His accidental surrogate

Relax my mind

**Zaire**

My blacked-out Escalade rolled to a slow stop in front of the towering residential building downtown, my sanctuary in the sky. The doorman opened the vehicle door with a respectful nod.

"Evening, Mr. Cruz."

I nodded, phone pressed to my ear, jaw tight. "Tell them I'll review the proposal in the morning. I'm done for today."

I stepped into the building, past marble floors and gold accents, into a private elevator that only required my fingerprint to operate.

The doors closed.

Silence.

I finally let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

By the time the elevator opened into my penthouse, floor to ceiling windows, curated modern art, low lighting, I had already pulled off my tie and tossed it on the marble island in the kitchen.

I didn't feel like myself lately.

The calls, the meetings, the performance, it all still ran like a machine. But something in me was out of sync.

I poured myself a drink, neat bourbon, and sank into the soft leather of my living room couch.

The city glowed beneath me, vast and endless.

Yet all I could think about was her.

Kyra.

The woman from the clinic. The stranger who might now be carrying my child.

I didn't know her. Didn't even know if she liked dogs or hated sushi. But her face had etched itself into my memory. Her eyes, big, stunned, suspicious. The way she looked at me like I was a problem she hadn't asked for.

I took a slow sip.

This wasn't part of the plan.

I had built my life with surgical precision, every move calculated, every deal airtight. Even the sperm freezing had been strategic. Insurance for a future family I would build on my terms.

But now?

One administrative error and I was here.

Pacing a penthouse filled with expensive silence.

I hadn't told anyone. Not my board. Not my friends. Not even my older brother.

The world knew Zaire Cruz as the brilliant tech mind, the polished billionaire, the man who didn't make mistakes.

And yet...

I stared at my untouched dinner on the counter.

For the first time in years, I didn't feel in control.

My phone buzzed.

It was from Dr. Quinn's office.

"Reminder: Patient Follow-Up Meeting with Kyra Taylor, 10:00 AM, Friday."

I stared at the screen.

The two week wait was almost over.

My grip tightened around the glass.

What if she was pregnant?

What did that mean for my life, my future?

Would she want me involved?

Would I walk away?

I didn't know.

All I knew was that the clock was ticking and soon, the truth would demand answers.

Now walking to the bathroom to unwind, I pushed open the frosted glass door to my master bathroom, the quiet hum of the city below fading behind me.

This was my sanctuary.

Polished marble floors, ambient lighting, eucalyptus scented candles lit automatically when I pressed the sleek black panel on the wall. Every detail of the space was designed to help me unwind, to feel in control, exactly how I liked my life.

But tonight, nothing felt in control.

I loosened the top buttons of my shirt, then pulled it off altogether, tossing it carelessly over the back of a nearby chair. My slacks followed. Then my watch, my chain, the weight of the day falling away in layers.

I turned on the water.

The freestanding tub began to fill, steam curling into the air. I tested the temperature with my hand. Hot, just how I liked it.

My reflection stared back at me from the dark tinted glass. Sharp cheekbones. Strong jaw. Eyes tired in a way money couldn't fix.

I stepped in, sinking slowly into the bath until the water lapped just below my chest. Leaning back, I let out a long, slow exhale.

Normally, this was where my mind quieted. But tonight, it raced.

Kyra's face flashed again, confused, guarded, pissed. Rightfully so. She'd been blindsided by the truth just like I had.

I hadn't stopped thinking about it.

Hadn't stopped wondering: What if she is pregnant?

And more than that, what kind of man would I be if I just pretended none of this was happening?

I ran a hand down my face, then reached to the bath tray for my phone. My thumb hovered over Dr. Quinn's message again. Friday. 10AM. That's when everything would change one way or another.

I exited the app. Opened another.

Savannah.

I hadn't seen her in over a month. But she was still easy. Familiar. The kind of distraction that didn't come with questions or expectations.

And right now, I didn't want to think.

I hit Call.

The line rang twice before her voice came through, honey slick and teasing. "Well, look who finally remembered I exist."

I didn't respond right away. My voice came low, steady. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Now? Just got home from a shoot. Wine's open. Silk robe's on. Why?"

"You feel like coming over?"

A pause. Then a soft laugh. "Always. I'll be there in fifteen."

I hung up.

Sank deeper into the water.

The warmth did nothing to soothe me. Not really.

Because even as I invited another body into my space, my thoughts stayed tangled in the one woman I'd never meant to be in my life.

And the child that might already exist between us.