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“Don’t be so barbaric, Jamie. The clause stated that if you were to have a son, you would get the other half of your inheritance. So, sin—”
“The other half?”
“Yes, the remaining 400 million. He didn’t want to give you the whole 800 million because he was sure you would blow through it like you do your whiskey. At least something good came out of this situation.”
“I’m 42 years old, mother. You’re tellin’ me you waited almost twenty years to let me in on that little secret?”
The door swung open as I barged through the kitchen door, and his face went white when he saw me. Silence cloaked the kitchen, and he didn’t even say goodbye to his mother before he ended the call.
“Poor whore?” My gaze cut through him like daggers as I stared him down.
His lips parted, but no words came out. I thought maybe he was here for me, that this could work, but I guess I was wrong. I grabbed a plate off the kitchen island and piled toast and eggs onto it. My fork cut through the fluffy eggs, and I could feel the sting forming in the back of my eyes. I focused on my food to prevent tears from forming, but it was no help. I could feel the sting beginning to intensify the longer I tried to hold back blinking, and once I finally blinked, they fell—one after the other, running down my cheeks and landing on the rim of my plate. I cried silently as I stuffed eggs and toast that were to die for down my throat. I felt like a fool. I should have known that we could never work.
“Sweetheart?” he said as he sauntered toward me.
He showered with my favorite body wash; I could smell the scent radiating off his skin as he stood over me. He leaned over, letting his sharp stubble graze my damp cheek. The contact sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t even remain angry without my body acting involuntarily to his touch.
“Whore, I believe that’s the correct word.” I deadpanned as I lifted the warm cup of tea to my lips.
“I know whores, and you’re no whore baby. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be my little slut, because I can make that happen. You’re mine, and I’ll burn the fucking world down for you.” He whispered into my ear.
His breath was warm, and it smelled like expensive scotch and cheap coffee. He attempted to wrap his arms around my bump, but I stopped him. My fingers grabbed onto his and pushed them away. It startled him; he froze as my fingers gripped his. His eyes remained glued to the side of my face, and I turned defiantly from them.
I flinched as he slammed the kitchen towel onto the table. I could hear the string of curse words seeping off his tongue as his heavy stomps disappeared out of the kitchen. I finished my breakfast and let every ‘what if’ plague my brain as I sat alone.
My heart and mind were at odds with each other, and throwing his mother in the mix didn’t help. When I walked out of the kitchen, I found him sitting on the uncomfortable couch, laptop in hand and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He made my pulse stagger even when he wasn’t trying or paying any attention to me. My bump came into his peripheral vision, and he trawled up a smile.
“Full?” He asked as he lowered his glasses.
I nodded, noting how different he looked with and without glasses.
He stood and set his laptop on the glass coffee table, “You should get dressed. We have a doctor’s appointment in an hour.”
“We?” I bit my bottom lip and cut my gaze to the Stonebridge skyline.
He stood and closed in on me like a hawk before placing his thumb under my chin. “Yes, we. You’re my girl, that’s my baby, andwehave a doctor's appointment, so get dressed.”
I tipped my chin steeply and met his gaze. “I’m not a child. I don’t need to be scolded.” I huffed and turned on my heels.
His large hand caught my wrist, and he whirled me around in a possessive manner. “True, but I’m Daddy, and I’ll scold you, spank you, and even make you pacify my cock to keep that little bratty attitude at bay.” He winked and let my wrist slide through his hand before giving my butt a tap as I stormed off to the bedroom.
* * *
The rideto the hospital was quick, and Daddy answered emails and took phone calls the entire time, but he kept one hand on my thigh in a possessive hold. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I avoided the doctor because I didn’t like to be touched, probed, and left out of the loop regarding my health.
I could only afford cheap healthcare, which meant going to the Stonebridge County Hospital, which wasn’t the best. It was overcrowded, slow, and reminded me of a sterile psych ward. Daddy squeezed my thigh, ripping me from my thoughts, and placed a small kiss on my forehead. It wasn’t until we got out that I realized this wasn’t the county hospital.
A nurse in teal scrubs met us at the entrance, and we followed her to the private suite. My demeanor remained guarded as I stepped into the large suite. It was nothing like I had seen before, and although I wanted to jump and down to show my excitement and appreciation, I kept it to myself.
“Please have a seat. The doctor will be right in.” The nurse said as she motioned me to the large cream-colored recliner.
A tray full of light refreshments and tea sat on the other end of the room, and Daddy pulled back the curtains to expose a beautiful view.
“Knock, knock,” a brunette woman said as she opened the door. She was in her late fifties, short, and displayed a warm smile. She asked routine questions, and I could feel his eyes penetrating me as the doctor’s icy hands roamed over my belly.
“I hear you’re the best,” he said as he ran a finger across his bottom lip.
“That’s not an accent I hear every day.”
