CHAPTER148
Oh, I don’t know maybe because you’ve another woman waiting in your bedroom, and coitus is not part of my pre-arranged employment contract.
“I need to know where I stand,” is all I say, cool and crisp, devoid of my betraying emotions.
He snorts as if I’ve said something outrageous, then mumbles something that sounds like, “You and me both.” I’m not sure, but I ignore it anyway.
“Why is she here?” I nod toward the door behind him, fighting that inner twinge of pain, jealousy. He stops for a moment, as if he’s trying to find the words, then just says it.
“Marissa’s pregnant. I fucked up,” he blows out.
It’s as though he has punched me full force in the stomach; I’m reeling and dying all at the same time, unable to fully take in his devastated expression.
What the hell?
Nausea rises quickly and spins my head before I can grasp control. It is as unexpected as the last time I fainted, and fueled by the instant carnage of his words.
“Whoa, Emma.” He grabs my arms as I crumble, and he rights me against him, the familiar feel of his body and touch acting like an anchor for my spiraling mind, stopping me from fully blanking out.
“Sit,” he barks, and moves me around the arm and down onto the couch quickly, drawing me in beside him. I grasp my face and sink my head between my knees, trying to push the tilting sensation away, trying to stop the overwhelming urge to throw up.
“That doctor was fucking useless,” he hisses, rubbing my back.
“I’m fine,” I lie, “And stop swearing.” I can’t lift my head just yet or I may actually die. I think I’m losing the ability to see. Everything is swimming and heat has washed up from my toes in a sickening wave. My body is tingling and not in a good way.
“You’re not fine, Emma. You’re getting seen by someone else.”
“Stop it!” I snap and sit up, swaying and grasping his wrist. “It’s dizziness, that’s all. I’ve had a shock, okay. You just told me you’re going to be a father, just after we … for fuck’s sake,” I snap, and he stops dead, paling visibly. He slumps down and exhales slowly.
“You’re not the only one, okay.”
Ironically put.
“When did she tell you?” I try and sit up unaided, swaying a little but feeling less likely to keel over. I’m trying to figure out how long he has been seeing her.
Did he sleep with me behind her back?
“A couple of days ago,” he sighs looking down at his lap.
That explains his monumentally shitty mood for the past couple of days and hints at just how unhappy he is about this.
“What are you going to do? Marry her?” My voice falters, so full of anguish.
Why do I sound so childlike? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the thought of Jake marrying her is killing me.
I’m hushed by the twisted frown he throws at me.
Okay, maybe we don’t live in the nineteenth century anymore, but I’m sure Carrero Senior will have something to say about an heir being born out of wedlock. His father is a traditionalist after all.
“No, I’m not going to ask her to marry me because I knocked her up, Emma. I’m not that stupid.” I remember him telling me about his father marrying his mother on a whim, and I realize why. Jake has more sense. Thank God.
“What then?”
Why do I even care? I shouldn’t care.
I’ve royally fucked over my job, our friendship, and my life. It won’t be long before I no longer work for the Carrero empire at all. I shouldn’t care about this; I shouldn’t be experiencing that aching pain in my heart and chest at this fact. I’ve blurred the lines of how I should feel about him, and I need to bring them back into focus. My head is a complete mess.
“It’s complicated.” He looks torn, with a hint of lost little boy, and it hurts me. Even after all this, I still care about how he feels. I’m pathetic.
“As complicated as what we just did?” I flush as I realize the voice that said it was mine.
Mouth, why do you hate me so?
“Contrary to what your crazy little head tells you, Emma, there was nothing complicated about that.” His flat tone and angry expression shut me up, and I redden, squirming under his scrutinous glare.
What does that even mean? Oh, wait, it’s just sex, Emma. Right?
I turn my face away and stare at my hands, tears burning my throat.
“It was Marissa,” he says, so quietly that I almost don’t hear him."
