Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(88)

“It might,” I agree.

“I can’t decide if it will be worse in the press, or worse in the boardroom. If institutional investors get jumpy, they’ll be calling for your head.”

“That’s why I need secrecy.”

“That comes with a cost, too,” Dad says. “You’re relying on Max Bayer’s intuition. Not like that’s bad. I trust those guys with my life. But when this leaks to the board, you’ll be saying a lot of ‘Max says this and Max says that.’ Without much proof.”

“Without any proof,” I grumble.

“They’re going to say Max runs your company.”

“Dad!” I gripe, sounding like a pissed-off teenager. “I already understand how that works. Half of them already think that you run my company. The other half thinks that Nate Kattenberger does. That rumor started when I licensed his AI software.”

He chuckles. “I know you’re just trying to save the world, honey. But so many people will be ungrateful. Especially when they realize they’ve been kept out of the loop.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. But I can’t let anyone in on this until after the trap’s been set. I need a month at least.”

He clicks his tongue. “Be careful with the optics. Don’t let Max hire out anything you can do yourself. And for God’s sake, squash those rumors about you and the other Bayer kid. The athlete.”

“What? He has nothing to do with this.”

“Gossip forms in a vacuum. I’ve heard so many rumors about the father of your child. First I heard Nate; then I heard Max. Now Eric.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I have over a thousand employees. I knew people would gossip. But the fact that my own father hears these rumors? That makes me ill.

“Hang in there, honey. Don’t give them any extra reasons to doubt you. When the baby comes, you won’t be around to defend yourself, either. The timing is terrible.”

“You think?”

“Deep breaths. You need me to fly out for a visit?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Not until the holidays. I don’t want people saying that daddy had to come and rescue me.”

I don’t need anyone to rescue me. This problem is big, but it will not break me.

“Okay. Call me tomorrow? I know you hate asking for help, Alexandra. But everyone needs a springboard sometimes. And there aren’t many people you can trust.”

“Thank you,” I say softly, because he’s right. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, honey. I can’t wait to meet my granddaughter.”

My stupid eyes fill. “Night dad.”

We hang up, and I shut out the light. Then I curl up in the center of my giant bed. I take one of my many pillows and tuck it between my knees. Then I grab another and hug it in my arms. Sleeping while eight months pregnant is hard. It requires props. Or the hard body of a man—

No. It does not require that.

I close my eyes.





“Alexxxxx!” someone bellows.

My eyes fly open in the dark, and my heart is already pounding.

I hear a muted thud. Like a body falling against my front door. “Alex, baby! I need to speak to you!”

As I wake up quickly, I realize that’s Eric’s voice. Eric’s very drunk voice. And he seems to be outside my apartment.

With a groan, I throw my pillows out of the way and heave myself off the bed. As I approach the front door, I hear Duff out there trying to reason with him.

“Eric, buddy, I can see that you have a few things on your mind. But maybe sleep on it? You can come back tomorrow.”

“Alex! It can’t wait!”

“Cut it out,” Duff complains. “I like you, and I don’t want to pull rank, here. But if you keep yelling, I’ll put you in a headlock and stuff you into that elevator. It’s, like, literally my job.”

I’m right outside the door now, and Eric switches to a stage whisper. “Alex! Open the door!”

I yank it open. “This better be good. I was sleeping. After the longest day of my career, I was out cold.”

“Dude,” says a man I’ve never seen before. “Rough start. But you can turn this around. I believe in you. When you know, you know.”

“When you know, you know!” crows a drunken Eric. His beautiful gray eyes are a little unfocused, but he’s grinning at me. “Alex, baby, let me in. We gotta talk.”

“Who’s that?” I demand, pointing at the stranger.

“My cousin,” Eric slurs. “He’s the newest Bayer on the Bruisers. That’s what twenty-two and optimistic looks like.”

“I’ll show them both the door,” Duff says. “So sorry about this.”

But I have a feeling that hurricane Eric won’t leave quietly. My quickest path back to bed is just to hear the man out. “You have five minutes,” I say with a sigh, widening the door. “Start talking.”

“You got this, buddy!” says the cousin in the Bruisers T-shirt. “You’re right. She is a hot whale.”

“What did you just call me?” I yelp.

“He said fox tail,” Duff says quickly. “They’ve been, um, drinking.”