Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“I will. I’ll text you guys later.” I grab my purse, adjust the strap over my shoulder, and practically rush out of the restaurant, my flat shoes clicking against the concrete as I pick up my pace. I’m not just walking fast, I’m practically running, my hand subconsciously resting on the small curve of my belly to steady my peanut as I move. People pass by me in a blur—businessmen in expensive suits, tourists with cameras—but my eyes are locked on the horizon. Specifically, the gleaming glass and steel building that houses Sterling Capital.
The closer I get, the faster my heart beats, and it’s not from the physical exertion, it’s from the sheer adrenaline pumping through me and what I’m about to do. I’m about to confront Vik about every single thing.
I burst through the revolving doors. The blast of air conditioning cools me somewhat, but not all the way. And while I usually say a quick hello to security manning the lobby area, today I don’t. I march straight to the private elevators, type in my code, the doors open immediately, and I walk in. The elevator moves quickly, almost too quickly, and before I know it, I’m on Vik’s floor. The reception area is empty. Alex is at lunch with the girls, which means the man of the hour should be free.
“Vik, we have a lot to talk about, and it needs to happen now,” I say, barging through his office doors. He’s sitting behind his desk, phone in his hand, but hangs it up the moment he sees me. Well, fuck, maybe the girls were right after all and this should have been a conversation to have at home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
vik
The phone in my hand and the person on the other end of the line requires all of my attention. It’s also a multi-billion-dollar acquisition that my team and I have been working on for months, about the same time I found out Romy was pregnant. We’re nearly a cunt hair away from closing the deal, but the second my office doors open, the purchase falls on deaf ears.
“Finish it. I’m out of reach for the rest of the day.” I end the call immediately. Romy stands in the doorway, out of breath, her chest heaving beneath her sundress, cheeks flushed a bright crimson from the heat outside. Her golden-blonde hair is wild and unruly, but it’s her eyes that make me falter in my steps. They’re wide, glossy, and swimming with what looks like tears ready to spill over at any second.
I’m out of my chair before the call disconnects as my instincts take over. The meeting can wait. The numbers mean fucking nothing to me right now. My woman looks exhausted. I walk toward her, my arms already reaching out to pull her against my chest.
“No,” she gasps, her voice cracking as she throws her hands up, her palms flat out in the air between us. “Don’t touch me.”
“Romy...” I freeze in my tracks.
“I mean it, Vik, don’t,” Romy breathes, taking a step back, closing the door behind her as she does so. “Every single time you touch me, all I can think about is you sinking inside me, chasing my orgasm, and forgetting the outside world exists. Then I forget what I’m upset about. We have to talk, Vik. Right now. No distractions, no kissing, and no touching.”
“Okay, we’re talking. Please calm down, though. I don’t want you upset.” I keep my hands at my sides, loving that I make her lose all track of life and it’s not just me whose head is all fucked up.
“Fine.” A single tear breaks free, tracing a wet path down her flushed cheek. My palms clench into fists, wanting nothing more than to console her, except I know Romy, and shutting her up with a kiss won’t help at this point. “It’s been weeks, months, actually, we’ve lived together, we sleep together, we eat together, and maybe part of it’s my fault because I’ve been focusing on growing our child, working, and having copious amounts of sex. I need to know why. You never told me the reason behind your anti-children and anti-relationship stance in the first place. Vik, you’re this amazing, attentive man who cooks for me, rubs my feet, holds me while I’m sick, and why are you still living in my apartment? It’s too small!” She gestures wildly to herself, hand settling on the rounded swell of her stomach. “Between me, my growing belly, and your big, burly body it’s like we’re smooshed in that old nursery rhyme There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. We are living in a shoe, Vik!”
“I’ll tell you everything,” I say, my voice dropping to a low, steady rumble, trying to project a calm I don’t really feel. Seeing Romy standing in the building I’ve spent years building, fiercely defending her boundaries while looking so breathtaking beautiful growing our child, it nearly brings me to my knees. I’m also trying not to laugh at her visualization of living in her postage stamp of an apartment. “I’ll answer every single question you have. As long as you sit down and drink some water. I’m assuming you ran here from the restaurant?” She sniffles, bitting her lower lip while remaining stubbornly rooted to the spot. “And about the apartment.” I cross my arms over my chest to keep from grabbing her. “We would be in my penthouse right now if you weren’t adamant about staying where you’re comfortable.”