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She thought at first that her period was late because of the stress and the emotion of having broken the professional boundaries by sleeping with her boss. But her aching breasts were not so easy to ignore. And then she’d missed a second period and had done the test—sitting on the floor of her bathroom and staring at it in disbelief. She knew straight away that she had to tell Dimitri, but she had been so confused. And frightened. She’d blocked out thoughts of how he might react, but one thing she had known above all else was that she wanted to keep this baby. And that her feelings for her boss were secondary to that one fundamental truth.
But Dimitri was away travelling and she was aware she couldn’t tell him something like that over the phone, or by email. Apart from anything else, she was terrified it might be intercepted or overheard. On escalating tenterhooks, she waited until he flew in and phoned to say he would be back in the office first thing Monday. She tried to blot out the fact that a new distance seemed to have entered his voice, and that he sounded cool when he spoke to her. And that was when she’d known that she couldn’t wait a moment longer and she couldn’t tell him at work. She would go round to his apartment and tell him face-to-face, because there was never going to be anything like a ‘perfect’ time to break the news that she was carrying his baby.
She had—foolishly, in retrospect—gone to a lot of trouble with her appearance that morning. She’d washed her hair and applied a little more make-up than usual. She’d put on a dress, because, she remembered, it had been a sunny spring day—but it hadn’t been as warm outside as it had looked from the window of her apartment, and she remembered her bare legs being covered in goosebumps. Afterwards she’d wondered whether she had stupidly been hoping for some romantic conclusion to her news. That he would sweep her into his arms and look down at her with shining eyes, and tell her that it was all going to be okay.
Of course she had.
But he had taken ages to answer the door and, when he had, he had been bad-tempered, sleepy and half naked, his icy eyes narrowed and bloodshot, and his hard jaw shadowed with growth.
‘What is it, Erin?’ he questioned impatiently, zipping up his jeans with a slight wince. ‘Can’t it wait?’
She had walked into his apartment, noting the general scene of disarray which greeted her. There was an empty champagne bottle lying on the floor and another which was half drunk—standing on the same table where he had taken her virginity. Now was probably not the right moment to tell him that he was going to be a daddy, but what choice did she have? Tell him on Monday—trying desperately to squeeze in the unwelcome news between wall-to-wall meetings?
It took her a moment or two to notice the various items of female underwear strewn around the room because she was too busy ogling the lurid cover of what looked like a porn film. She remembered colour flooding to her cheeks as she recalled the picture of a woman wearing very little other than a leather thong and wielding some sort of whip, with a scary look in her eyes. Erin had little experience of men and what they got up to in their leisure time, but even she could work out what had been going on.
And it was then that a woman had appeared from the bedroom, making Erin feel like the biggest fool in the world, because the the woman was completely naked. Her long blonde hair was mussed, her eyes all smudged with mascara and her large breasts jiggled provocatively as she walked into the reception room—completely ignoring Erin—and pouted at Dimitri.
‘Aren’t you coming back to bed, lyubimiy?’
The fact that she was obviously Russian had only made it worse—if it was possible for such a situation to get any more dire than it already was. Erin saw the expression on Dimitri’s face—a mixture of irritation at being interrupted and an unmistakable look of lust, which had automatically darkened his eyes.
‘Go back to bed and I’ll be there in a minute,’ he said, before fixing Erin with an enquiring look. ‘So what is it, Erin? What do you want?’
‘I...’ Erin had been at a loss; her words tailing off until the blonde had wiggled her way back towards the bedroom and she had been momentarily transfixed by the retreating sight of her pale, globe-like buttocks.
‘Look.’ He paused, as if searching for the right words to say, but of course there were no right words. ‘I think we both know what happened that night was a mistake and if you were hoping for some kind of repeat—’
‘No! No, of course I wasn’t,’ she said, forcing some stupid, meaningless smile onto her lips as she realised there was only one direction she could contemplate taking. ‘I came here to hand in my notice.’
