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Most Eligible Baby Daddy

By:Chance Carter

Most Eligible Baby Daddy
Chance Carter

       Chapter 1


ELLE BARCLAY LOOKED INTO THE face of the man she thought she loved. Tears fell from her eyes.

How could she have been so wrong about him?

His name was Gris. He was seven years older than her, about thirty, but  the lines on his face and the gray in his hair made him look at least  forty. He had a wooden baseball bat in his hands and he swung it down  violently on the kitchen table, smashing it in half.

"Gris," she cried, "please."

She hated the pleading tone of her voice. She hated how scared she  sounded, how powerless she felt. This was the man she'd told herself she  loved. She'd told herself she wanted to spend the rest of her life with  him. She'd told herself he was a good man.

"Get down on your knees, bitch," Gris snarled. "Get down on the ground where you belong."

He was slapping the bat into his left hand menacingly, as if warming up  for a baseball inning, but Elle knew from experience that the only thing  Gris wanted to hit with it was her.

"Don't do this, Gris. Please don't do this."

"I thought I told you to get on your knees, bitch. Don't make me say it again."

Slowly, reluctantly, she got down on her knees. It was a position she'd become all too familiar with during her years with Gris.

"That's it, you worthless whore. You know where you belong, don't you?"

She looked down at the ground.

"I said, you know where you belong, don't you?"


"What? Speak up. I didn't catch that."

"Yes, Gris."

"You're a filthy, disgusting little whore, aren't you? You're fat. You're ugly. You're worthless."

Silence. She couldn't bring herself to answer. Deep within her, she knew  those words weren't true, but there was something about having a man  yell them in her face that made her almost believe them.


The bat came down on the steel sink, almost tearing it from the counter.  Elle flinched, and she hated herself for showing yet more weakness, yet  more fear.

"Your mother knew it, didn't she?"

Elle nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Gris noticed.

"That's right. She knew you were a worthless little cunt. She knew no  one could ever love you. Hell, even she couldn't love you, could she?  Your own mother couldn't love you, Elle, and you were her baby."

Elle stared at the ground. Gris came over and bent down so that his face  was level with hers. He grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look  at him.

"She knew you were worthless, didn't she?"

Elle looked back. She looked into those glassy eyes she'd thought would  offer her love. She looked into that face she'd found so handsome once  upon a time.

"Your own mother didn't want you."

Elle let the words wash over her while blocking as much of their meaning  as possible. It was the one truth she regretted letting Gris know. It  was the one chink in the armor she'd built for herself. She never should  have told him.

"Abandoned at birth," Gris went on. "I guess that explains why you're such a fucked up cunt."

His hand began to clench into a fist, his strong fingers pressing into  her cheeks painfully. She wanted to cry out but she was afraid that  would only spur him on.

"That's why you never settle down, never stay in one place, never commit to one man."

Elle shook her head. That wasn't entirely true. "I committed to you,"  she whispered, her voice straining through the clenched grip Gris had on  her mouth.

"I wish that was true, Elle," he said shaking his head.

Gris was a large man. He could bench press three hundred pounds easily,  as he was fond of boasting. When he needed extra money, he'd take on a  prize fight, and he usually won. He had muscles like an ox.

He brought his fist down forcefully on the floorboards next to Elle's leg. She flinched in fright.

"You always had one foot out the door, Elle. You always had your eye on  the exit. Don't think I didn't feel that. You never let me in, not  really. You have a wall built up around you like a fortress."

Elle would have laughed if she wasn't so frightened. Why did he think  she had her guard up? Why did he think she didn't trust him? He was a  violent son of a bitch with the mean streak of a sadist. If she ever let  her guard down, he'd destroy her.                       


She looked up at Gris and felt something snap inside her. Everyone had  their limit, everyone had the point at which they couldn't take it  anymore, and Elle had just reached hers. She rose up on her knees and  faced him. He stared back at her, and was surprised at the strength he  saw in her determined eyes.

That's right, Gris. I'm not as weak as I let you believe. Beneath the  surface, I've got a hidden reserve of strength I never showed you. I'm  so much more than you think I am.

Elle pushed herself up from the ground, intensely aware of Gris's eyes on her.

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

She let out a little laugh. She didn't feel like laughing, the nerves in  her stomach still made her feel like throwing up, but she had to let  him know that she was taking back control of her life.

"You were right about me, Gris. I did hold back. I never let you in. You never knew the real me."

"What the fuck?" he said.

"And another thing. For the last three years, every orgasm you think you gave me, was a fake."

Before he could react, she turned to leave. She didn't think of packing  her things. She didn't even grab a coat. Her purse was by the door and  she grabbed it. Her phone wasn't in it, but her wallet was. Gris would  empty the joint checking account before she was out of the county but  she didn't want his money. She had a little cash, her driver's license,  and the key to her trusty Ford. She didn't need anything more than that.  Not yet.

As she walked out the door, she resisted the urge to look back, to get  one final view of the man who'd dominated her existence for the last  three years. She'd seen enough of Gris Black to last her a lifetime, and  her only hope was that she never saw him again. She was done with him.  He hadn't been wrong about everything, he knew her more deeply than she  cared to admit, but he'd abused her, and that was unforgivable.

She reached her car, climbed in and turned the ignition. Gris appeared  at the front door. Elle smiled at him. She was happy, genuinely happy.  For the first time in years she was taking back the reins of her life.

She revved the engine. Gris's pride and joy, his custom Camaro, was  parked right in front of her wreck of a car. She took the time to look  up at him and watch the expression on his face change as he realized  what she was about to do. Then she slammed her car into drive and  smashed the solid steel of her battered Ford into the pristine, delicate  metal of the Camaro. The back of Gris's car crumpled as if it was made  of paper. Apart from a few new scratches and dents on her already  scratched and dented beater, Elle's car was none the worse off.

Gris was so furious he couldn't move. He looked like he could hardly  breathe. Elle backed up a little and was about to pull out of the  driveway. She looked at Gris one last time, and he did what he'd always  done best, he threatened her. Silently, he ran his finger over his neck,  showing her what he'd do to her when he got his chance. Elle knew she  should get out of there. She should have put her car in Drive and put  her foot on it. But she couldn't resist.

She revved again and then lurched her car a second time into the back of  the Camaro. This time she hit it so forcefully that the entire vehicle  pushed forward and crashed into the closed garage door of the house,  ruining the front.

Elle wasn't a particularly reckless person. She wasn't an adrenaline  addict. She didn't relish being so close to a man who might literally  kill her. She turned to look at him, and he was still just standing  there at the door, dumbfounded, his jaw wide open.

Elle caught his eye, and in a moment that she would look back on for the  rest of her life with relish, she winked at him. He couldn't believe  his eyes.

And then she pulled out of the driveway and got the hell out of there.

She'd never come back. She swore it. This time, she'd leave Gris behind for good.

Chapter 2


FORRESTER WAS SIPPING COFFEE AT the kitchen counter when Faith and Lacey  entered, each carrying a beautiful baby girl. His eyes lit up as he saw  the babies approaching.

"Say hello to uncle Forrester," Lacey said to her little daughter,  before mimicking the words, "hello, uncle Forrester," in a mock baby  voice.                       


"Hello, little angel," Forrester said, reaching down and taking Lacey  and Grant's baby into his arms. Then, greedily, he grabbed Faith and  Jackson's daughter with his free hand, and had the two babies cradled,  one in each arm. He looked like someone's version of a joke nanny,  muscles, tattoos, a tight, white t-shirt, and two beautiful, innocent  babies in his arms.