Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
All in all, I find him very physically distracting until six p.m., when he finally announces he’s leaving for the day.
“I’ve got an event in Queens tonight,” he says, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, if they happen to be lingering and shameless gossips. “Maybe we should share a town car?”
I nod, trying not to look overly enthusiastic as I quickly pack up my things and follow him to the elevator. My pulse is pounding the whole ride down. I feel it in my throat as we walk out of the office and toward the car. When I slide against the seat and feel the leather pressing against the backs of my legs, I nearly combust.
He must be feeling the same way, because the second we’re out of the eyeline of the building, his hands go to my hips and he pulls me against him. Our lips crash together, quickly replaced by tongues and teeth. I don’t worry about the driver. He’s probably seen much worse, and anyway, now that I know who Dominic is, I’m sure the man is paid very well to keep his mouth shut.
“So,” he sighs against my lips. “There was something you wanted to tell me?”
I nod and kiss him again, lightly. “Yes, I think I was going to tell you that I’m absolutely not having sex with you in a town car in Manhattan.”
He chuckles and he’s so close to me, I feel the reverberation in my own chest.
“Come on,” he says, sending another pleasant chill down my spine. “The windows are well tinted and Bradley isn’t going to say a word.”
I giggle and hit him lightly on the chest. “No,” I say, pulling away from him. Then I lean in to him and whisper in his ear. “But I do have a pretty comfortable bed. You can take me however you want me there.”
He looks at me, eyes darkening, and I swear to God he licks his lips.
Something in me finally snaps, the tension I’ve been carrying breaking and I feel a million pounds lighter. I lean my head against his shoulder, and he runs his hand up and down the length of my thigh the rest of the way home.
When we pull up to my street, I feel giddy and lightheaded in the best way. He gets out and looks up at my building. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, though I have to imagine it’s a hovel compared to other apartments he’s been in.
“It’s not much,” I say, grabbing his hand. “But it’s very cozy.”
He shakes his head. “I was actually checking for points of entry,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes. This is Dominic in real life.
On the landing, I reach into my purse, frustrated I didn’t have the foresight to grab the keys in the car. The last thing I want is more space between us. I’m ready to get him inside and rip his clothes off. I feel them at the bottom of my purse, but they’re snagged on something. Impatient, I yank as hard as I can, and out comes a packet of prenatal vitamins I ordered online to try.
Dominic and I bend down at the same time to grab it. Me, with mild horror, him out of chivalry, I imagine. Then he picks them up and reads the label. He stares at them in confusion, then looks at me. My face must give away everything, because he frowns back down at the packet.
“Sofia, what are these?” he asks.
18
DOMINIC
My hand shakes as I hold the pack of vitamins, my mind racing. Prenatal vitamins. Sofia’s been sick for weeks. Since Vegas. She threw up on the plane, and I’ve watched her inhale saltines and sip ginger ale ever since. I didn’t think anything of it. Or, truthfully, I just never let myself believe she could hide something like this from me.
“Tell me,” I demand again, because she’s staring at me looking shocked, as if she also didn’t know those were in her purse.
For a few seconds, the hallway goes completely still. I can hear a television blaring from one of the apartments. From another door, I hear voices laughing and flatware clinking against glass. Everyone else’s world seems to still be spinning regularly.
“I’m pregnant,” she finally says in a small voice.
The words drop between us like a bomb, and I can barely process them.
“It’s yours,” she says after a moment, when I don’t respond. “In case you had any question about that.”
Her tone is sarcastic and defensive, which theoretically would be understandable, since I’m standing here like an idiot, unable to form a coherent sentence. But it pisses me off. She’s the one who lied. She’s the one who kept this from me.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask her, still clutching the vitamins in my hand. “What was the plan here?”