The Billionaire Who Broke Me ; His Runaway Baby Mama

 Dahlia's POV

"Let's give it up for the birthday girl!"

Mitchell's voice rang through the speakers, instantly drawing everyone's attention. Before I could even react, she came rushing toward where I was seated, grabbed my hand, and pulled me to my feet.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

"Happy birthday, Dahlia!"

"Make some noise for the birthday girl!"

Laughter and excited shouts filled the air as Mitchell dragged me toward the center of the gathering. I couldn't stop smiling. My cheeks were already beginning to hurt, but I didn't care. I was having the time of my life, and seeing so many people celebrating with me made my heart feel warm.

When the cheering finally settled, I turned toward Mitchell, who was grinning as if she'd personally arranged every star in the sky just to make my birthday special.

"Thank you." I said, pulling her into a tight hug. "Seriously, thank you for making this one of the most amazing birthdays I've ever had. I don't even know what to say."

Mitchell hugged me back before pulling away with a dramatic wave of her hand. "Girl, please. It's nothing! You deserve to have an amazing birthday, and I'm just making sure you get one." She gave my shoulders a squeeze. "Now, stop standing here looking all emotional and go enjoy your party. You're twenty today, Dahlia! Twenty!"

"I know how old I am." I replied, laughing.

"Good, because I have a very important suggestion for you." Her eyes suddenly lit up with mischief, and I immediately became suspicious.

"Oh, no. What are you planning now?"

She leaned closer, lowering her voice as if she were about to share a state secret. "Since you're officially twenty and old enough to do whatever you want, why don't you use tonight as the perfect opportunity to lose your V card?"

My mouth fell open.

"Mitchell!"

"What?" She asked innocently, widening her eyes. "I'm just saying! It's your birthday. The music is good, the drinks are flowing, and there are plenty of cute guys here. You could make tonight extra memorable."

I flicked her forehead.

"Ouch!" She slapped a hand over it, glaring at me. "Violence? On your own birthday?"

"That's for being ridiculous." I folded my arms. "I'm not giving my body to some random person just because it's my birthday. I'm saving it for someone I love."

Mitchell stared at me for a moment before rolling her eyes so dramatically.

"Okay, Miss Fairytale Princess." She raised both hands in surrender. "I'll leave you be."

"Good."

"For now." She winked.

I rolled my eyes at her, earning a loud laugh from my best friend.

Honestly, I should have known better than to expect a serious conversation with Mitchell. She could turn practically anything into a joke, especially when it came to my nonexistent love life. According to her, I was far too young to be thinking about saving myself for true love and far too pretty to spend my twenties waiting for some imaginary prince to sweep me off my feet.

But I didn't care what she thought. I wasn't interested in giving a random guy a part of me that I wanted to share with someone special. Maybe I was a hopeless romantic, but I wanted my first time to mean something. I wanted to be in love, to feel wanted for more than just my body, and to know that the person holding me actually cared about me.

Was that really too much to ask?

"Anyway." Mitchell said, hooking her arm through mine. "Come with me. I need to introduce you to some friends before they start complaining that I've abandoned them."

I glanced toward the gathering around the pool, where people were laughing, dancing, and enjoying themselves beneath the strings of warm lights hanging overhead. The music was loud enough to make the ground vibrate beneath my feet, and the scent of grilled food mixed with the sweet fragrance of the flowers decorating the tables.

It was beautiful. Mitchell had gone all out, and I still couldn't believe she'd done so much for me.

"I'll join you in a bit." I told her. "I left my phone in your room, remember? I'll go get it and come right back."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You're not going to disappear upstairs and spend the rest of the party scrolling through your phone, are you?"

"Of course not!" I protested. "I just want to get it. I promise I'll be right back."

"Hmm." She studied my face suspiciously before finally releasing my arm. "Fine. But don't take forever, birthday girl. I still have people to introduce you to, and you're not escaping your own party that easily."

"I won't be long."

"Good." She pointed a warning finger at me. "I'll be watching you."

I laughed and waved her off before making my way toward the house.

The party was being held by the poolside, and most of the guests were Mitchell's friends. There were so many people that I couldn't recognize half the faces I passed, but I still made sure to smile and greet those who wished me a happy birthday.

"Thank you!" I said to a young woman who complimented my dress.

"Happy birthday, Dahlia!"

"Thank you. Have fun!"

I continued toward the house, my smile never quite leaving my face.

Unlike Mitchell, I had never been much of a social butterfly. She could walk into a room full of strangers and leave ten minutes later with half of them calling her their best friend. She was loud, confident, outgoing, and somehow always knew exactly what to say. People naturally gravitated toward her.

Me? Not so much.

In fact, Mitchell was practically my only friend.

Some people might have found that sad, but I didn't. I had never needed a crowd of people around me to feel happy. I only needed one person who understood me, and Mitchell had always been that person.

She was more than just my best friend. We had grown so close over the years that we were practically sisters. She knew my secrets, my fears, my ridiculous romantic fantasies, and even the embarrassing things I would never admit to anyone else. She had stood by me through my worst days and celebrated every little victory as if it were her own.

Sometimes, I genuinely wondered what my life would have been like without her.

I couldn't imagine it, and I never wanted to find out.

A smile crept across my face as I stepped into the house, leaving the loud music and lively chatter behind me. The sudden quiet felt strange after all the noise outside, but it was a welcome change. I could still hear the party in the distance, the music muffled by the walls, along with occasional bursts of laughter.

I headed toward the staircase, already thinking about how I would tease Mitchell later for spending what must have been a small fortune on my birthday.

She really was impossible.

But she was my impossible best friend, and I loved her for it.

I climbed the stairs and reached the hallway, intending to head straight to Mitchell's room. However, just as I passed one of the closed bedroom doors, I suddenly stopped.

A sound drifted through the silence.

At first, I thought I had imagined it. I stood still, listening, but then it came again.

A low, unmistakable sound.

A man's breathless groan.

My heart gave a strange little thump.

I glanced toward the closed door, frowning slightly. Someone was inside.

Then I heard a voice.

A voice I recognized far too well.

And the moment I realized whose room I was standing beside, my entire body went still.

Kayden Voss.

My best friend's older brother. The legendary professional ice hockey player whose name was known far beyond the rink, whose face appeared on sports magazines, and whose charm had made him the subject of countless rumors about women. The man I had secretly loved for years, despite his apparent determination to treat me as though I barely existed.

And right now, he was whispering my name.

"Dahlia..."

My heart nearly stopped.

The sound was so faint that I almost convinced myself I had imagined it. But then I heard it again, followed by a shaky breath that sent a strange shiver down my spine.

I shouldn't have looked.

I knew I should have turned around, gone straight to Mitchell's room, retrieved my phone, and pretended I had never heard a thing. That would have been the sensible thing to do.

Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of me.

I slowly turned toward the slightly ajar door. There was only a narrow gap between it and the doorframe, barely enough for me to see inside, but I leaned closer and peered through it.

And my entire world tilted.

Kayden was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head slightly bowed, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. His usually composed expression had given way to something I had never seen on his face before. His breathing was uneven, his eyes were closed, and one of his hands was moving beneath his waistband.

For several seconds, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

Kayden Voss. The same man who barely spared me a glance whenever we were in the same room. The man who had never once acknowledged the feelings I had spent years desperately trying to hide.

He was touching himself.

And the worst part?

He was holding a photograph of me.

My breath caught in my throat.

Even from the narrow gap, I recognized it immediately. I knew every detail of that photograph because I had spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing the perfect one before slipping it into his eighteenth birthday invitation two years ago.

I had been eighteen then, just as I was in the photograph, wearing the same evening dress I had chosen for tonight. It was a fitted dress that hugged my curves and made me look older than the little girl he had always treated me like. I had spent an entire afternoon taking pictures before finally settling on that one.

Back then, I had convinced myself it was a harmless way of showing him that I was growing up. That I wasn't the little girl who used to trail after him and his friends anymore. That I was becoming a woman.

A woman who wanted him to look at her.

I hadn't written a confession or left a note. I had simply slipped the photograph into his birthday invitation, hoping he would understand what I couldn't bring myself to say aloud.

But he had never mentioned it.

Not once.

He hadn't thanked me, teased me, or even given me a strange look afterward. He had continued treating me exactly as he always did, with that infuriating indifference that made me feel invisible whenever he was around.

Eventually, I assumed the photograph had been lost.

I had been embarrassed by the thought of him finding it in the first place, and I had spent months trying to convince myself that it didn't matter. Perhaps he had thrown it away without looking at it. Perhaps he hadn't even noticed it among the other things in his invitation.

I had never imagined that he had kept it.

That he had kept it for two whole years.

That the photograph I had once used to silently confess my feelings was now clenched in his hand while he whispered my name.

"Dahlia..."

My knees nearly gave way.

He sounded so different. There was no trace of the cold, dismissive man I knew in that breathless whisper. Hearing my name fall from his lips like that made something twist deep inside me, something I had spent years trying to bury.

I should have looked away.

Instead, my eyes betrayed me.

My gaze drifted from the photograph to his face, then lower, taking in his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. His body was every bit as impressive as I had imagined, and seeing him like this, in the privacy of his bedroom, felt almost unreal.

I had seen him shirtless before, usually after a game or when he returned from training, but never like this. Never with his guard down. Never looking so completely lost in something that had my name attached to it.

My cheeks burned.

Oh my God, Dahlia. Look away!

I tried. I really did.

But then he let out another low groan, and I forgot how to breathe.

My fingers tightened around the doorframe as I watched him for one second too long.

And then my hand slipped.

A small sound escaped me as my fingers scraped against the wood.

It wasn't loud, but in the quiet hallway, it might as well have been a gunshot.

Kayden's head snapped up.

His eyes opened, and for one horrifying second, we stared directly at each other through the narrow gap.

I froze.

He froze, too.

Then his expression changed.

The dazed look disappeared from his face, replaced by a sharp, dangerous alertness. His gaze locked onto mine, and I knew immediately that I was in trouble.

"Dahlia?"

My stomach dropped.

I jerked away from the door and turned to run.

I barely made it two steps before the door flew open behind me.

A strong hand caught my wrist.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I gasped as Kayden pulled me back. My heels slipped slightly against the polished floor, and I stumbled into him, my hands instinctively landing against his bare chest.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

He was warm. So warm that I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of my dress.

Then I realized what I was doing and hurriedly tried to pull away.

"Kayden, I—"

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low and sharp.

"I was just—"

Footsteps echoed from the staircase.

Both of us turned toward the sound.

Someone was coming upstairs.

Before I could even think, Kayden caught my arm, pulled me into his bedroom, and shut the door behind us. The latch clicked into place, leaving us alone in the room where I had just witnessed something I would probably spend the rest of my life trying to forget.

Or perhaps not forget at all.

I swallowed hard.

Kayden turned toward me, his jaw tight. He was still shirtless, and the sight of him standing so close made it difficult to remember why I was supposed to be terrified.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He demanded in a hushed voice.

I stared at him, too flustered to form a proper response.

His eyes narrowed.

"Are you planning to stand there and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I blurted out.

The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself.

Kayden stared at me.

Then he let out a short, humorless chuckle.

"Really?"

I nodded, although my face was burning so badly that I was certain he could see right through me.

He glanced toward the door before looking back at me. "Do you have any idea what would happen if someone walked in here and found us like this?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"Exactly." His gaze returned to mine. "So, unless you want everyone downstairs to start asking questions, I'd suggest you stop pretending you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"I'm not trying to do anything!" I whispered defensively. "I came upstairs to get my phone. That's all."

"Your phone?"

"Yes!"

He looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head.

"You're unbelievable."

"What did I even do?"

His eyes flickered toward the bed, where the photograph still lay. My gaze followed his before I could stop myself.

The moment I saw it, my heart lurched.

Kayden noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips.

"So you did see it."

I couldn't speak.

He studied my face, and something unreadable passed through his eyes.

"Two years." He murmured. "I've kept this thing for two freaking years."

My lips parted. "You... kept it?"

The question escaped before I could stop it.

His expression hardened.

"What did you expect me to do with it?"

"I thought you lost it."

"Lost it?" He repeated the words as though they were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "You deliberately slipped a photograph of yourself into my birthday invitation, and you thought I would simply lose it?"

My face burned hotter.

"I didn't—"

"Don't." His voice cut through my excuse. "Don't stand there and tell me you didn't know exactly what you were doing."

I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the intensity of his stare.

The truth was that I had known what I was doing. I had wanted him to look at me differently, even if only for a moment. I had wanted him to realize that the little girl he'd always seen me as wasn't so little anymore, not even close to being little.

But I had never expected to find him holding that photograph like it meant something to him.

I certainly hadn't expected to find him whispering my name.

"Look at me, Dahlia."

I slowly lifted my eyes.

He was watching me with an expression I couldn't decipher, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle twitched near his cheek.

"You have no idea how long I've been trying to stay away from you." He said quietly.

My heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He dragged a hand through his hair, looking away for a brief moment before returning his attention to me.

"You're my younger sister's best friend. Do you understand what that means?" His voice grew firmer. "It means you're off limits. It means I have no business looking at you the way I've wanted to for years. It means that every time I see you, I have to remind myself that you're someone I should never touch."

I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.

For years, I had thought I was the only one fighting these feelings. I had thought every stolen glance, every racing heartbeat, and every foolish dream belonged to me alone.

Yet here he was, telling me he had been fighting something, too.

"Then why..." My voice trembled. I swallowed before trying again. "Why were you holding my photograph?"

His eyes darkened.

"Because I wanted to."

The simple answer stole the breath from my lungs.

He took a step closer, and I instinctively leaned back until my shoulders nearly touched the door.

"And tonight." He continued, his gaze moving over my dress. "You had the nerve to show up wearing the exact same thing."

I glanced down at myself.

The dress suddenly felt far more revealing than it had when I put it on earlier. I had chosen it because it made me feel beautiful and confident. Because it was the same dress from the photograph, and some foolish, hopeful part of me had wondered whether Kayden would notice.

I had never imagined he would notice this much.

"I can wear whatever I want." I whispered.

His eyes returned to my face.

"Yes, you can." His voice dropped. "But don't stand there and tell me you don't know what you're doing to me."

My heart pounded so loudly that I could barely hear anything else.

I should have been embarrassed. I should have been mortified by the fact that he had caught me watching him in such a private moment.

Instead, all I could think about was the fact that he had wanted me.

For two years, he had kept my photograph.

For two years, he had looked at something I had given him and remembered me.

I didn't know what that meant for us, and I was too afraid to ask. But it was enough to make every defense I had built around my heart begin to crumble.

My eyes betrayed me again, drifting down to his bare chest before I could stop them. The defined muscles of his torso were impossible to ignore, and the realization that he was standing in front of me without a shirt made my thoughts scatter.

"Enjoying the view?"

His voice startled me.

I jerked my gaze upward, only to find him watching me with a look that made my cheeks burn.

"I wasn't—"

He reached out, caught my chin between his fingers, and gently but firmly tilted my face toward his.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart."

The endearment sent a strange shiver through me.

For a moment, he simply held my gaze. His face was close enough that I could see the faint stubble along his jaw and the tiny flecks of color in his eyes. He was so handsome it was almost unfair, and being this close to him felt like standing at the edge of something I had dreamed about for years.

Then his expression cooled.

"Nothing is ever going to happen between us, Dahlia."

The words struck harder than they should have.

I swallowed the ache rising in my throat and forced myself to stand straighter.

"I'm twenty now." I said firmly. "I'm not that little girl anymore."

His fingers loosened around my chin, but his gaze didn't waver.

"You're still my sister's best friend."

"And?"

His eyebrows drew together.

"And that changes everything."

"Maybe it changes things for you." I replied, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice. "But it doesn't change how I feel."

"Dahlia..."

"No." I shook my head. "You don't get to decide what I feel."

He exhaled sharply and stepped away from me, as though putting distance between us would somehow make this conversation easier.

"You don't understand what you're asking for."

"Then explain it to me."

"I don't have to explain anything."

"Because you don't want to, or because you're afraid to?"

His expression hardened.

For a moment, I thought he might tell me to leave. Perhaps he would open the door, point me toward the hallway, and return to pretending I didn't exist. It was what he had always done whenever I got too close.

But I was tired of being the girl who swallowed her feelings just because he refused to acknowledge them.

I had spent years loving him in silence. I had spent years watching him leave rooms without so much as a glance in my direction, pretending it didn't hurt. I had spent years telling myself that one day I would get over him.

And yet, here I was, standing in his bedroom with my heart racing and my entire world turned upside down because of one photograph.

I couldn't bring myself to walk away without knowing whether this was real.

So I took a step toward him.

He watched me carefully.

"Don't." He warned.

I ignored him and moved closer, rising onto my toes to press my lips against his.

But before I could reach him, he turned his head.

My lips brushed his cheek instead.

Humiliation flooded through me.

I stepped back, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Kayden closed his eyes briefly, as though he were gathering the last of his patience.

"Don't do that."

I looked away, blinking rapidly.

He was right. I had been foolish to think that what I'd witnessed meant he wanted me in the way I wanted him. Perhaps the photograph meant something to him, but it didn't mean he was willing to act on it.

"I should go." I whispered.

I turned toward the door, but his voice stopped me.

"You've probably heard the rumors about me."

I looked back.

He was watching me with an expression that was almost painfully serious.

"I'm never short of women, Dahlia. You know that. There is always someone willing to spend a night with me, and I'm not exactly the kind of man people look at when they're searching for a fairytale ending."

He paused, his jaw tightening.

"I can't give you the innocent, fairytale romance a girl like you wants."

I stared at him.

He really believed that was what I wanted from him.

A perfect romance. Sweet words and promises. Flowers delivered to my door and dates beneath the stars.

Perhaps I had once dreamed of those things, but none of them mattered as much as the man standing in front of me.

"I don't need any of that." I said quietly.

His expression shifted.

I took another step toward him, forcing myself to meet his eyes even though my heart was beating so fast I thought it might give me away.

"Right now, I just want you."

Silence fell between us.

For the first time since I had entered his room, Kayden seemed to have no immediate response. His gaze searched my face, lingering on my eyes as though he were trying to determine whether I understood the weight of my own words.

"Dahlia." He murmured.

I held his gaze.

He moved closer, stopping just in front of me. His expression was no longer cold, but that didn't make him any easier to read. There was something restrained in his eyes, something that looked almost like fear.

"Are you sure?"

The question was so quiet that I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching his lips.

I nodded.

He didn't move.

So I reached for him, curled my fingers around his shoulders, and pulled him toward me.

This time, when I kissed him, I didn't hesitate.

My lips met his in a deep, desperate kiss, carrying every confession I had been too afraid to make and every longing I had spent years pretending I could live without.

For one suspended moment, he remained still.

Then his restraint finally broke.

His arms came around me, drawing me closer as he returned my kiss. The intensity of it stole my breath, and I clutched his shoulders, afraid that if I loosened my hold, he might come to his senses and push me away again.

But he didn't.

He kissed me as though he had been holding himself back for far too long, and I answered him with all the feelings I had buried inside me.

His hands settled at my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely any space left between us. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms, and the realization that he was just as affected by this as I was sent a rush of warmth through me.

The world outside his bedroom ceased to matter.

The music, the laughter, the people celebrating my birthday downstairs—all of it faded into the background.

There was only Kayden.

The man I had loved for years.

The man who had kept my photograph when I thought he didn't notice me.

The man who had just kissed me as though I was no longer the little girl he had spent so long trying to keep at a distance.

And as he held me against him, kissing me with a hunger that made my knees weak, I knew I had crossed a line I could never uncross.

I should have been afraid of what would happen when the morning came.

I should have remembered every reason this was a terrible idea.

Instead, I closed my eyes and kissed him again, allowing myself to believe, just for tonight, that perhaps I had never been the only one who wanted this.

Because for the first time in my life, Kayden Voss was looking at me as though I was a woman he wanted.

And I had no intention of letting that moment go.