Chasing My Exiled Secret Baby Mama

Danika Brewer jerked her eyes open and pulled the silk sheet up to her collarbone. A brutal hangover pounded behind her temples as the blinding Manhattan morning light flooded the penthouse suite. Cold cedar scent lingered on the fabric, belonging to a complete stranger.

A heavy, muscular arm rested across her bare waist. Her vision blurred with panic as she stiffly turned her neck, coming face-to-face with a sleeping man whose jawline looked carved from stone.

She sucked in a sharp breath and inched toward the edge of the mattress to escape the crime scene, but her elbow knocked against the nightstand.

The crystal water glass tumbled off the edge and hit the thick wool rug with a dull thud. Before she could scramble off the bed, the heavy arm around her waist flexed and yanked her backward against a broad, scorching chest.

Domenic Reid opened his eyes. There was no morning grogginess in those sharp, gray-blue irises, only a crushing weight of scrutiny as he looked down at the trembling girl trapped in his arms.

Danika pressed her palms flat against his pecs, the heat of his skin making her face burn.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, pushing against him to create space.

Domenic let out a short, cold scoff. He released her waist and rolled out of bed in one fluid motion, exposing a broad back marked with several fresh, red fingernail scratches.

He bent down, picked up his tailored black trousers from the carpet, and stepped into them without sparing her a single glance, acting as if the madness of the previous night had never happened.

Danika pulled the silk sheet tight against her chest, her eyes stinging with shame. She bit her lower lip hard and scanned the floor for the cheap floral dress she had worn the night before.

Domenic walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, pulled a silver mechanical watch from his suit jacket pocket, and snapped the clasp shut around his left wrist. The metallic click echoed through the quiet room.

He turned around, his tall frame blocking the sunlight and casting a long shadow over the bed.

"Last night was an accident," Domenic said, his voice deep and flat. "Troublesome follow-ups are not something I tolerate."

Danika felt her stomach drop. She twisted the silk sheet in her fists and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

"It was an accident for me too, sir," she said, her voice shaking but clear. "I won't bother you."

Domenic raised a single eyebrow, seemingly surprised by her pushback. He walked back to the edge of the mattress and leaned down, the heavy scent of cedar and tobacco wrapping around her throat.

His long, cold fingers gripped her chin, forcing her head up as a dark glint flashed in his gray-blue eyes.

"Just so you don't get any romantic illusions," he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of her jaw, "I have very destructive habits. Staying away from me is in your best interest."

Tears pooled in her eyes from the pressure on her jaw. She wrenched her face out of his grip and took a ragged breath.

"Please leave now. I need to get dressed."

Domenic stared at her for a second longer before straightening his spine. He walked over to the solid wood desk, picked up the landline, and dialed a quick extension.

"Extend the reservation on this penthouse for three more days and put it on my tab," he told the hotel butler on the other end. "And send up warm milk and a light breakfast."

Danika stared at his back, her chest tightening in confusion as the man who had just threatened her made arrangements for her meal.

Domenic hung up the phone, slung his custom suit jacket over his forearm, and strode toward the double doors.

His hand gripped the brass handle. He paused, glancing over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye at the small figure curled up in the center of the king-sized bed, the silk sheet wrapped tightly around her.

Without another word, he pushed the handle down and stepped out, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him.

The silence in the suite snapped the last of Danika's composure. She buried her face into the pillow that still smelled like him, hot tears soaking into the cotton as the memory of chugging tequila in a dark club and stumbling into his arms crashed over her.

A soft knock broke the quiet, and the hotel butler wheeled a silver cart into the dining area, setting steaming plates by the window.

"Ma'am, the gentleman instructed us to make sure you eat," the butler said with a polite bow. "Please ring if you require laundry service."

Danika looked at the steaming glass of milk across the room, and her stomach cramped violently. She threw off the silk sheet and ran barefoot into the marble bathroom.

She gripped the edges of the sink and dry-heaved, lifting her head to see her tangled hair, swollen eyes, and the dark purple marks littering her neck in the mirror.

She stumbled into the glass shower stall and turned the dial all the way to cold, gasping as the freezing water hit her aching skin.

Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, she walked back into the bedroom and picked up her phone from the rug. Dozens of notifications lit up the screen, not a single one from her adoptive parents.

She let out a shaky breath, opened her contacts, and pressed her trembling thumb against the listing for Brewer Estate.