Page 35 of Bound Hearts

He gawks at me as if I should know better. “None. I wanted to check if you want to meet later. Someone in my department brought fantastic tiramisu from his uncle’s Italian bakery. I thought I’d steal a piece for you.”

It’s one of my favorite desserts, and he knows it. Alas.

“I mean, it’s drenched in alcohol, but it still tastes good,” he adds on.

I bite back a frown and steady myself. "Sounds amazing, but I’ll pass. Maybe next time."

I move to slip past him, but he shifts, blocking my way. He glances over my shoulder, smoothing his blazer. “Are you avoiding me?” he whispers.

I roll my eyes, unwilling to play this game. “No. I’m just busy. I’m sure your ego can survive me not dropping everything at your command.”

His deep, sinful chuckle sends a shiver through me. Foster is dangerously irresistible. It takes two, but because of him, I’m teetering on the edge of a life I never imagined. I have no idea how he’ll react or how we’ll come undone.

“You’re right,” he agrees, but his grin is smooth, humored even. Stepping to the side, he gives me space.

“I’ll email you about that contract later,” I tell him, because there is actually work to do.

Walking away, I realize how fast my heart has been pounding.

It’s only made worse when I reach my office and collapse in my chair. Sighing, I attempt to mentally prepare myself for a grueling afternoon ahead. When I decide that I need to bury myself in work, I yank out my single drawer to grab a pen to write down some notes. Right away I’m greeted with a single red rose and a small note.

My bed is waiting for you.

I pick it up, slow for a moment, and bring the rose to my nose, the soft petals sweeping across the tip. It’s a romantic gesture. Except now isn’t the time. I snort a laugh because I’m not 100% sure how he managed to sneak a rose into my office, seemingly before I ran into him. But Foster isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. However, what is ironically funny for a brief second is that his bed is probably the reason why I’m in my current state.

Some miracle was given to me, and Foster left on business and only got back at the end of the work week. My thoughts remained stalled. Every way I looked at it, it kept coming back gray to me. No clarity.

Now, I finally do have to face Foster because he reviewed an email I sent, and we need to talk in person.

“You’re saying my wish to have a late-fee clause and incur interest is a no-go. I’m not sure I agree.” He continues to skim his laptop screen as I sit adjacent to him across his desk.

“Of course, we would like floating interest on late payments. I’m aware you’ve had them for other large clients, but that was with a clear number. You can't say it is up to our discretion or market interest, as that leaves it to us to decide. The wording needs to be sharper with a number,” I explain as I rest against the back of my chair with one knee over the other, my pumps killing me.

“Bryants is also a company that could be high risk. They move concert staging, for crying out loud. All it takes is a few canceled shows and they could have a cash-flow problem.” He closes his laptop, slightly irritated.

“I’m sure they have insurance funds for that very issue, but inflating the fine will be a pushback. If you would like the clause, then compromise,” I advise.

He blows out an exhausted breath and brings his hands behind his head. “Fine. Let me run the numbers once again to find a fair middle-ground.”

“Good.”

With the issue discussed, I can leave.

But the silence that settles between us roots me to my chair.

He leans back, arms draped over the armrests like a king on his throne. I can feel his gaze burning into me, but I fixate on the Newton’s Cradle, refusing to meet his eyes.

My upper body buzzes with nerves, blood rushing, while my legs feel anchored, heavy as stone. I know I can’t stall forever.

Silence.

He makes no effort to break it, and I don’t take it as my opportunity to exit.

Blinking a few times, I lick my lips as a long breath leaves my chest. My eyes remain glued to the marbles, and I’m entering a trance.

“Ready to tell me you’re pregnant?” Foster’s voice is calm and controlled.

My attention snaps to him.