nurse work not to flinch. He entertained a fantasy of her reaching up to slap his brother’s face hard enough to leave a bruise. She just smiled tightly, though.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve met racists before,” she replied calmly.

  Her voice was still soft, but her gaze was uncompromising. Adam’s opinion of her jumped up several points from neutral. Normally James would have the woman fawning all over him by now. Both he and Adam had the same blond hair, blue eyes, and square jaws, but James wore his hair a bit longer, with a mussed style that made him seem more approachable. Maggie did not seem to be impressed, however.

  For a second, but only a second, James faltered. “Right,” he said with a nod. “And, hey, I don’t want to subject you to that sort of thing. I mean, who wants to come to work and face something like that?” After a brief pause he added, “Why don’t you just get one of your colleagues in here instead? Make her deal with the old man and his sass, hmm?”

  Adam could see the wheels turning in the nurse’s head as she mulled this over. He flinched, hating the idea that the old man would get such unreasonable demands met. His racist behavior had always been unacceptable, even driving his mother away when James had only been seven years old. Maybe that was why the younger man had his father’s influence written all over him.

  Adam, a few years older and a whole lot wiser, hated the fact that James made a good point. The petite black woman really shouldn’t have to deal with this. He cast her an apologetic glance and she bit her lip, apparently coming to a decision at last.

  “Let me just go get my supervisor,” she replied.

  James smiled, patting her arm. “Thanks for that, sweetheart, we appreciate it.”

  “He appreciates it,” Adam muttered under his breath.

  The nurse hesitated as James smirked in his older brother’s direction. “Don’t mind him. All the manners in this fa
mily went to me.” James demonstrated these so-called manners by waving her away dismissively.

  “Sorry,” Adam whispered, wracked with guilt.

  The nurse cast him a strained smile and left the room. Adam glared at James, who was busy soothing his father. The man calmed down considerably as soon as the woman had left the room.

  “Oh, what? Give me a break, Adam,” James defended himself when he saw the look. “He’s an old man on his deathbed. You think he’s got one more shot at redemption?”

  “I didn’t say a word,” Adam replied shortly. With an admirable job of keeping the bitterness out of his tone, he turned to his father and asked, “Anything else you need, Dad?”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” his father answered, and squeezed Adam’s hand. “They always listen to you. I feel better just knowing no nurse will pickpocket me whenever you’re around.”

  James gaped for a moment. He sucked in whatever retort had been on his lips and glared at his older brother instead.

  “Nobody is going to steal from you, Dad,” Adam soothed the old man.

  “I need you to call the lawyers, son,” John Costanza said, gripping his eldest son’s hand tighter for a moment before drifting off for a minute. Adam waited until he came back again. That had been happening more and more often, making his heart seize with fear each time.

  “Dad, no,” James objected, and Adam shook his head at him.

  “Call the lawyers, and tell them what the doctor has said. With only a year left, if that, I’m ready to… to draw up my…”

  “You don’t need to worry about that, Dad,” Adam interrupted his father. “James and I can work that out between ourselves.”

  His father made a rude noise, spit flying wildly, and glared at his younger son. “James? You think I don’t know? You think I don’t know what he’s been… injecting himself with…”

  The heart monitor began beeping wildly, and when Adam looked over at James, the younger man actually looked ashamed.

  Pale and afraid, he swallowed. “Dad I—”

  “I’d sooner trust my fortune to a n—”

  “Dad!” Adam admonished him.

  The door opened as he spoke. The little black nurse entered, followed by a tall, severe-looking blonde woman, who smiled tightly at the three of them.

  “How are we feeling today, Mr. Costanza?” she asked coolly. Adam opened his mouth to answer on his behalf, but his father eyed the nurse with a distrusting look on his face.

  “I told you I don’t want her in here.”

  “Yes, yes, we heard you. Unfortunately, Mr. Costanza, our hospital is funded by several non-profit organizations, and those organizations have a strict code of conduct for this sort of behavior. If I were to adhere to your… demands,” she practically vomited the word past a tight smile, “I could lose a lot of funding to this hospital. So, after conferring with the board of directors, we feel your best option is a private nurse. In your own home.”

  “Oh, come on!” James leapt to his father’s defense.

  She smiled, all teeth. “We feel this is the best way to accommodate his… needs. Unless, of course, he’s willing to allow Maggie to continue to do her job without any additional harassment.”

  “Harassment?!” John roared, impressively loud considering he was lying in a hospital bed. “I never touched her! What the hell ever happened to free speech in this country? You can’t deny me treatment just because I have some opinions you don’t like! I have private medical care!”

  “I’m sorry about all of this,” Adam cut in. “But isn’t it dangerous to move him right now?”

  “It can be…” the supervisor hedged.

  “This is the third time in as many days,” Maggie cut in, her soft and lilting voice gaining strength now that she knew she had allies. “He won’t stop. He never lets me near him, and he doesn’t want me to touch him. I can’t do my job under these conditions.”

  Adam held up a hand. “As I said, I’m sorry. I know how awful he can be. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll have him moved just as soon as it can be arranged.”

  His younger brother’s head snapped up. “You’ll what?”

  “We absolutely deserve to be tossed out on our asses for this,” Adam insisted. “I’m sorry for whatever he’s said to you, Maggie. He’s old, and he’s dying, but as you said he may have as much as a year left. There’s no way I’d ever expect you to put up with him that long. Are there any nurses that you could recommend?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” John said, patting Adam’s hand, the most affectionate he’d ever allowed himself to be toward him. James watched the exchange with clear revulsion.

  “I’m your son, Dad,” Adam insisted. “I’ll do what’s best for you no matter what.”

  “Well, the hero has spoken,” said James harshly. “I could really use a drink.”

  “Yes, let’s leave our father alone for now,” Adam agreed. “If we’re going to move him soon, he’ll need some rest.”

  Chapter Two

  “Momma, watch!”

  Theresa Plummer’s head whipped around automatically, and she shook herself. She and the little blonde girl’s real mother shared a knowing smile.

  “Which one is yours?” she asked. Her smile made her face look ten years younger than it had a moment ago.

  “None of them,” Theresa admitted with a shake of her head. “I’m just clocking in for day. I guess even a nurse who’s single gets the mom reflex after working enough hours in a week.”

  The woman clucked sympathetically as Theresa continued walking by. The crowded waiting area faded into the background as she entered the locker room and suited up for the day.

  She shook her head again. In the Minnesota chill, with its clouds, its dirty streets, and its grey buildings, her own history had been filled with the cries of ‘Momma!’ Especially as she laid in her bed at night in her various foster homes. The impulse to comfort little ones had been ingrained within her almost since her own childhood, thanks to a life in the system.

  But this was California. The sun was bright, the lawns were neatly trimmed, and everything about her life had changed now that she had a career and a home of her own.

  Wincing, she reminded herself that she had been working some pretty ridiculous hours at the hospital lately because of that home. If she’d known when she'd bought into the place that it would need so many repairs, she would definitely have picked something else.

  She just needed more sleep, that was all. The mom reflex mostly kicked in when she was too tired. She didn't have the time to think about that as she hurried into the other room, though. She had promised Nadine to help with the scheduling for next week, since one of the girls had unexpectedly gone on medical leave, and she also needed to get to work on clearing out that waiting area. They were shorthanded and, California weather or not, the flu still existed. Theresa had a clinic full of worried moms, nervous teenagers, and crying babies to deal with.

  Her friend Marie was waiting when she entered the staff washroom to scrub and sanitize her hands.

  “I heard you volunteered for double duty,” she said sympathetically.

  “I don’t mind,” Theresa replied with a shrug.

  Marie shook her head, pulling back her thick, dark hair into a ponytail. “Girl, you need something more in your life than this job. I mean, we’ve all done it, but I’ve never seen anyone so dedicated to this place after all the time you've been here. You gotta learn to let go a bit. Get out and have some fun.”

  Theresa laughed, tying her unruly mop of thin braids into a tight bun at the back of her head. She glanced in the mirror at her lighter toned African American visage and snorted as she spotted the dark bags under her eyes.

  “I’ve only lived in California two months now,” she reminded her with a rueful smile. “I haven’t had the time to establish any kind of a social life yet. Besides, I really need the money, you know?”

  “You need to dump that turkey of a house they foisted on
to you and just go back to renting,” Marie scolded her. “Home ownership isn’t worth it if it’s going to eat up your entire paycheck and leave you with a mountain of debt, too.”

  “Oh, no, girl, that’s not going to happen,” Theresa insisted. “I love that little place more than I can say, it just came with a bit of baggage, that’s all.”

  “Yeah? Well, that real estate agent sure knew a sucker when he saw one,” Marie replied, rolling her eyes. “You’re lucky they don’t force you to move out and condemn the place.”

  “Oh, I know the repairs are extensive, and expensive, but I’ll get my home whipped into shape eventually,” Theresa assured her. “And, like I said, I have no social life anyway. I don’t mind the extra hours and a way to kill all my extra time. I’ll get around to making friends and exploring Los Angeles once the house is in decent enough shape to invite people home.”

  “Get around to it, girl?” Marie scoffed. “Get around to what? You’re only young once. When you gonna get around to some gorgeous guy who’s gonna sweep you off your feet? You’re beautiful. You ought to have some ridiculous fantasy boy stashed away somewhere.”

  “You and your soap opera mentality,” Theresa teased. Marie was in her fifties now, but she had become a nurse practitioner after a stint on General Hospital, or some other show like it, and she wandered around the clinic as if it were the halls of some lofty theater, doling out her romantic advice to anyone who cared to listen.

  “Soap opera?” she chortled with glee. “This place could be considered one of those, with all its goings on. Sadie’s boyfriend is only about half her age, girl, and Dr. Morrison just paid for that pretty young thang of his to get some breast implants. I hope his wife don’t find the bill for that expenditure!”

  If Theresa had been a bit younger she might have been put off by the casual way Marie flung drama around, but the woman never caused any harm with her stories. As they headed out of the break room together toward the throng of waiting patients, she said, “Believe me, Marie, if there was a hot young professional in my general vicinity, I promise you I’d tell you every juicy detail when we got through. And I wouldn’t be taking Sarah’s shifts for her, medical leave or no.”