Having the Escort's Baby

Allie's POV

"This is insane! You can't be serious."

"Don't you dare speak to me that way, Alexandra." My father's eyes darkened and I saw just a glimmer of the cut-throat bastard that earned him his billions. As much as I wanted to protest, I couldn't. My stomach was in my throat, and if I had the ability to cry, I probably would have.

This wasn't fair. What he was asking of me was cruel, and I didn't think it was possible for me to hate him anymore than I already did. Still, I had no choice but to obey. I lowered my head, picking at my freshly done french tips.

"It's not enough time. I need more." I pleaded softly, but he only scoffed.

"Why? I'm not asking you to fall in love. All I need is an heir to appease my lawyers. I will not have this company die in a single generation just because you can't seem to find a man." He crossed one leg over his knee, the harsh scent of his cigar wafting over to me and making me choke. "With how much of my money you spend on making yourself pretty, you'd think you would have found one by now. But I suppose not even my fortune could make you desirable." I didn't flinch at his demeaning words, but merely cast my voided eyes to the all-glass wall behind him.

The view of New York was breathtaking from here. I briefly remembered coming here as a child, pressing my eager palms to the glass as I stared down in awe at the business of the city below. But that was before everything went to hell.

Now, all I felt was suffocating emptiness in this damned office. I just wanted to leave.

"I'll find someone." I muttered, still averting my gaze from the striking blue eyes before me, the same ones I'd inherited from my father.

"I know you will, because you don't have a choice. One year. I want you married and pregnant, do you understand? Marriage must come first. I don't want there to be a scandal about you getting knocked up out of wedlock."

"Yes, father." I stood, straightening my miniskirt to fall a little lower on my ivory thighs. My father had thoroughly doused my fiery spirit in a matter of minutes, just as he always did. It must've been some superpower of his; to break people.

"You may leave, now." He said directly, coldly, and not anything like a normal father would speak to his only daughter. But I kept my head down as I obeyed, my four inch heals clicking gracefully against the marble flooring on my way out of his office.

One year. Get married. Get pregnant. Stay rich.

What could possibly go wrong?

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"That is so fucked up, girl. You're dad is such an asshole." My best friend Sasha sighed, taking another sip of her martini. Her long legs were crossed, revealing even more of her caramel skin to the eager eyes around us. She would be going home with one of them tonight, that was for sure.

I twirled the black straw around my margarita, making sure not to show any emotion as I did so. Sadness did not look good on a woman, especially in a party of this caliber. Some A-list actor decided to open up his private penthouse for new years, and we got the invite on fortune alone. When you know the right people and pay the right price, anything is possible.

"Yea, well, I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do." She raised a perfectly sculpted brow, tossing her beatiful tight curls over her shoulder.

"What the hell do you mean? Just grab someone! Literally, you could probably point to any man in this room, and he would sign up. You're hot as fuck, girl." I let a brief smile touch my lips.

"Thanks, but how many would be willing to marry a girl they can't touch? 'Hey, I'm rich and I need a baby-daddy, but no sex and no affairs. You in?' Yea, no man in their right mind would agree to that. I'm royally fucked." I took a larger gulp. I needed shots, but I didn't want to get hammered with all these men around. They couldn't be trusted.

"Fair. But they would only have to pretend in front of the media, right?"

"That isn't any better, Sash. Besides, most of these guys would make shit actors. The media would eat them alive." I fucking hated my dad. Honestly, this was all just one big game to him. I was a pawn in his empire with a lot of cash and no free will. I never wanted to get married. I never wanted a kid! Hell, I was still going to have to research nannies that would be willing to raise my baby once I had them. I sure as hell wasn't qualified to be a mom. That child would end up worse off than me if I raised it. It would be downright cruel.

Sasha swiveled in her barstool, uncrossing then recrossing her legs as she faced me directly. She placed her empty glass on the bar, but there was already a new one waiting for her. A slow grin was spreading on her face, and I knew that look too well. She had an idea.

"Allie."

"Sasha." She pulled in her plump bottom lip, her brown eyes alight with mischief.

"Ever heard of Entice?" Entice? I furrowed my brow, setting my own glass down gently.

"What the hell is that?"

"The solution to your problems, babe." Okay, she had me. I was curious.

"Proceed." Her voice got low as she leaned into me.

"You could hire an escort."

An escort. Was she out of her mind? Escorts were basically social prostitutes, men or women who got paid to accompany other people to events or dates just so they didn't look lonely. I had mostly seen them used by newly divorced cougars or desperate men who wanted to feel desired. A male escort was just a manipulator with a pretty face.

"Hell. No." I spoke slowly, so she could understand. Still, she didn't take the message. Her head shook, sending her curls bouncing.

"Allie, this is perfect. These people are literally trained to pretend to be in love!"

"Yea, and do you really think they would agree to remain exclusive? Or fuck, to get me pregnant? That would literally destroy their career, or whatever the hell they call what they do." Her lips pursed as she leaned back, retrieving her drink.

"Baby, with the right price, I think they would do anything." She shrugged her bare shoulders. "Wouldn't hurt to try, right?"

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I pulled my leg underneath me in my office chair, adjusting my fluffy pajama bottoms in the process. Yea, when I was outside of my apartment, I dressed to the nines, but inside I did whatever I damn well pleased. And right now, that was wear an oversized t-shirt and fuzzy pants. My blonde hair sat in a messy bun atop my head as I shoveled another forkfull of creamy cheesecake into my mouth. It was divine. I knew I would have to work extra hard with my trainer in the morning to make up for it, but I didn't care. It was worth it.

"Entice." I mumbled with my mouth half-full, rubbing at my makeup-less eye.

The website was dark and moody, yet sophisticated all the same. Not bad for a literal meat market. I felt goosebumps erupt on my arms. Could I really do this? Marry a hired man? Honestly, these men were probably the worst, anyway. Shiny shits with no morals whatsoever.

Conceited. Manipulative. Greedy.

One would have to be to do this job. But unfortunately for me, Sasha was right. This was their specialty and it wouldn't hurt to try.

There was a tab on the top of the screen titled, "Our Escorts." I hadn't planned on previewing anyone. I was just going to call and ask for the most likely to consent, which of course, would cost me a small fortune. And that would just be to pay the company for surrendering an employee. I'd have my lawyers offer an even bigger sum to the man themselves.

Still, I was a bit curious as to who they had available.

I hovered my mouse over, sucking in one last deep breath as I clicked.

Two dozen results. Twenty four men, each with their own headshot and short biography. Their specialties, I guess. I felt sick to my stomach just looking at it. All of these men had volunteered to be someone's eyecandy for money. It was disgusting.

Not that the men themselves were disgusting. No, quite the opposite. They were all gorgeous, with a variety of ethnicities and personas. Some appeared lighthearted and friendly, while others were dark and brooding. Some mischevious and playful, others mature and professional. Their specialties seemed to match their faces, presumably on purpose. Any woman's fantasy could come true for just five grand an hour.

Shit. Five thousand an hour? How much would I need to offer them for a marriage and a baby?

I continued scrolling, feeling like a fucking creep as I did so. I was on page two, when one of the escorts caught my eye. He looked young, probably mid twenties, with a clean shaven face and large doey eyes that resembled the color of amber. I had never seen someone with such light brown eyes before. They looked damn near golden with their shine. His soft and well-groomed dark brown hair complimented them perfectly, but that wasn't what originally drew my attention. What stopped me was his blurb.

"Name: Nathan Anthony

Ethnicity: Caucasion-Irish

Country of Origin: England

Specialties: Undetermined"

Undetermined? What the hell did that mean?

Was he new or something? What did it matter?

My head was starting to ache with the stress, so I knew I needed to stop. It did no good to look at these profiles when I had no intention on picking my escort. I shut down my computer, leaning back in my seat as my hand came down on my forehead.

Calling my lawyer could wait. I needed a strong drink.