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Chapter Three
Piper
"I've got to go, sweet Piper."
He's leaving? Just like that?
My stomach churns, bile crawling up my throat as Cortez takes his room keys and his credit card from me. Not now, I silently pray, pleading for the strength to keep from vomiting up my breakfast all over my black kitten heels.
"I have something to take care of, pretty baby," he murmurs, his dark eyes settling on me. Just like they did two months ago, they seem to strip me bare, leaving me raw and aching. I've tried to forget him. God help me, I've tried. But every night, I dream about him anyway. Every day, my body aches for him anyway. My soul yearns for him, even when it shouldn't.
"You're leaving?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
When I left his hotel that morning, I wanted to be angry. Part of me was. But the rest of me was devastated. I felt foolish and stupid and so damn miserable without him. I had one perfect night with him…and two months of obsessively reliving every single moment. I've been a zombie just going through the motions, desperate to forget and equally afraid I would forget.
My heart can't forget him though, as much as I sometimes wish it would. He claimed it that night, and there's been no convincing it that he didn't mean a word he spoke. It's in a constant state of rebellion, refusing to believe what my head says must be true.
Did he mean it when he said he came back for me? That he didn't just check out and leave me there? Confusion swirls through me all over again. I desperately want to believe him, but I was there. He did check out. He did leave me there. Whatever he wants, whatever game this is, I'm not playing it. Not this time. I have too much to lose.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I won't fall right back into his arms.
"Fuck no," he growls, heat in his expression. And then he grimaces, shoving his room key and wallet into his pocket. "Temporarily."
All the air gets sucked out of the room. Of course he's leaving again. I should be relieved…but I'm not. I feel like a balloon three weeks after a birthday party.
"Shit," he growls, reaching across the desk for me when I sway on my feet.
"I'm fine," I say, throwing a hand up to forestall him. My gaze darts toward Gretchen, my manager, but she's still standing by the elevators. I know she's keeping an eye on me though. She isn't entirely convinced that I don't have the plague.
"You're pale as a ghost," Cortez disagrees.
"I said I'm fine." I jerk backward before he can touch me, scared I'll burst into tears if he does. My emotions are all over the place. They have been for weeks. My stomach churns again as if to remind me why. I fight the urge to lay my hand on my belly, instead shoving them into my pockets to avoid temptation. This secret is mine, at least for now. At least until I know…something. What he wants. Why he's here.
I haven't been feeling well for the last two weeks. I thought it was a virus. When I nearly fainted three days ago, Gretchen refused to let me come back to work until I went to the doctor. Turns out, Cortez left me with more than memories of our night together.
I'm carrying his baby.
For a moment when he first said he was staying, I panicked, thinking that's why he was here…that he came for the baby. But how could he? No one knows I'm pregnant yet. I haven't told a soul. As far as everyone else knows, I just had a stomach bug. I think Gretchen is onto me, but she wouldn't share my news with anyone. The woman is a fortress.
When Cortez said he wanted to breed me, I wanted it so badly. But I never thought it'd actually happen. I am so in love with our baby though. Prince Charming may have turned out to be questionable, but I want our baby. If Cortez thinks he's going to take her from me, he's wrong. I may not have the Blake name behind me, but I will fight for our baby until I can't fight anymore. I will protect her, even if it means protecting her from Cortez. He may think he can waltz in and out of my life at the drop of a hat, but I'll be damned if he waltzes in and out of our child's life.
I plan to tell him about the baby eventually…but not yet. Not until I know why he's really here and what he wants. If this is just some game to him, he can play it with someone else. He broke my heart once. I won't let him break it again. I won't let him break our child's either. If he wants to be a father, I won't stand in his way. Of course I won't. But he can't just disappear when it suits him, either. I might not deserve more in his eyes, but our child does.
"Stay or go, I don't care," I say, scowling at him. "Just make up your mind, Cortez. I'm not playing whatever game this is. I already told you that."
He glares at me across the desk, his dark eyes heated and seething with intensity. "This isn't a game, Piper. You aren't a game. I have something to take care of for work," he says quietly, burning frustration in his voice. "If it weren't important, I'd cancel and stay right here to prove how much I mean that. But I will be back. And I won't be leaving again until you're mine."
I snort in response.
"You're going to let me in again," he says.
"Why?" I lift my gaze to his and sniff. "So you can break my heart again? No thanks."
"Fuck," he growls, loud enough for half the lobby to hear him. I expect him to say something else, but he doesn't. He just stares at me for a long moment, his gaze searing me with intensity, and then he turns on his heel and storms away.
I stand frozen in place until he's through the doors, and then I dart into the employee bathroom in the office. By the time I'm finished throwing up, I have nothing left in my stomach and I just want to go home and hide beneath my covers.
I can't do that though.
I've only been working here for a little over a month.
"What am I going to do?" I groan, referring more to Cortez than anything else.
"Piper?" Gretchen says, poking her gray head into the bathroom. She sees me crouched over the toilet and clucks her tongue before hurrying in after me, her lined face softening. "It's not a virus."
I shake my head miserably, not denying it. "I'm pregnant," I whisper, flushing the toilet. "Please don't fire me."
"Of course I'm not going to fire you, dear," Gretchen says, wetting paper towels and placing them over my neck. "What kind of boss do you take me for?"
"Sorry." I wince. I guess that was insulting, though that wasn't my intention. "I didn't mean it that way. I just mean…I can do this job."
"Of course you can," she agrees, patting me on the shoulder. "I never doubted it. Come on. You can't hang onto the porcelain throne all day." She holds out a hand, helping me to my feet. Gretchen is in her mid-sixties and about five feet tall. She's a tiny battle-ax of a woman who could run this entire city singlehandedly. "You need crackers and Ginger Ale. It'll help settle your stomach."
"Nothing helps with that," I grumble, making her chuckle. Crackers do help some, but I feel like being dramatic right now.
"You'll see," she promises, leading me to the sink to wash up.
My face is pale and wan, my eyes shadowed beneath. Ugh. No wonder everyone thinks I have the plague. I look horrible. It's all Cortez's fault. He's haunting my dreams, making it impossible to sleep. And then I spend most of the day throwing up. I'm exhausted and grouchy and sad and lonely and so damn confused.
"The man who just checked in," I say, washing my mouth out with water. "He's, um…he's the father."
"I gathered," Gretchen says, her tone dry.
"You did?" I blink in shock.
