Nix straightened up, her dress falling around her hips as she faced me. The lights in the stall were subtle, but under them, she looked like a queen. A snow queen, I thought. No. Fire.

Both.

She was hot in all the right ways, and her chill kept her from burning out. Nix was the perfect balance.

Lifting her eyes to mine, she hesitated. A flicker of uncertainty passed between us in the air. This was where it would all fall apart. Now that the blinding rush of sex was gone, what could keep us from seeing how wrong we were to be doing this?

Nix pressed a hand to her belly and said, “Now you have to marry me.”

I froze. “What?”

“If I'm pregnant... we have to do this. There's no turning back now.” She was staring me down, almost feral in her edginess. She wasn't asking me a question, but I knew, deep down, she really was.

She wanted to know if I'd run away.

It was what I'd always done. It kept me safe from being hurt.

And from hurting anyone else.

My feet moved; the small distance was erased. Curling my arms around her, I searched her face until I could have drawn it from memory. Nix was stiff, waiting for me to answer before she would relax.

“I already told you,” I said softly, “You're my future wife. You belong to me.”

Under my touch, she collapsed. Her arms circled me, temple landing on my chest. It was the position we'd held at the party, hiding away in that secret room. Only this time, when we kissed...

We didn't stop.

- Chapter Eleven -

Nix

I'd done it.

I'd literally fucked my way into trouble.

Every calculated decision I'd made in my life, it had run screaming out the door after what I'd done—what we'd done—in that stall.

Abell had broken our agreement.

He'd had sex with me again.

And I...

I was just as much to blame.

Brushing the zipper of my jacket, I cradled my stomach. I hadn't just slept with Abell Birch, playboy extraordinaire. I'd also let him cum inside of me.

I could be pregnant.

Never in my life had I thought about having kids. My parents had soured me on the idea with how they'd treated me and Gram.

But there was an upside to their denial of the typical fuzzy and fun childhood. They'd raised me to be a perfect marketing genius, a woman who could run their company. I hadn't wanted to be a mother, or a wife, or anyone but a top CEO.

Until now.

Shivering in the early morning breeze, I watched my feet as I walked. The world around me felt distant, almost fake. Nothing held my focus except my hazy future with Abell.

I need to talk to him.

We'd said so many words while my wedding dress had hung off of me like the husk of a flower. The questions I still had... the worries... had bloomed full force over the past few days.

This stuff wasn't phone call material.

I had to see him in person.

Approaching his apartment, I lifted my eyes. It was early, I assumed he wouldn't be awake yet. I'd barely slept, myself.

On the curb, I noticed a midnight blue car. I couldn't say what kind it was, just that it looked expensive—brand new. Of course, this was New York City, so fancy cars weren't a shock.

The man who stepped out was.

“Mr. Birch,” I said automatically, pulling up short.

Corin looked at me, his black-gloved hands gripping the edge of his door. “Miss Halloway, what are you doing here?”

I worked my jaw, trying to come up with a good answer, all while struggling to make sense of why my luck was so bad. I had no love for this man, especially after what I'd learned about how he'd treated his late wife.

Hiding my disgust would be a challenge.

“I'm here to see Abell. Is that a problem?”

His face was as flat as a frozen lake. “I'm surprised to see you seeking him out. I didn't think Abram was someone you wanted to associate with by choice.”

I stood taller, digging for the part of me that wasn't intimidated by big wigs like Corin Birch. After all, I'd faced down plenty of pinch-faced men in thousand-dollar suits while working for Halloway Inc.

Who was he to scare me? “We need to discuss a few things,” I said.

“I hope one of them is the grandchild you owe me.”

My hackles went up. On reaction, I grabbed at my belly. Corin saw this, his eyes flicking down to my hands, then to my face. Had I given myself away?

“You know,” I said slowly, “There's a chance that won't happen. What if I can't get pregnant?”

His smile was dripping with slime. “You should really read that contract better. It's not just about the wedding. The clause is quite clear, pregnant within the first year... or everything reverts back to Birch Industries.”

A clause? Of course, Corin wasn't the type to allow wiggle room. I should have known.

My nails chewed into my palms. “Why do you even want a grandchild? You have no love for your own son, how could you care about someone he helped create?”

I must have hit a sensitive spot, because I glimpsed his eyes darkening. Corin carried his own personal shadow, and it made his edges razor-like; a human sword that itched to cut me in two. “Abram is a fuckup, Miss Halloway. A fact that will always be my shame. But there's a chance his child will be nothing like him. Especially with me around to keep him in line.”

He keeps calling his own son a fuckup. That made me bristle. It was true that Abell had some bad habits, but the more time I spent with him, the more good I saw.

Unable to hold back, I spoke with a low, clipped tone. “You're wrong about him.”

He leaned away, eyebrows furrowing harshly. “Excuse me?”

“Abell isn't as bad as you think, and as his father, you shouldn't say such cruel stuff about him.”

His silence was deafening. The man studied me as if he wanted to find the easiest way to dissect my body. “Are you falling for him, Miss Halloway?”

Tripping on my own tongue, I stuttered. “That—what—no! Of course not!” The question left me floating, every possible answer scary in its own way.

Wordlessly he turned, ducking into his car. With the window down, he leaned towards me. “Tell Abell I'll come back later, once he's... done with you.” He started to roll the window up, then stopped. “Never instruct me on how to speak about my son. You don't have the right.”

I didn't have a response. I was saved from trying; he drove away from the curb, vanishing down the street.

What the hell was that about?

I was curious why Corin had been here, was it to berate Abell? Tell him he had better move forward, get me pregnant?

Recalling the slow burn in his voice when he asked if I was falling for his son, I quivered. It was a good question, but not one I wanted to answer.

Pregnant by the first year. Again, I found myself touching my stomach. The habit was becoming unconscious. I have to see Abell. Climbing the steps, I pressed the buzzer for the building.

No one answered.

Frowning, I pushed again, wondering if Abell was so asleep he couldn't hear. Dammit. Sighing impatiently, I dug for my phone, thinking of just calling him. As I turned, I caught movement to my right.

Abell was jogging down the sidewalk, red sneakers pumping as fast as his fists. In one hand, he clutched a black hoodie. His arms were exposed in a muscle-shirt, shiny from sweat so that his tattoo sleeves looked fresh and glossy.

One look at his fit body, and it was easy to forget how strange Corin Birch had been acting. But wasn't Abell freezing?

He's got too much natural heat to freeze.

After all, it was easy to remember how warm his palms had been when he'd slid them along my spine.

The guy is stupidly hot. And I was stupid for being weak to that.