BABY DADDY by Eve Montelibano Page B

door closing. I carefully open the bathroom door and peek. He’s gone.
    I hastily slid the security latch on and walk over to the bed, plopping my tired body on it.
    My bones and muscles ache. I hurt all over. But I know it isn’t from the day’s activities. It’s my old wounds reopening all over again.
    Ol’ Stella is back. Insecure, zero self-esteem, no good qualities that a man can love, no impressive skills that her family can be proud of.
    It’s the old me awakening in full force, overpowering my façade, my exterior shell, the impenetrable fortress I’ve carefully built around myself all these years to survive.
    Thanks to HIM. That boy!
    I’d like to think now that he’s just a boy and he’s no match to me. I’m fucking Stella Rhodes, CEO of my own little empire and he’s just some spoiled brat raised in extreme privilege by whoever sired him. I don’t want to know more about him. I don’t care anymore what he thinks.
    What he thinks of me particularly.
    He awakens all my old demons and he’s bad news to me. Bad news to my present and my future.
    Nobody is allowed to make me feel insecure anymore. Least of all a boy.
    I grab the phone from the side table.
    The woman at the reception answers right away.
    “I’d like to leave the island first thing in the morning.”

SEVEN

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    25 CONTROVERSIAL QUOTES FROM THE STYLE EMPRESS
    On her love-hate relationship with the paparazzi:
    " I wish they’d stop making references to my most
    infamous display of bad taste in men.
    That’s so 800 seasons ago. I’m in a red-hot love affair with
    my clothes now. Here, I have impeccable taste.
    I wish they’d write more on that than my ol’ boring chestnuts.”
    Stella Rhodes
    __________________________________________________
    THE LAND CRUISER SMOOTHLY NAVIGATES the road to the airport. I hate what I’m feeling. The lump in my throat won’t go away and that pressure in my chest…shit.
    These are feelings that are alien to me now that’s why they’re so piercing. The more I fight it, the more it feels like a sadist is making little cuts all over me, punishing me.
    I want to cry.
    There. I admit it.
    I want to sob my heart out. Scream to the heavens. It’s been a long time since I last cried. Since I wasted my tears on someone.
    On a man in particular.
    I don’t want to feel this, to waste a single tear for him.
    What for? And why?
    I’ve known him for two days. Two days!
    Three.
    Today doesn’t count.
    Today, you’re about to cry for him. It counts. A lot.
    I groan and rest my head on the backseat, closing my eyes, massaging my temple. The beauty of the verdant forest only aggravates the heavy weight that seems to be crushing my heart. I wanted to explore the island some more, discover its famed wonders but I know I can’t stay here knowing we’d see each other again and…
    He comes too close and I don’t think I can handle that.
    His intensity. His seemingly boundless energy.
    He overwhelms me, overpowers me. I’m not used to being defensive. I’m always on the offensive.
    Is it possible to develop feelings for someone you don’t even know in just three short days?
    You know him.
    His body, yes.
    You know he’s looking for someone with similar interests as his. Proof, he chose you over those women who looked like Maxim cover girls.
    I don’t know his interests! And knowing he likes plus-size women doesn’t make him special! Maybe it’s just his fetish. I don’t want to be a fetish. I’m not a fucking guilty pleasure!
    He’s deep. He can carry a decent conversation. More than decent conversation.
    No.
    He cares that he took your V-card. Not many men would care in this time and age. In fact, I kinda think he values it that’s why he was so pissed off. He feels responsible for you.
    Ohhhh shut the fuck up! He doesn’t care! Why would he even care? For me? Me?! There are too many gorgeous girls in the island. Why would he want someone like