The CEO's Secret Baby

Linda

"That was a beautiful song you sang, my little songbird," he remarked. I turned around, stifling a sigh. Despite two months of touring, I hadn't grown accustomed to the post-show attention from men. The stranger smiled, and I briefly examined his face, noticing a missing tooth replaced with gold, a loose tie, and weathered skin.

"Thank you," I replied with a polite smile. I didn't want to be impolite, but I was in no mood for unwanted company. The show had gone splendidly, and I simply yearned for a quiet drink. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Hey," the man interjected, becoming increasingly frustrated as I tried to step away. "Hey," he repeated, "Aren't you going to let me buy you a drink, canary?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Politely and sweetly, I declined, adhering to the lessons my mother had imparted. I had learned to smile even when life handed me heartache, which seemed to be my constant companion these days. My college boyfriend, Alan, had presented me with two options: pursuing my singing career in Indonesia for the winter or staying cooped up in our cramped, cold Brooklyn apartment. I was beginning to doubt whether I'd made the right choice.

"Why the attitude?" he sneered. "You think you're too good for me?"

I replied, maintaining my politeness, "Actually, I don't think anything about you, sir. I'm just enjoying a drink before I head back to my hotel. Alone."

The drunk grumbled, and before I knew it, he was standing up from his stool. "You think being clever is a good idea?" he snapped.

Then, an unexpected turn of events occurred. A deep, rugged voice intervened, saying, "Excuse me, the young lady and I were actually seeking each other."

We weren't. In fact, I had never seen the tall man who had positioned himself between me and the intoxicated stranger. His broad shoulders and imposing presence left me surprised. The man with the golden tooth scowled and turned away.

"Are you all right?" the stranger asked, and I looked up at him. He sported a red silk tie, expertly knotted at his collar, a meticulously trimmed beard, piercing blue eyes framed by a sharp, angular face, a strong jaw, and prominent cheekbones. He exuded strength and handsomeness.

Breathless, I replied, "I'm fine, thanks to you."

The stranger sighed in relief, his concern for me evident. However, his expression darkened. "What are you still doing here?" he demanded. "I thought you'd be gone by now."

I chuckled and said, "There's no need to be angry about it. I'm Linda Ryder," extending my hand.

"I'm Axel Linden," he responded, gripping my small hand with his large one. An electric thrill surged down my arm. "And I know who you are. I came to hear you sing tonight."

"Thank you," I replied. "Did you enjoy the performance?"

Axel's voice, deep and dark, replied, "I did. You're very talented, Miss Ryder. How long have you been singing?"

I couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious. I had just fended off one unwanted admirer and wasn't sure I needed another. Yet, there was something intriguing about Axel. "I've been singing for about a year now," I answered. "But it's been a dream of mine since I was a little girl."

"You're not from around here, are you?" Axel inquired.

I shook my head. "No, I'm from New York."

"New York?" he said, appearing interested. "Well, that's intriguing. I'm from New York too."

Curious, I asked, "What do you do there?"

Axel revealed, "I run a few bars. Tell me, Linda, what's a jazz singer from New York doing all the way out here in Bali?"

Blushing, I replied, "I suppose it's the only gig I could find. I've only been singing professionally for about a year." I smiled.

But there was no smile from Axel, which was unusual. Typically, men would flash smiles my way, driven by their desires, thinking I could fulfill them. However, the cold intensity emanating from Axel Linden's bright blue eyes was a stark contrast to the usual attention I received. What was even more unusual was the way his gaze seemed to ignite a fire within my heart.

"I see," he replied, his tone uncharacteristically devoid of warmth. "And where are you headed now? Unless you plan on staying for karaoke?"

Smirking, I responded, "No, actually, I'm just waiting for the rain to stop so I can get back to my hotel."

Axel's growl shattered the moment, "Well, you're not waiting here. Come on. I've got a private room."

"Excuse me!" I retorted. "I don't know who you think you are, buster, but you're not ordering me around."

"Fine," Axel conceded. "I apologize."

"That's better," I laughed. "So, where's this private room you mentioned?"

Axel raised an eyebrow and teased, "Oh, so you want to come up now?"

"I'm considering it," I replied with a hint of playfulness.

He led me up a flight of stairs, above the bar, to a cozy lounge with a sliding screen door and an elegant tapestry adorning the wall. On the opposite side was a clock, a dartboard, and a long, full-length mirror, gleaming in the pale moonlight.

The night unfolded with us seated together on a chaise lounge, sipping our drinks while rain fell and the moon cast its glow through the drifting clouds. We conversed, and I shared my life story with Axel – how I had moved to New York from Wisconsin after college, maneuvered my way into a spot at the renowned Blue Note jazz bar, and ended up on a solo singing journey across Sumatra, Java, and Bali.

"Your dedication to your music is impressive," Axel remarked. But even as he praised me, his expression remained devoid of a smile. Was it because of something I had said, concern for my well-being, or was that simply his demeanor?

"Thank you," I replied, beaming. "You can't truly succeed at something unless you're dedicated to it."

Axel nodded in agreement, adding, "And if your boyfriend couldn't see that, well, it's his loss."

"Ex-boyfriend," I corrected, gazing outside.

The rain had ceased more than an hour ago, but we were still engrossed in conversation, and I had subtly moved closer to Axel on the chaise lounge. His warmth and the scent of his cologne, reminiscent of lime trees and sandalwood, enveloped me and made me feel drowsy. It was evident that Axel wasn't impervious to my presence either.

When I informed him I was currently single, he appeared surprised. "You're kidding," he remarked.

"No," I said, "it's recent."

"Why did you break up with him?" Axel inquired.

"He actually broke up with me," I explained. "He gave me an ultimatum: stay in New York or come to Bali."

"What? He made you choose between your career and your relationship? Linda, that's absurd. You shouldn't have to endure that. Someone who holds you back like that is...well, they're no friend at all."

I was taken aback by Axel's unexpected sensitivity, but as he spoke, his eyes seemed to cloud with thoughts of something else. I felt an urge to brighten the mood of the stoic, handsome man in front of me.

Changing the subject, I asked, "Do you play?" while eyeing the dartboard mounted on the wooden wall.

"Sure," Axel replied with a smile.

As it turned out, Axel was quite skilled at the game, scoring a perfect 100 on his first throw. When it was my turn, my dart fell to the floor, causing him to offer some advice, "You need to work on your stance," after my repeated failures.

"What does that even mean?" I inquired, perplexed by his words.

"I'll demonstrate," he replied, and for a rare moment, a hint of a smile graced his lips. He moved closer, his strong hands settling on my shoulders. With a gentle motion, he adjusted my stance, widening my legs.

I turned to face him, my heart racing, my breath quickening. He was so close that he peered down into my eyes.

"I'm not imagining this, am I?" I whispered.

"No," he breathed. "You're not."

Gradually, Axel's hands moved around my neck, and instinctively, I reached up to him. If we had been standing, I would have needed to stand on my tiptoes to reach his lips, but in that moment, I melted into him. He enveloped me, and our lips met. I kissed him slowly, savoring the sweetness of his breath and the faint trace of liquor on my tongue. Axel eventually pulled away, and our eyes locked in an unspoken understanding.

“Are you sure?” he said, his voice low. I could feel his restraint—how he wanted to pounce on me. And I wanted it too. Somehow, the care Axel showed for me only made me more desperate for him.

“Yes!” I said, smiling.