My (Mostly) Secret Baby - Penelope Bloom Page 0,15

last minute, or it was a sign that I was in for far worse than I could imagine. If he really planned to give me that money, he was challenging me, and I had a feeling the challenge was to find out what I’d put up with before I’d quit. He was just sadistic enough to do something like that, and I knew it.

I had to wait while the guy at HR called to confirm the details of my salary and position, but within an hour, I was signing my name at the bottom of a spicy contract that would take me straight from the ramen noodle diet to the name brand pasta diet. Yeah. You bet your ass Luna and I were going to be celebrating with some fancy pasta tonight. Fettuccine? Those little ones that look like helmets? The harder it was to spell, the more likely we were to buy it. It was going to be that kind of fancy. I might not even bring my coupon book to the grocery store just to flex a little bit.

I was leaving HR with a giant smile on my face when a young woman with red hair and tired eyes stopped me. She was breathtaking, even though she looked like she’d rather be punching puppies than at work. “Hey,” she said dryly.

“Hi, I’m Chelsea.”

“Daria.”

I stuck out my hand for a handshake. She looked down at it, then grinned crookedly, taking it and giving it a quick shake. She looked over her shoulder, then stepped a little closer. I noticed she had the most gorgeous dark blue eyes and skin so perfect I couldn’t help being jealous. “Damon is fucking obsessed with the color yellow.”

I crinkled my nose. “What? I was just in his office and didn’t see anything yellow.”

“He doesn’t like people to know. But if you wear yellow, he’s always nicer.”

“Oh, wow. Really?”

Daria nodded, then shot me a thumbs up. “You’re welcome.”

I smiled and waved goodbye to her. Apparently, part of my giant new salary was going to go toward adding a little yellow to my wardrobe.

Luna sat across from me that night with red sauce covering her face and a satisfied, tired look in her eyes. I’d invited Grant over as well as my best friend since high school, Milly.

Milly wore round, Harry Potter style glasses that I always found cute on her petite face and frame. Her brown hair was pulled back in a double braid that fell to her back, and she was dressed like she’d just gotten off the tennis court. Unlike me, Milly’s tennis career hadn’t come to an abrupt halt when she got pregnant. More accurately, Milly hadn’t been careless and irresponsible enough to get pregnant. But that was always a strange thing to think about.

I hated that I was dumb enough to let it happen to me, but if you gave me a time machine and sent me back ten years, I’d agonize over how to make sure everything happened exactly the way it did because I’d lose my mind if Luna never happened. Go figure.

Milly was still clawing and fighting to get high enough in the rankings to earn a decent living, but at least she was out there.

Grant was unusually quiet, so I tossed a piece of the crust of my garlic bread at him. He grinned distractedly.

“Okay. Spit it out,” I said.

On cue, Luna spit a mouthful of chewed up spaghetti onto her plate and grinned like a lunatic. We all let out a collective groan.

“Follow the rules for once,” Luna said cheerily, reminding me of a talk we’d just had yesterday after I spoke with her pre-K teacher.

Grant shifted in his chair, then leaned in on his elbows. “This salary he’s offering you. You’ve really got it in writing? I mean, like when does your first check come?”

“At the end of my second week.”

“So what happens if he fires you before then?”

To tell the truth, I hadn’t considered that. I’d been riding too high on the sudden weight of poverty getting yanked off my shoulders. “Why would I get fired?”

Milly cleared her throat. “Obvious historical complications between you and Lucifer?”

“Who’s Lucifer?” Luna asked.

Milly smirked. “Your mommy is Lucifer when she hasn’t had her coffee.”

I could see the gears in Luna’s little head turning, and knew I was going to get woken up tomorrow morning by my little girl calling me the devil. Thanks, Milly.

“None of that matters,” I said. “I need the money, so I’ll play nice.”

“It