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As soon as I’m out, the sharks circle.
“Ms. Rochet, congratulations. Who’s the father? When are you due?”
I ignore him, keeping my eyes straight ahead and my head held high. I can do this. One step. Two steps.
A camera is shoved in my face.
“Is the baby Mason’s, Ms. Rochet? How were you not charged?” A woman with red lipstick shoves her phone in my face. Her voice is cold, the accusation in her tone obvious.
Finally, I turn, shaking my head. “I didn’t know anything, okay? I thought—”
Her lips curve into a smirk, probably enjoying that she’s got a reaction from me. “Are you claiming you didn’t have a clue what Mason was doing? Is the baby Mason’s?”
I swallow, realizing the mistake I’ve made. “No, it’s—”
“Does your new stepbrother know all about it? How is Savage?” she pushes. Her green eyes shine bright like a snake that’s caught its prey. Ready to sink her sharp teeth into my flesh.
"I… He…” I try to answer, but there are so many questions being shouted at me, and I realize I’m frozen to the spot. I should have got the receptionist to at least call a cab for me before I came out here. Someone should be waiting for me.
The tears start to flow, but that doesn’t get me any sympathy. The exact opposite.
I hear people calling me a criminal, saying I should be in federal prison right alongside Mason. People saying that I’ve escaped justice, that families have lost money because of what Mason and I did, and don’t I think they deserve to see me on the stand.
It doesn’t matter how much I plead, they’re not listening. It doesn’t matter how much I tell them that James has nothing to do with it, nobody is going to stop accusing me.
“Let me the fuck through.” I hear a low growl to my right. The voice is familiar, but my head is ringing from all the intrusive questions. “Get out of my way or I’ll make you eat that fucking camera.”
A moment later, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I flinch back, blinking away tears.
“Hey. Hey, it’s me. Sis, it’s me, James.”
I lift my head and see those deep pools of dark chocolate and I want to dive in and never come out.
He nods. “Any of these motherfuckers touches you, they’ll have me to deal with.”
“Can we go?”
He pulls me in close and I feel my heart rate starting to return to normal. Just knowing he’s here is enough to calm me, to make me feel safe and secure.
Then I realize… He’s here. And he’s seen me.
I try to cover my baby bump, but it’s not going to happen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to find out like this. God, it’s… I’m sorry…” I don’t know how to explain any of it. It’s such a mess.
“I knew,” he says simply, and kisses the top of my head. “How do you think I knew where to come?”
A reporter shoves a microphone forward. “Do you know who the father is, Savage? Is it Mason’s baby? Will she be seeing him for conjugal visits?”
I feel myself turning as James whips around to face the questioner. There’s a squeal of feedback as I watch in horror as he tugs the microphone out of the reporter’s hands and hurls it to the ground, bringing his foot down on it for good measure.
“What did I tell you?” he asks, turning to the cameraman moving forward behind the reporter. “I told you I’d make you eat that fucking camera if it was in my face again, and look here…”
He stomps forward, and the cameraman sensibly scoots back, the camera swiveling to face skyward as he half turns, running for his life from the massive fist aimed his way.
“You’re lucky I don’t hit women,” he grunts, glaring at the reporter.
I see flashes from all around as photographs are taken, front pages being held for the story of the sports star losing it and the scandal of my association with Mason. And somebody, one of those in the crowd, comes up with the perfect headline.
“The Thief and the Thug.” I hear it spoken into a microphone, or into a cell phone, and others start to take up the words.
“You print that and I’ll fucking sue your ass!” James is moving forward, but I pull him back.
“Please, let’s just go. Please, James. Please!”
He turns and looks into my eyes, and I see all his features harden. He takes a deep breath, then nods. “This way.”
With that, he guides me away, and within what feels like a few strides I’m being helped up into the cab of his truck, my seat belt pulled around me and clipped into place and the whole world—reporters, cameras, smarmy receptionists and all—are shut out.
And all I have to worry about is how I’m going to explain a secret baby to the man I love.
