Page 49 of Baby for My Ex’s Dad

I know this man’s faces. The boardroom face, the garage face, the face he wears when he loses control on purpose. This is none of them.

His eyes are bloodshot. A crease is pressed into his cheek from the chair, but that’s not it. His hand keeps almost reaching for mine and pulling back, and his mouth is tight. Crow’s feet linger at the corners of those frosted blue eyes.

He looks scared. Truly scared.

It hits me all at once. “You know.”

“Dr. Rappaport found it in your bloodwork.” His voice is careful. “He didn’t know it was news.”

I look at the ceiling. There goes my graceful reveal, dead on arrival, killed by a lab panel. “Oh.”

“Thea. I owe you an apology before anything else gets said.” His jaw works. “I assumed you had prevention handled. I never asked. A man my age, and I never asked… I behaved no better than a horny teenager, didn’t think… and now you are five weeks pregnant in a war I brought to your door. This is my doing. All of it. I’m so sorry.”

“Max, it takes two people to⁠—”

“It takes two people, yes, but not when one of them has enemies who peel faces.” He stands. He can’t sit still, and he goes to the window and comes back. “Do you understand what I did? Alexei wanted leverage on me, and I’ve handed him a pregnant woman.”

“Max—”

“When he learns, he will not see a complication. He will see a gift. I’ve made you the most valuable target he could ever ask for, and I did it in a hotel room because I was a fucking selfish asshole.”

The monitor blips. I’ve never heard him talk this fast. “Maxim⁠—”

“So, here is what happens now.” He sits, elbows on knees. “I’m going to end Alexei Sokolov. Not contain him. End him. And before I move against him, we marry. Thursday.”

“We—what?”

“I would do it sooner, but thought you’d want to recover first. We’ll keep it small, here in the orchard, if the weather holds. Father Grigori can drive up to perform the ceremony. He baptized me, and he’s discreet. Your sister can stay here Wednesday night. I’ll send a plane. A small one. Nothing alarming.”

He’s not making sense. “Just hang on a second—what are you talking about?”

He meets my gaze with a look that could level a building. “When I go after Alexei, it may go wrong. Men die on the hunt, better men than me, and if it goes wrong, a wife inherits everything faster than anyone else. The company, the accounts, the buildings, all of it will be yours. No lawyer on earth able to touch it, no matter Niklaus’s objections.”

My head throbs. “Stop⁠—”

“Unmarried, you are a former employee with a complicated story. Married, you are untouchable whether I live or I don’t. Rings are the only difficulty on the timeline, but there’s a man on 47th Street who owes me a favor and works fast, so it won’t be a problem⁠—“

“Max. Stop.” I sit up straighter, and the quilt pools in my lap. “This isn’t happening. No.”

He goes still. “Thursday doesn’t work for you?”

“No to all of it.”

Something shutters behind his eyes. The fear doesn’t leave. A wall goes up in front of it. “Then Saturday.”

“Oh my God, Maxim, no.”

“I’m telling you I may die doing what must come next, and I’m trying to make my death useful to you and our child, and you’re quibbling about the calendar⁠—”

“You proposed to me with your own funeral!” Louder than I planned. “That’s not a proposal, Max. That’s estate planning with cake and a pretty dress!”

His frown lines go deeper than I thought. Or maybe it’s the unflattering overhead lighting in here. “It is protection⁠—”

“This is not happening. Get it through your head.”

His jaw tightens. He stands, walks to the window, looks out at the dark, and for a minute the only sound is the monitor and my pulse in my ears. To the window, he grumbles, “You’re refusing my proposal.”

“I’m refusing to plan a life around your death.” I pat the edge of the bed, and after a long pause, he comes and sits, careful of my legs. Up close, the fear is still there, and that’s what undoes me. “Here’s my counteroffer. We’re honest with each other. Every day, even when it’s ugly. We try, every single day, to figure out this thing between us. Whatever this turns out to be.”