Page 57 of Bound Hearts

A few minutes later, I discover that the taste of the tea isn’t really for me, and I return to the bedroom to get into some comfy clothes for the evening.

I slip off my dress, drape it over the chair, and look in the long mirror in Foster’s bedroom.

There is no way around it.

Moving in different angles wearing only my bra and panties, my hand follows the curve of my belly. I’m now in the “is she pregnant or has she just gained weight” phase. Not quite obvious, but enough for people to be asking in their heads.

“Gah,” I growl.

Foster enters the bedroom with a towel hung around his hips. “Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t think I’m fat. I know what this is. I’m just frustrated that I have to put my wardrobe on hiatus. Also, this is the moment of truth of what will happen to my career. Plus, now Celeste is going to have a meltdown because we’re already short-staffed.”

He steps behind me, arms circling my waist, chin settling on my shoulder, hands warm below my belly button. In the mirror, our eyes meet, and his coy smirk appears. I love how he watches me—like I’m something rare and precious.

“We’re not worried, remember? Nobody wants to piss off the CFO.” Sometimes, he off-handedly says things that remind me of his power and influence in this world. I’m very attracted to that. The back of his fingers follow the trail of my side and move down. “But I believe someone who is carrying my child mentioned something once.”

It takes me only a second to catch on, and I can’t help the bashful smile tugging at my lips.

“It’s time for a courthouse wedding so I can still look somewhat not pregnant, and one day when our child looks at photos, they don’t immediately think that they are the reason for their parents’ marriage… Let them have a moment, then when it settles, our kid might be smart and use a calculator to crush that image.”

He sputters a laugh as he firmly places his palm on my belly. “Love that for us. But in plain terms, let’s just call it what it is. Your clothes are signaling that it's time to get hitched. The clock is ticking for his arrival.” I love how he is so convinced it’s a boy.

“A man of numbers. That’s why I’m not worried. You think in numbers, I think in words. We’re a balanced partnership, strengthened by harmony and excellent sex.”

His long fingers draw a circle on my belly. “That was complete vow material.”

Proudly, I reflect. “I know.”

I lean back against him, feeling the natural fit of our bodies, and I take an easy breath. It sinks in what we’re doing.

“So… about the nuptials.” I turn slightly, teasing. “Are we adding it to our agenda between your 9am conference call and your 11am executive team meeting?”

He brushes his lips along the shell of my ear. “The end of the day so I can take you to bed after.” His voice swelters.

How romantic of him.

“Okay.” I feel that I’m getting giddy again, but then I notice his own closed-mouth smile slip away.

Foster steps back and to the side, offering me his hand. “Come here.”

He guides me by the hand to the edge of the bed, where we sit down together.

I grow slightly worried. “Everything okay?”

He remains silent for a few extra seconds. “I want to be honest before the wedding.”

My stomach drops.

“It’s silly. Ridiculous.”

I nervously offer a smile. “What?”

"My mother left a crazy clause in her will. I would eventually need to settle down for the Roth company to continue, otherwise we would lose shares." He widens his eyes, as if saying it aloud sounds absurd.

My face squinches. “People still make clauses like that?”

“Yeah, she was raised in a very traditional family.”