The CEO's Secret Baby

The doorbell chimed twice. Maria, one of the maids smoothed her uniform and pulled open the heavy front door. “Delivery for Mrs. Harlow.” The delivery man thrust a clipboard toward her. “Sign here.” Maria scrawled her signature and accepted the enormous wicker basket overflowing with roses, peonies, and lilies. She kicked the door shut with her hip and kept the arrangement on the foyer table. “Who was it?” Gia Harlow descended the curved staircase, one hand trailing along the mahogany banister. At twenty-three, she moved like someone constantly aware of taking up space. Her floral sundress which was loose and flowing did nothing to hide the soft curves of her body, the fullness of her hips and thighs, the roundness of her stomach. She’d stopped trying to hide months ago. What was the point? “Flowers, ma’am.” Maria gestured to the basket. “Another delivery.” Gia’s face brightened. She crossed to the table and plucked the small cream card from between two roses, For you, my wife. Have a lovely day. Love, David. A smile tugged at her lips. He’d been doing this for weeks now—flowers, chocolates, jewelry. Little reminders that he loved her. That she mattered. Maybe things were getting better. The front door slammed at six-thirty, rattling the crystal vase on the hall table. Gia jumped up from the couch, heart racing with that familiar mixture of hope and dread. She smoothed her dress and hurried to greet him. “David! You’re home.” She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the expensive cologne he wore. Then he pulled back, his dark eyes scanning her body with an expression that made her stomach drop. “What the hell are you wearing?” Gia blinked. “What?” “Can’t you wear something sexy for once? Oh wait—how could you, looking like that?” Gia glanced down at herself, heat flooding her cheeks. “What’s wrong with—” “Everything, Gia. Everything is wrong.” He brushed past her, loosening his tie. “You look like someone’s grandmother.” Her throat tightened. “I thought you liked this dress. You bought it for me last—” “That was before you gained another ten pounds.” Gia felt the familiar sting behind her eyes, that hot pressure building. She turned away before he could see the tears and fled up the stairs. By the time she reached their bedroom, sobs were already tearing through her chest. She collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in the duvet. *What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be enough?* “Gia. Baby, I’m sorry.” She didn’t respond. The mattress dipped as he sat beside her, his hand finding the curve of her back. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just… stressed. Work is hell right now, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” “You called me fat.” Her voice cracked on the word. “I didn’t mean it like that.” His thumb traced circles between her shoulder blades. “You know I love you. I just worry about your health, that’s all. If you could lose some weight—not for me, but for yourself—you’d feel so much better.” Gia rolled over, searching his face for sincerity. “Do you really love me?” she whispered. “Of course I do.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re my wife. I’m sorry, okay? Forgive me?” The next morning, David left for Maxlarm Corporation before Gia woke. At Maxlarm, David strode through the executive floor toward his office, nodding at assistants who scurried out of his way. Just the Director of Operations but he wielded enough power to make people nervous. He was reviewing reports when someone knocked. The door opened, and Christy Banks stepped inside. David’s pen stilled. He’d known she worked here—hell, he’d been instrumental in hiring her six months ago when she’d applied for the manager position. Gia had been thrilled, gushing about how wonderful it would be to have her best friend from high school working at the same company. “You’ll love her, David. Christy’s brilliant. And maybe I’ll get to see her more often.” She wore a charcoal pencil skirt that hugged every curve and a cream silk blouse with just enough buttons undone to be distracting. Her dark hair fell in glossy waves past her shoulders, and her red lipstick matched her heels perfectly. “Good morning, Mr. Harlow.” “Morning Christy.” He leaned back in his chair, not bothering to hide his appraisal. “What can I do for you?” Christy closed the door behind her—slowly—and crossed to his desk. “I wanted to discuss the last account. There’s been a complication with the shipment timeline.” She placed a folder on his desk, leaning forward just enough that her blouse gaped slightly. David’s eyes dropped, then flicked back to her face. “What kind of complication?” As she explained, he barely heard the words. Guilt pricked at the edges of his consciousness—Gia considered Christy her closest friend But that guilt was easy to ignore when Christy touched his arm and let her hand linger. “So if we adjust the delivery schedule,” Christy was saying, “we can avoid penalties and keep the client happy.” “Good thinking.” David’s voice came out rougher than intended. “Make it happen.” “Of course.” Her smile widened. “Anything else you need?” “That’ll be all,” David said finally. Christy’s smile didn’t falter. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot—Gia texted me yesterday asking about dinner this weekend. Should I tell her we’re both free?” The mention of his wife’s name should’ve doused whatever fire was building between them. Instead, it only made the attraction more intoxicating. “Tell her I have a work thing,” David said. “Maybe just you two should go.” “I’ll let her know. Poor thing has been so lonely lately.” She left before he could respond, and David sat there wondering when exactly he’d become the kind of man who lied to his wife about work obligations while googling at her best friend. Gia spent the afternoon curled up on the living room couch with her MacBook, researching healthy recipes. The house felt too big, too quiet. She’d tried yoga that morning—made it through ten minutes before giving up. Her phone buzzed with a text from Christy: Can’t do dinner this weekend, babe. Work is INSANE. Rain check? Love you! xo Gia stared at the message. Even Christy was too busy for her now. The doorbell interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “I’ll get it!” she called, though Maria was already halfway to the door. This time it was a large white box tied with silver ribbon. Maria brought it to her, eyebrows raised in question. Inside lay the most stunning dress she’d ever seen. She pulled out the card: Company dinner party tonight at 8pm. Be ready. Love, David. Her heart soared. He wanted her there. With him. At a work event. She ran upstairs, clutching the dress to her chest. At seven-forty, David burst through the front door. “Gia! We need to leave in twenty minutes!” “Almost ready!” she called from upstairs, panic threading through her voice. She stood in front of the bedroom mirror, the beautiful black dress crumpled on the bed behind her. She’d tried—God, she’d tried—squeezing herself into it, holding her breath. But the zipper wouldn’t budge past her waist. The seam under her arm had torn with a loud rip when she’d forced it. Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. “Gia!” David’s footsteps thundered up the stairs. “What’s taking so—” He stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene: his wife in her underwear, the dress discarded, her red eyes and running makeup. “I can’t fit in it,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I tried, but—” “Are you kidding me?” That’s an LX, Gia. An LX Most plus-size women would swim in that.” “I can wear one of my own dresses,” she said desperately. “Just give me five minutes—” “Don’t bother.” He turned away, running both hands through his hair. “I’ll go alone.” “David, please—” “I said don’t bother!” He spun back, his face twisted with disgust. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? I can’t show up with… with…” He gestured at her body. The words dried up in Gia’s throat. David grabbed his keys and stormed out. Seconds later, his car roared to life in the driveway.