Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“So you spoiled him?” I laugh, and he smiles. The sight of it causes my stomach to fill with butterflies.
“What matters is we’re cool now.” He moves his hand from the top of PJ’s head and touches my jaw with the tips of his fingers, sending a spiral of sensations through my body before he lets it fall away. “Come sit and eat something.”
I don’t put up a fight. I like being in his presence; it’s easy, and there’s something about him that makes me feel weirdly safe, even if I hardly know him. I follow him to the open kitchen, where he pulls out a stool from the island for me. Taking a seat, I run my fingers through PJ’s fur as Dayton gets a loaf of bread out of one cabinet and a toaster from another.
“Were you working on your case?” I ask him as he opens the fridge.
“Yeah, I want to have most of the documents gone through by Monday so I can schedule appointments to meet with the family of the victim and the detectives who opened the case.” He carries a jug of orange juice over to me.
“Is it normal to meet with the family?”
“Yes, we like to fill them in on what is about to take place. But in this case, I’d like to have everyone on the same page since there is a lot of doubt surrounding the person who allegedly committed the crime, and I don’t want any of them siding with the defense when we bring charges forward.” He fills a glass with orange juice and slides it over to me.
“Thanks.” I pick it up and take a sip, watching him put two pieces of bread in the toaster.
“I need to talk to you about something.” He comes back to stand in front of me, resting his hands on the counter, his T-shirt stretching under the strain of his muscular torso.
“Okay.” I brace myself. I don’t know if it’s the expression on his face or just the way he’s holding himself, but I have a feeling whatever he’s going to say isn’t going to be good.
“My secretary overheard our conversation when you came into the office,” he tells me, and my stomach drops. “She told Billy about it, and today, he put two and two together.”
“Oh,” I whisper, feeling lightheaded.
“I don’t want you stressed about the situation, but I need to talk to you about it so you’re not blindsided by what’s about to happen.”
“What’s about to happen?” My brows draw together. “Is he going to go to my dad?” The idea is ridiculous. I’m not a teenager, and I don’t live at home. And my dad might be disappointed—maybe even a little angry—when he finds out I’m pregnant, but again I’m not a teenager, I’m a grown woman.
“No, it’s not that. Billy’s been having an affair with my assistant since before she started working for the DA’s office.”
My lips part in surprise. That is not what I expected him to say. Poor Shelly.
“Someone told the media that they believe she is his mistress, and they are going to run a story about it at some point tomorrow. Billy’s grand plan is to play it off like I’m the one in a relationship with her. I’m not, but in order to keep him from going to the media about your pregnancy, I’m going to go along with it.”
“Why would you have to go along with that?” I feel sick—physically sick—at the idea of him even pretending to be in a relationship with someone else. It doesn’t bode well for me and my future if I’m already feeling possessive over him, especially since we don’t really know each other. Right now, he is nothing more than a guy I had sex with once. Oh, and the father of my unborn child.
Maybe that’s what it is.
Probably, I lie to myself.
“He threatened to go to the media with the news about your pregnancy if I don’t.”
“He’s blackmailing you?” He doesn’t nod nor say yes, but I know that’s exactly what’s happening. “I’ll tell my dad about the baby.”
“Are you ready to do that?” he asks gently, and I tug my eyes off his and drop them to the top of PJ’s head.
I’m not ready. Not yet. I want more time—not just for me, but to figure out what is going to happen with Dayton, if he’s going to be involved. I need to know that before I tell my dad. Not that it will make it easier, but I don’t want my dad to pressure Dayton into making a decision before he’s ready.
“You need time, and that’s okay.”
“You need time too.” I lift my eyes back to his, and his jaw shifts. Yeah, he needs time. Maybe he still doesn’t believe that this is his kid. I don’t fault him for having doubts—not when it shouldn’t even be possible for him to get someone pregnant. Still, I can admit that it stings a little.