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If she is pregnant—have I done anything that would hurt her? My mind races with a quick scan of how we’ve spent the last few hours.
No… no, nothing I’ve done would hurt her.
But now I definitely don’t regret beating the shit out of Claude.
God.
Pregnant?
I make myself another drink to stop the inner turmoil, but it doesn’t help. My mind races with possibilities.
I’ve already dismissed my staff for the night, so I answer the door when Dr. Martin arrives.
A petite, stunning woman with short black hair and bright blue eyes, dressed impeccably in a conservative black dress, stands on the steps.
What the hell?
I yank the door open, likely glaring. I don’t welcome visitors.
“Mr. Gerard?” she asks brusquely.
Wait. What?
“You’re the doctor?”
She gives me a tight smile. “I get that a lot. My surname is Martin.”
Right.
“Come in.”
I shut and lock the door behind her. If my mother suggested she come, then she knows who we are and what we expect. My mother wouldn’t send someone who doesn’t play by the rules.
“Tell me everything I need to know, please. Your mother and I know each other well. You can expect full confidentiality.” She’s matter-of-fact and direct, as if she came straight from the French Armed Forces.
I draw in a breath and let it out before I reply. Thayer and Fabien would want to know all about her and get a full background report before I tell her another thing.
“Her name’s Cosette. She claims she’s pregnant, and she claims I’m the father. I need to know if both of those things are true.”
“I see.” She asks no more questions. “I can tell you within a few minutes the veracity of her claim to be pregnant. However, paternity tests take a few days to determine.”
Son of a bitch. “That’s too long. I need to know tonight.”
The doctor gives me a patient smile. “Not the first time I’ve heard that either,” she says firmly. “But unfortunately, I can’t tell you that for a few more days. We have to send the tests to a lab, and as it is, the shortest turnaround is two days, and that’s only through expedited means.”
Two days? What the fuck is that all about?
“Fine.”
We reach Cosette’s room.
“Now, sir, if you’ll stay here, I’ll—”
“Absolutely not.”
“I prefer to work in private.”
“And I prefer to be present. Since this is my house and I’m paying your fee, this is where I draw the line.”
