"That's me making sure you don't lock me out again." He cut me off, pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. He picked up the coffee, took a sip, then frowned—clearly unimpressed with my cheap beans. "Besides, given your current condition," his gaze swept meaningfully over my abdomen, still hidden under loose clothes, "I don't think it's wise to let you live alone in a place with virtually no security. Eat, Natalie. Don't make me say it a third time."
That commanding, warning tone again.
I should be angry.
"You went out and bought all this?"
Richard didn't like eggs. I did... God, bought off by eggs? That's pathetic, Natalie.
"I was going to wake you to come along, but you were exhausted last night. You needed sleep." Richard didn't look up. "Eat. It's better warm."
This had to be manipulation.
How could I go back to LA with him just because he made me breakfast?
"I'm not eating." The words came out stiff. Then my stomach growled.
Damn it. Early pregnancy hunger was relentless.
Richard looked up, a flicker of amusement in those gray-blue eyes. Then he spoke seriously. "Eat, Natalie. You're not alone anymore. After you finish, we need to talk about that baby."
My heart sank.
We couldn't avoid this forever.
I pulled out the chair and sat, picked up my fork, and stabbed at the eggs. They were actually good.
"Nothing to talk about. The baby's mine. I'll handle it."
Richard set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with the napkin, slow, deliberate, but his eyes sharpened. "Things that need 'handling' are problems. This baby clearly isn't a problem. Besides, it's Winston blood. I'll take responsibility..."
"It's not Winston blood!" I shot back immediately, heart hammering.
God, I had to stick to this story. I couldn't let Richard know the truth. If he found out I was carrying his child and had hidden it, run away, tried to raise it alone... The consequences were unthinkable. He'd tie me down completely, use every method at his disposal. The baby and I would never escape his control.
"Richard, I got pregnant after our divorce. The baby has nothing to do with you. You don't need to and have no obligation to take any responsibility."
"Do you know how hard it is for a single mother to raise a child? You can't even take care of yourself." He frowned, leaning back, hands folded on the table. "Listen, I shouldn't have signed those divorce papers. That was my mistake. My mistake led you to find another man during our separation. But that's fine. I'll own my mistake. So I don't care who the biological father is. Once we remarry, I'll treat this child as my own. He'll be a legitimate Winston heir, with the name, trust funds, everything I own. And you, with Winston family support, your career can continue."
I couldn't believe my ears.
Richard wanted to claim a child that wasn't his?
"You're insane..." That was the only explanation.
Richard clearly disagreed. His thinking was almost obsessive. "Natalie, you're my wife. Even divorced, I won't allow you to be with another man. So this isn't a discussion. You need to understand. Remarrying me is the best choice for you and the baby. Either come back to LA with me, or I'll stay here with you. As for remarriage, the lawyer will have the papers here this afternoon."
He'd already arranged everything and was just informing me?
"You're shameless!" I jumped up. The chair scraped loudly across the floor.
"Many people say that." He seemed happy to acknowledge it. "But for me, satisfactory results are what matter. I don't care about process." He took another leisurely sip of coffee. "Sit down. Finish breakfast. Then you need to get ready. Emma will be downstairs in half an hour to take you to rehearsal."
"How did you..." I stared.
"Your phone was vibrating on the nightstand, so I answered it." His tone was flat. "I told her I'd drive you. She doesn't need to come."
"You answered my phone?!"
