CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ZANDER
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How the fuck am I supposedto concentrate when my client, whom I’ve been fucking, is sitting beside me potentially carrying my goddamn child?
How could I be so fucking stupid?
Calm down.
Calm down.
Calm down.
I run the statistics of a woman her age getting pregnant after having sex a handful of times during a forty-eight-hour period.I have no fucking clue because I’m not a bot or a doctor.
But I’m pretty certain the possibility is high.
I’mnotcalm.
All Courtney had to do was take the damn tablet.I trusted her.Obviously my cock has been in charge and now I’m spiraling as I picture my future crumbling before me.
Me as a part-time father.
Christ.
Have I read her all wrong?Has she used Vanguard to get his money, then when he was unable to give her a child, tried her luck with John the painter and now me?
She’s getting five billion dollars, but if it’s a child she’s after, I’m walking around promoting my good goddamn genes like a billboard.
I’m an idiot.
My father will force me to marry her.Not that anyone can force me to do anything.But Mom will be upset...
Fuck.
Jason clears his throat, turning to where I’m standing in the doorway, having not yet sat down.He slides a document across the wooden boardroom table in front of the empty chair.
The one next to Courtney.
Without greeting Warren or Adam, I take my seat, and shuffle my documents, arranging my phone.Buying time to clear my head.
It works marginally.
“Thank you,” I say and finally glance up to face Vanguard.He lifts a single brow ever so slightly, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s aware I’m unsettled about something.
