The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(19)
Dallas looked at his watch. “It’s almost eleven o’clock in the morning,” Dallas stated as he focused again on the view in front of him and sipped his cup of coffee.
The woman pouted in her spoiled girl style. “Like I said, it’s early. After all, we didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night.” She giggled and rubbed her body against his and licked his neck. She wrapped her long leg around his and slid down it like a stripper’s pole.
“Come back to bed with me and I’ll make it worth your while,” she said with teasing eyes as she kneeled in front of his crotch.
Her tactics would normally work. He would usually enjoy playful morning sex with a gorgeous woman. But surprisingly, he found he was not in the mood. In fact, her presence was bothering him at the moment.
“I don’t think so. I have a busy day. George will see to it that you get home safely and comfortably. Thank you for a lovely evening.” He sipped his coffee again.
“What? That’s it?” she asked.
Dallas heard the bedroom door open and knew George was right on time. He turned away from the woman and toward the door. He nodded at George and promptly walked into his private area of the suite, closing the door behind him. He heard George kindly call the woman Charlotte. Oh yeah, Charlotte, Dallas thought. George helped Charlotte retrieve her clothes and directed a driver to take her home.
As Dallas showered and dressed for the day, he kept thinking about the family scenes on the lake. It wasn’t the idea of a wife that interested him. It was the dream of an offspring; someone to whom he could leave a legacy; someone with whom he would have a true bond that was based on something other than money.
Being a self-made billionaire before age thirty came with amazing privileges and an exciting life, but it also left him with little trust of people. It seemed like everyone who acted like they wanted to be his friend really just wanted a piece of his wealth, especially women. George was the only person he trusted, and he was on his payroll. Even his family only contacted him when they needed money.
Dallas walked into the living area and sat at the table. George promptly had room service deliver his meal.
“George,” Dallas said as he began eating, “may I ask you a personal question?”
George looked up from the paper he was reading and answered, “Yes, sir. What is it?”
“Do you have any children?”
“No sir, I do not.”
“A wife?”
“No. I am a bachelor, sir.”
Dallas smiled. “I thought so.” He took another bite and swallowed. “I’ve been thinking. I’m ready for a change in my life. I’m ready to make a commitment.”
George raised his eyebrows. “You’re thinking of getting married, sir?”
“No. God, no. I’m not ready to commit to one woman. You know how I like my many women.”
George nodded.
“No. I don’t want a wife. But I do want a child.”
George didn’t speak, nor did he move.
Dallas kept eating. He sensed George didn’t approve, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need anyone’s approval.
“Do you know how I could go about that without getting involved with a woman?” Dallas asked.
George tilted his head. “Adoption, perhaps?”
Dallas thought as he chewed. “No. I’d like my child to have my own DNA. And I’d like to be able to choose the mother, or at least the type of mother.”
“I will research your options, Mr. Moody.”
“Thank you, George.” Dallas wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table. “I’ll be home for dinner. I plan on being alone and I’d like to eat in my room.”
“Very good, sir.”
Dallas felt suddenly invigorated with his new life plan. Once he set his mind to something, he obsessed about it until it was complete. He was absolutely sure that fatherhood was the next step for him. He wouldn’t rest until his plan became his new reality. He walked on the path of his peninsula and saw a father and son fishing together in a boat on the lake. Soon, that was going to be his life. He couldn’t wait.
Chapter 2
No Daddy
Jada heard the factory buzzer and knew it must be time for lunch. She finished running the log through the saw mill and then turned the saw off for break time. She sat on a chair next to her tool box and retrieved the small lunch she brought from home. Though there was a lunchroom that some of the workers used to socialize, Jada preferred to be alone and quiet during her breaks.
The plant was noisy and hot, and she often found the topics of conversation with most of the men in the lunchroom were raunchy and offensive. She was much happier sitting alone and thinking.
After she finished her bologna sandwich and bag of veggie chips, Jada pulled out the paper she printed from the sperm bank. She had highlighted two possible donors.
After spending seven years with her loser boyfriend, Frank, who dumped her for a white woman with a fancy car and stylish downtown loft, she decided she was done with men and ready to just be a mom. All she needed was an anonymous donor so there were no messy custody battles or arranged visits with the child’s father.
She reviewed her final two possibilities. Her appointment was in three days. She needed to make her final decision. There was number 7301, the six foot five African American athlete or number 6892, the five foot ten African American musician.