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No, wait. That’s pure fucking shock.
“I’ll set up two trust funds,” he said.
“Thank you very much.”
“As far as living arrangements, I’m not a fan of where you stay.”
“You’ve made that more than clear.”
“My penthouse sleeps thirty,” he said. “There are multiple suites.”
“I’m not living with you. Ever.”
“We should discuss it.”
“We just did,” I said. “Next.”
“I looked up your apartment on a code enforcement website,” he continued. “It’s being used in a real estate course called Slumlords: 101. It’s literally a case study on how to rack up every single violation on the list. The only thing it doesn’t have is a rodent infestation, but I’m sure that’ll be an amenity soon.”
“It’s the best I can afford right now,” I said, too stubborn for his charity, “and I’ve already paid my rent through the end of the year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He handed me a smaller sheet. “This is the address where I’m currently staying, along with the code to get to my floor and my personal cell phone number. The guards have been made aware that you’re a special guest, and you’re more than welcome to come see me whenever you want.”
I folded the sheet without looking at it, stuffing it into my purse.
“Do you plan on working for your entire pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning to tell your coworkers?”
“Just the ones I trust,” I admitted. “Not about you being the father, of course. Just the pregnancy.”
He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “You look fucking stunning today.”
“You do, too…”
For a few moments, it felt like we were alone on the roof of the Space Needle again. His heated stare, the tension crackling as the seconds passed, me wanting him to—
His fiancé, Chloe. He had a damn fiancé.
The thought crossed my mind before the fantasy finished.
“What’s this about drugs?” I asked.
“Just a confirmation. I hope you don’t think I’ll allow you to smoke weed while you’re carrying my children.”
“I would never smoke or drink while pregnant.” I crossed my arms. “I hope you’ll hold yourself to the same standard.”
“I can agree to that.”
“Great. What’s this final ‘et cetera’ on your list mean?” I tried to keep us on track.
“I’d like to revisit your thoughts on sex,” he said flatly. “I don’t plan on sleeping with anyone else, and I don’t think you should either.”
“Funny.” I looked at the sheet, then back at him. “I don’t see the word ‘relationship’ or ‘marriage’ here.”
He smiled. “I’m never been a fan of either of those.”
