My Baby Daddy.

Sofia's pov

The memory of his hands on my skin was so vivid I could still feel the heat. One touch, and I'd been a goner. A desperate, heartbroken girl looking for an escape in Los Angeles, and I'd found it in the city's most infamous bachelor.

"I can't do this," I'd mumbled against his lips, even as I pulled him closer.

"Shh," David had whispered, his voice a low rumble that went straight to my core. "Let go for one night."

And I had. It was a blur of passion, of forgetting the sting of betrayal. I'd slipped away before dawn, convincing myself it was a one-time thing. A secret I'd take to my grave.

"Mama!"

My son's voice yanked me violently back to the present. I blinked, the sterile light of the airplane cabin replacing the dark bedroom in my memory.

Jason was leaning over his seat, his little face full of mischief. "You were doing it again," he announced.

"Doing what, sweetie?" I asked, my voice still husky from the dream.

"That smile. The one where you look at nothing." He poked my cheek. "Were you thinking about my daddy?"

My heart slammed against my ribs. "Jason! What have I told you about that?"

"That he's a pilot who flies very, very far away," he recited, rolling his eyes with a wisdom far beyond his six years. He didn't believe it for a second. "Can you open my juice?"

I fumbled with the cap, my hands unsteady. This was why I'd left London. To build a new life where no one knew my past, or his. But my design business had outgrown the small town we'd called home. London was the only place with the opportunities I needed.

"Welcome to London, Miss Jacobs," a flight attendant chirped as we finally shuffled off the plane. Jason immediately tried to bolt.

"Jason Jacobs, you hold my hand right now," I said, my grip firm.

"But Mama..."

"No buts. This airport is huge. You stick with me like glue, understand?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Okay. But I'm hungry. And my feet hurt. And this is boring."

I fought a smile. "We'll get your suitcase and find food. Just behave for ten more minutes."

The universe, it seemed, had other plans. As we waited by the baggage carousel, a sudden, urgent pressure made me wince. I'd drunk too much tea on the flight.

"Jas, Mama needs the ladies' room. Sit right here on this bench. Do not move. Do not talk to anyone. Watch for our blue suitcase."

His eyes lit up with negotiation. "What do I get?"

"A whole bag of those chocolate biscuits you like. But only if you stay put."

"Deal!" He plopped down, pulling out his tablet.

I hurried away, casting anxious glances back. He was still there, tiny legs swinging, completely engrossed in his cartoon. Good.

The relief in the restroom was short-lived. A cold dread settled in my stomach the moment I stepped back into the arrivals hall. The bench was empty.

"Jason?" My call was a panicked whisper. Then I saw him. My brave, mischievous boy was standing in the middle of the walkway, directly in the path of a group of men in sharp black suits.

And he wasn't just standing there. He was staring, mesmerized, at the man leading them.

Time stopped. The air left my lungs.

David Beckham.

He was even more imposing than I remembered. The years had etched his handsome face with more authority, but it was him. The man from my deepest, most secret memory, walking through Heathrow as if he owned it.

"Jason!" I cried, but my voice was lost in the crowd.

I watched in horror as my son, my carbon-copy secret, took two bold steps forward and wrapped his arms around David's leg.

The entire entourage halted. David looked down, a frown of annoyance smoothing into an expression of pure, unadulterated shock. He stared at the boy clinging to him like he was seeing a ghost.

My feet were rooted to the floor. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

David bent down, his movements slow, deliberate. He said something to Jason. Jason, my traitorous, wonderful boy, giggled and pointed straight at me.

Those familiar brown eyes lifted and locked onto mine across the busy terminal. A jolt, electric and terrifying, shot through me. There was no recognition at first, just a billionaire's mild curiosity at being pointed out.

Then his gaze sharpened. It flickered between Jason's face and mine, once, twice. The confusion in his eyes crystallized into dawning, impossible comprehension.

He stood up, holding Jason easily in one arm, and started walking toward me. Every step was measured, powerful, his stare never wavering.

My survival instincts kicked in. I fumbled for my oversized sunglasses and shoved them on, then yanked a spare face mask from my bag. It was a pathetic disguise, but it was all I had.

He stopped in front of me, Jason beaming in his arms like this was the best day ever.

"Is this your mother?" David asked Jason, his voice that same low, hypnotic tone I'd never forgotten.

Jason nodded eagerly. "That's Mama!"

David's eyes scanned my hidden face. "You look... incredibly familiar," he said slowly, each word loaded with suspicion.

"I get that a lot," I rushed out, my voice muffled by the mask. I reached for Jason. "I'm so sorry, he's just very friendly. Come on, Jas, let's go."

I tried to take him, but David shifted his hold, just slightly. It was a subtle gesture, but it screamed possession. His eyes bored into mine, seeing past the glasses, the mask, right back to that night.

"Do I know you?" he pressed.

"No," I said, too quickly. "No, you don't."

A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. He leaned in, close enough that I could smell his cologne, and his next words were for me alone, a soft, devastating promise.

"I think I do," he murmured. "And I never forget a face."

Chapter 2

Sofia's pov

"Sorry, I'm not sure we've met." He quickly added, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, it's good. And sorry once again for the trouble. He can be a little extra sometimes."

"Don't worry about that." Waving off my apologies and also smirking before scrunching to Jason's level. "I'd like to see us hang out some other time, big guy."

Jason was super excited, he glanced up at me like he just won a trophy before nodding. "Alright, that's cool." glinting the warmest smile at him before taking David's business card that he was holding out for him. "Call me."

He smiled and was about to walk when Jason called him. "Uncle, I have something for you. Please wait."

Just when I thought I could breathe.. What is he doing? I wondered what he was up to again as he searched through my bag. "What are you doing?" but he didn't answer me, instead he happily brought out my card.

"Please, call my mom." You can't just give out my card. I mumbled, but not to the hearing of anyone.

David smiled and looked up at me before looking down at my business card in his hand. He had this mischievous smile as he called my name. "Sofia Jacobs."

His voice wrapped around my name like it had been made for his lips alone. Hearing it sent a warm shiver through me, leaving a strange flutter in my chest. What was happening to me?

"I'll be waiting for your call, little gem," he said, tousling my son's hair before turning and walking away, with his entourage following behind.

I watched him go, unable to tear my eyes away from his retreating body.

"It's rude to stare, Mama," Jason's voice pulled me out of my daze. I looked down at him, frowning.

"And what was that little stunt, young man?" I asked, letting him lead me back to our seats.

"I'm just trying to help you get a husband. Especially when he's that handsome." He muttered under his breath, but I heard him loud and clear.

Where did this kid even come from? "I never asked for a husband. And since when are you okay with me being around men?" I narrowed my eyes on him. Jason usually got all clingy and territorial when a man showed me even the slightest attention. Now he wanted me to marry London's most eligible bachelor?

"Come on, Mama. Our ride's here."

The hotel staff loaded our luggage into the car as I watched Jason charm them with his cheeky smile. He was a little ball of energy and affection...mischievous, but endlessly lovable.

We drove straight to our small suite, which had already been arranged for us. I'd worked my way to the top as a designer, building my own company from scratch. Everything I did was for my son. I wouldn't let him grow up lacking the way I once had.

"Welcome home, ma'am," the maid greeted as I stepped out. "Welcome, young man."

"Thank you," I replied with a warm smile, but Jason bolted down the driveway, too excited to respond.

"This place is awesome!" he squealed as he burst into the apartment. Watching him light up like that made my heart swell.

"Where's Nancy?" I asked the maid who was walking in with our bags alongside the driver.

"She's in your office, ma'am."

After a quick shower, I made my way to the office. My assistant, Nancy, was already there, sorting through the files she'd brought over from Los Angeles. Papers were everywhere.

"Why is there so much work?" I groaned, sinking into my chair.

Busy days and sleepless nights were nothing new to me. Still, I always carved out time for Jason. He was my anchor, the light after every exhausting day.

"We've got several new projects here in London already," Nancy explained. "The team's already started on most of them."

I reviewed the documents. Everything looked promising, but the workload was intense. Still, burying myself in work has always been my coping mechanism.

Just as I was about to shut down for the night, my phone rang. It was an unknown number.

"Sofia Jacobs speaking. How can I help you?"

"Miss Jacobs." That deep voice caught me off guard. I hadn't expected to hear from him again, certainly not this late. His voice was low and husky, and against my will, memories of that kiss crept back into my mind.

"I didn't think you'd still be awake," he said.

"What can I do for you, Mr. David?" I replied coolly, forcing professionalism into my tone. "It's quite late."

"I'd like to schedule a meeting with you. Tomorrow morning."

"I'm afraid I don't have an opening. My calendar is booked out for weeks," I said, standing from my chair.

"Then I'll buy every slot on your calendar. This is a major project, Miss Jacobs, and I believe you'll want to hear the details."

Of course he was trying to strong-arm his way in. I should've expected it.

"I'll have my assistant send..."

"No need. Meet me at the Beckham hotel lounge. I'll text you the address." And just like that, he hung up.

Seriously? Could he be any more arrogant? Everyone might be drooling over his looks, but I honestly didn't get the hype. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I'd already seen him naked. Or maybe because I had a much cuter, much younger version of him running around my house every day.

I peeked into Jason's room. He was fast asleep, while he still clutched a book in his little hands. I smiled and pulled the blanket over him.

"Goodnight, my love," I whispered, kissing his forehead.

************************

The Next Morning

I pulled up outside the Beckham hotel lounge for our scheduled meeting. well, his scheduled ambush.

The moment I arrived, the staff acted like they'd been expecting me. They ushered me through the entrance without hesitation. I'd been to similar upscale restaurants in Los Angeles, but I had to admit, the design here was stunning.

"The boss is on the upper floor," an attendant said, guiding me to the elevator.

When the doors opened, I stepped onto a quiet, private level. Odd...it was one of the most popular diners in the city, but the space felt secluded.

Then I saw him. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his hands in his pockets, and his jet-black hair falling slightly over his face as he looked down at the street below.

Even just his silhouette was ridiculous. I tightened my grip on my laptop and cleared my throat. "Good evening, Mr. Beckham."

He turned slowly, and the moment his eyes met mine, that infamous smirk curved on his lips. the one I remembered far too well. My stomach dipped and I fought to keep a straight face.

Focus, Sofia, be Professional.

"Glad you decided to show up, Sofia." For the first time, he didn't address me with a title. Just my name. And for some reason, it made my knees slightly weak.

Why the hell does he still have this effect on me? Does he remember me?"

David's POV

The way her face changed when I said her name. God, it almost made me laugh. Sofia Jacobs. After all these years, there she was, sitting right in front of me like a ghost that forgot how to haunt. I missed her so much. But then, she had no idea what kind of deal she just walked into. After all these years, here she is acting like she didn't remember anything from that night. But believe me, I'd make sure she felt every bit of it.

"Sit," I said simply, gesturing to the chair across from me. I stayed standing, one hand buried casually in my pocket, watching her with quiet amusement.

She complied, all calm and composure, then, placed her laptop on the table like she was here to close another regular deal. With her legs crossed, chin high, and tapping fingers betraying the tiniest hint of nerves.

"What's the project, Mr. Beckham?" she asked, acting cool and collected.

I was impressed with her attitude, but I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I walked to the desk behind her where a few neatly arranged folders waited. I grabbed them and returned. Then, I dropped them in front of her with the kind of indifference that made people uneasy. She flinched slightly but covered it well. I walked back toward the windows, giving her space and giving myself a front-row seat to her reaction.

"My company's launching several projects. I'm offering your firm full control of the designs. It's a high-profile opportunity, not something you'd want to pass up."

I watched from the glass as her eyes scanned through the files. Fast, focused, and sharp. She hadn't lost her edge.

But when I turned around, her gaze was locked on me. "I'll have to decline the offer, Mr. Beckham.I'm not interested."

I blinked. "Excuse me?" She'd thrown me off balance. I wasn't expecting her to reject such a huge offer.

She stood and said in a calm voice. "It's a generous proposal, I won't deny that. But I don't accept deals just because they're wrapped in gold. I'm not 'anyone,' as you so casually put it. I'm Sofia Jacobs. And if you think you can dangle a check in front of me to bend me, then you don't know me at all." She swallowed and continued. "But I must thank you for thinking about my company."

There was fire in her eyes, and for a second, I almost forgot I was supposed to be annoyed. Instead, a crooked smile crept onto my lips.

"You're full of surprises," I said, admiring her stance. "You live up to the reputation. Bold and Untamed." I took a step closer, just enough to see the flicker in her pupils. "The contract's already in your inbox. Think it over. Or don't. But you'll come around."

Before she could reply, I walked past her and exited the room. I didn't want her to have the final say. I am still who I am.

Nate was waiting by the hallway, straightening as I approached. "How did it go, sir?"

"Fire the rest of the design team. The Jacobs company is doing the project." My tone was final, and I knew she would do it.

He gave a slight nod, though I caught the confusion in his eyes. I didn't care. Let him wonder why I just tossed millions into the fire.

This wasn't about business. This was personal. She ran from me once. She won't do it again.

As I climbed into the backseat of the car, my phone buzzed. I glanced down. It was my old man.

"Evening, Dad," I answered coolly, relaxing into the leather seat.

"David. Didn't you see my message? I asked you to join me for dinner tonight."

Of course I saw it. That's why I booked my meeting with Sofia at this exact time.

"I had a meeting," I said. "If it's urgent, talk to Nate."

Through the mirror, Nate glanced at me, clearly regretting being dragged into another Beckham father-son showdown.

"You'll come tonight. That's not a request," my father barked.

"I'm not interested. Tell your guests I'm busy."

"Don't be like Lucy. She doesn't even pick up my calls anymore. At least show your face."

Click.

He hung up.

I sighed. "Take me to the estate."

***********************************

The Beckham estate is huge and imposing as always. A maid rushed to greet me, taking my coat as I headed for the main lounge where my father would be hosting whatever dinner circus he had planned.

The marble floor echoed beneath my shoes as I entered the grand living room. The old man was seated, looking every inch the lord of the manor. Across from him sat a middle-aged couple. Looking respectable, but dull and a young woman with too much confidence in her smile.

The moment our eyes met, hers lit up like she'd won a prize. "Finally," she whispered, sultry and knowing.

"I see you two already know each other," my father chimed in.

"I don't," I said flatly, never breaking eye contact with her.

She blinked, caught off guard but tried to cover it with a laugh. "You're just being shy, Dav. We've met. Several times."

I was Unimpressed at whatever she was saying. I turned to my father. "Why am I here?"

He leaned forward. "That's Rita. One of London's top models. Beautiful, kind, well-connected and available. You both are single, and..."

"Don't finish that sentence," I said, leaning back.

They all stared at me like I'd slapped someone. I didn't care.

Rita stood and glided toward me, swaying her hips with practiced perfection. "Am I not your type, David?" she asked sweetly, while locking her eyes on mine. "Or is there someone else you're already in love with?"

I smirked, but it was slow and deliberate. "Actually... yes."

A hush fell over the room.

"There is someone," I said, squeezing my face. "And she's ten times more captivating than you could ever dream of being."

And as Rita's fake smile dropped and my father's brows furrowed in anger, only one name rang through my head like thunder.

Sofia.

She thought she could walk away again. Never! She definitely has no idea what's coming.