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“Brat, let me take care of this,” Rhys says tightly in my ear, causing me to shiver.
This is bad.
Something bad is about to happen. Rafe swings the door wide open so we can enter. I dig my nails into Rhys’s arm. If it’s not Axel, then… I walk forward almost as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. One foot in front of the other I move, my fingers laced with Rhys’s as I blink at the large silver and gold room. It’s decorated like we’re back in France, and Napoleon might step out at any moment.
A woman sits with a man in a suit. And I know this is going to hurt me. And not just a small prick. Whatever is about to happen is going to rip me open and make me bleed.
“No,” I whisper and stop moving.
Rhys turns and his eyes… oh my God. This is happening. It’s in his eyes—he knows.
The man next to the woman stands and comes forward holding out his hand, which Rhys ignores, instead looking at me.
She heaves herself up to stand also, a gloating smile on her pretty face.
She’s tall, like six feet, in jeans and a tight pink sweater, with pale skin and pitch-black hair cut in a bob. Jesus, is she pretending she’s Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction?
My eyes fill with tears and I look up at the ceiling to stop them from falling.
I’m Gia Fontaine.
My brother is Axel Fontaine. We don’t cry or show weakness. But this… this bitch is pregnant, and everything that I’ve dreamed of did not include this.
“Baby, it’s okay.” Rhys hasn’t even looked at them. Does he not see her fucking stomach? I take a breath and blink away the tears as I look at him and smile. Turning, I shake the man’s hand. “I’m Gia, and you are?” That makes the room almost crackle with tension. The man hesitates and shakes my hand. His is cold, almost clammy.
“Yes. I’m Mr. Daniels and this is my client, Renee Abbott.” My eyes meet hers, and she somewhat falters beneath my stare.
“Yes. So, unfortunately, our lawyers have to be involved also, but Renee requested a friendly meet and greet,” Rafe says. “Gia, something to drink?”
“Sure.” I reach for Rhys’s bottle of Jack as he takes over the room.
“Look, I’m not even going to humor you two. This is not mine.” He motions with his head to her stomach. “I barely remember Renee.”
I take a swig and swallow the burn of liquor. It slides down, then threatens to come back up.
“Yes. Ms. Abbot thought you would think that as you always use condoms. You have a piercing on your genital?”
I’m going to puke. I never should have taken that swig on an empty, anxiety-laced stomach. I’m starting to sweat as I hear my life being torn apart and snagged away from me. I want to scream that it can’t be.
I’m the one.
Me! I’m supposed to be first. I’m supposed to have his babies. Not some pale-faced, skinny model.
Rhys takes the bottle from my hand as if he can feel and know everything I’m thinking. For one horrifying moment, I wonder if I said all that out loud.
“It’s none of your business,” he grumbles.
“Granger, the baby is yours. The rubber tore on the piercing.” Renee speaks for the first time, and she has an accent. It’s not French. Maybe Scandinavian? “You fuck like a beast.” She turns to me. “It happened more than once.”
“If that had happened, I would have made sure you took Plan B,” he says.
“You did,” she replies and sits back down. All eyes stare at her and I start to back up, because this is when I need to leave. Run, hide, curl into a ball and try to make this not be happening.
“My lawyers will be in touch. This is not my kid.” He grabs my hand as Renee shrieks at our backs.
“It is yours. You’ll see when you take a paternity test. I intend on my child knowing his father. I’ll use everything in my power, and that includes the press, to make sure you’re on board.”
He swings around. “If that kid is mine, I’ll be the one making sure he understands that the mother is a gold digger who purposely got knocked up. Go to the press. I couldn’t care less.” He takes my hand and we’re out the door.
One foot in front of the other, I chant as Rhys drags me along. My legs feel like lead. I’m sure it’s from all the steps, or else I’m in shock. He must get sick of it and sweeps me into his arms, carrying me to our door.
“Don’t. Please don’t do this to yourself. She’s lying. That is not my kid.” His voice is soft, soothing, and I cling to him, knowing that everything from this day forward will change.
