Baby for My Grumpy Billionaire

BABY FOR MY GRUMPY BILLIONAIRE AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS PREGNANCY ROMANCE CASSANDRA RUSSELL MOONLIGHT PUBLISHING Copyright © 2023 by Cassandra Russell All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. CONTENTS Chapter 1 - Megan Chapter 2 - Christian Chapter 3 - Megan Chapter 4 - Christian Chapter 5 - Megan Chapter 6 - Christian Chapter 7 - Megan Chapter 8 - Christian Chapter 9 - Megan Chapter 10 - Christian Chapter 11 - Megan Chapter 12 - Megan Chapter 13 - Christian Chapter 14 - Christian Chapter 15 - Megan Chapter 16 - Christian Chapter 17 - Megan Chapter 18 - Christian Chapter 19 - Megan Chapter 20 - Christian Chapter 21 - Megan Chapter 22 - Christian Chapter 23 - Megan Chapter 24 - Christian Chapter 25 - Megan Chapter 26 - Megan Chapter 27 - Christian Chapter 28 - Megan Chapter 29 - Megan Chapter 30 - Christian Chapter 31 - Megan Chapter 32 - Christian Chapter 33 - Megan Epilogue - Christian CHAPTER 1 - MEGAN “Miss? Miss?” I don’t immediately wake up to the sound of the voice politely trying to get my attention. The voice is soft and almost lyrical, and it blends in well with the dream I’m having. But when something blunt pokes me right between the ribs, my eyes fly open and I jolt upright in my seat, knocking my head against the bus window as I try to orient myself. I must have dozed off to the lull of the road noise as the bus lumbered down the city streets. Burning the candle at both ends means that night and day are starting to blur together at this point. I look next to me and see the source of the blunt object that poked me in the ribs—the stubby finger of the man sitting next to me. The lady across the aisle, which runs down the center of the bus, is still trying to get my attention and her smooth olive complexion and kind eyes match the soft sound of the voice I heard while I was still in that haze between sleep and wake. “She told me to do it,” the stubby-fingered guy says as he motions toward her. “Hi,” she smiles. “You fell asleep, and the bus route only has one more stop, which is my stop. And since I’ve never seen you in my borough before, I figured you must have slept through your stop.” I look out the window in a panic. Shit! “Oh, shit, shit, shit!” I say as I stand up in my seat. I practically stumble over the lap of the guy with the stubby fingers next to me and race up the center aisle of the bus to the driver. “Get back in your seat, ma’am,” the driver shouts as he sees me approaching him in the mirror above his head. At twenty-seven, I don’t feel old enough to be a ‘ma’am’ quite yet. “Sorry,” I pant, breathless more from my panic than the quick jaunt down the aisle of the bus. “But I missed my stop. I accidentally fell asleep, and I was supposed to get off three stops ago.” The driver stares at me apathetically in the mirror as if my mere existence is offending him. “And you decided to run up here while I’m driving to share this with me why?” he asks. I can tell by the drawl of his words that his question is laden with sarcasm. “Because I was hoping that you could still take me back to my stop.” I give the guy my best puppy dog eyes because I am desperate. I’ll be late for work, and I can’t be late for work. “Oh sure,” he says with a smile that seems a little bit too wide. “I’ll just turn the bus around after I make this last stop on the route and drive you back to exactly where it is that you need to go.” “Really?” I ask in surprise. “No! Now go back and sit down in your seat. You can get off at the last stop just like everyone else.” “But what am I supposed to do?” I ask, so exhausted from a full week of working my day job at the construction firm and moonlighting to get my master’s degree as a physician’s assistant. I was up all night last night working on my final term paper, and I am so tired that I’m on the verge of tears. “I’ll tell you what you can’t do,” he says. “You can’t get back on this bus once we reach the last stop on the route because my shift is over and I’m going home. I’ve been driving the graveyard shift, and I can barely keep my eyes open myself.” Oh geez, that’s reassuring. What kind of bus driver admits to almost falling asleep at the wheel? “You can call a cab, walk to the nearest bus stop and pick up another route back, or simply decide to relocate to this neighborhood. I don’t give a shit what you do as long as you go back to your seat.” I stare at his reflection in the long mirror that covers the width of the bus above his windshield. It’s pointless to argue with this man, as he obviously doesn’t have a heart. So, I go back to my seat and wait for the last stop. The guy next to me is stifling a laugh at my misfortune. But the woman who had been trying to wake me up just shakes her head and looks over at me with sympathy. It’s my own fault. I should have had coffee before I left my apartment. When the bus finally slows to a stop, I grab my bag and get