The Billionaire's Pregnant Mistress

Night Out

Ezra

“Do you like the pure white, alabaster, or pearl?” Olympia asks, but I am hardly paying attention to her. “Ezra,” She snaps. “I need your help.”

I look up from my phone at my frustrated fiancée, holding several color swatches that all look the same to me. She is trying to figure out the colors for the tablecloths at our upcoming wedding. “What?” I mutter.

She huffs and stomps her foot. “The color, what color?” She screeches.

“Pick the pearl,” my younger sister Chanel speaks up.

Olympia looks at the swatch and sighs, “You think so?”

Chanel is dressed for her new i********: video, but she agreed to help Olympia and me pick out colors for our wedding. “It suits you the best,” She smiles.

“At least someone is helping,” Olympia grumbles.

I say nothing as I text my best friend, Willow. Olympia isn’t thrilled that I hang out with another woman, but Willow assures my fiancée that she has no interest in men.

“Ezra,” Olympia huffs. “Are you texting Willow?” she asks.

I nod, “Yeah,” I mutter.

“Better be,” Olympia looks at my sister, “That is the only female beside you and your mother. I allow him to text.”

Chanel, “As it should be,” She nudges me and stands up. “I am going to Lincoln Park with Lolly and Tiffany to poke fun at the street people.”

I look at my sister, “Why would you do that?”

“It’s fun,” she shrugs and flips her strawberry blonde hair back. “They can’t do anything to us.”

“You shouldn’t poke fun at people Chanel,” I scold her.

My sister scoffs, “Whatever, Dad,” she mocks me. She picks up her purse and slings it on her shoulder. “Bye,” she waves at Olympia and sticks her tongue out at me.

“She is just having fun,” Olympia says. “Madison and I used to poke fun at people too. It’s just jokes.”

I say nothing as I text Willow. She is offering to take me to a club by the waterfront tonight. My father has never really approved of me hanging out with Willow because she is my driver and the daughter of one of our landscapers. He says it’s not a proper friendship. I think he also dislikes that Willow is transgender and was born male. I could care less. I have accepted Willow through her transition.

“Ezra,” Olympia snaps at me. “What has you so interested that you are ignoring me?” She whines.

“I am just talking to my best friend,” I mutter.

“Willow? Your driver?” she scoffs. “I don’t know why you hang out with him.”

“Her,” I correct her. “Willow is a her.”

“Well, she used to be a he,” she sneers and stands up. “I am going to go see my mother. Maybe she will help me.”

“I’m just confused why the CEO of a major company mostly hangs out with his driver,” she laughs. “You are a billionaire, Ezra. Start acting like it.”

I eye her, “One of these days, perhaps.”

She scoffs and flips her hair like my sister. Olympia and I have known each other our whole lives. Her father is Hugh Carrington, the CEO of Carrington LLC. He is, at the same time, my father’s best friend and biggest rival. It was only inevitable that Olympia and I were to get married. Olympia is a beautiful woman with silky blonde hair and blue eyes. She has a great build and little else to offer. I am only marrying her to quiet our families. I don’t love her.

Olympia leans down and kisses my cheek, “Are we still on for dinner?” She asks.

I shake my head, “I am going to hang out with Willow,” I mention.

She snorts, “Billionaires don’t hang out, Ezra.”

I roll my eyes at her.

“Fine,” She huffs. “I’ll have dinner with my parents.” She grabs her things before leaving the penthouse I share with my sister.

I watch her leave before standing up and walking out to the balcony. Greater Chicago spreads out all around me. My family empire is one of the richest on earth. We are six generations in and have our hands in almost every industry. I was raised and trained to take over the company from my father, which I did two years ago. I sometimes wish I could be like my siblings and choose my destiny. My brother Liam is a highly regarded surgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital. He and his wife, whom he chose, have a little boy. I envy him. My sister Chanel became a so-called influencer after dropping out of college.

A pigeon lands near me and coos while circling the ground looking for morsels.

“Sorry, there are no crumbs for you,” I say to it. I watch the bird for a moment before it flies away, disappearing into the sea of buildings. I sit on a bench when I receive another text from Willow.

-So, are you coming tonight? - She texts.

-Count me in.- I respond and receive a thumbs up.

Hours later, I am in my bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, looking at myself in the mirror. Most consider me highly attractive with my short sandy blonder hair and rare grey eyes. I have some stubble on my face, which my father hates, but I am the CEO now. I have a couple of tattoos on my upper arms, another thing my father hates.

“Ez?” I hear Willow call. She usually lets herself into my home. “Ez?” She pokes her head into the bathroom and looks me up and down. “Damn, I wish I liked boys.”

I roll my eyes at her and say nothing.

“Have you gotten buffer?” She steps into the bathroom wearing a short red dress with her black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. She has blue eyes that sparkle whenever she smiles.

I shrug, “I have been working out the normal amount.”

She touches my chest, “Are you sure?”

I laugh and pull away, “I’m sure, Wills,” I laugh. “Where are we going?” I wonder.

“Pierre’s Wharf,” Willow answered while checking herself out in the mirror. “Damn, is that a zit?” She says while examining her chin.

“Probably,” I say and step out of my large bathroom.

“Ass,” Willow says, and I laugh.

I pass through my plush bedroom. It is decorated mainly in white and beige, as my mother insisted. I prefer darker colors, but I guess those aren’t in. I enter my closet and stare at my wardrobe. “What should I wear?” I wonder as Willow follows me in.

“Isn’t this the t-shirt I got you?” she holds up a faded Mickey Mouse shirt.

I grab it, “Yeah,” I laugh at her and grab the shirt. I drop it on a chair and look through the drawers. I pull out my favorite pair of jeans. They are around ten years old and drive my mother and sister up the wall when I wear them. “Perfect,” I say, grabbing a pair of boxers before dropping my towel, not caring that Willow is beside me. I find a white tank top and put it on. I face Willow, “Is this acceptable?”

She stares at me. “All the ladies and probably half the men will be all over you.”

I smirk, “Good,” I say and run a comb through my hair.

We wander out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. My cook Amy has the night off, so I look through the fridge for something to eat. I find some premade meals and offer them to Willow. “Do you want some roast?”

She shakes her head, “Nothing too heavy.”

“There are hot pockets,” I suggest.

Willow laughs, “Hot Pockets?”

“Yeah, ham and cheese,” I say as I pull out a box to show my friend. “Want one?”

“f**k yeah,” Willow nods.

I unpackage a few of them and throw them into the microwave. “Remember, your mom would make us Hot Pockets or pizza rolls.”

“You and Liam would snarf them down,” Willow nods.

After eating, we head down to the garage. I hand Willow the keys to my BMW.

He gives me a look.

“Hey, you are the driver,” I throw my hands up.

He rolls his eyes, and we get into the metallic blue vehicle.

Driving through traffic takes us about twenty minutes to get to the club.

We pull up to the front, and a valet steps forward as we get out.

Willow rushes around the car and grins at the valet.

“Oh hey, Willow,” the valet nods.

“Dashell,” Willow nods back.

“Go on up; Harry will let you in,” Dashell explains.

“Take care of the car,” I say, handing Dashell a fifty-dollar bill.

We pass by dozens of patrons waiting to get in. I note the thirsty stares of the women as we pass by.

“Hey, Willow,” A gruff man with muscles for miles greets my friend. He looks me up and down. “Who is the yuppy?”

“You don’t know Ezra Keaton?” Willow puts her arm around me.

“Oh right,” the man laughs and stands aside. “Go on in.”

I nod at him as we enter the blub. House music vibrates the wall as we walk down a hall. Willow heads straight for the bar while I look around.

“What do you want to drink?” she shouts in my ear.

“Beer,” I reply.

She huffs and walks away. I wander around the dance floor before sitting on couches and watching the dancers. Willow eventually weaves her way toward me and sets a bottle of beer on the table before me. She puts a glass of something pink beside it.

“I’m going to dance,” she says. “I love this song.”

I nod as she sashays away. I quietly drink my beer while ignoring the looks of women trying to get my attention. My eyes focus on a beautiful young woman with reddish brown hair and brown eyes. She looks happy dancing with her friends. I try to look away, but I find myself drawn to her. I blink, and she disappears from the floor. I sigh and look around, then see her sitting on the couches nearby. She finally catches my eye, and that’s when I make my move. I rise from the couch and walk towards her.