Page 34 of The Billionaire's Promise

"Should we take her to the doctor?" I asked, anxiety spiraling in my gut. She was too tiny to be sick. Logic told me kids got sick. But this wasmykid. I was supposed to protect her, not let her get sick.

"Let's feed her first. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's allergies."

It was early in the year for allergies, but I didn't want to argue. We were both grasping. Magnolia handed me Rosie and turned to face Sloane.

"I can give you half an hour. What do you need to talk about?"

Sloane ignored her to stare at me in wide-eyed astonishment. "Are you serious? You've suddenly got a baby, and now you're fucking Magnolia? What is she now, the nanny?"

I wrapped my arm around Magnolia, pulling her into my side. Under her breath, she hissed, "Vance, what are you doing?"

In answer, I kissed her temple and tightened my arm. Her lush curves felt so perfect pressed into me that I had to wrestle my attention back to Sloane.

"Sloane, I'm not going to say it again. I have more important things to worry about than your temper tantrums. I'm with Magnolia, end of story. It has nothing to do with you, and if you give her a hard time about it, you're fired."

"We have a contract," she said, glaring at Magnolia.

"Read it," I said. "If I don't like how this is working out, I can walk with thirty days’ written notice. Think about that before you open your mouth again."

Sloane took a deep breath, started to speak, then pressed her thin lips together, still glaring at Magnolia. Ignoring her, I dropped my head to murmur in Magnolia's ear. "If you really have to talk to her, leave the office door open, okay?"

"Okay, but what the hell, Vance?"

Her beautiful blue eyes swirled with confusion and frustration. This wasn't the right way to escalate our relationship. But I was realizing there was no right way. There was never going to be a perfect moment. I could either wait forever or I could take charge.

Magnolia was going to run, and I was going to chase her. That was our reality, and I was finally ready to deal with it.

I couldn't resist grazing her rounded cheekbone with my lips, loving the way her skin flushed under the gentle touch.

"Just telling Sloane how it is," I whispered.

"But, we're not—" she stammered, trying to step back. I held her tightly against my side, not ready to let her go.

"Semantics," I said. "Not right this second, but we will be. No point in pretending otherwise."

I dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and let her go. Rosie was squirming in my arms, ready for her bottle. Her breathing sounded funny in my ears, as if her nose were congested. Shit. I really, really didn't want her to be sick. Not until she could talk to me and tell me what was wrong. She was too little. Too fragile.

I watched Magnolia disappear into the office with Sloane, leaving the door wide open as I'd told her to. I couldn't hear the specifics of their conversation, but I heard the tone. It was level and polite enough to satisfy me. I hadn't been bluffing with Sloane. She was a bitch, but I'd kept her on all these years because she was good at her job, she sold my work, and in the process, she handled the shit I didn't want to.

I enjoyed business, investing. I loved creating things with metal and fire. I did not like selling art. I hated the parties and the bad wine and the people fawning over me as if sucking up would get them anything. Sloane handled all of that. Neither Magnolia nor I had any interest in taking over the management of my art career.

Now that Rosie had entered our lives, we didn't have the time, either. I'd put up with Sloane for the sake of convenience, but if she said anything to hurt Magnolia's feelings, she was fired.

Sloane left without a word to me almost exactly a half-hour from the moment she'd entered Magnolia's office. By that time, I'd almost forgotten she was there. Rosie had finished her bottle, but it had taken some coaxing. Her appetite was off, her cheeks were flushed, and her nose was a snot faucet. My baby girl was sick.

Magnolia must have known, because she left her office and went straight to the bathroom, where we'd stored the kit of baby first aid crap. She came out with the high-tech infrared thermometer I'd picked out, and after scanning the directions, she turned it on, hit a few buttons, and held it gently yet firmly against Rosie's forehead. Five seconds later, it beeped, and the screen turned red. 101.4

"I'm taking her to the doctor," I said.

"I'll call and let them know we're on the way.”

I won't lie. I was relieved Magnolia was coming with me. I could handle Rosie on my own, but I was not feeling all that confident in my fathering skills now that I'd realized I had a sick baby on my hands. I needed Magnolia. Between the two of us, we could handle anything. I wasn't sure of much lately, but I was sure about that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

VANCE

The doctor didn't laugh at us. Not exactly, but I could tell he wanted to. Rosie had a cold. The doctor listened to her heart, her lungs, checked her temperature, and pronounced her a normal, healthy four-month-old who'd caught a cold. He gave us instructions about her fever and her breathing and what to do about all the snot before sending us on our way.