Surrogate Dot Com
Description
He was supposed to buy a womb. He ended up losing his heart. An ambitious law intern, Norah, desperately needs a large sum of money to save her mother's life. After stumbling upon a lucrative surrogacy ad, she signs a contract with the last person she ever expected: her cold, dominant billionaire boss, Xander Crawford. Their professional arrangement is complicated by their undeniable attraction and a looming love triangle involving Xander's charismatic brother. As their forbidden relationship intensifies, Norah is dragged into a world of corporate backstabbing and family secrets, forcing her to choose between the man who holds her future in his hands and the one who promises to save her from the chaos.
Chapter 1
Aug 29, 2025
POV Norah
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
That was the first thing I heard when the elevator doors slid open. I froze. Completely. Because the sight in front of me had just short-circuited every neuron I owned.
Xander Crawford—the Xander Crawford—was standing in the middle of his corner office.
Shirtless. Not just shirtless—fresh-from-a-morning-run shirtless.
Hair damp, sticking to his forehead, a faint sheen of sweat catching the light. Muscles carved so precisely it was like someone upstairs got bored and decided to show off. And then there was the tattoo.
Black ink curling along his ribs, script wrapping around a symbol I couldn’t quite read because my brain had just leapt out the window.
“The executive elevator requires a special key card.” His gaze swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to decide if I was a threat or just entertainment. “How did you get in here?”
“I-I… The regular one was too crowded and… um…” The words tumbled out under my breath as I stumbled backward, my tote nearly sliding off my shoulder. “There was a guy, maintenance guy, he held the door, and—”
“And you thought, why not take a little field trip?” His mouth curved into a smirk so devastating it should’ve come with a safety warning.
“I didn’t know it came up here…” I blurted, clutching my tote like a medieval shield.
He moved toward his desk with a lazy, predatory sort of grace, picking up a crisp white dress shirt. Then, as if the universe hated me, he started buttoning the shirt.
Slowly, one button at a time, like he knew exactly where my eyes were and exactly how hard I was trying not to stare.
“Are you—” my voice cracked, “—always this… shirtless in the mornings?”
That earned a flash of teeth. “Only when someone decides to crash my office uninvited.”
“I didn’t crash.” My hands flailed like they had a mind of their own. “I… stumbled. Accidentally. Through no fault of my own. Really.”
“Mmm.” He slid the final button into place, still watching me like I was a puzzle he wasn’t in a hurry to solve. “I’ll have to check the security footage to confirm that story.”
My eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” His smirk deepened.
I made a strangled sound somewhere between a groan and a squeak, turned, and jabbed at the elevator button like I was trying to summon a portal out of hell.
“Relax, intern.” His tone was lighter now, almost amused. “You’re here now. Try not to get lost before your orientation.”
The doors slid shut between us, and I did the only logical thing: smacked my forehead against my tote and hissed, “Oh my God.”
Then again, just for good measure. “Oh. My. God.”
I stepped out of the executive elevator like I’d just escaped a hostage situation.
“Where… is…” I spun in a slow circle, realizing the floor I’d landed on wasn’t remotely familiar.
Every hallway looked the same—polished floors, expensive art, intimidating glass doors.
Perfect. I was going to be late. On my first day.
Finally, a cheerful blonde in a pencil skirt breezed past, heels clicking like she owned the place.
“Uh… Excuse me?” I called, jogging after her. “Orientation for interns?”
She glanced me over, her smile a little too knowing.
“Downstairs in Conference Hall B. Follow the noise.” She leaned in just enough to drop her voice conspiratorially. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get a front row for Mr. Crawford’s welcome speech.”
My face burned instantly. “Right. Thanks.”
“Oh, you haven’t met him yet?” she asked as we started walking.
I swallowed. “Not exactly.”
“Girl, I’m telling you,” she whispered like she was about to tell me state secrets, “he’s ridiculously good-looking. And terrifying. Like, you’ll want him to call you into his office but also… you’ll probably cry if he does.” She grinned, pushing open the double doors. “You’ll see.”
Oh, I’ve seen, girl.
All of him.
Orientation was a blur of fluorescent lights, name tags, and corporate promises about “real-world experience”. And then, just as I was pretending to read the welcome packet, he walked in.
Full suit. Clean shave. Hair tamed. Not a single trace of the half-naked man from earlier. Except his eyes.
Those found me instantly. And stayed.
I ducked my head so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. The packet suddenly became the most fascinating document I’d ever seen. My face was burning.
He’d seen me gawking. I’d seen him… everything.
“Welcome to Crawford & Associates,” he said, his voice slicing through the chatter like it had been waiting for silence. “I want you to know that if you’re here—you’re the best.”
The girl next to me straightened like she’d just been knighted, and a brunette in front of me elbowed her friend. “He’s even hotter in person,” she whispered.
Her friend snorted softly. “He’s like… corporate Thor.”
I clenched my pen tighter, refusing to participate in the whisper-fest. My mind had already betrayed me enough times today.
I tried to listen, I really did. But every time his gaze flicked my way, my stomach did a ridiculous little flip. Then his eyes found me like they’d been aiming for me the whole time.
“Miss…” He glanced at the sheet in his hand. “Mason?”
Every nerve in my body screamed don’t choke.
“Yes?”
“You’ll be assigned to my team.”
From somewhere to my left, the brunette whispered, “Assigned to him? She’s so lucky.”
“I’d kill for that,” her friend replied. “Imagine one-on-one meetings with him…”
Imagine? I didn’t have to imagine.
I’d already had an unsolicited preview of him in low lighting with zero buttons. And now, apparently, I was going to work under him.
Literally under his supervision.
That afternoon, I was in his glass-walled conference room, doing my absolute best impression of someone who wasn’t thinking about the fact that I’d already seen him shirtless. My cheeks, however, refused to cooperate.
They’d been on fire since the moment I walked in.He glanced up from his desk, eyes flicking to my face with a look that said he’d noticed.
“Do you need a minute to recover from orientation, or are you ready to work?”
“I’m fine,” I said too quickly, like the word fine could erase the last three hours of me replaying that tattoo in my head. “Totally fine…”
One corner of his mouth tugged upward. “You’re blushing.”
My hands tightened on the file. “I’m… warm.”
“It’s sixty-eight degrees in here,” he said dryly, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world to dismantle me.
I stared at the folder in my lap like it had just become the most fascinating document in existence. “Must be the lighting.”
“Mmhmm.” He stood, slow and deliberate, rounding the desk until he was beside me.
I could feel the shift in the air before he even spoke.
He leaned down, one hand braced on the table beside my arm, the other flipping the file open in front of me.
“See here?” His voice had dropped lower, a thread of quiet authority that curled straight down my spine. “They used the wrong precedent.”
I nodded, but it came out as a squeaky, “Mhm.”
He studied me for a long beat, his gaze sweeping over my face in that slow, unreadable way that made my breath hitch. “Are you always this quiet?”
“Only,” I said before thinking, “when my boss is hovering like he’s about to steal my soul.”
That earned a real laugh—low, warm, and entirely unfair. “Noted.”
He stepped back just enough to give me air, but not enough to make me forget every nerve he’d just set on fire.
Checking his phone with practiced efficiency, he continued, "I have a call, review the brief while I'm gone."
The door clicked shut behind him, and I finally released the breath I'd been holding. My phone buzzed on the desk. Dad’s calling.
I answered with a tired smile. “Hey—”
“It’s your mother,” he said, voice tight. “She collapsed.”
The ground shifted under me. “What? Is she—”
“They’re admitting her now. The doctors say she needs surgery. Soon.” His voice cracked, just once. “Without it…”
No. No, no, no. “Okay. I’m coming—”
“They want a deposit before they’ll schedule her. It’s… it’s a lot, Norah. A hundred and fifty-five thousand.”
Surrogate Dot Com
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