Page 54 of Shark’s Rise

“Yes. Is there a problem with my word selection?”

“Not if this were still nineteen fifty.”

For once, unbelievably, my sarcasm seemed to resonate with him. In a strange rush, all the tension wilted from his massive frame. He hung his head and rubbed the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Jesus, Abbi. Please don’t fight me on this. You aren’t well enough to stand on your feet all morning in Inglewood and then haul around a damn delivery cart in the noontime heat.” When he raised his head again, utter exhaustion distorted his handsome face. “You know you’re not.”

“But I can’t stay cooped up in this house all day either.” Just speaking the words had my throat cracking and my eyes tearing. But I kept my stance resolute in the span of one sentence. I was being a little stubborn and likely a lot stupid, but I needed to do this. For once, I needed to hold my ground.

“Abbig—”

“Sebastian.” I dug my nails into his sinewy forearm. “Please.”

He dropped his head again. Then shook it. Once.

“I said no, Abbigail. That’s the end of it.”

He left the bathroom without another word.

For a few long moments, I simply stood there, staring at the open doorway. Feet swaying. Mind reeling. What just happened?

I didn’t know if I had a definitive answer. There was a large part of me that knew he had a point. But an even larger part needed to make mine, too. And if I caved on day one, what would that mean for day two? And every other day after that?

That was when the answer hit. Like an anvil to my solar plexus.

It was simple. It meant that I was still a prisoner. I had a new cell and a new warden, but I hadn’t been exonerated. My sentence hadn’t even been reduced! I was as much a captive in this mansion as I’d been at the one in the desert.

My stomach lurched. Suddenly and violently. Oh God, I was thankful to already be in the bathroom. I rushed to the toilet and dropped down in front of it, getting to work on what my body ordered me to do. But I didn’t have time to close the door, meaning Sebastian heard everything from the start. Seemingly at once, he was back by my side. He pulled my sweaty hair back from my face and started soothing my nape. I batted at his hands—I couldn’t take even that contact, my skin was so sensitive—but he didn’t get the point, and I was too weak to expound on it beyond that.

After spilling the contents of my stomach, my tears started tumbling. I was frustrated and furious and fed up. I didn’t know if I could keep doing this, but the brochures Dr. Landon had given me about this condition said I was in for months of it. Most expectant mothers with hyperemesis gravidarum had symptoms well into their second trimester. The tiff with my man hadn’t helped matters. I was supposed to stay calm and emotionally even, as much as I possibly could.

“Baby,” Sebastian pleaded. “What can I do?” He rubbed my back while I hovered over the toilet, making sure I was done. But I didn’t want to be touched. His well-meaning gesture felt like electric shocks.

“Stop touching me,” I moaned. “My skin hurts.” I flushed the toilet and tried to wobble to my feet. Bas stayed right there, struggling to steady me, ignoring my request to keep his hands off. I shrugged out of his hold and gripped the counter for balance.

“I’m fine.” I sniffled. “Or I will be in a couple of minutes. My skin is overly sensitive, so it doesn’t feel good to be touched.”

“Okay. Okay.” He held his hands up. “Sorry. I’m still learning all of the details.” He shook his head, “Christ. I really am sorry. I should’ve been there for you from the beginning. You shouldn’t have been going through this alone, Abbigail.”

“It’s fine,” I insisted. “Come on, Bas. Seriously. I’m not the first pregnant woman in history to have morning sickness.”

“Fuck. Why can’t you understand?” He just stared at me, waiting for me to look at him.

“What?”

“I want to be here for you, damn it. I want to be a part of every single minute of this.”

I splashed cool water on my face, thankful I hadn’t done my makeup beyond the little bit of cover-up. I quickly brushed my teeth, and even before I looked back in the mirror, I could feel Sebastian’s stare on me, pensive and watchful. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back from screaming. Right now, his scrutiny was making my pores prickle worse than his fingers.

“Do you…maybe…want to lie down for a little bit?” he finally offered. “But just for a little bit. Maybe, after that, I can drive you into the kitchen when I go to the office. You can spend an hour or two there, and I’ll have Joel swing by at lunchtime to bring you home.”

I jerked my head up. Bit down on my lip yet again, this time to hold back fresh tears. Holy crap. Was Sebastian Shark really extending a compromise to me?

Part of me still didn’t believe it. I continued fussing with the hand towel, not sure I’d accurately heard what he’d just said. “Really?”

He smiled. The warmth climbed all the way to his eyes. “Yes. Really.” He steered me out of the bathroom, down the hall, and back toward the master suite. When we stepped back into our space, he turned and scooped my hands into his. “Abbigail, I’m honestly not trying to keep you from your business.” A sound between a grunt and a laugh escaped him. “Who would understand the need to oversee the daily operations of their business better than me?”

I scooted up to my tiptoes and rubbed an affectionate kiss into his stubble. “Thank you,” I whispered. “That means the world to me. Truly.”